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haechanhues · 9 months

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Is This Goodbye? (II)

pairing : brother’s best friend!hyunjin x fem!reader (mentions of other members x reader)

genre : smut. fluff. angst.

warnings : switch!reader x switch!hyunjin!!! toxic relationship vibes. fwb. jealousy. jealous sex. oral sex. choking/pain/sadistic tendencies. degradation. praise/body worship. don't know if i mention protection or not but you know the drill :) swearing, of course. i think that's all the basics but still, there may be warnings i missed.

summary : he’s your brother’s best friend but he knows just as much as you do that that’s not all he is to you. // where your history is the reason you won’t work out.

word count : 11k

taglist : @jisungsdaydreamer

@k-labels

main masterlist

playlist : contradicting - hwang hyunjin, try - bright ft matcha, artificial love - exo, rush - william singe, vicious - tate mcrae, bad decisions - bobi andonov, backseat - daniel di angelo, drive you insane - daniel di angelo, half of my heart - josh musaka, numb to the feeling - chase atlantic.

Hyunjin wants to say he expected this. He wants to say he was stronger for it. But his heart makes a liar out of him. The bones in his body feel like breaking and the flesh on his skin sags as the blood from his heart droops out into a pathetic mess of whatever the fuck this is.

He has seen the monster that creates a brewery out of your innocent eyes and Felix’s kindness. He has seen it sink its claws into every single one of his friends. Felt it latch onto him like a parasite and squeeze out all logical thinking.

Yet hope is like a little deviant spirit that refuses to be stamped out.

The house had smelled of Sunday laundry tumbling in the dryer when you had stepped through the path made by sheets and clothes that had yet to be folded. It was like a dreamscape and Hyunjin couldn’t believe how sweet the moment was.

“Could you do mine as well?” You asked, awkwardness seeping into your fingers. Hyunjin nodded silently. Your lips smack together in passing thought before handing him your washing. A silent movie.

“I thought you were allergic to laundry detergent?” You wonder, your eyebrows furrowing in thought.

Hyunjin scoffs, “No.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I know my own-“ He pauses, at a slight glimpse of your smile, “you’re pulling my leg.”

You let a playful smile climb to the corners of your lips, lifting over the wall of tension that had hardened in the months he had been gone, “Sorry.”

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow before he presses his index finger into the skin of your forehead, pushing your leaning face away from him. Lazily you follow after his finger, enjoying the good kind of nostalgia that smells of marmalade.

It had been him that had leaned in to you, and him that had kissed you with a trick that sweet lovers do. With your chin in his hold and a short yet loaded amount of eye contact. Enough to see how life has been treating him and you in your time of separation.

It all came back to him then. The anger. The pictures of you and him. The pictures of Hyunjin fucking you. The thoughts of the torrential rain of sensations that had him more than a little fucked up.

He kisses you harder, the air bleeding a dark red as memories and realisation catches up to him. Your mouth opens and he deepens the kiss, sucking in the oxygen for himself. Your grip pinches at his torso, and his mouth turns to the skin of your neck and collarbone, a map of his kisses and possibilities.

You inhale the air greedily as your eyes roll back at his attention, you hum a moan which earns a little warning bite to your throat. A hush to be quiet.

Hyunjin cups the back of your neck and pulls you into him, practically devouring you as you steady yourself by grabbing his upper arms. The noises that escape your kiss are your swallowed moans and Hyunjin’s hisses of dominance, urged on by the way he grinds his hips into the opening of your legs, the pleasure scratching down your arched back.

You can feel him harden every time his hips surge forward and your arousal is sure to make a mark on the front of his pants. He pants, sweat collecting in the warmest parts of his hair. More than anything you want to wrap your knuckle into the thickest part to expose the way his eyes are fluttering at the pressure of your clothed sex against his. How weak he is to you. The effect you have on him.

You want to marvel at it, an unhealthy amount.

You don’t know why you’re so attracted to it, or even have an idea why you like seeing the boy of yours crumble the way he does.

Hyunjin blames the monster.

Ignoring your sheep like eyes, Hyunjin’s hand marks the heart of your throat, biting the words out, “How hard do I have to fuck you for you to be satisfied? How often?”

Your head drops from the mosaic of Red Light District worthy images that soar behind your eyelids. Lewd images of the types of positions, the tempo in which the body moves, the friction. Time made a servant by pure lust. All with his name on it.

“All the time,” You mumble, tired and already fucked out with a mere dry humping session on top of your dryer, “I want you all the time.”

He pauses his rutting against you, smirking at you with a snarl he practised with all that came before, during and after you. He basks in the way your expression drops, “Hadn’t noticed.”

Your mouth opens and closes many times. The thoughts in your head leave your body in disarray. Hyunjin doesn’t miss a single second of it. Doesn’t forget to enjoy it to the fullest. But because you’re you and you seem to know exactly how to get under his skin, your hand cups the back of his neck and cuffs the front of his throat like a turtleneck.

He swallows and attempts to hide his front into the wall of the dryer. Your eyes glint dangerously as your leg curls around his waist to bring his pelvis into its previous position against the fabric of your clit.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” You grin, your tongue resting behind your front teeth and the thrum of his heartbeat on your fingertips, “Though… I feel like it can benefit the both of us.”

You watch him. He watches you. A cycle with every new addition but the same fucking process.

“Sex,” You tell him, looking for signs of refusal. Expecting a sign of refusal. You maintain eye contact hoping he picks up on how serious you are about this, “Consistent sex.”

Unconsciously, your fingers start to twist at the hair on the back of his neck and Hyunjin’s eyes grow darker in response, “Weren’t you telling me all about the boys you have? Pick one, make this deal. I don’t doubt they’ll agree.”

Fuck did his tone have to be dripping in jealousy when he hisses out the venom he curated for you?

A wick of displeasure worms its way into your eyebrow and you can’t help the arch that comes out of it, “Don’t be so fucking stupid, Hyun. Nobody makes me feel the way you do. Nobody fucks the way you do.”

Hyunjin frowns, his lips twisting upwards in an attempt to keep his growing frustration at bay and he whips his head to the side, letting your hold on him drop. The heated atmosphere between you is dissipating but not completely. God forbid - not completely.

“There’s always Minho,” Hyunjin grins.

The world is sick and twisted, and this relationship is no different. He loves the way your body stills at the mention of his name and yet he hates it. Because another weakness that he can’t bear to use against you is Lee Minho.

Minho isn’t like what Felix is to you or Hyunjin. A shared and mutual No-Man’s land in amongst the perpetuated torture that you and Hyunjin inflict on each other. Minho is solely yours. An unpredictable weapon to use against you. One of mass destruction. One that every villain could only dream to get their hands on. One that could completely destroy you. And yet, a weapon that seems to always backfire onto Hyunjin.

So when you pull Hyunjin in for another kiss, one that is hard and unyielding, he is relieved. Relieved, because he doesn’t have to face the fact that the monster he can't rid himself of and the girl he loves is in love with Lee Minho. He doesn’t have to sit in the puddle of hurt.

Not when your hands slip down to the front of his pants and not when you free him from the constrictions of his underwear. He watches as you spit into your hand before wrapping a palm around his shaft and his stomach tenses at the shot of pleasure that has his heart rate spiking.

You let your hand slide up and down his shaft, feeling the control winding up Hyunjin’s joints. His breathing is heavy and the unruly grunts make you feel like royalty. A crown and all. He’s trying so hard to keep his composure. Putting in so much effort to make it seem like his release is something you have to work hard for.

With a quick quirk of your lip, your pace quickens and the tug-of-war game of who is in charge of his pleasure reaches new heights. His full lips, bitten raw have come into contact with the skin on your forehead, exhales nearly breathless. Teasingly, your thumb swipes along the pink mushroom tip and he can’t help but cage you in by his frame. Lithe muscle flexing with your touch. The room is hot and heavy and you can’t help but watch his face for the changes.

With furrowed eyebrows and a tight mouth, he comes. Thick spurts of cum paint your palm and the blood in his body still runs hot. He breathes heavily into your hair, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. Unable to help yourself, you drag a nail down the side of his body enjoying the ripple of sensation. The goosebumps on his skin. The shiver. The way his waist instinctively reaches to meet yours.

His skin is glowing when he kisses you again, a sure one. One that isn’t sweet. Or intended to make one come. He eyes the cum in your palm before he nods again. An affirmative to your deal earlier. You try not to show that the distance he rushes to create doesn’t affect you, but truthfully you think you failed.

Hyunjin rolls his tongue in his mouth frustratedly as he leaves the crime scene. There was no formal agreement. There never is. To the you who used him, you who ripped his soul from the inside, who made him wary of the vulnerability of drunken truths and Felix’s kind golden eyes. He agreed. Hyunjin has agreed to be used by you once again.

Hyunjin had expected fucking, only when it had come down to it - nothing had happened between the two of you. It was a waiting game. One where Hyunjin waited for you like a sitting duck and you were a huntress with a hefty gun of your desires and your wants and so forth.

He wishes he could film the way tension coils within your body, crumpling a written piece of paper in your grasp with a ferocity that didn’t suit you. Hyunjin sucks in his lip, his tongue swirling around his slowly dissolving strawberry lollipop and his eyes regarding the sight in front of him.

A sight to behold, some may say.

Like a flame blown out from a candle, your eyes meet his. The fire burns and Hyunjin straightens his posture. Your stride is heavy and forward and his bones feel like lead when his body smashes into the metal of the lockers of an empty closet. He winces slightly but has no time to process the sharp shot of pain as your kiss silences him. Hyunjin can taste your anger, your greed and he’s painted in it.

Your shirt lifts upwards and Hyunjin’s hands travel to meet the warm skin of your back, a pavement of goosebumps and tingles littering along your spine. He brings you closer, feeling your obedience and taking advantage instantaneously. By the way your nails claw into his shoulders, he can tell you’ve made a mess in your underwear that Hyunjin has every intention to worsen.

You mutually hate and love the way Hyunjin is gentle with you. Every bit of it is a lie and you know it. You both do. He grabs at your hips, drawing your pelvis into his, feeding off your pathetic little noises. The more you make, the more likely you are to be fucked in this very closet.

You try all your tricks, teasing him with ideas of the two of you fucking. Of him in control. Of you. You kiss down his neck and across his collarbone. A trickling finger slowly descending down to the ridges of his stomach and waist. The crudest of whines directly into the shell of his ear.

You try all your tricks and yet none of them work. All it seems to do is backfire. Your kiss down his neck and across his collarbone is met with payback. His own kisses lighting a fuse within you that you had seemingly failed to ignite in him. Your admiring finger and eyes, no longer able to defend against his own unmarked gaze and touch. His finger stroking behind your ear and down your neck. Leaving your flirtatious finger useless.

It angers you, really.

The whines, well, they worked. To an extent. His arm wraps completely around your waist, your positions exchanging so he’s directly above you. However, you find yourself a bit more vulnerable than he ever was. Your arms are holding your weight and Hyunjin’s gaze is sadistic.

“You’re angry,” Hyunjin muses, enamoured by the glint in your eye. He knows how you can be and yet this isn’t quite an anger he’s used to. This anger is crumbling bits of brick and rubble.

The frown on your face.

He fucking loves it.

“Are you-” You’re bewildered and you can feel your annoyance return to you tenth fold. Is he joking? Is he actually fucking serious? Men. Hyunjin. The fucking audacity, “Did we not have a deal?”

He grins, wolfish and mischievous, you want nothing more than to see it swiped completely from his face, “You said it was beneficial for the both of us, darling and I want to see how an angry girl comes.”

You sneer, “You’re not seeing it anytime soon.”

The grin, although it does eventually fall, it does nothing for your ego nor your pride. Instead, it seems to play right into his favour. His hand collars your neck, tight enough for your breath to be slightly restricted and the look in his eye will forever be remembered, “No?”

You want to say you were strong enough, that you didn’t feel arousal stick to the fabric of your underwear, so messily you fear it drips down your thigh. That your eyes didn’t flutter at the thought of him wrecking you. The ways in which he could make your head run blank.

However, that’d be a lie.

“With you, it’s all in the foreplay.”

A goddamn lie.

With his hands down your underwear, he lightly brushes to tease at the wetness. Lips quirking at how wet you are and how right he is. Loving the way his fingers create naughty dimples in the fabric. Crooning at the way your eyes hold his. This control is his crown and he wears it in the way he believes he should. The thought makes your heart drop.

As he presses into the heart of your arousal, your hand wraps around his wrist hastily, “We need rules.”

He wants to roll his eyes. Impeccable timing. But his curiosity has piqued, making note of the way your expression had slightly changed in that moment of eye contact. Hating himself for catching it.

“When has rules ever been a good idea?”

It hasn’t.

“It gives a blueprint,” You say confidently. You don’t believe that the rules would last or even be worthwhile. Definitely not on your end. But it’s a scope. An idea. You’re not even sure why you’re so tempted by the thin layer of protection ‘rules’ would provide you.

He chortles, “A blueprint?”

He shifts and all of a sudden, all the power has come back to you. Like a villain who knows her way out of the fog. You reach for an out-of-place strand of his long hair tucking it behind his ear and practically melting at the wince on his face as you drag your nails down the length of his neck.

“Mmm.”

His laugh is fake but his kiss is not. It’s rough and hard, but the sensation alone has your eyes rolling back. He presses you deeper into the lockers, hiking your thigh around his waist and teasing his hardening length into the location you want him.

“This feels familiar,” You mumble, breathless.

He smiles as if he’s disinterested, removing his cock from his pants and running it down your covered slit. Your teeth grit, the sensation heightened with the way his kisses trail from the corner of your mouth to the softness of your jaw. He murmurs, “Only this time, I’ll have the both of us cumming. As promised..”

His tongue touches the roof of his mouth as his fingers remove your underwear from your pussy, grinning naughtily at the newfound stickiness of his digits. He slowly sinks into your wetness, smouldering at how full you feel. . A challenge presents itself to him when you hold back your initial sounds of pleasure with tightly pressed lips and all he can return it with is a barely-there kiss against your cheek to coax you.

He grinds into you, his own eyes falling shut at how your walls lock his cock inside of you. At a particularly sharp thrust, he’s delighted to hear your strangled moan. Powerful enough for his hips to drive away into you, hoping that the angle change will tempt more and louder sounds.

“Fu- First rule,” You huff, your mouth heavy with pants.

Hyunjin finds it annoying. But a challenge nonetheless. He fucks you harder, preferring the way in which you stutter out your sentences with him inside of you.

“You- oh, sex ca-can be initiated by either…party with consent.”

Open mouthed kisses dot across your jawbone before lining his lips over yours, your chin in his hold as he thrusts into you. You whine into his mouth as he deepens the kiss until your whole body is tingling and your brain short circuits. You grasp at his shoulders as he allows the oxygen to fill your lungs.

A plea, “Hyunjin-”

“I heard you,” Hyunjin mumbles half-heartedly, his eyes greedily soaking up your swollen lips and the mess of your hair. A crime with no chance of escape, a life sentence with no parole - people will know about today if they saw you. He pauses in his movement completely, letting you come into terms who’s inside of you and who you belong to.

Your leg hikes up further around his torso as you lean more into his space, enjoying the way his grip on your waist feels and the way in which his cock twitches inside you. Unknowing of the train of thought running rampant in the handsome man’s head.

“The second rule?” Hyunjin cocks his head, his hand finding your ankle with a mischievous glint in his eye. With a feather like touch, his fingers ascend up your leg, ripples of sensation bubbling underneath.

You swallow, entranced by the way his eyes implore into yours, “Felix and….Minho. Leave them out of this. Whatever this is.”

His fingers still. Annoyance and irritation flood through him and he smirks in an attempt to keep his cool, “All of them.”

“Huh?”

“Not just Felix. Not just Minho. All of them,” He warns, his stare burning straight through you. You pause. Just for a moment. But it was enough. He opens your legs wider and slides deeper into you. The added inches do nothing for your faux pact of silence and every cell in your body needs to scream in pleasure, “Don’t fuck my friends. Not while you’re fucking me, understood?”

Your thighs burn, and everything in you is tunnel visioned into Hyunjin. Hyunjin with his stare. His lips. His hair. His fucking skin. His cock. Sensations like no other rocking into you.

Like a pastor, you swear by the book at that moment. Absolutely.

Your walls tighten around him and his tight grip falters and it takes everything in him to remember to breathe and enough for your resolve to return.

“The third,” You state, your throat clear despite the profanity that wants to crawl out of it, “Know what we are. Don’t get into your feelings.”

Hyunjin understands.

Don’t lose.

He fake laughs as his grip tightens, “Same rules apply then.”

Hyunjin thrusts into you and the answer that had been preconceived on your lips is gone and forgotten with the oxygen stolen from your lungs. Your breaths are quick and heaving, your leg muscles tensing around his body.

He’s not any better than you, his skin flushes pink and your desperate grips on his skin have left marks sure to bruise in the near future. His fist is planted underneath your body, a makeshift pillar to balance your bodies wrapped together in this shitty furniture closet. He grunts into your throat, the sensation blooming across your sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin’s hips stutter with his curse, his movements becoming jerky, “I’m going to come.”

Feeling your own orgasm approach, your whole body becomes taut and you rock into his pelvis, your high approaching with one last thrust. The tension between your bodies is a sticky residue as thick spurts of his cum paints the navel of your stomach. His tightened fists slacken and you fall slightly back, saved by his hold on your throat.

His kiss this time is soft as it is heavy. There’s no finish line you’re aspiring to nor is it a result of pent up rage and anger. Your lips suck onto his full bottom lip, enjoying the way his forehead meets yours and his mouth opens wider, allowing for your tongues to meet in the middle.

With a competitive grasp of your jaw, he navigates his total attention to your upper lip, sending your eyes rolling back and your hands weakly threading themselves onto the end of his shirt.

When he pulls away, his eyes stare at you with a look that tells you he may not hate you. But that can’t be true. Neither could it be false.

It’s such a morally grey area that it’s better it’s left behind.

With a deep intake of breath, his fingers thread through his hair and he straightens out his clothes. He makes a quick once over of your naked body and his cum that remains on your stomach.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d believe that you’re saving that for later,” Hyunjin comments, smiling genuinely when you raise your middle finger in good jest and sneer. His laugh is a hum as he exits the room and your face immediately drops.

You exhale, getting dressed and trying not to think of the ways in which Hyunjin got under your skin (and in your pussy), truly writing his signature on your lack of morality.

It’s a familiar feeling, the need to remove yourself from him. Remove anything Hwang Hyunjin from your body, your mind, your soul. Remind yourself that he doesn’t belong there.

But, of course, as you make your way to Felix’s car full of past hookups and past relationships that you’ve mostly kept quiet from your brother, save for Minho, Changbin and Chan. All bred for less than stellar reasons. Hyunjin who stands tall, with his hair pristine and his lips bitten. You know you can’t do that. Remove him. Chastise yourself for thinking you could.

He’s a part of you and has been even before you marked each other.

And when Hyunjin sees the way your face lightens the slightest bit, he doesn’t make the mistake of assuming that it’s because of him. Swears not to make the mistake of forgetting that the only man you’ve only looked at with that kind of beauty isn’t him.

But, he gets hurt anyway.

And he does so quietly.

It’s a sort of Cat and Mouse game that neither of you know how to play. This agreement isn’t formal, not quite casual. You don’t desire sex more than the normal person and Hyunjin is socially scheduled out. So he’s not exactly bored.

Yet…you can’t help but feel- that it kind of irks you.

It’s like he’s made a habit of waiting for you to seek him out. To cut through his apparent disregard and indifference of you, one that he wears a little too well. He’s reverted back to ivory black hair, long enough for your fingers to lay their claim into his scalp. He wears a suit that is clean cut and sharp, the ‘before’ to the sin you plan to seduce him into tonight. Coincidentally, the colour of purity. Light. Peace.

A woman, gorgeous and tall with sparkly heels and a sparkly dress that scratches at the fabric of his suit. Her nails play at his suit clad forearm and you’re completely entranced by her games, your hand cupping your chin as you watch. You’re pleased to see that, in contrast, it has seldom impact on the man you plan to fuck within the hour.

She hooks her fingers into his shirt, pulling him into her, hoping to seduce him with her eyes or her words. He looks down at her, a slight smile on his face. A kind one. It makes you jealous somewhat, you had once been very accustomed to a smile like that.

Now, it was practically non-existent.

She leans in to whisper something and you wish a vampire could sink his teeth into you. If not purely for the reason to spy on Hyunjin and the people he attracts. His eyebrows raise in interest, regarding her with a new look in his eye. She grins before moving away from him and strutting towards another room. Purposeful in her parting eye contact.

Hmm. Noted.

He sips at his drink, letting his interest melt like ice cubes, though those few seconds of interest he withheld has ruined something in you. Something you don’t ever want to investigate, in fear that it will ruin the infrastructure of the soul you have created.

He scans the rest of the room with little to no interest, before he walks towards the empty whiskey room, footsteps quiet but assured in a hallway that echoes. He wears a frown as he turns at the clack of your own shoes, before he’s pushed into the room with unexpected force.

You push until he falls. The black sleek couch catching his body before his breath escapes him.

It’s intriguing how much your anger makes him hungry. How it darkens his eyes. How it makes his fingers twitch in a way a junkie would. How his body becomes so in tune with yours unlike any other person he’s ever met.

The sneer on your face is cruel as you observe how patronising the look on his face is. In your peripheral, an expensive bottle of red wine sings an enticing song of revenge and seduction.

You’re hooked by the very first chorus.

As Hyunjin is momentarily distracted by his own conclusions, you’ve already grabbed the bottle by the neck, ripping the cork with a quick pop. He watches you without caution, the glint in your eyes going straight to his growing erection. You stop in front of him, angry, jealous and so fucking hot while you’re doing it.

The smile on your face is pleasant, your cheeks rounding, “I guess a congratulations is in order.”

Then, that smile drops. Hyunjin’s mouth falls as his lower body is engulfed by the wine, the white sure to stain red immediately. Your lips smack together, considering his outfit fakely, “Oh no, I really hope that wasn’t expensive.”

A frown overtakes Hyunjin’s features at your purposeful disregard, drawn with a growing smirk across your lips. Provoking the vengeful spirit that has been starving since Hyunjin vowed to create some distance between the two of you.

He observes the way your gaze zeroes into the way his tongue hooks itself into the corner of his mouth and the way your chest is heaving with desire.

“Clean it up,” Hyunjin orders, “Now.”

A rush of heat blooms in your underwear at his dominant tone, your feet backing away to find a piece of cloth or paper towels locked away in a cabinet…

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hyunjin snarls from his position on the couch, his legs wide apart and practically calling for you.

He loves the innocence on your face as it screws up in a way to defend yourself, stuttering at the onslaught of excuses. His fingers dance along the arm of the couch, the tapping only seeming to trap you further.

He smirks, “I think you’re more than capable of cleaning after yourself… unless you need to be told what to do?”

God he loves when you’re so soft and compliant like this. Like putty.

He clicks his tongue decisively before ordering, “Come here.”

It's as if the sea parts for you, the audience clearing as Cinderella makes her way into the place in which she will fall in love. Your Prince at the ready; tall, decadent and handsome. As much of a Prince as you are Cinderella.

In retrospect, the wine staining the material of his pants should make him more uncomfortable, but his attention is completely stolen by you. You stand before him, close enough for his hands to grip you by the hips and take you into his lap.

“So obedient…even after acting like a fucking spoilt brat because..what? I wasn’t interested in giving you my attention? What makes you think you’re worth it, darling?”

Holy fuck.

Your mouth waters at the way his mouth has hardened and the way his sentences are the colour of lead.

“You’re a little pathetic, don’t you think?” Hyujin scoffs, addressing your obvious show of misplaced possessiveness and arousal, “You’re a big girl, Y/N, clean up after yourself.”

Your legs are frozen and any comeback you would’ve, should’ve, could’ve thought of has been whisked away by a phantom spirit, leaving behind prey for the hungry beast to eat away at you.

Hyunjin nods, considering you for a condescending second, his large hand enveloping one side of your hip, the feeling warm against the fabric. A contrast to the cold snake of possibilities that whisper in his ears.

Try it, Hyunjin.

“Get on your knees,” He commands and with a shaky sort of stumble you kneel in front of him, hyper aware of the hand that remains in place, travelling up your body as your knees meet the black marble floor. Goosebumps paralyse your collarbones as his thumb brushes over the raised nipple of your dress, sending more volts of electricity to your core. Where you need him most.

Where you will beg for him.

He preens inside as he can feel the hold his control has on your body. Temptation is definitely not always a bad thing, he can attest. Because…where, when, why, how would this happen without it?

Hyunjin leans forward slightly, drunk on this power that you have seemingly given him, his hand no longer on the swell of your tits but now on your cheek, “Clean.”

Your body falls forward as he removes his hand with a snap, softness completely disappearing and your body cold on auto-pilot. Regaining your balance, your hands move to undo his belt, his stare regarding you with a look that sends you further into your own head.

A hiss escapes his mouth as you remove him from his slacks, thumbing slightly at the tip to test his sensitivity and spread a thin layer of his precum across the surface. You bring him into your mouth slowly, enjoying the low growl that makes his adam’s apple throb with a grumbling need.

Hyunjin bites his lip at the sensation of his cock in your warm and wet mouth, and his head falls back as he reaches deeper into the confines of your throat, finding morbid pleasure in the way you gag around his length. With a satisfied grunt, he clutches at the thick of your hair to gain some of the control he lost when you start to moan and fuck him with your throat.

Curious, he wraps a hand around your throat, thumb pressing at the skin and feeling his cock steadily drag back and forth paired with your speedy heartbeat that grinds against his fingertips sensually. His hand drops but is stopped by your own hand intertwining with his, laying it flat and pressing so much further into your skin, so much so, fears he may kill you.

There are tears in your eyes with how deep inside he reaches but it only fuels the heat that makes a furnace of your aching core. At a particular movement of your tongue along the underside of his cock, he twitches and thrusts himself deeper in your mouth, a groan escaping you. A groan that makes his situation even more dire.

“Fuck-”

He expects you to pull away so he can fuck you into next Tuesday and ruin these couches for anyone else. But instead, you suck and lick and do everything in your power to make him come. He comes inside your mouth, and you swallow his load with a blink, wiping at your lips as if you had only smudged your lipgloss at a lunch meeting.

You’re endeared by the quick frown on his face, an expression that could translate to pouty, if it had not been the way he looks satisfied. A fucked out glow softening his features and sweat sticking to the edges, evidence of his rendezvous with heaven.

“Why did you do that?” He says, in an almost accusing voice.

You smile sweetly at him, “I just did what you asked of me.”

Always having to have the last word, you walk away from him once again. He remains on the couch for a further few minutes, his position unchanging. The planes of his handsome face brightening as he recalls what had just happened.

For once, he had the upper hand and you did not make much of an effort to fight against it and neither did he even attempt to appease you.

You were the one that was jealous.

You were the one on her knees.

You were the one doing the listening as he held the cards.

You were the sole one to be punished and he inflicted it.

He had the control. For once and it was fucking delicious. He feels something in him reawaken and he fucking prays that he does not have to stab and rip down hope before its flagpole can be cut down by its enemies.

With that bit of control he had reclaimed, he had handed himself to you on a silver platter. Ready to feast upon. Ready to go through this toxic cycle, all over again. More so than ever.

It seemed that the events in which he had complete and utter control over you had a profound impact on the man, because he constantly made an effort to make sure you were constantly watching after him. The way his fingers raced after stray water drops that had cascaded down his face and neck after a dip in the pool.

He didn’t seem at all disappointed when you dropped the news that you were on your period, instead he seemed to become playful in his teasing.

At the early hours of the morning when Felix had raced to get you some chocolate and canned peaches at your incessant pleading, he had caught you with your head in the fridge, said chocolate smeared along your bottom lip.

The chuckle released from his mouth was sweet and loving in a way. It made your heart soar to unbelievable heights. Uncaring on whether or not it would drop and smash across the concrete below.

He thumbs at your bottom lip, secretive in the way his lips press together purposefully, his voice clear and deep, “Always so messy.”

You didn’t say anything, your eyes do all the talking for you. How enamoured you were by him. The secrets you tried to bury are completely blatant to the naked eye.

His smile deepens at your lack of reply and he leans forward to bring you into a kiss. One that isn’t necessarily innocent nor is it worth a confession to a pastor. But your eyes are closed and your hands are within a single fist as your weight leans onto his lithe frame. His lips press further onto yours, lifting upwards at the feeling of you returning his kiss before he deepens it.

When he pulls away, his own lips are swollen and he looks proud of what he sees when he looks at you. He smirks, tapping slightly at the skin where your lips and your chin meet, “I’ll leave you to clean this up, yeah?”

He backs away with his eyebrows raised and a secretive smile written across his lips. It’s one that you will remember forever, returning to the room that Felix and the rest of the boys were chilling in.

Midday, when you thought you were finally free to leave the house without one of your brother’s questions about your wellbeing or another one of his friends making sure you were fed and hydrated, unable to tell them that Hwang Hyunjin left your brain feeling muddled and your core feeling all sorts of needy.

Midday when you were caught off guard by the step of the door that almost sent you sprawling face first in concrete had it not been for the man steadying you. Muscles in his arm pulsing as his hand stretches over your torso, the warmth of his chest pressed against your back.

“Leaving?” Hyunjin asks, no qualms about your current position.

“Yes,” You answer, because you’re stupid and you’re too flustered to think about what you’re saying, “With Minho.”

Hyunjin only hums, disinterested in your game of jealousy that you’re reeling in place. He leans forward slightly so that his words tickle against the skin of your neck, “Make sure to stay hydrated, everyone’s quite worried.”

A small purposeful squeeze of your waist is all he leaves as a statement of farewell before he wanders through the doors of your house.

Bastard.

Hot bastard.

At the feeling of your thighs squeezing together with new hunger you curse yourself for being irrevocably horny and chastise yourself for initially thinking you could treat yourself to a quick session of self love before meeting with your friends in the city.

A warm fire greets you as you melt into the corridor. Your exhaustion painting the walls as your heavy feet shakes the decor.

“Y/N!” Felix’s bright demeanour has your own face lifting into a beam as he embraces you in a hug you’re pretty sure you needed, “Here’s a plate.”

You take the plate gratefully from him, shuffling behind into the dining room and halting at the candlelit atmosphere and three well dressed men at the table, scoffing down food more like a boy than a man.

“It was supposed to be just us, but apparently they couldn’t wait fifteen minutes for the next bus,” Felix grumbles.

“We said sorry,” Seungmin comments, mouth full of garlic bread as he wanders into the living room, wanting to get to the TV before anyone else could complain, “Hi Y/N.”

“Hey Minnie,” You greet nonchalantly, actively aware of the man sitting across from you, coy eyes and whispers in his hair. Hyunjin twirls his fork and sips his water and yet your focus zeroes in on the way his tie is loose and his dress shirt is slightly crumpled at the forearms. Han waves at you, his cheeks full of food, as he piles a bundle of spicy vongole pasta onto your plate. To which you smile at him in thanks.

Felix sits next to you, a welcome distraction from the shit you’ve been trying to get over.

“This looks really good, Yongbok, thank you,” You beam at him, to which he pats the top of your head and watches fondly as you scoop a heap of pasta into your mouth.

Your eyes almost roll back with how good it is.

Yummy.

“YASS,” Seungmin’s uncharacteristic yell in the living room has both Felix and Han’s attention. The latter almost a glitch with how fast he runs and Felix lets out a short curse before he cleans himself up and totters to join them, yelling at the two to pause it.

Then, there were two.

Hyunjin doesn’t look at you, he focuses on his meal and on the decorations in front of him. You almost envy how much candlelight loves him, his skin smooth and his eyelashes long. You try your best to match his efforts, but you just can’t compare. You put your fork down and stare at him.

Almost in slow motion he looks into your eyes, holding them as he lifts more pasta to his mouth. His tongue reaches into his cheek for a brief moment, before he stands. Your body is so in tune with his, that it leans forward to almost mirror his actions when he cradles your cheek in his hand and kisses you.

It’s sweet, but hungry. You almost have the audacity to offer yourself to him with open legs on the kitchen table. But he pulls away before you can lose all self esteem and all that’s important to you.

He pulls away, looking decadent and not as if he just partook in a making out session whilst your brother and friends were in the next room. Your still body remains to stare after him, feeling all sorts of wrong.

However, when a flicker of a smirk appears on his face, it almost feels like it’s meant to be.

How fucking stupid.

Your fists clench and you wait for the anger to burn straight through you and let it grow and grow. The lack of control over the situation finally catching up to you and settling into your feet.

Hyunjin hadn’t seen you since the day he saw your resolve build back up. He knew his complete control over you was fleeting and temporary but he still missed it. He loved the way in which the skin on your cheeks heated and the way your eyes held his own with this look of fear and excitement.

He finds it gets to him more when he’s having a shit day.

One so much like today.

First, this asshole at work was hacking up his lungs and shitting over Hyunjin’s ideas before taking full credit for something he could barely explain. Then, some dude scratched his car and offered McDonald’s as compensation. Then, he spilled coffee all over his white dress shirt. Then, he had to ring his mother to pay for his pain medication because paying for the homeless child’s dinner actually had slapped shit karma onto his ass with a tattoo gun.

Yet when you called him, he felt he could finally breathe again.

Your giddiness whilst talking to him made his affection for you so noticeable. He could feel his smile and he could feel his warmth. He could feel his soul and his heart and it scared the shit out of him.

Because he knew what the feeling was.

Deep down, he knew. He knows.

But when he follows your instructions and sees this try-hard in front of him, flirting and attempting to touch you and you, acting so fucking oblivious. Flirting back, even. It has him fuming. His tongue is fuzzy and his eyebrows drawn tight.

His feet drag forwards and his fingers part lines into his hair as he pulls it away from his face, hoping to memorise the sure change in your expression as you notice him. But he doesn’t see it through, because he finds when he’s in front of you the only thing that he wants to do is to lean down and kiss you. Hoping you’ll kiss him in a way that shows people you want him, that you ache for him. That he is…more.

As you return his kiss and thread your arms around his neck, he presses further into you so his body is touching you all over. The boy from before is thoroughly forgotten as Hyunjin moulds into all you are, palm at the small of your back as your hands wander down his arms and lay claim at the nape of his neck.

Hyunjin’s eyes are wide-the-fuck open, staring down the idiot trying to complain with murderous intentions, daring him to cross the line.

You pull away from him breathless as fuck, “Your house?”

Hyunjin smirks and only answers with an affirmative hum, smug as you lead him out of the party and feeling his pants tighten with need when you pass him a slutty look, confident as you pass on his address to the taxi driver with your manicured finger running along the creases of his elbow.

You lead him inside.

You lead him to his bed.

One item of clothing, one after another, falling to the floor, until you are both only in undergarments.

Everything in this moment is led by you, and all his problems fall away with every kiss you initiate.

Your mouth opens as you deepen the kiss, smiling at the way he moans at the feeling of your tongue brushing against his. He falls further into your mannerisms that he feels everything and nothing at the same time.

He can’t feel the way you grasp his chin in an assertive grasp but he can feel your dominance and your possessiveness. He is briefly aware of the way your breasts rub against him, fuelling his sexual hunger.

“Ready for you,” He mumbles, tone throaty with his admission, “Please.”

“Ready for me? To do what?” You tease and his eyes fall shut dreamily.

“Anything,” Hyunjin pleads, “Just need you to touch me. Just need you.”

You press a short satisfied kiss against his Adam's apple and you let your fingers run across every line and crevice on his body. Taken by every shiver and hiss that escapes his full mouth.

“Like this?”

He swallows heavily, “More.”

“Beg, baby.”

He shook his head to which you tutted before you clamped down on both of his shoulders and squeezed.

“Why won’t you beg? Do you think it makes you less of a man?”

He shook his head, “You’ll ruin me.”

You can’t help the grin that transforms your whole face maniacally, “That’s the best part.”

He’s quiet for a second, the tension building as he speaks with his eyes. A liquid glow that manages to hold a whole conversation without the need of his mouth.

“…Please,” Hyunjin croaks weakly, unable to withstand for a second longer, “Please fuck me, Y/N…please.”

You love a man who’s hungry.

The next second, his head hits the soft material of the pillow and your hand is pressing on his throat. Your face has changed again. One full of anticipation and a tension that electrifies. You hook your leg over his own, straddling his frame as you claim the throne that is his body, his abdomen filling the space your lower body couldn’t.

With a naughty type of grin, you lean forward, applying more pressure onto his throat as you slide your mouth over his own. Feeling lightheaded from both the pleasure and the pain, his fingers grab at the skin of your thigh, your body falling forward.

He welcomes the fresh oxygen into his lungs and you let his desperation feed your ego and your sadistic tendencies, fingers brushing an apology over his slightly marked throat. His own fingers dig dents into the skin of your ass, head falling back as you grind relentlessly against his growing erection.

“You’re so fucking evil,” Hyunjin murmurs, breathless and flushed as he struggles to keep a persistent moan at bay.

“Evil seems to do a great job at getting you off,” You scoff, pressing against his chest to lift yourself up. You study each other, breathing hard. The two of you are already glowing at the promise of good sex.

Your body calls to be touched in the way he wants to touch you. He wants to be the one to unclasp your bra and let his hands drag across your skin. He wants to be the one to grab at your hips and flip you both around so he could fuck you into the mattress.

But he doesn’t. Like a good boy, he doesn’t do what his body tells him to do.

Though his hands are obedient, his eyes toe on the line of unruly and diabolical. They’re wild in their path of imagined destruction and control, propaganda sent to the lesser parts of the body that are easy to win over.

They flit to the wetness making a mess in between your thighs and along the fabric of his waistband, and his tongue licks at his bottom lip hungrily, “Fuck-”

You frown, fist pressing down on his pelvis, punishingly close enough to wrap your hand around his cock and have your way with him.

“Where is my good little sub that I know you can be?” The rhetorical question hangs heavy in the air and Hyunjin is finding it a little harder to breathe.

“I’m here.”

“I don’t see him,” Your voice is firm as you stare him down, stomping down on that wild gaze of his.

“Here,” Hyunjin pleads, his eyes glazing with unshed tears, “I promise. I’ll prove it to you if you let me, just please.”

Gotcha.

“Prove it to me? How are you going to do that?” Your head cocks slightly in challenge.

“That,” His eyes brush against his innermost desires, “Let me taste you.”

“How exactly does that prove you’re my little sub?” You mock, ignoring the way your whole body tingles at the thought of it.

“Because I need it,” Hyunjin swallows, “All of me calls to pleasure you, to be your toy, your whatever…I just need you to sit on my face until I can’t breathe. I’m begging-”

Your giggle cuts him off, it’s a dangerous tinkering sort of giggle that is pulled directly from the throat. Hyunjin inhales a sharp intake of breath, a warmth spreading across his chest as your fingers circle the skin of his abdomen.

“Cute…” You coo, tracing his tattoo, “You want to help me out?”

“Yes.”

“If that’s what you need…” You trail off, pulling your underwear from your body, subtly wincing at how sensitive you are. Hyunjin watches over you patiently, drinking in the way the material sticks to your sex and how your naked body climbs on top of him, ready to be feasted on in the way you deserved.

“Oh,” You moan, your muscles relaxing until you’re completely seated on his face as he licks an initial stripe up and down your pussy.

Your composure is all but lost as your hips begin to ride his movements, his nose bridge against your clit and his mouth sucking, kissing and licking at all he wants to devour.

You’re still the same.

Soft sweet kisses have you gasping. Sucking at your pussy causes your legs to shake and clamp around his head. Circling his tongue on the bud of your clit has your nails in his hair, the divide between pleasure and pain blurring together.

His favourite is when he dips his tongue inside you and you use him to take your pleasure for all he’s worth. He moans uncontrollably as you ground yourself further onto his face, parroting his warbled pants and groans.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Making me feel so fucking good,” You whine, grinding harder as your joints start to ache.

As you reach your orgasm, letters become numbers and your body taut as lead. An array of colours crosses your mind and he tries not to come like a virgin when his face becomes coated in your come and his spit.

After a moment's rest you collapse off of him, steadying your breathing as Hyunjin sits up, pressing his lips together at every naughty thought that crosses his mind.

He looks like a girl’s wet dream - wet lips, neck littered in bites and kisses, tongue perched in the corner of his open mouth, smirk threatening to appear at any second.

You lean towards the tissues on his beside table, giving him a view of what Hyunjin wants to bury himself in. His eyes flicker upwards in a weird attempt at chivalry before they stare into yours.

Wiping at his face, you can’t help but muse, “You’re a bit pink.”

He pretends to roll his eyes, “Wonder why.”

You’re giggling as you send a swift and sharp whack into his exposed shoulder and the brief shot of pain is too drenched in lovers haze to notice.

The tension is so high, it doesn’t take much for Hyunjin to feed off it. His smile melts off his face first and yours follows after.

Yet, you’re the one that kisses him first with your hand cradling his face. Your mouth opening and him deepening the kiss. You can’t help but realise how much you love his mouth. His lips. His tongue.

Except he’s the one that really sends the nail into the coffin, his hand laying claim on the meat of your thigh and kissing you harder until both your lips swell.

He kisses under your ear and you lick a long stripe at the juncture of his neck and across his prominent jaw.

“Let me fuck you,” He murmurs, bliss capturing your whole body and you’re floating. He kisses along your neck and at the point of your cupid’s bow, waiting for your answer.

But it's like bliss has well and truly made you her bitch.

“-Just please.”

Her favourite bitch.

At your affirmative nod, your head crashes against the pillow as Hyunjin eagerly brushes his lips over your skin, the both of you enjoying the way your skin reacts to his worship.

With his eyes imploring naughtily into yours, he plunges two fingers in his mouth, sucking on his digits and releasing them with a lewd pop.

Slowly, he lets his wet fingers draw an S down your pubic bone, just above where you need him most before he lets his digits sink into your warm, wet pussy.

Hyunjin’s eyes fall shut and his mouth gapes due to an unfinished groan that he chokes to hear the sounds you let pass your lips. You mewl, pressing your lips together in attempt to keep quiet.

He draws his fingers back, eyeing the way in which your pussy grips them before drilling his fingers forward. You clasp his wrist harshly, his skin turning white, “Fuck- wait.”

He chokes, his fingers coming to a stop. Taking the time to watch your chest heave with battered breath and your eyes fluttering in an attempt to regain self control.

“Ask if you can have your way with me.”

“I want more than that,” Hyunjin shook his head, desperate whines escaping his mouth, “I want to fucking devour you, baby. Let me in, I’m begging you.”

You grin, “Then fucking devour me.”

Your kiss is tongue and lips and too rushed to care. He runs the tip of his cock along your sex, sinking into what feels like heaven on Earth. Finally sinking into heaven.

“I’d fucking commit crimes for this pussy, oh fuck-“ He slurs, sad attempts to return your kisses but losing himself instead.

You whimper into his skin as he drives his hips forward, and it drives him so crazy he can’t help but moan in reply.

He tries to hear it, again and again.

He succeeds.

Expect it’s not just your little kitten whimpers you make when you’re submissive. No. It’s your moans that sound like they’re thick with tears. It’s your held groans and the way your body writhes against his thrusts. It’s the way your kisses start to bruise and blur. The way your nails drag along his back.

When he said he wanted to devour you..he promised it.

As your walls clench around him, swallowing him in this warm and wet cocoon of pleasure and torment. His hips begin to stutter, his body aiming to follow after your orgasm with his own.

“Come?” Hyunjin murmurs, “Where?”

At his question and how pleased you are, you open your mouth.

Hyunjin almost whimpers as he follows through, watching his come eject onto your tongue. Hissing when you make a point of sucking at the swollen mushroom tip and maintaining eye contact as you swallow.

He almost says it.

But as soon as his head hits the pillow and you tuck yourself in next to him…the exhaustion of the weeks past drags him under.

You wake with a start, the sun is crisp and pours into the room. You check the time, widening your eyes at the time. You search for your phone hurriedly as you dress, even though you have nowhere to be and no one to see.

“Hyunjin,” You murmur, voice a little groggy from oversleeping.

“Mm?” He questions groggily, sniffing a little.

“Have you seen my phone?” You ask, eyes searching for your phone to check the time and to make your exit back home.

He pauses for a second, trying to remember, before he reaches for his bedside table, “Yeah. I put it on charge.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, pocketing your phone before you notice how feverish Hyunjin looks and how croaky he sounds. Concern makes its way to your eyebrows before you brush his hair from his forehead, frowning at the collection of sweat.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I think I’m just tired,” He mutters.

You wet a handcloth anyway. Patting him down and smiling lightly at the relief that crosses his face. You retrieve your phone from your pocket, ordering him a big bowl of stew and a Gatorade to boost his electrolytes.

You help yourself to his kitchen, snooping around his over the counter medicines thrown haphazardly in the cabinet above his fridge. One Paracetamol. Two ibuprofen. Prescription saline nasal spray. Expired cough medicine. You tutter, digging into your purse for your own stash and finding three lozenges.

You peer at the mess around him, before you put a shirt into his laundry basket. Then another. Then his pants. Then his jumpers. His work clothes. Everything.

Then you put it in his washing machine. Then his dryer. You wipe a wet cloth down his surfaces. The smell of Hyunjin’s house then, a chemical citrus. You light a candle that smells better. Like jasmine and vanilla.

You meet the delivery man and remember to thank him. You put the stew into a ceramic bowl and give him a proper spoon that won’t bend in half. You put the Ibuprofen next to his Gatorade that you hope he fucking drinks.

Kneeling next to him, you tap him on the shoulder, “Hyunjin.”

His eyes flutter open with sick induced questions, “Yeah?”

“Come eat,” You order and without strength to fight against you, he obeys. He waddles cutely into the hallway, shoulder bumping into walls and blinking at his new clean house. He sits on the table where you’ve set him up and digs in.

You watch him like a hawk at first, ready to yell at him if he so much as decides not to take the medicine, or at least three sips of Gatorade and leaves more than half the bowl full. But when he does it all without complaint, you begin to relax.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin croaks. You only smile in reply, walking him back to his bed and tucking him in. He falls back into a sick induced sleep and you can only watch as he inhales and exhales.

So peaceful and gentle.

“I’m going to leave now,” You confess.

“Thank you,” He says again.

“Have another ibuprofen in three hours,” You direct, “That should be at about 2 o’clock.”

“Okay.”

Once again, he almost says it, right after he almost asks you to stay. But his fever and the hypnosis of his sleep saves him once again.

The events of that night had him soft on you. Too soft. It reminded him of the you before the poison and the him before the hurt. It was too much to ignore, too much to return to the pretence. He refused to believe that you were soft on him just as much as he was you.

He had to get weight and fast.

Before he got further and further down this trepid path that would only lead to further injury.

It comes to him in the form of a girl he vaguely remembers dated Felix, who smells good and looks amazing. But for the life of him, he can’t remember her name. Only the one time she had a complete meltdown.

But you, you remember it all too well.

How kind she was, how sweet. How she directed you. How she always told you you were so much prettier than people gave you credit for. How good of a couple you and Minho were. The switch up. The undermining, the little digs at the fragile relationship you had with your brother at the time. The pining and the complete lack of respect for him. The Hyunjin thing. It infuriated you. Infuriates you, still.

Felix, only observes her with polite indifference, one which is returned. He even winks at Hyunjin as she begins to lean into him with her hand draped over his shoulder. Hyunjin can’t help but notice the way your eyebrows furrow as you take in her position within the group, astounded.

Has that look always been there?

You look so unsure of yourself as you approach him, pulling at the ends of his shirt when everyone is otherwise preoccupied. All except her, who you keep an eye on as you drag your boy out of her proximity.

Hyunjin stares down with a look of complete wonder, wondering and realising. At the change of his eyes, you change yours. Half-lidded, sexy. Fingers circling its naughty rings around the freckles on his abdomen.

“You look good,” You flirt, licking your lips as you start to imagine all he could commit with his apparel.

He feels his heart flutter, and yet he says, “Am I hotter to you when you’re jealous?”

Your sultry expression drops and you lightly push him away from you by the chest, “I wasn’t jealous.”

He snorts.

Yeah, right.

“You were,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, becoming frustrated by the sheer audacity of whatever is happening and the heat that surrounds you, “She was literally just talking…not even to me.”

“You have a really great imagination,” You’re seething through your teeth as you say it, “I’m not jealous.”

He laughs, but he isn’t finding it funny.

Right now, he’s found the perfect tool in which to wreck your sanity. But instead, he feels like it’s a double edged sword, cutting him down. What the fuck is happening? What is with you?

He doesn’t understand and now he can’t stop spitting all the shit he’s wanted to say.

“Was that little show in there just marking your territory?” He jeers, “We’re exclusive, I won’t fuck your friends.”

Your mouth gapes as you look in bewilderment.

“We agreed,” Hyunjin’s eyes feel like twitching, “We agreed that whatever this is..it wasn’t-”

“This isn’t fucking jealousy, Hyunjin and if you really feel that way then let’s end it here. In fact, I heard Hanji is in the bathroom with some bitch, do you think he’ll dog me if I ask?” You shout, causing bystanders to look at the two in shock. Hyunjin sucks in his lip in frustration before gripping you at the wrist and yanking you into the next room. A quiet office where the only sounds you can hear are limited to the harsh inhales and exhales of your anger and the base speaker.

He scowls, before grabbing your face with one hand, fingers denting your cheeks, “Shut up.”

Your back straightens with your hackles raised and Hyunjin’s own frame relaxes, picking on the tell tale signs of your impending arousal. Your fire licks against his flames.

“You’re so fucking nasty I want to come all over you,” He grits his teeth and sucks at his lips as he chastises you.

“You don’t need to ask for permission,” You sneer, lip curling in disdain.

He raises an eyebrow in disbelief, his eyes narrowing in warning. To which you stare back, just as unrelenting and bitter as before.

He casts a dark chuckle, looming over you until your ass plants against the desk. He wraps his hand around your throat, caught by the true vulnerability of your eyes. Glinting at him like the reflection of the moon on the ocean. Within reach.

He shakes his head, surprisingly reluctant to find comfort in the feeling. Nor can he find comfort in your demise. No matter how much he wants to and how much his body is tempted to.

Instead, he exhales a calculated breath, his eyes hovering over your exposed skin and the heaving of your chest. You lick your lips in an attempt to reign in your desire, but the way his palm fits across the whole of your thigh, pushing your dress up to expose yourself to him.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Hyunjin tells you, dark eyes pitting against yours, “Then, you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

You’re a but a weak girl, unable and completely at his mercy.

You nod, your eyes still big and round and too fucking demure. So much that when he kisses you roughly, he closes his eyes. His fingers are quick to lift your dress, skilled in the study of your body and what you like. He kisses down your neck, your sounds the obvious tell of how horny you are. The way you grip at his shoulders and his arms, the other.

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker open to remove your underwear, fully intending to avoid your possible stare but is so surprised by how wet you are already. You whine as the cool air kisses the sensitive skin of your pussy and Hyunjin can feel his hardening length and his mouth watering.

Nonchalantly he wets the skin of his thumb, before brushing down your sex, testing your sensitivity as your head rolls.

Fuck.

He pulls his pants down, freeing himself from the confines of fabric before lining himself against your pussy and Hyunjin basks in the moment he sinks into you, your walls clenching and swallowing him whole. Warm. Wet. Driving him to the brink of insanity, he fists at the hard surface of the wooden desk, the sound only adding to the pleasure you both feel.

“Driving me fucking crazy,” Hyunjin swears, watching the way your lidded eyes are open but hooded, “You fucking know it, too. I know you do.”

You whimper an affirmative, the sound of pleasure picking up when Hyunjin begins to thrust into you. Uncaring of being gentle or vengeful. Caring only about fucking you. Fucking you how many fucking times you want to.

Your eyes roll back as a particular harsh thrust, the desk shaking from the movement. Your hands grapple for leverage around his shoulder blade, your face falling into his exposed throat. You lick and suck along his collarbones and his throat, his collar. Ripping at his buttoned shirt to lick along his chest but pathetically falling short..

He pants as his position changes, angling his hips better, faster, harder. His face and hair, knocking against yours and his teeth clenching at the force. You let out an utmost wanton moan, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to muffle your screams against his mouth.

He drills harder, wanting nothing else but to hear the sound again and again, until your voice is hoarse and croaky and the memories blur into your cries of pleasure. His mouth falls open in an attempt to return the kiss, but how can he when you can barely do the same?

He manages to lick against your top lip and your lips make contact with the skin of his chin. His eyelids drunk as they fall and rise. Your walls clenching around him tighter as your orgasm approaches.

He sees colours, hears them, as he fucks you through your orgasm and through his. His hips staggering at the slow decrease of adrenaline and at the pinnacle of his relaxation, he opens his big mouth and he says it.

“I love you,” He means it when he kisses you, heavy and wet and beautiful.

He regrets it, because he sees the way it breaks you as he says it. You pull away harshly, like you had been zapped with electricity and as if you suddenly developed a conscience. But he can see you feel something for him too.

He can see it, but he won’t get the reassurance.

You would never admit it, it seems.

“You broke the rules,” You’re heaving, eyes panic stricken as you assess him.

“Those rules were bullshit as soon as we fucking made them,” Hyunjin shouts, hurt slithering its path around his heart like a no good snake.

They were.

“I’ve got to go,” You gasp out, air not finding you easily.

Hyunjin scoffs a humourless laugh, “To Minho, I bet. Like you always do.”

Your face crumples, and he finds it even more laughable. What the fuck were you doing? What the fuck was he doing? What even was this?

“We can’t do this anymore,” Your voice is gluggy with unshed tears.

Seriously?

“You’re right,” Hyunjin sneers, “What was I thinking? I love you? I must have lost it. Go- Go to Minho, leave- at least you got one last fuck out of me, right? Just like we agreed?”

Hyunjin lifts his pants, frame facing away from you so you won’t be able to spot the way his pain fills him so obviously, his weakness completely on show for you to gawk at. Missing the way you attempt to explain yourself, to finally answer all he wants to ask.

But only catching when you leave the room, leaving him hollow and scrubbed raw with an ache that has surpassed years of fucking other people to get over you. Years of trying to one up you and get revenge. Of being unable to let you go. Years of torture.

Scrubbed raw again and again.

He is Hyunjin, still pathetically not over you.

author's note : oh my god, finally finished after months of writing and months of just not getting anywhere. i tried editing as i went but there still might be mistakes. HOPEFULLY you like the second part of their story and it's not disappointing..

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ceo-of-sloppy-men · 2 years

Text

Head Under Water; Playing With Fire (Ch1)

Fandom: Dune Ship: Gurney Halleck/Nonbinary Original Character Rating: Mature Tags: slow burn (sorta), mutual pining/attraction, canon compliant (again, sorta), sparring, sexual tension Summary: (Starts before the Harkonnen raid on Arrakis) General Sero has been assigned to work with the Atreides Duke in an effort to establish stable relations with the Atreides. Unfortunately, no one had considered that the General and Warmaster would fall in love. Notes: I know the summary is cheesy sksksksk Look I finished book 1 and lowkey fell in love with book Gurney. So, naturally, I had to give him a stubborn Fremen General. Is an afab nonbinary Fremen General accurate to Dune? Probably not! But this is fanfic, where canon gets yeeted. Title inspired by "Apartment" by BOBI ANDONOV AO3 Link:

They drum their fingers on the armrest of their seat in the ornithopter as the desert passes quickly below them. They replay the conversation that’s brought them here for the third or fourth time this trip, the stern tone of their sietch’s Naib detailing why it was important they went to work with the Atreides and not another. The most trusted General of the sietch, the one he knew for certain wouldn’t betray the Fremen if given a chance. Sometimes loyalty had its downsides.

It had been a particularly long (and stressful) conversation over battle strategy, but the main point was that they would be fully loyal to both the Duke and their own people. They were to train the soldiers, speak up in strategy meetings as if they’d always been there, and maintain an air of professionalism. This is a delicate test of a treaty that an Atreides man named Duncan Idaho had set up. They are not to jeopardize this. Not that they would consider doing so, they are all too familiar with how the Harkonnens treated their people, and they would not dare risk that treatment repeated by this new house. They respected the Atreides for attempting such an alliance, although this assignment may test that respect. They’d heard their fellow Fremen talk about the Atreides in the sietch, and they would not let the fanatical religious beliefs nor the brittle hostility left by the Harkonnens persuade their opinion prior to meeting them.

A sigh escapes them despite themself, and they catch the pilot glancing their way.

“Is something wrong, sir?” they ask nervously. They note his steel grip on the ornithopter’s controls. The poor man was shaking in his boots, probably still reeling from when they’d adjusted his still suit and chastised whoever had taught him to put it on upon their first meeting.

“No, nothing that’s within your power to control. This ride is taking much longer than I would like,” they complain, watching the sand below.

“I’m sorry. If I could go faster, I would,” he apologizes regardless.

“Focus on flying. I will survive,” they dismiss, waving their hand briefly before returning it back to the armrest.

The escort is still nervously glancing at them by the time they touch down as if he expects them to suddenly capture the ‘thopter and fly off. He’s completely ignorant to the fact that they’ve gone through the conversation with the Naib another two times and wholly ignored him. Their gaze sweeps out the window to see three figures standing a safe distance from the settling Ornithopter and raise an eyebrow.

As if sensing their curiosity, their escort pipes up again: “The Duke, his Warmaster and the Young Master.”

“Ah, my thanks. I would have guessed something along those lines, but it is difficult for one’s eyes perfectly make out details at this distance,” they say, meaning it to its fullest extent.

The escort nods, and they take a moment as the blades of the Ornithopter settle to adjust their robe. The sash tied around their waist and thrown over their shoulder is paid careful attention to check the security of the items stuffed there. They’d rather not spill its contents in front of such authority. Not that they were particularly known for doing so, but the anxiety of the idea never failed to eat away at them.

Once the Ornithopter has settled, their escort presses a button on the controls, and the door to their side eases open. Deliberately taking their time, they exit, their boots hitting the soft sand below. It’s a hot day, as always, and they briefly wonder how long the Duke has been waiting. They’re sure it hasn’t been long; they have ways to detect incoming Ornithopters, and their escort had radioed in their arrival once the city was in viewing range.

As they approach the group of three, they carefully examine them and commit them to memory (who knows when they’d need this information again).

The Duke himself had an air to him, regal and perfect posture, and an air that read his patience is not meant to be tested.

The boy beside him looked far more patient than his father, mirroring the same posture and borrowing most of his features. They knew of him well; there were many whispers in the sietch of the young Maud’dib.

Then there was the third man with a posture that could only be described as rigid and a scar that crept and wound across his face. His broad shoulders are as straight as an arrow. He wore an air of sternness well, with a steady frown, and when he noticed their gaze upon him, he held it strong. They kept it until they were at an appropriate distance, forcing them to bow to the Duke. Even so, they found themself disappointed and cursed that they dared find an Atreides attractive.

This would be a problem.

“Duke Atreides,” they say, careful to keep their tone level and their address sterile. They need not show a slight hope for the Duke yet.

“General Sero, I presume?” he says as Sero straightens their posture. He continues after they nod in confirmation. “I’ve heard of your reputation from my Swordmaster. I have to admit, it’s prestigious.”

“I’m glad to hear my reputation precedes me. It makes things all the easier when you’re aware of what I’m capable of,” they say, allowing themself the slightest smile at the notion.

“I agree. Knowing the skills of a colleague is the first step to understanding how to work together. Thus, I brought my Warmaster, Gurney Halleck, to meet you with me. You will be working the closest with him,” the Duke says, gesturing to the broad man next to him.

They nod their head to him, letting him catch their gaze once more. He holds it until the Duke speaks up again: “And this is my son, Paul.”

They also incline their head to Paul, noting how the Duke doesn’t elaborate on why Paul’s here.

“Now, I believe we have a tactics meeting to attend. Someone will collect your things from the Ornithopter and store them in your room for you,” the Duke says, turning in a broad, sweeping manner that causes his cape to flutter in the air.

Sero notes how Gurney takes up the rear while Paul walks slightly in front of them in the middle of the group. There’s a certain status quo to the group, whether they care to admit it. They do their best to keep a rigid posture as they’re guided through the halls of the base toward a space tucked in the back where the Duke has set up his war council.

The door to the room is pushed open by a guard, and they’re met by the wide eyes and flickering whispers of the Duke’s council. They hold their head high, keeping their gaze level as they take the seat selected for them, draping their robe across the back of the chair. One leg crossed over the other, they lean back just enough in their seat to maintain a professional aura.

The meeting is exactly what they expected; redundant and short, lacking consideration in other techniques and broadly showing ignorance. More than a few comments are made about the lack of shield generators used by the Fremen. There are only so many comments they can let slide.

“… we still haven’t found a way to protect our sand crawlers while harvesting spice without shields. It leaves one to wonder how anyone could survive in this desert if they cannot use shields,” an officer reports to the Duke.

“That’s because you think only within your limited worldview. You do not know how Arrakis works and are ignorant to learn,” Sero bites before the Duke can respond, prompting all eyes at the table to turn to them.

“Respect your Duke,” Gurney barks from his spot, sending a piercing glare to Sero that they return. They catch a hand signal out of the corner of their eye; Gurney settles back into his previous position.

“Something you wish to add, General?” the Duke asks, eyeing them with curiosity to mask his annoyance. An expression he’s mimicking from his son.

“If you’re worried about worms, you’re going about it wrong. The shields won’t help in the event of a worm attack - it’ll digest it anyway. What you need is to find a way to distract the worm long enough you can harvest your precious spice. Perhaps if you focused your efforts on that, you would come across the answer to how to work with Arrakis instead of against it,” they say, keeping their face as neutral as possible as they maintain eye contact with the Duke.

“Is there something you would propose to accomplish this?” the officer from before prompts, pen poised, ready to take down any information they could offer.

“Worms are not my field of expertise. You could attempt to lure it away with something harder, pounding the sand; a series of thumpers placed across the sand could confuse it as to where the source is - really, any strategy that could protect your crawlers could work. It’s up to you to find the exact one.”

“Thank you for your input, General,” the Duke says, his voice clipped as if he’s attempting to maintain his air of professionalism on frayed nerves. They don’t blame him - they’d never interrupt their Naib in such a manner, but something had to be said, or they’d keep going on like blathering fools.

They nod their head to him, and the meeting resumes its previous boredom. It’s not until they’re finally strategizing battle plans that they have any real input. Strategies, different angles on problems - things that make heads turn to the Fremen in the room. Their voice was prominent in the room, and for once, the strangers seem to be listening. Harkonenns never listened. They never even tried.

When the meeting finally concluded, Sero was left with a slight smile. Something that had become increasingly less common for them during the Harkonnen occupation. As they gather their robe from the back of their chair, adjusting the sash around their waist, the Duke addresses them once more.

“General Sero, our immediate meeting cut any hope of a tour from our plans. You have the rest of the day off; my Warmaster will show you around and to your quarters as he will work the closest with you. When you are finished, take the necessary time to coordinate your instructions. Whatever time you have left will be yours to use as you wish,” Duke Let says, his tone careful and measured as he instructs them.

They curse internally yet maintain the same neutral expression as before. They’d been hoping for an escort and some privacy, not the ruggedly handsome, grumpy Warmaster. Okay. Handsome. They need to get rid of that thought immediately. This is strictly professional.

Even Gurney looks like he wants to protest, his face scowling as he picks up a… baliset? Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all. That’s assuming he doesn’t simply carry it around for fun. And assuming he’s willing to be cordial - at least a little bit.

“As you wish, my Duke,” Sero says, minding their manners carefully. They’d rather not further anger the man they’ve been assigned to spend the rest of the day (and potentially the rest of their stay) with.

Duke Leto nods his head to both of them as he moves to exit the room: “I will see both of you tomorrow.”

With that, they are left alone in the room out of obligation. Sero takes the silence to study how the baliset strap sits across his chest, how his uniform clings in some places and drapes in others, his wispy blond hair, and the seemingly permanent frown on his face. Privately they wonder if the inkvine scar has anything to do with the frowning.

“I suppose I should start with your quarters, so you have somewhere to put your robe,” Gurney grunts, and they aren’t quick enough to mask the flash of shock that ripples across their face.

“That would be acceptable,” they say, choosing their words carefully.

There’s barely a nod of acknowledgement before he leads them out of the door. Clearly he wants about as much to do with them as they do with him. This work-colleague relationship is going to prove difficult to navigate.

The walk down the hallway is silent save for the sparse comments from Gurney about different locations within the stronghold. The silence is maddening. They’re used to the constant chatter of people in the sietch; of life. Even a Fremen escort would be more willing to talk to them, and they knew soldiers who would shake in their boots at the idea of escorting them. This had to be fixed before it became an unbreakable habit.

When they finally reach their quarters, they deposit their belongings at the bed's foot. The rest of their belongings have already been brought over, resting by the door. The room is nothing spectacular; a large bed, a desk and an ensuite bathroom. Exactly what they would’ve expected out of a foreigner’s accommodations. They’ll have to make due later.

“Do you want to continue the tour, or should I take my leave?” Gurney asks, his voice rigid and sterile. It cuts their ears, and they can’t stand it any longer.

“Warmaster, do I make you uncomfortable?”

He balks at them for a moment. They would chastise him if he were their soldier for how his mouth hangs open, losing moisture. His brow sets heavy on his forehead, his open mouth morphing into a frown.

“Have I done something to render this assumption?”

“Yes - but it wasn’t an assumption. It was a question,” they correct him. “As I understand it, you’re not used to Fremen or feminine-presenting people in power. Let alone a Fremen General with the body of a woman. I get the feeling you either don’t want me here or don’t think I can do my job as promised.”

“We were made aware of your appearance prior to your arrival, and I’ve already taken the time to adjust myself to the idea. It's not that you make me uncomfortable; I don’t trust you. Simple as that.”

“I would expect nothing less. But it’s comforting to know that you aren’t going to undermine my experience because of my appearance. However, trust can be remedied; skill can always be proven,” they state, pulling a few things from their sash and placing them on their desk. No need to carry so much with them right now.

“What would you propose?” Gurney asks his tone almost light. As if he was humouring them while entertaining a few comical ideas.

“A sparing session. I’ll need your assistance in demonstrations to train your men; it would be best to know where we each stand. So I don’t embarrass you in front of your own men when you lose,” they say nonchalantly, taking a moment to unscrew the cap of their flask and take a brief swig. “Unless you’re willing to let your men see you slack-jawed when I take you down a few pegs for the first time.”

“Hah,” he laughs dryly, earning a raised eyebrow from Sero. “I doubt you’ll win.”

“Since you’re so confident, want to bet on it? If I win, you must play me a song on your baliset. While singing,” they propose, suppressing their grin to a thin smile.

He debates their proposal for a moment. They can see it in his eyes and how his brow sets on his face. Perhaps they’d struck too high of a bet… or just enough where the stakes seemed completely favourable to him.

“What do I get when I win?” he tests them.

The wording is a dead giveaway. He’s going to accept this no matter what prize they offer him. So they pull a small container from their sash, holding it between their thumb and forefinger.

“Your man, Idaho, mentioned that the pain in your scar affects your mood. This cream is meant to treat inkvine injuries and similar ones inflicted by the Harkonnens. Something we’ve devised after many years. It was given to me as a bargaining chip before I left in case I ran into trouble. Seeing how you and the Duke have no objections to my presence, I find it only fitting that this still sees use.”

There is a brief ripple of emotion in his eyes - mostly shock - as they explain it carefully. “Well then, it seems we have a fair bet. I hope you won’t be too sore when you lose,” he says.

“If you’re so sure, then lead the way,” they say, gesturing to the door.

He does so without further prompting, leading them down the corridors and to the lower floors of the stronghold. This time when he points out places, he takes time for questions and answers them - albeit with an underlying layer of caution. They take the time to watch his movements, walking slightly behind him to see where he shifts his weight too. It gives them time to pick out the most vulnerable spots and the safer places to feign towards. If he notices what they are doing, he doesn’t let it on.

Finally, they come to a sturdy double door. In the distance, they can hear the crash and clang of weapons against each other. Soldiers are training nearby.

“In here,” Gurney grunts, pushing open the double doors.

#frank herbert's dune #i apologize to frank herbert... not really #gurney halleck #gurney halleck/original character #slow burn #ao3 link #fan fiction #dune fanfiction #yup #here i am #this is a new low for me #gurney halleck x reader

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