#it has been a HELL of a week and i am only three days into it holy shit

[verystressedcollegestudent]

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

[brainfullofbees]

.

[heliophaestus]

.

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[stylesharrys]

special brownies [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n accidentally eat their roommates special brownies.

warnings: mentions and use of weed (edibles), being high, swearing, kissing, biting, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk.

word count: 2,396

a/n: i came up with this idea very randomly and i have written it as fast as i possibly could lmao anyway, the whole thing is about accidentally getting stoned, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read! if it doesn't, enjoy <333

//

It’s been a long week and Y/N is feeling it. Between classes and shifts at the cafe, her feet are sore and her mind is tired. She wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa with a good tv show and pass the fuck out.

And tonight is supposed to be her lucky night. Tom has a night shift and Harry has a hot date. No boys, no roommates, no interruptions.

There’s just something about knowing she’s got the flat to herself all night long, and she can lounge about like the lazy girlie her heart yearns to be.

She starts with a long, relaxing her aching body in the hot soapy water until her skin begins to prune. Y/N takes extra time to moisturise her body and brush her hair. Even treats herself to a face mask while she does so.

When she leaves the bathroom, it’s almost 7 p.m. and Tom has already left for work. The apartment is clean, and most importantly, quiet.

She’s a bit too excited in her movement to the sofa, a squeal slipping from her lips. Too caught up in her head, she doesn’t notice Harry leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded across his chest.

It’s not until he clears his throat that Y/N jumps out of her little happy dance with a scream. A smirk sits on his lips, amused by the way she scowls at him.

“What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be out on a date!”

Her tone is accusing, pointer finger jabbing at the air in his direction. She notices his attire; grey shorts and a white hoodie. Y/N’s shoulders slump.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs.

“What? I thought you liked hanging out with me?” Harry follows her to the sofa, sitting on  the opposite end of her.

Y/N crosses her arms furiously. “I do! But I was so excited to have the flat to myself for just one night.”

Harry’s brows are raised suggestively, that sick fucking smirk on his lips again. Y/N lunges a pillow at his face. “Not for those reasons, you perv.”

He barks out a laugh, hugging the pillow close to his chest as he props his feet up and on Y/N’s lap. He watches how her bottom lip pouts out and his face softens.

“Look, if you want me to fuck off out for the evening, I can.” Harry offers.

She scoffs. “That is what you were supposed to be doing.” A moment of silence passes and she sighs. “Sorry, that came out rude. I'm not about to kick you out of your own flat – though I am going to force you to watch the last three episodes of The Rookie with me.”

Harry makes no attempt to hide the groan that follows her words. It’s not that he doesn’t like the show, it’s that he hates the show. He’ll never understand Y/N’s weird obsession with emergency services.

First, it was Criminal Minds, then a month later she binge watched 9-1-1 Lone Star in six days. Now she’s on the newest season of The Rookie and he’s sure she only started season one at the beginning of the month?

“Do we have to?” he grumbles.

Y/N throws another pillow at him. “Yes. You’re the one interrupting my night, you could at least do it quietly… and with snacks.”

Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence and Harry has to bite back a grin. She could never be mad at Harry, she loves him and his company far too much. Tom, on the other hand… yeah, she would definitely be mad if it was him crashing her lazy girl night.

Harry stands from the sofa, wandering through to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of water in one hand and scans his eyes through the cupboards in search for a suitable snack.

They’ve not been shopping for a few days, so there’s only some dry crackers, a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts (ew, Tom), and granola. Harry contemplates ubering some cookies and milkshakes when his eyes land on a bakery box on top of the microwave.

He squints as he reads the writing on the top of the box.

Tom’s. DO NOT EAT!

Harry flips the lid, six thick slices of dewey chocolate brownies. They’re like fucking slabs… he’s sure Tom won’t mind if he and Y/N share just one between them.

He pops a (massive) slice on a plate and toddles back to the kitchen. The show is paused on the opening scene, Y/N shuffled to get comfortable on the sofa. She raises a brow at the snack in question.

“We’re sharing a brownie?”

Harry huffs as he sits. “S’all we’ve got in the kitchen, and they’re Tom’s. Didn’t wanna take the piss when his little sticky note clearly says DO NOT TOUCH!”

Y/N snorts, breaking the brownie in half and handing Harry the bigger slice. She takes a bite, face screwing slightly.

“These taste a little funny… nutmeg, maybe?”

She turns to Harry who doesn’t say anything and still hasn’t taken the brownie. The look on his face irks her. She huffs, swallowing. “I feel bad that your date cancelled on you.”

His eyebrows almost raise to his hairline. “And what makes you think she was the one to cancel?”

“Was she?” Y/N asks.

Harry takes the brownie with a sigh. “Yeah.”

//

They can’t stop fucking giggling.

The show is long forgotten about, has been for the past thirty minutes. They’re both feeling warm. Harry stripped from his jumper and Y/N changed into some little shorts and one of Harry’s baggy t-shirts.

Neither of them know where this amusement came from, but there is absolutely no calming either of them down. They’re sneakily sharing a second slice of Tom’s brownies; eyes on the door in case for some reason, he comes home an hour after his shift has started.

“They taste so weird, but I can’t stop eating it.”

Harry chokes out a laugh, eyes welling with tears because he just finds Y/N so fucking funny tonight.

She’s a mess too, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched as she laughs uncontrollably. They’re both crossed-legged on the living room floor, knees knocking gently.

The more she chews, the more she begins to recognise that unfamiliar taste… the way it lingers on her tongue. Her laughter slows for a moment, as if realisation is beginning to dawn on her.

She stares at Harry with wide eyes and parted lips, mouth still full.

“Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“They’re fucking weed brownies!”

Harry can’t breathe, struggles to look away from the fear and shock on Y/N’s face. His whole body begins to shake with laughter and Y/N finds herself following.

“Harry, it’s not funny!” she shrieks. “This is so bad, Harry.”

She’s laughing through her words. Even she can’t take herself seriously in this state.

“D’you wanna play Just Dance?”

Harry’s words only make her laugh harder. The remainder of her brownie is thrown at his naked torso. Harry wastes no time to tackle her to the ground, hovering between her legs as he tickles her sides.

He's blowing raspberries on her neck, eliciting loud cackles from her mouth. Y/N tugs at his hair, her legs flailing around his hips when he nips at the skin on her throat.

They don’t say anything. She continues to chuckle, and Harry continues to bite.

Their laughter has fizzled out into breathy giggles. Neither of them are sure when Harry’s bites turned into kisses. When their fingers became intertwined. When her legs closed around his middle.

And neither of them say a fucking thing about it.

Harry’s lips travel up her neck and across her jaw. She finds his mouth feverishly, nothing but tongue and teeth but to the pair of them, it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.

They’re needy, hot and wanton all of a sudden. Like a switch has been flipped and they’re clinging to one another like lifelines.

Harry holds her hands above her head, fingers tangled. He’s hard, rock hard. Pressing into Y/N’s tiny fucking shorts so much he’s sure he can feel her arousal through both of their clothes.

He ruts against her, testing the waters. The moan he receives sends all blood down south. He’s always known sex to be incredible when you’re high. The thought of him sharing it with her? God, he could bust there and then.

He releases her hands so he can feel up her thighs, skin hot and smooth. Their lips don’t separate, not once. She lets her hands fall into his curls, nails scratching at his scalp and she tugs at the roots.

Harry’s moaning into her mouth, eager and desperate for more. He takes her shorts off quickly and strategically. So quickly that she doesn’t notice until she feels a cool breeze between her thighs.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, more than ready for whatever the fuck he wants to do to her.

They haven’t hesitated, not once. Not until Harry's hands are at the waistband of his shorts and he wonders if he should grab a condom or just go down on her. He knows she’s on the pill, just like they both know they’re both clean.

Harry gets tested once a month and Y/N doesn’t sleep around.

She answers his inner turmoil for him and tugs his shorts down the best she can. Harry breaks the kiss for a split second to tug his shorts to his knees. He’s back to kissing her as quickly as he pulled away, tongue against hers. Hot and messy.

Y/N feels his tip twitch against her clit, an airy sigh echoing into Harry’s mouth. He lets his fingers swirl around her wetness, smearing it across her smooth cunt and coating his thick shaft in her arousal.

They’re panting messes, eager, desperate and horny.

When he lines himself at her entrance, she locks her legs around his waist. Harry bumps forward, a shrill cry slipping from between their lips at the sensation of one another.

Harry wants to give her a moment to adjust, but Y/N doesn’t. She wants it hot and hard. She wants the pain. She wants to feel every fucking inch of him.

She probably should’ve warned Harry how she gets when she’s high. How much of a whiny, cock-hungry whore she can become. Then again, how was she supposed to know they’d accidentally eat their roommates special brownies?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry chokes as he bottoms out.

Y/N’s struggling to catch her breath but she’s never loved the burn in her lungs more. “Fuck me, H.”

He twitches inside her. “Fuck me hard.”

His hips begin to roll, cock nuzzling itself deep inside her. He can feel everything. Every bump, dip, swell. God, she’s fucking soaked, leaking down to the floor but neither of them care.

Harry slowly begins to quicken his pace, arms bent at the elbows either side of Y/N’s head to prop himself up. She doesn’t loosen her legs around his hips. She needs him as close as he can possibly get.

Even his cock buried to the brim in her cunt isn’t enough. She needs his soul touching hers.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” she breathes. “You gonna fuck my tight cunt, baby? Fuck me like you own me.”

He can’t believe his fucking ears. He’s always found Y/N attractive, but never in his wildest fucking dreams did he expect her to be this goddamn filthy.

Harry loves it.

His thrusts grow harsher. She has no time to catch her breath between hits, her mouth in a constant state of slack – eyes rolled back and eyebrows pinched.

“My perfect little cunt.” Harry seethes.

The noises of her pussy are like electric waves in Harry’s ears. He feels them in his soul, like sparks and jolts. He’s never felt more alive.

He’s fucking into her manically. Behind closed eyes all he can see shapes and colours of need and desire. Sex has always been good, always been great high. But this? Fuck, he’s never felt something so otherwordly.

He never wants it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life fucking her like a whore. She’s tugging his hair, likely making his scalp bleed but he loves it. He’d bleed a fucking river just to feel her cunt around him again.

“I’m gonna come!”

Her words awaken something animalistic within Harry. Like his life depends on feeling her release around him – like it’s what he was born to experience.

He chases her high, nipping and suckling on her neck, fucking into her cunt as fast as his restrained hips will allow. Y/N’s a blubbering mess, a sight Harry never wants to forget.

Fuck, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. This will forever be etched into his mind – her face, her body, her perfect cunt. Jesus, he’s never been so into sex in his life.

Her body begins to tremble uncontrollably, legs locked tight around his middle as she cries his name and pours over him.

Harry’s gruff and desperate moans mix with hers. She’s impossibly tighter, squeezing him; begging him to never let her feel anything but full ever again.

Harry wants to die buried in her cunt.

It takes every single fucking ounce of willpower he has to pull out and release across her thighs – painting the filthiest picture anyone could imagine.

It’s a struggle for either of them to catch their breaths. Hot and heavy panting that soon turns into light laughter, that even sooner, turns into contagious giggles.

Their bodies shake with every chuckle, Harry’s mouth ghosting hers until he nips on her bottom lip.

“We are never to talk about this, understood?”

He grins widely. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She hums, eyes full of lust. Harry’s still achingly hard, despite coming more than he ever has before. He dips his head to her neck, sucking at her soft skin. His cock twitches against her thigh and she breathes deeply, blinks slowly.

“You wanna go again?” his voice is muffled by her neck.

She grins, legs wrapping back around his middle.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

[peachesofteal]

The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel. 

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable. 

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive. 

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles. 

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top. 

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod. 

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.” 

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts. 

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.” 

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights. 

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse. 

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one. 

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind. 

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded. 

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area. 

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling. 

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body. 

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm. 

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and- 

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath. 

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment. 

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding. 

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind. 

Sleep. 

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel. 

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened? 

And why do you hurt so fucking bad? 

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember? 

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate? 

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no. 

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye. 

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip. 

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down. 

Still… 

Didn’t Johnny kiss you? 

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed. 

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?”  You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones. 

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience. 

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

 “Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

[bucks-babe]

More Virgin Bucky

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky 

Summary: Bucky jerks off to the memory of your movie night

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: male masturbation, mention of past blowjob, Bucky is a horny boy, reader is not in this one but he thinks about them

A/N: The part two that a lot of yall wanted. Am I a tease? Yes. Bucky does not lose his v-card in this one. BUT I will write a part three I promise. I want to corrupt this man so bad. Also, I wrote this in like an hour sooo. Part of the Virgin!Bucky series but can be read alone

One week. Actually eight days and five hours, but Bucky is the only one counting. That’s how long it's been since you sucked the sense out of your boyfriend. It has taken every ounce of control Bucky has to not ask you to do it again. It’s all he thinks about ever since that night.

He would be embarrassed if you knew, but in all fairness, you did this to him. You effectively made him malfunction. Bucky has been fucking his fist practally every night, replaying the best moment of his life. How your mouth wrapped around him perfectly, the slight gagging sounds, and don’t even get him started on how you looked up at him. 

And when you told him to cum in your mouth? Fuck! His cock pulses at the memory. Bucky is a greedy man - he wants more. He wants you to suck his cock again, maybe you’ll suck on his ball this time, get them all wet and slobbery, make him cum without even touching his cock. 

For the past few days of his incessant horniness, he’s been thinking about something else, too. It always starts out with you, his throbbing cock in your mouth, but there is a shift, you on the bed with his head between your legs. He never gets very far into this fantasy before he cums all over his hand and chest. Something about eating you out has him cumming in seconds.

But Bucky can’t bring himself to ask for what he wants. He’s too embarrassed; no one in the 40’s ever talked about eating their girl’s pussy. He wasn’t completely ignorant to the fact that women’s pleasure wasn’t important to men back then, but Bucky didn’t know if what he wanted was normal, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

As he lies in bed, once again Bucky feels his cock harden in his pants. Luckily for his pride, he’s alone in bed, and nothing is stopping his flesh hand from inching toward his crotch. His balls are so heavy and full even though he jerked himself off twice the night before, cumming so much he had to change the sheets. 

Grabbing his erection, Bucky hissed in pleasure. No matter how many times he’s touched himself this past week, he is still a sensitive baby when it comes to his cock. “Fuck, doll, touch my cock, just like that.” Bucky lets his mind wander to his go to fantasy. He imagines you between his legs, that the hand rubbing his dick is your soft palms and not his callused one.

His hips jerk off the bed, chasing friction of his hand through his boxers. “Go ahead, doll, take it out.” When you aren’t there, Bucky is in charge, making himself feel good, directing you in his fantasy. But can’t help himself but let you take charge when he’s with you. He just gets so nervous, not wanting to let you down and never experiencing pleasure so intense. 

He’s trying to take this slow, drawing his pleasure out, but, hell, you make him so damn horny that he just can’t help but push his boxers down to his thighs, past his heavy balls, and ignores the wet spot on his underwear from his weeping head.

Using his precum, Bucky wraps his hand around his head and slowly pulls his hand down to his base. “Oh, God! Just like that!” He has to squeeze his base to stop himself from cumming at the first stroke of this hand.

Scrambling, he pushes his boxers down to his ankles and spreads his legs, “doll, touch my balls, get them nice and wet.” His metal hand cups his ever growing sack, “shit, yeah that feels fucking great! You feel how heavy they are? All that cum is going down your throat tonight. You hear me, doll?” 

With his metal hand still on his balls, he uses his flesh hand on his cock, imagining your lips instead, you slobbering over his cock, not his precum lubing it. “So good with your mouth, you know that? You’re such a fucking slut.” His thumb traces over the thick vein right under the head of this cock and has Bucky calling you a slut, something he didn’t even know he’d be into, but once that image was in his head he had to take his hand off his cock; he didn’t want to cum just yet. Not when he just started.

Taking deep breaths, Bucky tries to calm himself down, but imaginary you climbs up his body and Bucky knows this is the end. “Sit on my face, doll, and let me eat your pussy.” He closes his eyes for this part, because Bucky has never seen your pussy before, he wonders if you are sporting a bush like the women in his old porn mags did, or if you shave, or wax, Bucky doesn’t give a shit. 

He’s never tasted a cunt before, and has nothing to base it on, but the thought of your entire weight on his face, smothering him with your pussy, makes the most pornographic moan leave his mouth and cum shoots out of his tip without him touching it.

He cums for what feels like minutes before he finally stops and he lays back against his pillow, not having the energy to clean himself off before he falls asleep. He needs to taste your pussy and soon. 

[starillusion13]

RENT IS DUE!

Pairing: housemates!(Jaehyun,Mark,Jeno,Jaemin) x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT, Housemates, Mature

W.C: (15k) (I thought I was trying to make a series)

Warnings: PERVERT (all of them are pervert and you can’t change my mind here), dom!Mark dom!Jaemin meandom!Jeno meandom!Jaehyun sub!reader. overstimulation, nipple play, sucking, lots of kissing, manhandling, oral(m and f), spit as lube, penetration w/o protection (I suggest you not to do it) [do tell me if I have missed anything)

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE CUE! 🔞

Here comes the long awaited fic! Taglist in the end. Thanks to everyone for waiting. I would love to hear your responses once you finish reading it. Let’s start!

NOW I DON’T WANT TO BE A HOMELESS!

Never in a while, you thought that suddenly one day morning you would wake up to hear your house owner ringing the bell as if hell broke loose and it’s the end of the world. It would have been better honestly as the news she delivered to you after you welcomed her inside while rubbing your eyes and yawning was lot worser. She eyed you for a moment and looked around the house as if you were hiding someone and then smilingly told you that you have to leave the house in three days. ONLY THREE DAYS! Like is she fucking serious? How can you actually arrange for a place suddenly? This woman has always been a rude one but you just never minded her as she lives in a different state and comes for few days every month to her parents’ home and to take the rent from you. She always has this suspicion on you that you bring over boys but only she doesn’t know that you are not so lucky one in getting a boy for yourself, keeping aside boys. Aside from this, everything was fine but to give you the notice to leave the house in three days was very much unpredictable from her. You even tried to convince her to give you one month time or atleast for one week. But NO. she was not convinced by your pleadings but gave you strict warning to leave. And what’s the reason behind this. She has got a very big amount of deal on selling this house so she won’t be losing the chance. Understandable, everything is for money.

Now, what about your need for the money? You clearly know that how costly the apartments are in this locality and that’s why it was the best option for you to select this place to stay on cheap rent but due to this sudden kick out, you have to search a new place. First, you gave up on the search in this locality and search for other houses or apartments in some outskirt regions but nothing was showing upto your satisfaction. The places are too far for you to maintain daily up-down journey from house to office and back. So, today after getting the news from the owner, you took a quick leave from the office and promised to work extra time to make up for todays. And that’s how you are stuck in your room with messy hairs, not caring about to eat anything, making a list to pack the important things first and the rest in sequence and your laptop placed on your lap with your eyes boring onto the screen in search for a quick and affordable place.

NeoVilla.

The owner has not mentioned the amount of the rent but the room look so nice, it must be expensive. Still, your fingers hovering over the click button to contact the owner. The place is quite near to your office but the locality is away from the city zone but it’s not the matter here right now. To get a place affordable enough to live and that’s near to your workplace. Biting your lips, you looked at the name and the picture of the room shown at the side and then your gaze moves to the contact side- ‘via call’ or ‘via message’. You clicked on the message option and fingers lingering over your keyboard as you are nervous how to start the conversation. Just sending a quick ‘Hi’, you waited for the other end to reply. You are literally so tensed as if you are approaching your crush in high-school. Well, still you need to be professional before approaching this owner as you don’t know their personality yet so it’s good to be on the safe side.

Nothing came back as a reply and losing the hope, you got up to freshen up and prepare your food for the day. It took almost two hours or maybe more than that to prepare everything for yourself and after finishing up when you thought to pack your things, you get to your laptop to check if you should still keep a hope or just search for something else but fortunately, YES FORTUNATELY you have ten messages from the account. But wait! Your overthinking ass is again thinking about the negative possibilities when there are more than five texts from someone. As soon as you opened the texts, you are greeted with apologies that how the person never looks up this account anymore and he was no more planning to rent the room but if the matter is urgent then they might look into the matter. He even introduced himself and gave you the contact number just in case you want to know the further details. Relief washes over you and you happily sit on the edge of the bed. Saving the contact as ‘Owner-Jaehyun’, you quickly message him about your needs and urgency. You didn’t opt for calling as you are not comfortable on call with strangers. Surprisingly, the owner replied to the message quick enough and he agrees with your demands but the only thing that is not sitting properly is the money. He claims you to pay for three months payment in advance but your bank account has a problem or simply you don’t have that much amount of money altogether. To get this matter solve in person, you tell him to meet outside but he denies quickly and asks you to come over to the house so that you will get the overview of the house and know the exact location of the place and then you can talk about the money matter. That’s how you both comes in terms with meeting him the next morning before going to your office.

…………………………….

“Hi!”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Blinking your eyes, you pout a little at the man standing in front of you as to why the person is acting as if he does not know you. You have already checked the message in your phone twice and the third time now and it’s still showing this house. You have already texted the owner about your arrival for a quick look to the new place so the owner should know you would come. Wait you haven’t shared any pic of yours so it might be the reason of this weird introduction.

“Are you Jung Jaehyun, the owner of this house?”

Now, the person before you, has a frown on his face and blinking down at you. The bare face with red eyes and messy hairs with a white tee worn casually is still enough to reflect his handsomeness. You literally envy when people look good in messy stuffs as you look like you have survived a war.

“I’m not him but I’m one of the owners of this place. Myself Jaemin.”

“Owners? I didn’t know there’re others. Nice to meet you though, here this is Y/N.”

Awkwardly shaking hands with each other, he offers you to enter the house. This dude is really weird and he is still trying to understand the situation. His eyes never left your form after the introduction and the way he is checking you out, anyone can call him out as a pervert but what about you. Meanwhile your eyes roaming all around the big mansion and you are in awe with the luxurious interior of this grand place with expensive items decorating every corner and the most displayed area.

Hands fidgeting by your side and biting your lips, you turn around to find him already looking at you and you feel conscious of your look. Trying to smile a bit, you fail miserably because of his gaze which is piercing on your skin, your choice for wearing a skirt and a plain top is making you to regret now. This dude needs to be changed with his approach with people like why he has to stare at you like this.

“How do you know Jaehyun?”

You blink on his sudden question but clearing your throat, you try to form some words but it seems as if you don’t know how to speak yet.

He smirks at you, “what happened? Caught in a lie?”

“Huh? No no. I…he is the owner with whom I had contacted few days back for a room to rent and he said that he has one vacant extra room in his house so for the advance payment and quick check through, I informed him about my arrival but it seems he forgot about it.”

“Renting the extra room? That even to a girl?”

You nod slowly.

Poking his tongue inside his cheeks, his eyes trail down your body and taking extra time on your exposed legs to which you shifted in your place and his eyes meet yours, straight away making an eye contact as if daring you to move again and see the consequences. A fear flashes through your eyes to which he gestures you to sit with a smile on his face.

Slow steps towards the sofa, you sit on the middle large one, no wait which do I need to sit on? The love seat one? Or the chair one? Ah. Forget about it.

Turning your head to his side, he is no more standing there but you see him walking away towards a passage way.

“Jaemin, can you call Jaehyun as I need to have a quick talk with him?”

Halting in his way, he looks back at you and nods his head but it doesn’t seem like as if he is agreeing with you but rather agreeing with something inside his mind.

“Who are you?”

Turning your head to the other side, you find a man with black tshirt and trousers staring down at you but not to so happy with your presence. His question is so cold just like his appearance but a guest is a guest. You are a stranger so why asking you like this as if he caught you stealing things in his house. His house? Who even is he?

“Myself y/n.”

“Oh, pretty one! I didn’t want your name but thanks for giving me the name to this pretty face. So, what’s my dear Y/N doing here? Who brought you here during this bright daylight instead of night?”

“I’m not here for…on call of anybody. I’m here for the rental room.”

“You mean you are going to stay here? In this house?”

You nod your head with furrowed brows.

He asks again, “Who let you even know about it? Are you sure that you are not at the wrong address? What’s the name of the owner who contacted you?”

“Jung Jaehyun. I have double checked it and it’s showing the same address where I am currently and Jaemin told me he is the other owner.”

Something clicks in his mind when his eyes go round and brows raise high as if he realized something very important. You haven’t yet noticed that you are standing on your legs while speaking to him and your hands gripping the skirt tightly, why are they so overreacting to have a girl over for the rental room? It should be you like panicking to see so many men in a single household without any trace of a female and you wonder if you have to live with them or they are just here for some reasons.

“Well, hello there y/n! My name is Jeno, I’m another owner of this household and it’s really nice to have you here.”

Shaking hands with him, you feel shy because of his stare along with a sly smirk resting in the corner of his lips. He is not letting your hands go even when you try to pull a little.

You ask him, “Another owner? How many of you are here?”

“Four.”

You turn around on hearing a new voice, a man emerges from the passage way where Jaemin went to earlier. He notices your confused expression and approaches you with a hand offering for a handshake. Jeno has already left your hand and gone to sit on a chair nearby.

“So, Jaemin told me about your arrival. Y/n, right? This is Jaehyun.”

If the previous men are angels from heaven, then this one is the angel who has been created by every angel with a little touch of every beauty. Why all of them are so handsome and hot? I should take control of my mind as what stupid things I’m just thinking about my house owners.

“Yes. I am. Nice to meet you.”

His dimples deepen with the smile and nodding his head, he gestures you to sit back and unconsciously your legs give in and you touch the soft material of the sofa. You are really feeling too weak in front of them. Is it because you are unwell or something about their aura and the stares?

He takes a seat on the love seat and checks something on his phone.

“Is this ‘fantasy love’ your username?”

“Oh yeah. I’m so sorry I haven’t yet changed the name and I just like to keep everything private so I don’t use my real name there. But I can assure you that I’m clean, I don’t have any criminal records and all. Also, I will not cause any trouble while staying here. I need somewhere to stay so urgently that I was glad when you offered me this place on the site.”

He chuckles on your ramblings and also you can hear two chuckling voices from the place where Jeno is sitting. You feel shy under their gazes, you notice how Jaehyun is staring at you as if judging your whole appearance and on the other end, Jeno is being accompanied by Jaemin, who is standing by the side with a spoon in his hand and asking the other one to taste something but their eyes are on you when they caught you watching them.

Your attention brought back to Jaehyun when he clears his throat and lips close rightly making a line, dimples visible again.

“But you have already lied on one thing.”

“What? I haven’t lied anything. You must be wrong somewhere.”

“In the online generated space for some specific basic informations, you have selected the gender as male. But all I can see is a beautiful Angel sitting in front of me.”

Your eyes go wide on hearing his words so you quickly open the site and go through the form of basic informations and then your eyes stop on one place.

Gender: Male(☑️). Female ( ). Not mention( ).

Oh. You and your clumsy ass would never learn how to take things slowly and properly to avoid mistakes but this one is really about your identity of being a liar or not. He must be thinking you as a liar. It really doesn’t matter whatever pronouns people use for you and you need to refer to others but making mistake and have to get blame as a liar is not setting right.

“What the hell….”

“So, why did you lie there?”

“Jaehyun, I didn’t lie there. It’s just that I was must be in hurry and selected wrong.”

You are looking down, feeling guilty on the realization that they must have thought on getting a male visitor today but instead you showed up and that’s why they felt weird earlier. You were ready to apologize and take your leave with the disappointment on your mistake when he spoke up.

“When are you ready to finally come over?”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay. Humans are meant to make mistakes and an angel should be forgiven as they are always so busy for looking pretty.”

You feel shy on the compliment with his seductive voice directly reaching your ears. You tug your hairs a bit and you can feel two other states on you this whole time but you opt to ignore it.

“Do I need to-“

“Gosh! Why nobody woke me up and now I’m running late for the meeting?”

A man with jet black hairs, dressed in a black suit, hands busy putting the watch on the wrist and eyes glaring all around the room. His steps fast while coming down the stairs. You didn’t know but you are again watching this man like you did with the others and when his eyes land on you, a frown appears on his face.

“So, you all are busy with a girl that even early in the morning and forgetting about the event at the office. Are you all for real?”

“Calm down Mark, I have told them to start the meeting after one hour as how you came home late last night. Don’t worry.”

He even glared at you before making his way out of the door. Jaemin shouts to have the breakfast but the other ignored the shout leaving behind a grumbling man.

“So, what were you saying?”

Oh yeah! I was saying something before this little commotion.

“In two days, I will be coming here to stay with my things and also, do I need to pay you in advance?”

“That’s fine. I will prepare the room for you. So, you have the money?”

You shake your head to which he nods.

“It’s okay, you can arrange for it in one week time and if you have any trouble, feel free to approach to any one of us.”

You smile to his welcoming gestures and sweet words. You feel satisfied on finally getting the place to stay.

“Uh I have one more question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you all stay here as well?”

“Yes. Why?”

Oh. Okay.

“I need to stay here with you all?”

“Yeah. It’s just under the same roof but you have your personal room unless you want to stay in any one of ours.”

He laughs in the end and you laugh along with him. He doesn’t mean anything else right? No no it’s not.

You stand up and he follows you to the door and you can see Jeno trailing behind him.

“It was nice to meet you all.”

“Same here. Also don’t mind Mark, he is like that when something is not in accord, otherwise he is really sweet.”

You nod with a smile.

Jeno speaks up, “Also he is the fourth owner and the last owner you are yet to meet properly.”

With waving them and making your way towards the gate in the end of the garden, Jaehyun calls you again. Turning back, your eyes tell him to say.

“Remember, your rent is due.”

Rent is due.

The whole ride to your office, his words were dancing in your mind that you need to gather the money for three months in advance. You were sure to make him change the rent structure but the way your nervousness took over yourself that you couldn’t get yourself to ask about it. Fine, atleast you have a place to stay in two days and one week more to arrange the money and also, he offered that if you need help regarding the money then you can ask one of them, three out of four. No way, you are going to ask that grumpy one, God knows where he is showing his temper right now, you feel pity over those employees.

Arriving to the workplace, you are already late for fifteen minutes. Wow, great you have an important meeting but due to the traffic, you are going to get a good earful. Your one of the co-workers greets you at the entrance with a worried look on her face and you already know the reason.

“Y/n, just run to the meeting room. Managing Director is already getting pissed off with your absence and if you don’t hurry-“

You are literally skipping steps to reach to the elevator, “Sana, I know but can you please shut up. I know I’m already late, you don’t have to say it again.”

Without looking back at her, you quickly enter the elevator and press the buttons repeatedly as if it would fly you to the room. Tapping your feet impatiently, you glancing to your wrist watch with passing of each floor and you just hope to atleast arrive there without any more hurdles. So many things going in your life all together. Honestly, if it was any other meeting then it should not have been a problem but today the Managing Director will be attending the meeting and you have already messed up.

Reaching the floor, you sprint towards the meeting room and push open the door. Breathing heavily and sweats lining your forehead, you smooth over your skirt and bow with apologies flowing continuously from your mouth.

Everyone already has seated in their places and as soon as you saw your empty chair in the end of the row, you turn to move towards it. Wait, don’t think you are getting out of this situation so easily.

“So, you are Ms. Kang Y/N?”

You halt in your steps and turn around. Your eyes go big and shock expression visible on your face to come face to face with the person who just called you. That’s why the voice sounded so familiar. Can I just jump out of the window from this floor? Like what is he doing here? Why? Out of all the people, he is here.

Mark.

“Come here miss, I have already introduced myself to rest of them but I guess you think everything goes according to you so let me introduce myself to you in a special way.” He takes slow steps towards you, but your brain is having two reactions like one that he is looking scary with this deep tone and two that he is looking hella fine and maybe hot in this black suit.

“Myself, Mark Lee. The Managing Director of Fact Check Enterprise.” Oh. So, he is the one who was supposed to come and the meeting was scheduled later due to him and is matching how Jaehyun earlier referred about his going home late at night. He shakes your shaky hands and leans down to whisper, “Also, the fourth owner of the villa.”

Standing up straight, he goes back to the end of the table to his previous place but this time he asks an employee sitting at the front of the row to exchange the seat with yours and sends a smirk towards you. You are still standing there and understanding his motives but he just raises his eyebrows and signals you to sit in the new place. That’s the place extremely near to him. He is just trying to do everything possible to show his temper on you. You didn’t think back in your way that the poor employee will be you. How pathetic!

The meeting lasted for one and a half an hour. The result was the best and your experience was the worst. In the end of every speech, he laughed to make everyone comfortable around him and also listened to each of the member’s point of view on the project and he had that warm aura that even made those employees to state their perspectives who always hesitate. His leadership skills were on the point but everything was different when it was your turn. He had that smirk plastered permanently on his face, eyes roaming all over your body and him leaning back to his chair and palms joined before him and deeply staring at you was like something to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s not like anyone was finding the situation weird but you know him holding the grudge from the morning. Whenever your tensed self was explaining something, he has to interrupt and ask you some silly question which didn’t even relate to the topic but smiling towards others he claimed that everyone has to prepare for such questions in bigger interviews. Huh bigger interviews! he is just asking you the questions just to mess with you and piss you off because of the commotion back at their house. You are a very confident woman when it comes to your work and duties but somehow his presence is not helping you today.

Ending the meeting officially, everybody stood up and bowed to him and others. You did the same but when it’s your turn to exit, “Miss Y/n. Please stay back, I have few words to talk with you.”

Looking back to the ones left to leave the room, they send you innocent smiles and excused themselves to leave. You are hoping to leave the room along with them but to your surprise, Mark closes the door as soon as everybody left.

“So, should I call you Y/n or fantasylove?” He asks while leaning against the door, hands folded in front and smirk still visible.

“Y/n….” you try your best to avoid his piercing gaze on you but you got tensed up when you hear his footsteps nearing you.

Hands gripping your jaw, fingers brushing over the skin so lightly and eyes devouring your simple beauty. Poking his cheek with the tongue, he smiles down at you, “A shy housemate we are getting huh?”

“I’m not shy. It’s just you are crossing your boundaries.”

He chuckles and raises his eyebrows, “Boundaries of?”

“This. You are crossing the distance between an employee and you. You should not do this as it would hamper both of our image.” You try to push him but he holds you tighter and closer by the waist.

Tilting his head, he leans to your level to whisper in your ears, “What if I want to ruin my image?” his breaths fan over your ears, tickling your skin, “And also if I want to ruin you, love?”

“What?” Your shocked eyes staring at the door in the fear of anyone getting inside anytime and finding you here in this position. Without thinking anything else, you push him and take your bag from the chair and sprint towards the door. Leaving behind a man with a smug expression and satisfied self.

You didn’t care if he is going to report your behaviour of pushing him but if anyone would have seen the scene then also it might have caused a similar problem and it was better option to run away.

All the way back home, it was you overplaying the same scene from the office in your mind and having a second doubt to shift to his house, their house. You certainly don’t have another option to cancel them but also an uneasiness setting in your mind. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly with me as we are going to stay in the same place and am just overthinking about the issue? But is it? So, you block your every here and there thoughts to just stick to your plan and that’s moving to the house in two days.

………….

The next day, it’s a mess for you as you are packing up all the things and also tensing on the matter of not having enough money in your account. You should keep a proper calculation of your spendings and get hold of your balance when it’s reaching the bottom limit. You don’t know whether you can manage to pack all the things by the night and would be able to move tomorrow but still keeping aside your other routines, you focus yourself on gathering your stuffs in one place.

*DING*

Your doorbell ringing continuously and you swear if it’s again any children playing around, you might lose your temper. It’s not like you don’t love them but in this hectic situation if it’s not something important but them, you are literally going to lose your mind.

Opening the door casually, you are prepared to scold the one who ringed it but to your surprise, Jaemin is standing at your doorstep with a flower bouquet and a bright smile plastered on his face. Atleast, you should have peeked before from the peephole so atleast you wouldn’t be standing like a beggar in front of this absolute beautiful man.

“Hey, Jaemin. You didn’t inform me that you are coming and also how come you know my place?”

 He hands over the bouquet to you and you welcome him inside. While placing the gift on top of the counter, you turn back to him to see him looking around the house in curiosity.

 “If I had informed you then where was the fun of surprising you and also you are going to be our new housemate so it’s good to know about your details and I asked Jaehyun about it.”

“He knows about it?” you ask in confusion.

He nods and comes near to you, sliding his hand around your neck, “Yeah, you have told him on the call, yesterday.”

“Did I?”

He nods again and pats your head, “Don’t overthink yourself little mate. It’s easy to forget things when you have so many other responsibilities. And that’s why I’m here to help you with it.”

He looks around the living room but he can’t see anything to pack as you have already taken all your stuffs to the bedroom and kept in one place to make it easier for the packing. He turns to you and you move from his hold to give him a glass of water.

“Sorry, I can’t offer you anything more as all my snacks have been finished and I myself haven’t ate anything since the morning and it has been afternoon already so maybe I will look for a quick delivery. I will bake something for you when we would be staying um together.”

“That sounds nice. I really like it that we are going to stay together.”

Leaning on the counter you sigh, “yeah, something like that.”

A worry flashes across Jaemin’s eyes, “Hey, you look so tired. Just tell me where your stuffs are and then I can help you with and then later I will bring you some food. You need to take care of yourself.”

“It’s okay, Jaemin I don’t want you to worry for this. I can handle it, really.”

“Y/n. I insist, please. I will feel that you are not considering me as your friend and a housemate, me and my brothers wont feel nice about this. We just want you to feel comfortable with us.”

“Brothers? You guys are related?”

“Not fully. Mark and Jeno are related but me and Jaehyun has same father as them but our dad has married twice. His first wife died early and that’s Jaehyun’s mother and then he married again and that’s Mark and Jeno’s mother.”

“And you?”

“The child of the mistress down the street.” He laughs at his own explanation and you give him a smile.

Jaemin has the sweetest personality and you look forward to his company while living with them. He is so helpful and kind of a perfect friend and maybe has the best qualities of a husband. You are taking your thoughts a bit too far. Apart from his good qualities, he is a kind of…pervert. Like, he offers you to take the shower when he will be sealing the boxes and after so much of insisting, you took a quick shower and then when you saw him standing near the door, scanning your whole body but fortunately you were dressed. On asking him what he was doing there, he quickly apologized and said that he needed to use the bathroom. But something about his stare is making you feel uneasy, you can feel all the time when you two were packing that his eyes were lingering on you. You even caught him few times stealing glances of you but you ignored it.

“Thanks for the help, Jaemin and I really enjoyed the food. It’s expensive though.”

“Anything for my little mate.” He ruffles your hair and goes to the exit.

Bidding your goodbyes to each other, you are smiling to yourself after closing the door. Maybe the news of leaving the house was not as bad as you thought and also getting housemates in addition was not in your list. You are going to start a different life from tomorrow so it’s the last day of you staying in this house.

As promised last night, Jaemin is happily waiting for you by the side of the road and also brought a van with him to carry your luggage. To your surprise, Jeno is also tagging along with him and you are happy that they are so friendly with you. Both of them didn’t let you to do anything, not even was letting you to carry your purse. You were utterly surprise with this sort of treatment because never once in a lifetime, you ever thought or got this type of behaviour from someone. You are so glad that they are going to be your housemates but what about the fourth one, Mark. Well, you can ignore one person, its not like you are associating with them very closely. You are going to be friendly and all and also most of the time you are going to be working your ass off at your workplace. Atleast for this upcoming one week. Jaemin asks you if you had your breakfast and lunch but you shyly shake your head and he scolds you for it but Jeno was quick to send him off to buy you all some food and himself volunteered to take you to their place, apparently your place too from now onwards.

The ride to the place was having fun with him and listening to different songs and humming to the songs that were of your choices as he insisted you to play your playlist. It was a cute gesture. On reaching to your destination, the day flashes when you entered the same gate without the hope of staying here but today finally you are here. Your previous owner was eyeing Jeno so suspiciously when you were handing over the keys, you doubt she has doubt him as your boyfriend instead of your new house owner.

“Welcome to NeoVilla, pretty one.”

You give a smile, “Thanks for the ride, Jeno.” And when you try to open your car door, Jeno is quick in action as he opens it for you and extends his hand in front for you to hold with a sweet smile on his face. Such a gentleman!

Holding your hand, he takes you inside the villa.

OH MY GOODNESS!

This is your literal impression after getting inside the house. They have arranged for a welcome party for you, not inviting any guests but only them and you as the main spotlight of the party.

“I hope you had a safe and fun ride with Jeno.” Jaehyun walks towards you with a rose in his hand and a sly smirk resting on his face.

“Yeah, he is really such a nice person. And what’s all these for?” You say while showing around the decorations with your hand. He holds your gesturing hand and brings to his lips, planting a soft kiss.

He is such a flirt that before leaving your hand, he winks at you. You shyly laugh it off and tugs your hairs behind your ears before looking around to take your mind off the incident. They are going to be your end if they continue acting like this to you. Their gestures and words having this strong effect on you and they also make you feel like as if you are the centre of their attention. Jeno takes a hold of your hand where still the feelings of Jaehyun’s lips lingering.

Jaehyun goes over to the table and brings a drink for you, “Drinks?” You shake your head sideways and he nods while taking a good look of your outfit, “I see that you love to wear skirts a lot. And also, all these are for you. To welcome our baby to this grand villa.” He smiles in the end of his sentence, taking a small sip from his glass.

“Hey! I’m not a baby though. Me and Jaemin is of same age, we got to know about this last night. So, that means Jeno here is of my age too.”

Jeno takes you towards the table and gestures you to sit and he takes the place beside you, sitting facing you, one hand resting on top of the chair. Jaehyun moves to the other side of the table and stands on the opposite side, leaning on his one hand on the chair and other hand holding the glass. Both of their focus on you, out of shyness, you take a glass and have some water to atleast calm down your racing heart on feeling their continuous stare.

“You might be of my age but still you are the youngest of this household so you are the baby.” Jeno gives you his eye-smile with his cheerful speech.

Jaehyun laughs on hearing his brother, “Yeah that’s true and I will call you baby, my baby.”

His baby. Doesn’t it sound like a boyfriend calling his girlfriend. Hey! Stop. He is not your boyfriend and he can’t be ever. This is the second day that you are meeting him and here you are already falling for him. Huh! Well, not your fault that you are finding their actions and words towards you weird and overwhelming. Not weird actually, the reason is you have never experienced any boy to be treating you like this ever let aside two or three of them all together. You wonder for a while how you are going to stay with these flirts if they are going to treat you like this. You are not going to lie here but honestly if they were someone else then you would have tried to stand for yourself, maybe atleast have rejected the plan on moving here. You are never a vocal person and know to fight for your rights so you don’t have much more expectation but somehow you are letting them to have their ways with you. Simply, you are sttracted to them. You are ignoring their behaviours, them calling you with nicknames and treating you as if…..you are their family member. Well, you are kind of. A housemate.

Jaemin announces his arrival with a whistle and shouting ‘where is my little mate?’ Again, those names. But deep down you are loving it. You are even questioning yourself as to why you are appreciating everything regarding them. But let it aside as food is here and nothing can be prioritised more than this. You had a great lunch with three of them and then when Jaehyun excused himself for having some important works and left the house. You are left back with two sweat hearts. Their playful jokes, flirting here and there and the famous smirks plastered on their face when you are so shy on their compliments. You compared your life back in your previous house with this present and now you see how lonely you were when living all alone but as everything happens for better and now you are here laughing with these two. Everything was going usual until this certain person entered the dining area.

“I see you are having a great time with my brothers, Love.”

Oh, how you forgot that not those three are your only housemates but this menace too. You try to act normal even if the scene from last day is bugging you and Jaemin’s eyes sticked in your figure is not helping it. His eyes dancing between you and his brother and judging how you are shifting in your place. Jeno’s hands come to place on top of yours and with an assuring smile, he nods his head and turns back to his brother who has just entered.

“You are early today, Mark.” Jeno asks.

Mark’s gaze is still on you and you are well aware of it but trying your best to ignore it and focus on the food before you even if you want to run away from the current situation yet you don’t want to waste your favorite food so its better be like this.

“Yeah, Jaehyun would be there to handle the other stuffs so I guess I won’t be needed today and its good as our dear housemate is here.”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, “What’s with you calling her love?” You cough on hearing him. He is not going to tell them about what he did to you in your office. Right? It’s nothing much but still. Jeno hands you a tissue and Jaemin continues, “Have you guys met yet?”

Mark widely smiles and takes the seat beside Jaemin and that’s across from you, “Yeah, of course.”

“Where?” Jeno is curious too as where his brother got the chance to meet you outside the house.

“Apparently, the meeting I had yesterday which I thought wont be much useful had me otherwise. It was a lot more interesting than I had ever expected.” Mark is following your every reaction.

“You both were in the same meeting?” Jaemin asks his brother and looks at you.

“Yes and that even she was sitting beside me. She was late though. Very irresponsible employee.” Mark chuckles before adding, “but we had fun right, Y/n?”

Hearing your name from him is reminding you how close you both were yesterday and now those thoughts with these men’s piercing gaze is a lot for you.

“Ye-yes.” Even when he is having this cheerful personality still you are getting nervous in front of him. You need to get out of here. You turn towards Jeno catching him already staring at you.

“Jeno, please show my room. I would like to freshen up and unpack few things which I need for tomorrow.”

He nods and offers you to follow him towards the stairs. The feeling of two lingering stares are tingling you but knowing whose are those, you don’t look back but quickening your steps to follow the large steps of Jeno.

You were sure of getting a nice, cozy and big bedroom but never in a while you thought it to be this big, it’s such a luxurious one. Your shocked eyes are in awe with the room and the decorations are on point with the mixtures of the pastel colours with the proper blending of the colours of sheets and the curtains. The unique and elegant furnitures placed nicely at the exact places is having the exact soft vibes that you wish to come to home after each stressful day at work. They are really asking for much less money for such a lavish place. Now, the money is still a separate topic for you.

“Wow. This is so nice. Who has decorated it?” You are still in awe and touching everything so delicately as if it might break under your touch.

“Mostly Jaehyun as he has given his whole heart while preparing this room for you and me and Jaemin has helped him out with everything. Jaemin is very picky when it’s come to perfection so that’s all about.”

“I love it so much. Thanks for your time in preparing all these. It was not necessary but still I appreciate it so much.”

Even when you are happy that they have worked hard to prepare your room together, your mind still wonder where Mark was during all that time. Is he not liking that you will be staying here? Casting a glance at the man standing beside you, you sit on the edge of the bed and call his name, catching his attention and he looks up from his phone.

“What about Mark?”

He raises his brows, “What about him?”

“Does he not like me staying here? You said you all have done this then where was he?”

He fishes his phone inside and takes slow steps towards you, “well my pretty one, he is kind of busy with his meetings and overseas events so basically he is barely at home but he has some other surprises for you.”

“Other surprises?”

“I don’t know anything more other than this.” He stands in front, so close to you that you have to look up to meet his eyes. He leans down and you lean a bit back to give him space but that was not the deal. He cages you in his arms, his breaths fanning your shoulders, he whispers, “I see you are worrying about Mark when I’m right in front of you.”

Your hands move up to push him away when he takes a gentle hold of it and stare at your eyes, blinking between your eyes and lips. When you lick them, it seems more kissable and he is just trying his best to control himself. Your shocked eyes staring back at him.

“Jeno…”

“Am I not enough to worry for?” He asks you in a low throaty voice. Damn, you feel so under control with the voice that you feel like submitting yourself to him but again. It’s just you overthinking about their motives, they are just some huge flirts playing around with you and nothing is serious. You don’t know why but you just nod. Your heart racing and breath heaving due to this close proximity, you can feel him leaning down closer and anytime, he might can kiss you.

Just a few inches more, his breaths are slipping inside through your lightly parted lips and his hand holding your wrists has loosened. Your back is almost touching the sheets. You gulp but not stopping him and letting him. LETTING HIM TO KISS YOU.

Someone knocks at the door and your hands push him from over you. He stands straight and brushes his hair. He is half annoyed for getting interrupted by someone from the other side of the door who is continuously knocking and calling out your name.

“What happened, Jaemin?” Jeno asks his brother but maintaining an eye contact with you.

“What are you doing there? Let me have-“Jaemin got cut off when Jeno abruptly opens the door to which the other man who was leaning against it got stumbled.

“What the fuck man! I was about to fall.” He glares at the man who has opened the door but the latter has the same expression in return. He then turns towards you to see that you are having a flushed expression and faking a smile.

“Woah! Did I miss something? Why are you blushing? Did he-“

Jeno presses his palm over his brother’s mouth before dragging him out. It’s a little nice to see the brotherly bonding but you just got up and quickly close the door and leans to it, releasing a deep breath.

Am I that dumb?

You are letting them being so close to you. Not as a friend but more than that. Friends don’t pull you towards them and whispers and leans down to kiss you. You are just giving in to them and this is the thing that is not screaming inside you.

……….

One week. You had been given one week time to pay off the rent and you know that you are fucked up. You blamed yourself for infinite times why you have spent so much on those dresses and jewelleries which you don’t even know when you had last worn them. You are very calculative about your expenditure but you can’t help yourself in buying costly dresses and some useless stuffs for which you have to regret a lot, the way you are right now. Last month, you had a trip with your old town friends and that’s also the reason why you are having shortage of money. The rent for this month was already paid off to the previous owner so you were not worrying about that but you didn’t have in the plan to move to another place and pay your three months rent in advance. It’s a bit high in value than the previous but cheaper than the rest available on the site.

So, today in the end of the week, you have decided to have a talk with Jaehyun about the money. You are so nervous to meet him as you had promised him last time that you would pay him but now here you are now making your way to his room. You are just about to knock when you can hear a voice.

“What’s my love doing here?”

Turning around you are met with him, only in his jeans, drying his hair with the towel and oh gosh, he is shirtless. You quickly turn towards the door. You can hear his laugh and footsteps. Your hope of him going away crashes down when you feel him back-hugging you. Isn’t it too much for knowing you only just for one week?

“Mark, move.”

“Why? I like it this way.” His cold lips touching the warm skin of your neck, you are sure he just had a shower. You hold his hands around you and worryingly looking at the door. Jaehyun can open his door anytime but you don’t want him to see you like this in this state with Mark.

“We should not do this. Jaehyun might see us and- “

“He won’t be a problem here.” He plants a soft kiss and a shiver runs down your body and his nose nudges in your loose hair, inhaling your sweet scent. “But tell me, do you not like it?”

Do you? If not, then girl push him away. He is being a tease here. You don’t want him to take advantage of you being the only girl in this household. But it’s not like he is taking advantage as you are lowkey loving the way he is holding you tight in his embrace, his breath is the only air surrounding you and your brain fuzzing with the multiple thoughts. This little moment got interrupted with the opening of the door in front of both of you. You try to push him away but he holds you tighter.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He takes in the view in front of him and clenches his jaw, brushing his hair back, he looks at Mark with raised eyebrow, “And Mark? You are here and also with her.”

“Jealous? Well, little missy was looking so tensed standing in front of your door so I thought to cheer her up and I guess we were having fun but you interrupted us.” Mark smirks in the end of his statement and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Jaehyun…”

Mark stands straight and comes beside you and Jaehyun’s glares to his brother turns into a soft expression on hearing your sweet voice. “Yes?”

Mark leans to the wall beside the door frame but his eyes are still checking you out.

“I have something important to say.” You look between them and add “but with you alone.”

“Oh, come on dude, why can’t I be included here?”

“Mark, get the fuck out.” Jaehyun pushes him away when he tried to enter the room with you. As soon as he offered you to enter, he pushes the other one out despite his complains and shut the door.

“So, Y/n. What’s there bothering you?”

“Um, like you know today it was supposed to be me paying off the rent but I’m sorry that I couldn’t arrange for it.” You are looking down with guilt and fearing that he might say you to leave the house tomorrow but you are still hoping him to atleast consider your condition.

“Do you have any major problem?”

“no. its just I might have spent my money recklessly that now, when I’m in need I don’t have.”

He chuckles on your pout and grabs your shoulder, his dimples having an appearance, “So, how much time do you need until you can arrange for it?”

“By the end of this month. When I will get my pay-check in hand, I would definitely pay you.”

“And if you can’t?” He is staring deeply in your orbs.

“I will do anything for you. Just don’t kick me out this house.”

“Anything?”

You pause for a moment and lick your lips. His eyes read your every little reaction and shifting your hands on his wrist.

“Yes.”

...............

Living with these four men is an adventure for you. Most of the daytime, you all are out of the house, having separate lives at your own workplaces but the rest of the day is crossing paths with them often. You haven’t been friends with boys ever in your life but living with four men is a thing no one would have ever expected from you, not even you. So, it’s giving you a new experience and that’s being sexually frustrated around them. You haven’t been laid before and their playful touches, them being close to you and handling you as they want and them flirting with their seductive voices is not helping the condition. Everything is becoming too much for you, they are well aware of your irritated self when they are teasing you and leaving you high and dry but who are you to complain about this. Even if you haven’t been experienced this, it’s not like you are going to miss this once in a blue moon opportunity to slip through your hands. You are skill-fully wearing skirts higher often and you know their hawk eyes following you all around the house. You are well aware of the mischievous and not so pleasant thoughts running through your mind. Sometimes whenever you catch them looking at you, you run off but secretly you smile to yourself. They sometimes even sneak inside your bedroom at night and the reason is that they are bored and they want you to spend time with them and you happily have your time with them either watching movies or going out for long drives and walking.

You never had so comfort and peace coming back from work, either one of them will always prepare the food for you and the other would prepare the bath for you and you really appreciate it so much. You all have become close in these few days so much as if you know each other for a long time, maybe that’s the perk of having roommates. Always, one of them tries to come home early before than you so you don’t have to come to home alone. Standing at the entrance, smiling widely with some gifts. Yeah, it’s their habit of gifting you something or the other. Sometimes, it’s just a chocolate or an earring or any makeup products or dresses. You have told them several times not to spend so much but Jaehyun is always ending the conversation.

“You aren’t going to tell me what to do for my baby.”

And Mark giving you his infamous smirk. Well, previously it was the conclusion you had that Mark is the biggest pervert and flirt in this household but you were so wrong when you noticed some change in behaviour with Jeno and Jaemin. Jeno has a complicated personality, if he wants to be sweet with you, he will smile softly, giving you little hugs and asks you if you need something but if he is frustrated with something, maybe due to your endless teasing them with you walking around the house being so oblivious of their stares, he would have a tough façade like asking you why you are suddenly so late coming from your work, why you are wearing this particular dress, why you are being a bad girl. Bad girl? Now that’s a thing which you often hear from Jaemin as well, this guy is always having an expression which you can’t decipher whether it’s a smirk or a teasing smile. He would always be smiling at you but the words coming out his mouth are just in contrast with it.

Jaehyun is the eldest one so he is a bit secretive with his behaviour but you know his eyes are always on you, only you. If he ever offers you a glass of water or a cup of coffee, his fingers would brush over yours while handing over the cup to you and him maintaining the eye contact all the way until you are finishing your drink. Mark again had another meeting at your office and he specially wanted your presence in the meeting and you know the reason, just to ask you stupid questions and to show people that you know each other more than others. It’s very common these past days for him to give you rides to your office.

Surprisingly, they even brought you to an official meeting to a grand cuisine. You first thought that they were joking but it’s so clear when Mark handed you a red dress to wear.

“Well, I would not have bought it if we were joking. So sorry that I wasn’t being the part to decorate the room and your welcome party but this is my little gift to you.”

That was not the only thing as he suddenly puts a diamond teardrop necklace around your neck.

“What’s this for?” You ask him while touching the expensive item on you.

“To let others know that you are ours.”

Ours. You are hearing this term a lot from them even also today before they went out for meeting. Yes, today is the day when you are supposed to pay off the rent and you would be cleared of all the debts and the tension of owing them would be gone. But the message popped up on your phone screen was not really expected. Jeno has texted you that they wont be coming back home tonight as they are stuck at the place due to the bad weather so they would be returning the next day maybe at afternoon or evening. You have a pout on reading the texts. Even others have texted the same following him. Without caring about much of your diet, you grab some snacks and binge watched some shows whole night.

It is late afternoon when you hear the unlocking of the front door and you know that they are finally back. You got down the stairs quickly to greet them back but uh oh. Why are they looking at you like that? Oh gosh! You are only in your oversized t-shirt hanging loose on your frame and now you realised that how you fell asleep during dawn after binge watching whole night. They are still in their business suites must be tired but still managing to look the best out of all and here you are despite being home, looks more messed up than them.

“What were you doing?” Mark asks you while taking off his coat and placing it on top of the sofa.

“I-I was sleeping.”

Jaehyun asks you in worry, “Did we wake you up?”

“No no. I was just awake when I heard the door. I’m sleeping for so long since morning and I must be stinking.”

“Why? Are you sick?” Jaemin is already ready to call the doctor.

“No, I was bored last night and binged watched some shows and it went like that.”

Jeno scoffs, “Again watching those stupid dramas.”

“Hey!” You try to protest against him to which he raises his brow and smirks, but suddenly you remember an important thing and speak out loudly catching their attention, well it was already on you anyways. “I got the money for the rent. I will give it you right now.”

When you turn back, Mark speaks up, “Let us all freshen up and then we can talk about that.”

There is nothing to talk about but still you nod and go to your room as you need to do your routines as well.

After almost two hours, you got a text from Jaehyun asking you to come to his room. You took the money from on top of the night stand and skipped to his room. You knock on the door and call out his name but no response. First of all, it was weird to send you text when he is just in the other room away few steps across from yours. Again, the next thing is his text was just not even two minutes ago and now he suddenly not replying you. Did he just leave? Hearing some shuffles from inside, you push open the door. You are met with darkness and search for the switches to turn it on.

“Jaehyun, are you there?”

Silence.

“Jaehyun…”

You feel someone wraps their hand from behind and resting their face in the crook of your neck. Wet sloppy kisses and nose lightly tapping your ear. You feel hands tightening around you and teeth nibling on your skin. still STILL you are not protesting it. You know his cologne and his touch well as everyday he is the one who offers you the morning coffee.

“You smell so sweet.” He whispers in your ears, biting it lightly before kissing down the jaw. “tell me to stop.”

“I brought the money.”

Someone stands in front of you and takes the envelope from your hand. “I don’t think this is the actual amount.”

“Yes that is. that is the amount of three months.”

Pushing away the hairs to the other side, he mumbles on your shoulder, “No. That’s not. You were supposed to give it yesterday but now you are late for one whole day. So, you have to pay the interest.”

“What? But you all were not there.”

“Uh ah. It is what it is.” The person before you, speaks up and well that laugh following in the end of his statement is making it obvious that he is Mark.

Jaehyun is still mumbling sweet words to you and most commonly ‘my baby’.

“You said you are going to do anything if you can’t pay the money on time so, will you?”

“But-“ Someone turns on a dim light inside the room. Mark holds your chin to make you look up, “Will you?”

“….yes.”

Yes what? What are you agreeing for? Just run out of the room. Jaemin emerges from the bathroom and his smirks following his eyes scanning your whole body just in shorts and a loose t-shirt. He comes beside Mark to get the envelope and places it on top of a table. Jaehyun has the best view of the outside from his room and your eyes watching it when it got interrupted by when Mark pulls your face closer.

“Tell us to stop.”

You didn’t. You didn’t even dare to look away from his big round hipnotising eyes. His thumbs brushing your lips so delicately as if it’s made of glass. Mark leans down but pauses when he is just a breath away from your lips. You are aching for him to kiss but this man knows how to tease and his damn smirk on seeing you frustrated.

“Just kiss me already.”

His eyes take in the every detail of your face, admiring you up so close even when he teases you every day but not like this when you are so turned on and frustrated for him and your body aching for his lips. With a last look, he closes the distance between your lips. His kiss starts with the soft movements and slow rhythm as if he is calculating his next step but soon it turned into teeth clashing with each other, hands gripping tightly on your neck leaving marks and you can feel Jaehyun has retreated himself. Kiss is heating up and you can feel him smiling in the kiss when his other hand snakes under your tee only to find out you are not wearing anything.

“No bra?”

You are really embarrassed. You didn’t think about earlier to be in this situation when he called you in his room. You thought to just give him the money and go back to your room. Thinking, they must have been tired from last day and craving for some sleep but all you can see is them craving for something else. His hand messages one of your breasts and other one adjusting the position of your face to get a better access.

You part your lips from Mark to take a deep inhale when he flicks your nipple. You feel someone playing with your waistband and you look to your back to see Jaehyun smiling down at you.

“Tell me to stop.” When he sees you with no sign of stopping him, he chuckles, “I will then take that as a yes.”

Tell him to stop for what? You generally don’t know anything about this. You haven’t been fucked by anyone before but this new sensation is really exciting you when you are under the watch of four set of eyes. You know once you are into this then you cant escape it but when you are enjoying this too much then why to stop it all of a sudden.

Jaehyun’s hand disappear into your shorts and he chuckles darkly in your ears, “I see you are wet for me.”

“For us.” Mark adds while pumping both of your breasts, earning low moans out of you.

Jeno brings his attention towards him to your side, cupping the jaw tightly and you know, it’s turning red under his hold. His dark eyes staring down at you, “I see you are so in need of us like we are for you.”

You nod in compliance without any hesitation and that’s when he crashes his lips on you. He doesn’t want to waste time on going softly and his aggressiveness is all visible in the kiss, so out of rhythm but still you are enjoying it. Not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, only until Jeno tugs on your hair and pulls you closer to him. You are so lost in the kiss that you didn’t notice when Mark has put down your shorts along with his t-shirt and pants.

“Jeno, get the fuck off. It’s my turn to taste the sweet lips.” Jaemin complains from his place while leaning against a wall.

“Shut up.”

Parting from the kiss, you can feel the palm cupping your mound and pressing it tightly. You whimper and clutch Mark’s bare shoulder.

“Jaehyun….”

“You like it huh!” His deep voice whispering in your ears and fingers rubbing your clothed heat is earning moans out of you. As soon as Jeno turns his head, he is shoved off by Jaemin, who even pushed Mark aside to cup your face in his palms.

“I just want to fuck you so bad and show them that only I can make you scream and feel the best.” Jaemin made others growl with his statement. He is not getting fazed by it but getting lost with you, with the feel that you are finally in his hands and that all flushed up and turned on.

“Don’t be a jerk right now, Jaemin” Jeno growls.

Jaemin gives you small pecks, giving kitten licks to your lips before sucking them so hard that they appear thick jelly. Being satisfied, he starts kissing you. He is almost eating your half of the face, not caring how your hands holding his biceps tightly with every bite of his on your lips and every tight press on your heat by the other person’s hand. You are feeling a tickling sensation in your stomach when Jaehyun rips of his hand leaving you whimpering in Jaemin’s hold.

He goes to sit on the edge of the bed and calls out to Jaemin to give others chance. Others laugh when you whine in losing every contact from your body. Your heated up body aching for everything, for their touch, for them to ruin you. You are insane for them at this point.

Jaehyun signals you to sit on his lap and obediently you follow him, sitting on him and placing your hands around his neck. His hand comes up to brush your hairs and play with them and you smile at him.

“You are so beautiful and the prettiest baby.” Curling some strands around his fingers, “I just want to ruin you and see this pretty face begging me to stop until you are at the mercy of hell.”

“And what if I want to be ruined?”

His shocked eyes staring back at you. He never thought of you replying back to him like this but having you like this is making him go hard. He is in his boxers and if you look around the room, they all are except Jeno whose shirt is unbuttoned and showing the abs.

“I see you are liking it so much that your little mouth is talking back.”

Jaemin had it enough, “now when it’s your turn, you all are taking time as if we got one long week to fuck her continuously but when it’s mine, you are hurrying up as if we going to run late for 9 to 5 job and we would be fired on being late.”

Mark chuckles before patting him, “it’s okay my dear brother. You will be getting your chance and we won’t be interrupting again.”

Your mind was off to the place where the two brothers were slightly bickering when you feel Jaehyun biting your neck and trailing juicy kisses all over the throat and jaw. His hands slides inside the tee to play with your nipples, flicking them, rolling between his fingers. Your every shift on his lap is earning a groan from him as his clothed painful tip is getting brushed by your wet clothed heat. He brings his lips to yours and bite it down before hungrily kissing it. You are a mess of whimpers and moans and it’s like music to them. He is giving equal attention to both of your breasts and pumping so hard that you gasp in the kiss.

The others are getting hard with the view unfolding in front of them. There is shuffle on the bed behind Jaehyun and when you both break the kiss, you see Mark sitting against the headboard with legs wide spread in front.

“Now come here.”

Jaehyun pats your cheek before placing you on the bed beside him, you crawl to Mark and when you try to sit on his lap, he turns you around and places between his legs, facing to others.

“This is nice. They can have a great show ahead.”

He pulls your shirt up even when you hesitate but he simply held you down and rips the tee off from you. Your hands automatically comes in action to hide yourself but he pins them down behind your back.

“Don’t even dare to go against me.” He guides your hand over his length and wraps your fingers around it, he groans on feeling your soft warm hand around his thick hardened dick.

“Ah fuck! Keep going.” He moans in your ears.

Jeno got on the bed and Jaehyun still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at you hungrily. Jeno comes in front of you and pecks you before sliding your panty down.

“You are perfect for us.”

Mark slides a finger in,Jeno bent down to lace his mouth with your exposed breast. You whimper with both of them toying with you. Marks fingers pumping in and out of you and Jeno’s tongue licking your hard nipples, pulling them between his teeth and then sucking the whole. You are already a mess just under their mouth and fingers

Jeno’s other hand grabs your other breast giving it a squeeze and you moan out his name when Mark slaps your pussy for not getting the attention. Jeno’s saliva trailing down your chest to stomach and Marks pace increases with the addition of fingers. Your body arch with the pleasure running down your veins, you hum and moan dreamily.

“Are you near?” Mark asks you planting a kiss on your cheek. You nod to him and hand squeezes his cock. He pushes your hands off from him.

“Words, love.”

“Yes yes. I want to come. Please.”

“That’s a good one. Cum for me.”

As soon as his words fall from the lips, you scream out his name for the first orgasm of the night. They all have the satisfactory smile on their faces. You come on his fingers and Mark licks the fingers before turning you around and Jeno sit up on his knees and Jaehyun pats his back.

Jaemin in the other hand watching you with hooded eyes and hand stroking his length and imagining you doing it.

Mark pats your head and smiles at you, “ride me.” You haven’t look at him up so closely before but he has the youthfulness and attractive smile. His doe eyes and flawless skin is a perfect addition to his charming face. He is kind of cute and a soft one when it comes to sex.

You grind on his thigh on hearing his words before placing yourself on the length. You hiss and cry out with the stretch but he slowly guides you and shush you with massaging your sides. Your eyes closed tightly and the pain making your whole body still.

“It’s okay love. You can do it. Just move, the pain will go away.”

You did as he told you and slowly slowly the pain is turning into pleasure. You haven’t fully got off the high from the previous orgasm but still having the feel of the building of knot in your stomach. The burning sensation of the stretch is still there but blinding by the sensation of you reaching to your climax.

“Fuck, you are so tight and feels so good. A perfect one for me.” He taps on your thigh, “eyes on me. I want to see you coming.”

Few more thrusts hitting the exact spot, your body shakes for the release and you come undone following him. You lay on top of his chest when he flips your position and kissed you.

Mark pulls out from you and Jeno shoved him aside.

“Such a pretty one, laying down all fucked up and ready for me. I want to see you crying and whimper under me.”

Your mind not registering what he is saying but your body got so sensitive when he hovers on top of you, watching you like an animal watching his prey. Your hands go up to touch his face, he quickly gets a hold of it and guides them to his abs. Your fingers tracing every bumps until it goes down to touch his hard painful dick, he holds your wrists and pins them above your head.

Inhaling your scent in the neck, he parts your legs wide enough to place himself. His other hand tracing your curves and rubbing your thighs and toying your leaking entrance with his tip. Your whimpers and whines earning smirk and chuckles from him. Your hips raising up to get in touch with his dick is amusing him. Your sobs are a great view to them. Mark is again hard seeing you like this.

“Be ready for me princess. I won’t be gentle like Mark.”

With that he enters your entrance without any warning, your loud moans filling up the entire room and them watching you falling apart under their merciless brother.

“You feel so good. Fuck! I’m getting addicted to it. I can’t even get enough of you.” He growls with his inhumane pace. He didn’t even let you to adjust before he starts moving. You can feel him much bigger than Mark and it’s already too much for you. Getting laid for the first time and having used by four of them is excess.

His tip hits your g-spot and you scream on the sensation. He smirks at your reaction and starts to whisper filthy stuffs in your ears, making you clench around him.

“Jeno please slow down.” Tears rolling down your eyes but he doesn’t have any care but still pushing himself inside of you. You can feel his tip poking your stomach.

“Please, slow down.”

Ignoring you, he is slamming into your pussy with you begging under him and clutching his hands under his entangled hold. Veins popping on his forehead is making him more hot.

“I know you want to cum. So cum for me.”

You let it loose with a scream of his name and soon he cum inside of you. The cumming of him inside of you is a different sensation and it’s turning you on more and heating up your body, fuzzing your mind. The overstimulation is making you whine and soon you both ride out your high.

He slowly pulls it out. Your hands clutching the bedsheet and pulling it, toes curling with the sensation of being overwhelmed. Your whole body is sensitive. Each touch is like an igniting tip. Jaehyun taps your cheek, “are you still here?”

You hum in response and he smiles in satisfaction.

“On hands and knees baby. I would like to see how your ass fits me in.”

“W-What?” You stammer.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Jaehyun assures you. “It’ll feel good, you just have to trust us. You can be a good girl for us tonight, right?”

“I-I don’t think I’m r-ready for this-“

“You are,” Jaehyun soothes. “Don’t worry.”

“No no please. I can’t take anymore and this…I can’t do it please.”

Your protests were deaf to their ears when Jaemin shifts you to the desired position with your ass pointing exactly in front of Jaehyun’s dick. He is using his arousal as the lube around his cock and slams inside of you. You cry out but not for long as Jaemin slammed his cock inside your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Jaehyun hisses and hold your hip still. “Your ass is taking me so well and as if it’s made for me.”

You whine around Jaemin’s cock and when he doesn’t got any reply, Jaehyun spanks your ass leaving a red mark of his handprint.

The stretch is so painful and tears continuously falling down your face at the feeling. Jaehyun is spanking you to see the vibrating muscles of your ass and the red marks urging him to thrust deeper. His has started with rhythmic thrust with Jaemin but soon became uneven.

“So good, you’re doing so good.” Jaemin praises. “Your mouth feels so warm and I want you to suck me everyday. You will do it, right?”

You didn’t reply but nod with his cock deep down your throat, choking you. Jaehyun spits on his dick and slams harder. You can feel him hitting your sweet spot.

“Can’t reply huh?”

Jaehyun chuckles, “don’t be mean Jaemin. She is stuffed with your cock inside her mouth. What do you expect?”

Jaemin grabs your hairs in a fist and pushes your face closer to him. Aggressively thrusting inside your mouth, he pulls out leaving you gasping for air.

“Open your mouth wide and close your eyes.”

You don’t have any room to protest so you did as he told you. Then you can feel hot liquid pouring inside your mouth and hitting your face, slipping to your jaw throat and chest, mixing with your sweats.

“No more…please…I can’t.”

Jaemin pats your cheek and plants a kiss on top of your head.

Jaehyun is still reaching his climax and you are about to cum.

“I’m near.”

“Hold it.”

“No no I can’t. I want to cum.”

“Either you are holding it in or you are not cumming tonight.”

Your exhausted body couldn’t protest anymore. Your cries are interrupted when Mark enters his finger inside your moth shushing you.

“It’s okay. It’s the last one and you can do it.”

Jaemin and Jeno playing with your nipples from both the sides leaving you a moaning mess. Jaehyun’s thumb rubbing your clit, igniting your climax. You are speaking gibberish and they don’t mind it. Every last muscle of your body is holding you back . You are sucking on Mark’s fingers for dear life.

“Cum for me baby.”

He couldn’t even complete his sentence that your whole body shakes under their hold. Them squeezed your nipples and Jaehyun spanked you again, Mark pushed his fingers deeper making you choke on them. You are still moaning out Jaehyun’s name around Mark’s fingers.

Jaehyun soon cum inside you and slowly rides out his high. As soon as they felt your body giving up. They stop their action and puts you in the middle of the bed, laying on your back. Your droopy eyes trying to open but Mark places his palm over them.

“Shh…close it. Jaemin is preparing a bath for us and maybe we can have round 2.”

You almost whisper it out, “no please I can’t.”

“Hey, I’m kidding. He is just preparing the bath for us to get freshen up. Me and Jeno will clean up so don’t worry and take rest.”

You turn towards Jeno, “you all came inside me. Did you have the protection?”

“Of course not. Why do we need that? When we can take care of you and our baby?”

You got shocked, “baby? I don’t want to get pregnant. We just had this with the flow. We are not married. We can’t have a baby.”

Mark brushing the hair away and pulling a cover on top of you, smiling down at you “if after this you are still not pregnant then we have to try again.”

“What?”

“You are ours and the baby is ours too. So you don’t have a say here.” Jeno proudly says.

Jaehyun comes behind Mark, “if the marriage is the only thing holding us back then we will arrange for it soon.”

“No. This is not right.” You add, “And what about my rent?”

“Your rent was paid on the day when you first stepped your foot here for the first time.” Jeno states.

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t overthink now. We can discuss this later. Have some rest. Atleast, for now you are our responsibility.” Mark cooes you to sleep. Your exhausted body couldn’t manage to protest much and fell into sleep.

.

.

.

.

Jaemin emerges from the bathroom watching how his brothers staring at your sleeping figure.

“Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah, having so many thoughts inside her little brain but anyways they are not needed to be answered.” Jeno says and smiles at his brother.

“So my plan to bribe her house owner was good. We got her for ourselves after waiting for four years and scaring every boy whoever tried to approach her.”

Mark chuckles, “I was getting annoyed with watching her from afar every day. Everyday the scene from the party flashed in front of me of the day where we saw her for the first time. And I knew I need to get her.”

Jeno nods on agreeing with his brother. He could feel How it was painful and frustrating to see you everyday but couldn’t get near you unless they came up with this nice plan and that you are in their cage. You are not going to escape it soon.

“So, my plan worked for the best. Honestly, you all were great in acting on the first day.”

Jaemin smirks, “of course, Jaehyun.”

You are in a new place, not homeless but inside a cage. Do you want to escape or stay with them?

[ please do tell me whether you liked or not? If you liked it then please give it a reblog in appreciation.]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @jaehunnyy @hyuukah @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @jenosbigtoe @loveforred @stolasisyourparent @zgzgzh @yuri-loves-taeyong @loblyjaywa @ethelia @sexygrass @haechansbbg @technologyculturedneo @mimi14berrybear @onlyoursol-ace @i4kt @zhonglele02 @toroufriteh @jsuhsweet @hismine @minkyuncutie @pe4ch14

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth. 

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies. 

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.” 

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost. 

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place. 

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?” 

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead. 

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too. 

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[back2bluesidex]

Give Me A Taste - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, established relationship au

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Yoongi is down bad for you, he has been missing your taste crazily. Thanks to unexpected turns of events and a cancelled show, he can finally satiate his hunger for you.

Warnings: Titty fucking, yes, he fucks her tits, tit play (a bit), fingering, he cums on her chest, a heated make out, Unprotected sex (don't try this at home), NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: It's been a minute since I have written anything for Mr. Min. so... here it is. also, this is an apology because I won't be able to update WDBHG this week. I'm so sorry.:(

You are trying your best to scrub off the burnt patch of your frying pan when you hear the door lock chiming its jovial sound. 

“What the –” muttering to yourself, you start peeling off the washing gloves from your hands. It’s only you and Yoongi who know the passcode of your shared home. You are inside the condo and Yoongi is out on a world tour still having three more weeks to come back home. So it’s definitely a trespasser, or worse, a burglar or a robber trying to break into your house. 

Your blood runs cold at the thought as you walk towards the door for taking a look at the doorbell screen. Your steps halt when you see your boyfriend putting off his shoes and slipping into home slippers. 

“Yoongi?” you whisper, your eyes fill with moisture at an instant. It’s been nearly three months since you last saw him, smelled his calming scent, traced his skin with your fingertips. You have been missing him crazily and a brief phone or video call a day does absolutely nothing to quench your thirst. 

“One of the shows got canceled due to extreme weather conditions, we have a week till the next one. So, we decided to rest for a bit.” Yoongi reasons in his usual calm voice, before you get to ask him. He comes to stand right in front of you as you keep on staring at him. 

“Oh. Have you-” 

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Yoongi cuts you off. His face is unreadable but his eyes are dark, which makes it hard for you to assume anything. 

“No, I-” 

You get cut off again but this time because Yoongi slams his lips onto yours, pinning you to the nearest wall. 

Your boyfriend is usually calm and collected but he becomes a beast when lust takes over his senses. 

He grabs your wrists with both of his hands, pinning those above your head as he presses his body on yours. 

He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to lavish your lips for all the times he was away from you. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. The make out session is so heated that it spreads heat all over your body, including your pussy that just started wetting your cotton panties. 

You realize Yoongi is on the same page when his semi hard bulge presses on your stomach. 

He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it with his teeth before leaving you fucked up with only kisses. 

Yoongi loves you. Oh hell! It will be underestimated to say that he just loves you. He is obsessed with you! He craves for you like a lunatic. He starves for you. 

This prolonged period of staying away from you has been taking a toll on him, that’s why he came rushing back to you as soon as he got the chance. 

He looks at you with hooded eyes, stares down at your swollen lips then at your perked nipples. Fuck! You look heavenly like this. He can’t wait to feel your warmth wrapped around his length.

“I’ve missed you,Y/N. I can barely control myself anymore.” Yoongi whispers as he latches his lips to your throat, placing soft and lingering kisses wherever he could reach. 

“You don’t need to control yourself, Yoongi. I am all yours. Do whatever you want. I am all yours.” You breathe out. Yoongi’s tight grip on your wrists arouses you by an impossible amount. 

“Yes baby. I am going to fuck you so good now. But before that.. Give me a taste? Will you?” Yoongi’s low voice sends a trail of goosebumps all over your body. You suddenly find an urge to shy away from him and his eyes which are currently boring in your chest, more precisely, your nipples.  

Yoongi finds it adorable the way you get a little shy whenever he asks for a taste of your tits. He loves your tits, he can never get enough of those and fucking your tits is one of his most favourite ways of ruining you. 

He leaves your hands and clutches at the rim of your oversized tshirt to pull it off of your body. His eyes turn even darker as soon as you are topless in front of him. 

He palms your tits for a few moments. You push your tits out to enjoy more of his touch by arching your back. Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness. 

“Guess you missed me too, darling?” he squeezes both of your tits at the same time to erect a soft contained sigh from your lips. 

“You have no idea how much.” you murmur while enjoying Yoongi’s rough hands on your soft supple flesh. 

His fingers find your nipples and he twists those to satisfy himself, “then you will let me fuck your titties today, won’t you?” 

“I will…” you voice somehow. 

Yoongi bends down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. 

As soon as the bud is inside his mouth, he starts lapping it up with his saliva before sucking it hard. All of your breath is knocked out when he worries your nipple between his teeth, not quite biting it rather playing with it with practiced skills.  

One of your hands finds its way to his long dark hair, nails raking through his scalp, earning a moan from your boyfriend. Your other hand travels down to south, brushing through the rough material of his jeans, grabbing his bulge and rubbing it to satiate your burning need that has developed for him.  

Yoongi repeats his actions with your other nipple, arousing you more and more.  

You are far too gone with the pleasure to notice that Yoongi has smeared your chest with his saliva, seemingly preparing you tits to take his cock. 

“Should we head to the couch now?” he asks with his gentle yet low voice. You nod eagerly. 

He lifts you up effortlessly, carries you to the couch and lays you down. Swiftly removing the rest of your clothes and leaving you lying naked on the couch, he reaches for his own clothes. 

His cock springs out of his boxers, tall and proud and ready to fuck you. He smirks, feeling you eyeing him like the horny, hungry girl that you are. 

Yoongi climbs on top of you, places his knees on either side of you, and lines his cock in the middle of your tits. You squeeze your tits tightly to make a tight passage for your boyfriend’s greedy cock. 

His first thrust is a little messy, the head of his cock nudges you on your chin, painting your chin with his precum. 

The next thrusts are more stable and steady and soon you hear Yoongi groaning in pleasure. He is such a goner when it comes to your tits. You tighten your tits even more to rile him up. 

“B-Baby, ugh, Y/N! I will c-cum at this rate.” Yoongi whines. Your eyes roll back at the sensation of his cock being squeezed by your big tits. 

But you start seeing stars when you feel Yoongi’s fingers parting your folds and drawing tight circles on your clit. 

“Oh my– Yoongi” you fumble to make any coherent sentence. 

Arousal pools out of your hole and creates a mess down there.

Apparently, it’s too much for Yoongi to take in your fucked up state, your wetness on his fingers and your tits squeezing the hell out of his cock, all together. His dick starts twitching and before he could warn you, he is cumming all over your face, throat and chest. 

Your grip on your tits loosen as you bring your hand to wipe your face off. When your vision returns to you, you find Yoongi licking your juices off of his fingers while maintaining a steady eye contact with you. He definitely doesn’t look like someone who just cummed all over you. 

Repositioning himself, Yoongi lowers his head to the level of your cunt and chuckles in his breathy voice, “Next up is your pussy. Give me a taste, yeah?” 

And you know you are going to have a long day ahead.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

[bluetimeombre]

ׂ╰┈➤ She’s like a shot of Espresso

You work in a coffee shop and suddenly Jacob is a coffee enthusiast

This man has been appearing in my dreams, he’s just begging for my attention. Btw I totally don’t work in a coffee shop…

ׂ╰┈➤

Teenpopbuzz: we've found jacbobelordi favourite coffee spot! the actor has been seen visiting there on three separate occasions

304k likes 211k comments

user: hubba hubba

user: so princess diana coded

user: he's so pretty

user: breaking, jacobelordi goes to coffee shop THREE times

user: daddy

user: babe,,, come back, the children miss you

user: what i would do to be a coffee cup and sit between his lips

user: help someone said he's princess diana coded

ׂ╰┈➤

Jacob was not a nervous person. He never got nervous and never felt awkward. But this was a trip to the coffee shop he'd frequented and he'd slowly started to get the shakes before every time. What the hell was wrong with him?

He knew what was wrong with him, his friends knew what was wrong with him. He had a crush. A crush on the pretty barista who served him every time.

The cafe had only been opened an hour but he was there and so were you. He realised you were there most days, with a smile and style.

The bell over the door dinged as he walked in and as you finished serving your customer. It was all quiet inside as he strode to the counter.

'Hi,' you smiled as the other customer walked away.

'How you doing?' he asked politely.

'I'm good, your usual?'

He grinned. 'You know it already.'

'Of course. Any plans today?' he knew you were probably just making conversation, but it still felt nice to talk to you.

'Nothing much, just got this book I want to finish.'

'Oh yea? What you reading?'

'Grapes of Wrath,' he said. He moved along the counter with you, keeping conversation.

'You know if you like Steinbeck you should try East of Eden, it's my favourite book.'

'Really?'

You went into describing the book and he listened intently, smiling at you as you got excited over the book. He came in with his own prompts too.

‘Sorry, im keeping up,’ You apologized, sliding his coffee over.

‘No please, I love to hear it. I’ve got nothing much on.’

‘Finishing a Book, very important business,’ You tell him.

When another customer walked in, it was his cue to leave, slowly and looking back at you like one hundred times.

Jacob opened the door, calling to you one more time, completely ignoring the customer that was there. ‘I’ll see you soon!’

You smile and blush.

ׂ╰┈➤

liked by… yourusername, sydney_sweeney, enews, tchalamet & others

Jacobelordi: I’ve heard East of Eden is a good read

1m likes 782k comments

user: aesthetic king

user: he’s so pretty

user: babygurl

user: 😍😍

user: I will bet so much money that’s from the coffee shop he likes or something

user: he’s so bf!!! I need him

user: he was written by a woman people!!!

user: how is he so gorgeous!!

user: I am free and single to hang out on Thursday Jacob, I’ll be free Thursday for us to date if you are free on Thursday

user: I want you

user: he so cute fr

liked by… yourfriend, yourfriend, yourfriendsfriend and jacobelordi

Yourusername: oh no!!! I’m posting my three favorite things! Coffee, books and books! Hope a cute guy who has an affinity for these things doesn’t slide into my dms

105likes 20comments

yourfriend: she’s cute

yourfriend: ur so cool urg!!!

yourfriend: the caption, ur so iconic 😭😭

user: jacobelordi follows her?!?

ׂ╰┈➤

Jacobelordi started following yourusername

Yourusername started following jacobelordi

ׂ╰┈➤

Yourusername DMS

Jacobelordi: 📚

Jacobelordi: oh no, I accidentally tripped and dropped all my classics full of my annotations with all my interesting ideas and thoughts

ׂ╰┈➤

Jacob had a mission.

Your cafe was busier by the time he got in around lunch. It had been a busy week and beside talking to you through instagram, there hasn’t been much chance of a chance to see you.

So boy was he gonna see you today. And he had a plan.

He walked in and couldn’t immediately see you but saw your co-workers, another guy and another girl at the counter. He lingered around. What if you weren’t working today? But he was sure you were, you were always in on this day.

He caught sight of you, talking to a couple out for lunch and he smiled, tapping the book in his pocket.

After you left them to eat their lunch, you strode over. He noticed the blush on your cheeks, he’s hoped you’d be just as nervous.

‘Hey,’ he smiled as you slid behind the counter.

Your co-workers wondered away, clearly trying to make it look as if they weren’t listening.

‘I actually brought something for you,’ he said, suddenly wanting to hide behind his cap.

‘For me?’

With a grin, he slid over Grapes of Wrath. ‘It’s my copy, annotated and that. I just thought you might like to read it.’

‘Oh my god, thank you!’ You practically caressed the book. ‘It’s so funny cause I actually have something for you-‘ then, you pulled out east of Eden. ‘My copy. Not quite annotated but there’s a line or two underlined.’

‘Oh woah,’ the two of you laugh about it, thumbing though the pages.

Finally, Jacob knew he had to ask. He couldn’t not. ‘Maybe, if you’re free- and if you’re up to it, we could meet up and chat about it- and other things of course.’

You watch, blushing.

‘A date!’ He suddenly announced. ‘I’m asking you out on a date.’

You nod. ‘I would love to go on a date with you, just let me know when, you have my number.’

Confused, his brows furrowed until you helped him. You flicked open the cover and on the first page of the book, your number was scribbled.

And he knew, he was in bad.

ׂ╰┈➤

Teenpopbuzz: new couple alert?! Jacobelordi has been spotted out and about with a mystery girl a few times now, could this be his new lucky woman?!

856k likes 445k comments

user: that should be me!!! Holding your hand!!

user: omg they’re so cute!!

user: isn’t this yourusername, who works in the cafe?

user: he’s literally just taking pictures of her, it’s so cute!!!

user: she better sleep with one eye open

user: I’m in love with them

user: he looks happy eeeekk

user: yourusername

user: ok I’ve stalked yourusername, she works in the cafe he’s been seen at

user: they’re so cute

user: I like the dog

liked by… yourusername, florencepugh, emmachamberlian & tchalamet

Jacobelordi: six months of free coffee! Thank you my love x

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes 802k comments

user: AHHHHHHHH

user: he made it official!!!!

user: my parents!

user: she’s actually so pretty wtf

user: I can’t tell who i want to be more

user: the fact they met through the cafe she works at, talk about meet cute

user: telling my kids this is Romeo and Juliet

user: omg the free coffee comment, hahahah

user: do you think she’s seen saltburn?

yourusername: <3

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa ��️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[actual-lea]

So who wants to hear about the stupid stupid way I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3?

I made it to Act 3 on my first (original character) playthrough like a week before Patch 5 came out, and after finding it absolutely unplayable (on the PS5) decided it was time to go ahead and start an origin character run for the funsies while waiting on the new patch to fix the Lag Hell. Naturally, I picked Gale. Since this was mostly just for fun/to hold me over until I could continue my other file, I decided it would be a nice time to see what happens if you just refuse to consume any magic items. Of course, if you are not playing as Gale and ignore his Orb Problem, he will apparently eventually leave your party, but what if you ARE Gale? I couldn't find an answer with a minimal amount of Googling SO

There are three stages to his Arcane Hunger, each of which give you increasingly debilitating debuffs: Arcane Hunger, Greater Arcane Hunger, and Severe Arcane Hunger. It seems the triggers for progressing to the next stage are the same as the triggers where he would start needing an item in my other file (i.e. that bridge next to the Blighted Village, entering the temple at the Goblin Camp, the Hag's Lair, etc.) which obviously makes sense. I figure with the amount of contingencies in this game for incredibly specific situations, surely there is some kind of unique dialog or fun cutscene that will play if I ignore the Arcane Hunger long enough and just play through the debuffs.

I played Act 1 completely normally, doing a lil quicksave every time I was about to Long Rest just in case the game gave me a cutscene of the big explosion upon waking up (I thought maybe it would be time-based, similar to the game over you get if Gale dies and you leave him for 3 days (? I think?) which does not seem to be the case). I made it through basically everything without anything odd happening besides the aforementioned debuffs. The Severe Arcane Hunger is where things get really sloggy, because Gale can only move at half speed.

I have been slowly trudging EVERYWHERE since the Goblin Camp.

I eventually started going out of my way to make sure I hit all the Arcane Hunger triggers I know about, to see what would happen, and the answer is nothing, aside from Gale occasionally reminding me that he's wracked with terrible pain.

So, surely, the game will certainly not let me into the Mountain Pass without SOMETHING happening, right?

WELL

That's surprising, but whatever, at least now I have the chance to see what happens if you go meet Elminster without having consumed any magic items,

Except

He wasn't there.

I went to the area in the Mountain Pass where the cutscene is supposed to start, and it just. Didn't happen. Nothing happened. I could walk right up to the entrance to the next area.

But SURELY, the game won't let me into the gotdamn Shadow-Cursed Lands without saying SOMETHING about the fact that the orb has been starving for several weeks at this point, right? The game isn't going to let me into Act Freaking 2 without at the very least giving me a game over to tell me I'm not allowed to do this and make me reload and actually feed this poor starving wizard, right?

RIGHT?

WELL

WELL

Here we are. I'm at the Last Light Inn, I'm at the Taco Bell, I'm at the combination Last Light Inn Taco Bell with a bag full of delicious Cheesy Gordita Magic Boots that I refuse to eat.

SO LIKE. How far does this go??? Am I gonna be able to infiltrate Moonrise Towers without ever speaking to Elminster? Am I gonna trudge all the way to Ketheric at half freaking speed and fight him with Disadvantage on everything?? Am I gonna make it all the way to goddang Baldur's Gate with a Netherese orb that is long overdue to explode???

Like I said, I did not find an answer on what happens if you do this on a Gale Origin playthrough, and at this point, I don't even want to, I just want to see how far I can take this.

I already know I'll have to do another normal Gale playthrough where I actually FEED HIM after this, because I'm sure I've missed out on a ton of dialogue and whatnot, especially from Tara who only ever has this to say when I speak with her in camp:

I am genuinely beginning to wonder if there is actually nothing in place to stop me from doing this. I am wondering what the dialogue options will look like when I get to the "Heart of the Absolute" where Gale would ordinarily want to blow himself up, if Elminster had ever shown up to tell him to do so. Maybe the devs just didn't bother, and figured that no one would be stupid and stubborn enough to play through the whole dang thing while so severely debuffed.

Joke's on them, Disadvantage means NOTHING to Magic Missile Machine Gale Dekarios.

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

(if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault)

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto the very comfortable couch, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there´s still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished a tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously huge shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a few days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and roping you into helping him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

(from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time)

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced that the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet, cheek kisses as greetings and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice.

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you´re upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from your uterus and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time than just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper hissing facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady to you

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the guy has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swims

have game nights

and evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he laughs

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaned against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you.

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

so

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

[heavenlyvision]

When hell thaws

Word count: 12.6k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This is part 5 to my 'When hell freezes over' series, read all the other parts below :3

one two three four

A/N: It is done !!! As always, thank you for your patience, I hope it has been worth the wait. Enjoy <333

Summary:  After a training move gone wrong, you are forced to deal with a minor injury, one that seems to upset Bi-Han more than it upsets you. In the end, you take the initiative to show him just how okay you are.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst (only little bit), minor injury, dirty talk, grinding, cum eating, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, overstimulation, open missionary sex, clit slapping, Soft!Bi-Han, Menace!Bi-Han, no use of y/n

In the morning when you wake up, Bi-Han is already awake, back resting against your headboard. Your head is resting in his lap, one of his hands relaxing on your back, rubbing you soothingly.

You’re a little surprised he stayed in the bed with you, “You’re still here?”

He looks down to you, his hand moves to your head and strokes your hair, “I thought if I left, you would get angry with me again.”

“You could’ve woken me up,” you tell him.

Shaking his head at you, he says, “You looked peaceful, did not want to wake you before you were ready.”

His words are sweet, they make you incredibly happy but you tell him, “From now on, if you need to leave, you can wake me up to say goodbye. You’re not trapped here with me until I wake up.”

“I like being trapped here with you,” he smiles at you.

“You’re being especially docile this morning,” you observe.

He rolls his eyes at you, finding your comment stupid, “Well excuse me for enjoying your company.”

You laugh at him and his dramatics as you pull yourself up, you rest on your legs, kneeling on the bed. You stretch up, your muscles screaming at you lightly as you do, tender from last night, “You need to be more gentle with me, I am sore all over today.”

One of his brows raise at you, “You always beg for me to be rougher.”

You pout in response at him, it’s true that you always want it rough, you just regret it in the morning.

“I can be gentle with you next time,” it sounds like a kindness but by the look on his face you feel like he would drive you mental, fucking you slowly and never pushing you over the edge.

“Why do I feel like that’s a threat?” You ask him.

He doesn’t reply and instead smiles evilly at you.

The way you look at him is filled with scrutiny and his smile turns more sincere, his arms open for you to enter them. You take him up on his offer and fall into him, he holds you in a warm embrace.

“I can be more gentle with you, if that’s what you want?” He tries again, more earnest this time.

You pull back to look at him, you feel warm in the face as you admit to him, “No I like the way we…” you trail off.

“…Fuck.” He finishes for you.

Sighing you say, “Yes… I just need a bit to recover or you’ll break me.”

He glows with pride at your words, loving that he can and does tear you apart.

“Bi-Han!” You call his name, bringing his attention back to the topic at hand.

Looking back to you he says, “I can be gentle with you, sweet girl… for a week.”

You’ll take it, “Thank you,” you smile kindly at him.

He looks soft for you before he comes back to himself, asking, “Just to be clear, that doesn’t mean no sex, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t mean no sex,” you confirm for him.

He nods once, “Good.”

“You are impossible,” you sigh again, leaning back onto his chest.

The pair of you stay like this for a while, wrapped up in each other, both not wanting to start your respective days. As you lay on top of him, you find yourself pining for more from him, the sex is great and the talk you had was more than you could’ve asked for, but you want more moments with him that aren’t sexually charged.

“Bi-Han?” He hums at you in response, signalling you to continue talking, you feel a bit hesitant as you say, “I want more from you… more than just sex.”

He pulls you away to look at you properly, “This hasn’t been just sex to me, ever.”

As you look him in the eyes and see the way he’s looking back at you, you believe him, without a hint of doubt. That doesn’t change the fact that you want more, you want more moments where you share things with each other or enjoy each other’s company. You want a relationship.

“I believe you… but that doesn’t change how I feel about this,” you motion between the two of you.

His large hand holds the side of your face tenderly, “Whatever you need from me, I will give it to you.”

“I want something like a date? I want to eat dinner with you… or something,” you mumble slightly, it feels a bit silly to tell him but you want more connection. You don’t tell him about wanting a label, maybe you’ll bring it up at a better time.

His lips rise in a faint smile, amused at your hesitation over a simple request, “Done. I will plan something.”

“You will?” You can’t hide the way you’re surprised by his unquestioning willingness.

One of his brows raise at you, “Were you expecting me to deny you?”

You feel a little sheepish as you admit, “Well… I was prepared for it.”

His smile grows as he shakes his head at you, “Sweet, sweet girl, you have no idea how much you have me wrapped around your finger.” He chuckles lightly and pulls you back into him, back in your previous positions.

The words he speaks make you giddy, having confirmation about his feelings for you always makes you happy. Knowing that he feels the same for you as you do for him is a reassuring thing to hear. Especially since you want to ask for more, more than just ‘fucking’.

His chest vibrates underneath you as he talks, “Do you have training today?”

“I think so but I don’t think it’s going to be a long day.” You hum your reply.

You know you should get up soon but you don’t want to leave him, being in his arms is probably one of your favourite places.

“I have to get up,” your words are muffled by the material of his robe.

“Go on then,” he encourages.

Lifting yourself up, you go to move away from him but just as you’re almost sitting upright, he pulls you back to him and holds you firmly.

You chuckle at him and then enquire, “Are you going to let me go?”

“When I am ready,” he answers.

“And when will that be?”

He thinks on it for a while before deciding, “Never.”

He is uncharacteristically affectionate this morning, it’s nice but it’s also mildly concerning. You decide not to say anything about it, in fear of upsetting him or causing him to draw back. Which is not what you want.

You instead ask him, “What are you doing today?”

“Whatever you are doing,” his reply is nonchalant.

You pull away just to look at him dubiously, “You’re going to join me and everyone else for training?”

“Sure,” he shrugs but his eyebrow twitches slightly, it makes you smile fondly at him.

Reaching your thumb up, you gently rub between his brows, easing the seemingly constant frown on his face. He relaxes his brows, unfurrowing under your touch.

“I think, you might injure someone if you join us for training,” you murmur, still massaging his forehead.

His eyes glint with pleasure at the idea and you roll yours at him. Sighing he says, “I will not injure any of your friends… not because I like them but because I like you.”

Of course, that’s how he feels, “I don’t think it was necessary that you add that at the end of your statement.”

“It was,” he looks to you firmly, making sure you understand that he does not like them and this kindness is only for you. It honestly shouldn’t make you feel good but you can’t help the flutter in your heart.

His hand grabs your wrist, stopping your massage. He pulls you to him and your lips lock in a tender kiss, or about as tender as Bi-Han is capable of giving. Which is considerably more than you’d think from just looking at him.

You hum against him, always appreciative of his kisses. His hands grab you and then he’s pushing you backwards. You’re on your back with him on top of you, your heads at the wrong end of the bed now. His lips never left yours, the kiss burning with need. Bi-Han’s hands pull your thighs apart enough to slip his waist between them. Your own hands grab onto the back of his neck.

The kiss deepens when you gasp against him, his cock grinding into you slightly shocking you pleasantly. His tongue is in your mouth now, his kisses insistent and full. Your legs wrap around the small of his back and hold him to you, he’s dry humping into you and it feels delicious. Your sleep addled and hazy brain thankful for the sensations he’s giving you.

Both of your movements are lazy and unhurried, the only thing that is hurried are Bi-Han’s kisses. They’re fervent and unforgiving, the way he licks into your mouth and grinds down against you has small sighs and whimpers passing your lips. Sounds that he is forever grateful for, if his groans are anything to go by.

The knock on your door is sudden and sharp, you gasp surprised by the loudness of it. You break the kiss and Bi-Han groans, extremely annoyed by the intrusion.

“What?” He growls out to whoever is at the door.

“I thought you might be here Bi-Han; Liu Kang is looking for you,” It’s Tomas, you think. You can’t be completely sure, not after you’ve just been kissed stupid.

Bi-Han rolls his eyes, “Go away.”

“I would… but you are wanted,” Tomas urges, his tone a little worried about pushing Bi-Han.

“Thank you, Tomas. He will join you shortly,” you try to sound as polite and normal as possible as you call out to him.

He’s apprehensive as he says, “Okay, uhm… Good morning,”

His kindness makes you smile faintly, “Good morning,” you chirp back to him. 

Bi-Han repeats, his voice gruffer than before, “Go away.”

You frown at Bi-Han in a reprimanding manner, telling him to be kinder to Tomas. His eyes look unmoved, still completely irritated. His head drops to your shoulder, you jump when you feel he’s still hard against you, it makes your face hot.

Bi-Han’s lips start nipping at your neck lightly, pressing kisses against you. His hips lightly grinding into you again, the feeling makes your brain feel fuzzy. Your thoughts and critical thinking skills slipping away from you.

Clearly, Bi-Han is uninterested in continuing his conversation with his brother, his last words meant as just that, a finality intending to conclude the interaction.

“I will be going now, goodbye,” Tomas rushes out, wanting to get away from the two of you and understanding Bi-Han enough to know he’s not going to address him further.

If Bi-Han hadn’t begun mouthing at the side of your neck, you think you would’ve scolded him or died from embarrassment. Just because everyone knows about the two of you now, doesn’t mean you can make it obvious when you are having your more intimate moments. Moments you would rather remain between the two ofyou.

You want to say something to him but you only manage a whine as his grinding comes firmer, your hands hold his shoulders, pushing him back to look at him. The expression on his face is beyond pleased with the one you have on yours.

“I don’t have to do much to you at all for you to look fucked out,” he hums at you.

You frown at him, “Bi-Han, you’re needed elsewhere,” your words are whiney, they don’t display the seriousness you are trying to get across.

“I am needed where I am,” he replies coolly and it makes you frown at him, “How about this,” he begins, his smile is devious. “You cum in your little panties and I will leave without argument.”

His proposition makes your pussy throb and your cheeks burn, “I doubt that’s –hah– true,” though tempting you really don’t think he’d leave you with no argument.

“Only one way to find out, sweet girl,” he purrs to you, leaning down and kissing you again.

Distantly, you wonder why he was ever so annoyed about the interruption, it doesn’t seem to have slowed him down at all.

With the way the hardness of his dick ruts against you, you can’t think straight, any witty retort you would offer dying before your brain can even think of it, let alone speak it. He’s driving you up a wall and as your moans slip past your lips into his mouth, he swallows them down. His kiss is ravenous for you and he’s making you lightheaded.

He pulls back, allowing air into your lungs. You’re panting against him; his face is smug as he watches how much he’s affected you like this. Just from his clothed cock and full kisses.

“Always make the cutest faces for me,” he murmurs to you, his lips brush over yours faintly.

One of his hands hold the side of your face, while the other grips your thigh, keeping you firmly pressed against him. His grinding doesn’t stop, he’s determined to make you cum like this now. Obsessed with the idea of your cum soaking your panties.

You’re still sensitive from last night and the way he keeps grinding right into your clit has you on the edge. Dangerously close to tipping over.

He groans out to you, “Bet you’re so fucken wet right now.”

You confirm it for him, humming in agreement that yes, you are so wet for him right now. You have a filthy idea that you think would make him feral. One of your hands leave his neck and slip down, under your waist band, temporarily interrupting his grinding but only for a moment. Your fingers swipe through your folds quickly, coating them before pulling them away and presenting them to Bi-Han.

His eyes light up with how barely contained his arousal is, he’s humping into you again, needy. His hand removes itself from your face and snatches your wrist, pulling your fingers towards him, his mouth envelops your fingers, sucking them clean. You gasp out a whine at him, it’s completely depraved and has you so close to finishing.

You can feel the way his cock jumps against you as he sucks your fingers clean, he’s grunting around them, seemingly closer to finishing than you would’ve thought. Your action has caused his mask of control to slip. Your fingers withdraw from his mouth and his hand grabs your face again, his eyes are burning into your own. The assumption you made was correct because he has the most feral look on his face right now and it’s making you quiver with excitement, with pleasure.

“Dirty, you play dirty, trying to fffucken kill me,” he groans at you, his words slurring a little bit. His lips press to yours again, occupying himself with kissing you.

You’re so close to finishing, one word from him and you think you’d cum immediately. And he must be incredibly in tune with your body and its tells, because he parts from your lips and presses his right up against your ear.

“Come on, sweet girl, cum in your panties for me hmm?” He blows cold air against your ear.

It’s all too much and has you cumming, moans and whimpers falling from your mouth. Bi-Han keeps grinding into you, close to finishing himself. Both his hands are on your hips now, having drawn back to slide you up and down his clothed cock. You’re twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm and the sight of you has an evil grin plastering itself onto Bi-Han’s face.

With how he’s pulled back, he can see the wet spot on your sleep shorts from your orgasm, “Got the –ngh– creamiest little cunt, came in your panties for me, such a sweet thing.” His words are becoming more growls and moans than anything else, he’s so close to his end.

“Want you to cum too, Grandmaster,” your voice is small, fucked out and barely present.

But your words affect him deeply, he comes with a bite of your name, falling back down onto you. His hips twitch into yours, sensitive but refusing to stop his grinding movements.

He groans and tucks his head into your neck, “Got me cumming in my clothes like a damn teenager.”

“You loved it,” you singsong to him.

Lifting himself off you, he pulls your sleep shorts off, looking at your cum soaked panties. He grunts at you, “I would’ve stuffed you full if you hadn’t just asked me to be gentle with you.” He smirks, “I did love making you cum in your panties though.”

His thumb rubs over the wet spot and you twitch in response, his eyes stay on your covered cunt, enamoured by the view. He tugs your panties off too and spreads your pussy lips for his viewing pleasure, his gaze forever greedy.

Your legs fight against him, embarrassed by his bold actions. He easily holds you open, unphased by your attempts to push him away.

“Only thing I’m disappointed in, is that you aren’t full of my cum,” he says mostly to himself, his thumb swipes through your slick before he holds it to his mouth and sucks it clean.

You groan at him in embarrassment, “You say, the nastiest stuff, Bi-Han.”

“And you like it, can feel how tight you grip me when I whisper filthy shit to you,” he chuckles at your humiliation.

Leaning down, he plants a final and firm kiss on your lips before getting off the bed and standing up, stretching his muscles. You roll onto your stomach to watch him move around the room.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

He raises a brow as he looks back at you, “What for?”

“Being gentle,” your smile is bright as you look at him.

He hums at you dismissively, “Don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I know… but I will anyways,” you return.

He’s gone after that, cleaning himself up and doing the walk of shame back to his room so he can change and meet with Liu Kang. It was amusing, watching him try and make himself presentable enough to walk back, you don’t think he was planning on staying this long this morning but it’s still early enough to get back mostly unnoticed… hopefully.

You have a moment of realisation, Bi-Han kept his end of the deal. He made you cum in your panties and then he left with no arguments, it makes you laugh.

⋆⁺₊❅.

The morning goes by slowly and training is mostly uneventful, at least it is until Bi-Han shows up. You’re a little worried that he will spar with everyone like he joked, but all he really ends up doing is watch you.

“He became your guard dog real quick,” Johnny says, referencing your previous taunt of calling Bi-Han, Liu Kang’s guard dog.

“He’s not my guard dog,” you say.

Kung Lao pokes Johnny in the ribs, teasing him, “Be careful Johnny, he looks like he bites.”

He does.

You look back at him and see he’s already watching you; his arms are crossed over his chest; you can’t help the way your eyes linger over his arms. When you snap out of it and look back to his face you can see that he definitely caught your shameless staring, one of his brows raised at you.

Your head flips forward in record time, thankfully everyone was chatting amongst themselves and didn’t catch you getting an eyeful of Bi-Han. You would never have heard the end of it, though unfortunately, you know Bi-Han is staring at you. You can practically feel his eyes raking up and down your body.

Kenshi moves in closer to quietly ask you, “Have you guys decided what you refer to each other as?”

They all move in closer, being cautious, in case Bi-Han can hear you. Which you sincerely doubt.

You think you know what he means but you aren’t quite certain, “What do you mean?”

Kung Lao clarifies for you, “Like, is he your boyfriend, partner…”

“Guard dog?” Johnny jokes.

You roll your eyes at him, “I don’t really know… we haven’t spoken about it.”

“What do you want to refer to each other as,” Raiden enquires.

You think on it a bit, calling him your boyfriend feels juvenile, but it also makes you smile. “I don’t really know; I’d prefer if he stopped telling everyone we’re ‘fucking’ though.”

“Maybe you need to talk about it,” Kenshi pushes.

You look at him questioningly, “What, right now?”

“Yes! Right now,” Johnny encourages, no doubt only wanting to see what would happen between the two of you.

Kung Lao side eyes Johnny, “No, not right now.”

“When you are ready,” Raiden adds.

As you stand here, you feel mildly compelled to go ask Bi-Han now, but you don’t know how he’ll react, and you’d prefer to have privacy. The small part of you that wants to know doesn’t win out against the rational side of you.

“I already have plans to talk with him about it and it’s not going to be now,” you state very clearly, mostly for Johnny.

Johnny sighs, disappointed that he won’t be around to witness the conversation when it happens.

“Let’s just finish up for today, I am tired,” you complain.

“I wonder why,” Johnny nudges you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ew,” you say, pushing him off you and laughing at his stupidity.

You wish you could say that the rest of training flies by, but with Bi-Han’s eyes on you and everyone else aware of his presence, it goes by agonisingly slow. He’s throwing you off your game and when you go to kick, your stance is off, resulting in a pretty gnarly sprained ankle.

It’s embarrassing when you fall to the ground because of it, the pain is bad and honestly you don’t even know how you managed to do this much damage. You try to get up quickly, not wanting the attention on you but you fall right back down. The blood is rushing through your head, and you can’t hear properly.

The guys are all standing in front of you, asking if you’re okay and its overwhelming you. With the pain and embarrassment, you feel like you might shed a couple tears, which would embarrass you even more.

Bi-Han pushes his way past them and kneels down directly in front of you, his hand reaches out to affectionately touch your face, trying to focus all your attention on him, “Sweet girl, are you okay?” His tone is gentle as he speaks to you.

The guys behind you look shocked by him but are still concerned for you, refusing to leave until they hear you confirm that you are okay. Having so many people care for you is making you self-conscious.

“Mm okay, it’s only a little sprained,” you try brushing it off, going to pull yourself up again but he lightly pushes you back down.

“Can you wiggle your toes?” He asks, carefully he pulls your shoe off to see if you can.

You can move them, but it makes you wince, face twisting in pain.

“Some fucken sprain, I’ll need to take off your wrapping to see the damage.” He comments.

You nod to him, “Okay, I’m okay, it’s not that bad.”

That damn brow of his raises at you, knowing you’re putting on a front for the sake of your self-esteem.

His hands are light as he unwraps your leg, careful not to move you too much. When it’s unwrapped, the guys all look a little worried and Bi-Han frowns at your ankle. Looking at it yourself, you can see why, it’s very swollen in a short amount of time. It will probably bruise, and it will be a massive pain in your ass for the next couple of weeks. Great. Walking on this is going to be just downright, delightful.

You try to assure them, “This is okay, it’s not that bad,” Bi-Han is not convinced by your optimism, not in the slightest, “Honestly, I could probably walk on it,” you insist.

He shoots back at you, “Don’t be difficult, this is obviously not okay.”

“There isn’t much you can do for a sprain though,” you shrug.

“You can stay off it,” Kenshi interjects.

“You can ice it,” Kung Lao adds.

Raiden also says, “You can elevate it,”

“You can take some pain meds,” Johnny continues.

You huff at them, “Okay, thank you doctors.”

“You will be doing all of the above, especially staying off it.” Bi-Han directs.

“But that’s going to be sooooo boring,” not being able to go anywhere too far cuts out almost every place you like going to. Gods, you didn’t realise how much you liked walking until Bi-Han took it from you.

He rolls his eyes at you, fast enough that if you blinked you would have missed it, but you didn’t and you give him a dirty look to tell him as much.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” He says.

You go to give him your hand for him to pull you up but instead he stands and then grabs your waist, hoisting you up easily. You rest all of your weight on your good foot, he goes to pick you up, but you stop him, “Hold on, I want to try walking first.”

He grunts at you but doesn’t pick you up, knowing that arguing with you is more often than not fruitless. Carefully, you put your weight onto your other foot, trying to step forwards on it but it almost immediately rejects that move and you shake, threatening to collapse. Bi-Han’s hands grab you, not willing to watch you try and do this to yourself.

He picks you up in a princess carry, beginning to walk away with you. “Wait,” you object. Bi-Han stops, and you address the guys, “Thank you all, I’m really okay though, it’s not that serious,” you smile at them, trying to convince them of your fine status.

“You know we saw it, right?” Kenshi says, his eyebrows scrunched at you.

They all nod their heads in agreeance with Kenshi and say something to the same effect, all coming to the consensus that, yes, it is that bad.

“Whatever, shut up,” you pout at them, embarrassed.

Bi-Han chuckles at you but walks away again, taking you back to your room. The walk back is uncomfortable, due to the pain in your ankle and the way you’re stewing in your annoyance. Annoyed that you managed to do something so stupid in front of everyone.

Back in your room, Bi-Han sits you gently on your bed. He walks away wordlessly to find your first aid kit and a tea towel before returning to your side, sitting beside you.

“Shouldn’t you find an ice pack or something?” You ask.

“Sweetie, you’re dating a walking ice pack or something,” a smirk is faintly present on his lips. His words make you flush, he’s acknowledging that you’re dating.

“Bi-Han I have a question,” you suppose now is as good a time as any.

He hums at you in response, the tea towel he grabbed is placed over your ankle before his hands turn to ice, trying to avoid direct contact to your skin. Softly, he lays his hands around your ankle, it’s faintly cold and your skin pricks a bit at the feeling.

It also hurts but you ignore it, determined to show no pain, too proud to admit that it hurts pretty bad. You can’t help but feel embarrassed because if it was even somewhat worse, you think you might’ve passed out.

Ignoring the pain you press forward, though you aren’t really sure how to phrase this, “Are… would you… hmm, what am… what are we?” You eventually settle on, after stumbling over your words.

“You are mine, and I am yours,” he says simply, like his statement cleared everything up completely.

This time you hum at him, “But like… are you, my boyfriend?”

His eyes shoot to yours; they glint slightly. You aren’t sure if you’ve upset him or not. You feel incredibly childish asking him like this.

“You can call me whatever you want,” his tone is level, unreadable.

Looking away from him, you say, “I don’t know if I would refer to you as my boyfriend… but I’d like it if you were.” You’re still dancing around your actual question, and you think he knows it.

He smiles lightly before he suppresses it, “Cute,” is all he says.

“Bi-Han,” you whine at him, needing him to express what he’s feeling more. You’re trying to feel him out and he’s making it difficult on purpose.

He looks straight at you, his hands still holding your ankle, “What are you actually trying to ask me?”

You bite the bullet, “I want to know… If we’re in a relationship.”

“I’ve been operating under the assumption that we are, have you not thought so?” His eyes are questioning.

“You never asked or said anything! I didn’t think we were labelled,” you huff at him, “Bi-Han, you need to get better at telling me things.”

“I thought I had,” he mutters.

“When?” You are confused as to when he would’ve even brought up being in a relationship with you.

He sighs at you, “I should have been clearer…”

It’s kind of funny how unsure you’ve been, wondering what you were to him, while simultaneously, he was going about his business assuming the pair of you had been in a relationship the whole time. To be fair, you kind of had been, it just wasn’t explicitly stated and that’s where your uncertainty stemmed from. You need some kind of verbal agreement.

You tell him, “It’s not completely your fault, I could’ve brought this up sooner,” you’re itching to touch him right now, whether to comfort him or be comforted by him, you aren’t sure, “But to be clear, we are in a relationship, and we are exclusive?”

His eyebrow twitches, “You hadn’t assumed we were exclusive?”

“I mean no, I don’t know, you weren’t clear, and neither was I… I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same and wouldn’t want to be with only me, so I didn’t say anything,”

“So, you were with someone else,” he’s working himself up, you can tell.

“No!” You’re very firm and quick, not wanting him to spiral, “No, I was only ever with you… I only ever wanted you; I just wasn’t sure that’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t think I had ever given you a reason to doubt that,” his forehead is creased from the way his eyebrows pull together.

“I didn’t, not really, but I’ve also felt a little in the dark about your motivations.” You’re being completely honest at the moment and it’s making you feel vulnerable. “I want to be with you.”

“And I want to be with you, only, you,” he confirms.

You release a breath you weren’t aware you were holding onto, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He questions.

“Upsetting you,” you feel guilty for the whole conversation.

“I’m not upset,” you look at him doubtfully, “Well I’m not upset at you, I’m upset with myself for not being clearer.”

You’re smiling at him, “I’m glad we talked.”

“I wish we had talked sooner, had you thinking you weren’t mine,” he grunts at you.

“I’m your girlfriend, your partner, your lover?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, teasing him, attempting to lighten the mood.

“All of the above,” his hands move away from your ankle, done with icing it for the time being. He moves further up the bed, his face close to yours, “But most importantly, you. are. mine.” He murmurs before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss is warm and filled with so many emotions, you kiss him back, but he pulls away quicker than he usually would, “I will get better at sharing my thoughts with you.”

You think that is the most romantic thing he has ever said to you, and it makes you downright giddy, “Okay and I will ask you directly, if I am confused,” you can’t supress the smile breaking out across your face.

Poking his side, you tease, “You’re my boyfriend,” you’re teasing because it’s a stupid term for adults to use but you also like it more than you probably should.

“Are you sure I’m not your guard dog?” He teases back. The surprise on your face is obvious, “Your friends are not as quiet as they think they are.” He noses at the side of your face before whispering to you, “Do they know that I do bite?” Okay if this is what teasing really looks like, than you aren’t really sure what you were doing.

His words make you hot all over, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You find yourself forever grateful that Kenshi had enough discretion to be quieter with the second half of that conversation.

A hum is his reply to you, his hand on your face strokes your cheek gently, “I will take pity on you, since you are injured.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and pulls away.

“It’s not that bad,” you try maintaining and at the moment it really isn’t that bad, his hands successfully numbed the pain.

“I have eyes,” he counters.

You complain to him, “I don’t want to be stuck in this room all day.”

“You’ll be able to limp around in a day,” he says, though you have a feeling he won’t let you limp very far.

He reaches over and grabs a couple pillows, he carefully places them under your foot to elevate it, “I’ll wrap it after I ice it again.”

“Will you stay with me again, tonight I mean?”

“You’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me now, sweet girl.” He chuckles before adding, “And I think If I don’t watch you, you’ll probably go off wandering around the grounds and hurt yourself more.”

“I would not,” you protest but he pretty much got it dead on, if you were forced to lay down all day, you’d eventually get bored and go looking for things to do. Even if it was to your own detriment.

And by the look on his face, he knows he is right.

There’s a knock on your door and it surprises you, you aren’t expecting anyone to come see you. Bi-Han’s face pulls up into a scowl and you laugh at him, calling out you ask, “Who is it?”

“Liu Kang,” his voice is even, albeit a little concerned, maybe?

You can’t hide the surprise in your voice as you call to him, “Oh, come in.”

He walks into your room and moves straight to your side, “I heard what had happened, are you okay?”

“I am okay, it’s not that bad.” You assure him, at least you try to.

“That’s not what I heard,” Liu Kang says as his eyes look to Bi-Han, who is making a face expressing that you’re lying.

“Needless to say, you won’t be joining training for a bit,” he continues.

You don’t think it’ll be that long, “I mean, give me a couple days and I will be fine–”

“No,” Bi-Han speaks over you.

You are not quiet about your annoyance over this, “Bi-Han it’s fine, I’ll be good in a couple days, four tops!”

“It will be more like a week or two,” he shakes his head at you, “You can walk on it in a day, to encourage the healing process but actual training is off the table, for a bit.”

You sigh at him; he’s clearly not going to budge on this. Though that won’t stop you from trying to push him later.

You try looking to Liu Kang for help, but he doesn’t offer any, “I agree with Bi-Han, take it easy and focus on healing.”

You groan, “What the hell.” Quite frankly, you are not used to people showing so much concern for you, it’s foreign and a little bit annoying.

Liu Kang stays for a bit, talking with you, much to Bi-Han’s dismay but you enjoy his company, you had not spoken with him like this in a while and you missed it. He does eventually leave, once he’s satisfied with your wellbeing and the conversation naturally dwindles. You’re a little sad to see him leave, you would’ve liked to talk with him more but he’s a busy guy and Bi-Han’s annoyance at his lingering presence can only be ignored for so long.

“I’d walk you to the door, but I don’t think Bi-Han would let me get far,” you quip to Liu Kang as he leaves.

Bi-Han grunts at your joke.

Liu Kang smiles faintly at you, “I don’t think your ankle would allow you to get very far either,” he jests back. He’s gone after that.

“He stayed too long,” Bi-Han complains.

You lightly bop him on the nose with your finger, “No he didn’t, you’re just grumpy.”

He grunts at you again, but then he moves back to your ankle and ices it some more. Numbing the dull ache for you, his care for you makes your stomach have butterflies. It makes you happy, how he cares about you, but you’re also distressed, independence is something you pride yourself on and all this fuss he’s making over you is new and unfamiliar.

After he is done icing your ankle, he wraps it up, compressing it. Hopefully to help with the swelling. And like you suspected he would, he stays with you the whole day, keeping you company to prevent you from getting bored and wandering off.

It’s pleasant, having his company but that’s always true.

⋆⁺₊❅.

Later in the evening when dinner rolls around, he walks through your door with both your meals. “They all kept asking about you,” he groans.

“And what did you say,” you press, worried about what he may have said.

“Not much of anything, mostly ignored them.”

Your immediate response is to laugh but you hold it back because they care about you and want to know how you’re doing and right now, no one knows how you’re doing better than Bi-Han. Which is, very unfortunate for them.

“Tell them I’m doing well next time.”

He’s unconcerned as he says, “I told them you were fine.”

“Good,” you don’t ask for further details, not wanting to know exactly what he said for your own peace of mind.

Once you’ve finished dinner, he leaves to return the dishes and grab his sleep wear, along with some fresh clothes for tomorrow. While he’s gone you want to try and have a shower, you feel gross after training today and you haven’t had the chance to wash yourself, not with Bi-Han’s hovering.

You unwrap your ankle carefully and… yeah, it’s still really swollen and achy. Releasing a breath, you prepare yourself for standing up. You’re a little shaky but you manage and with the help of all the furniture in your room, you successfully hobble your way to the bathroom.

Speed is a concern because it won’t take Bi-Han long to get back and you’ll be annoyed if he stops you from having your shower. Undressing is a challenge but it’s no match for you and your unbridled determination.

A sigh of relief falls from you as you finally make it into the warm shower, finally able to wash yourself. Your ankle is protesting about every minimal move you make but it’s worth it for the warm water.

Right as you’re able to ignore the ache enough to enjoy your shower, Bi-Han rushes into the bathroom, startling you. You almost lose your footing in the shower, but your hands come up quickly to grip the walls, enough to steady yourself.

“What the hell?” You’re irritated, he just made an attempt on your life.

He looks almost as annoyed as you, actually… he might look more annoyed than you, “What are you doing?”

“I wanted a shower, I felt gross.” Your voice is small.

He starts angrily stripping himself of his clothes, “And you couldn’t have waited for me?”

You don’t answer, instead pouting and looking away from him. He opens the door and slips into the shower with you. There isn’t a lot of room, and it’s not even like the shower is small, he’s just a big guy.

“Should’ve waited for me, what if you fell over?” He presses.

Frowning at him, you say, “The only time I almost fell over was when you burst in here, frightening me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “But my point still stands, going to the toilet or grabbing something from across the room is one thing, having a shower is another, you could have hurt yourself while I was gone.”

You make a sound of acknowledgement at him, not wanting to be scolded any further, “You’re taking up a lot of room.” You observe.

“Deal with it, you’re either showering with me or you’re done showering,” he grumbles at you.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you shrug, his large size is something about him that has bewitched you.

His eyes look into your own knowingly, he’s aware of how much you enjoy being manhandled in bed. He reaches behind you, a hand coming up to your back to keep you steady as he grabs the soap. His skin touching yours makes you dizzy, he’s large and wet and naked and you want to drop to your knees for him right now.

“Stop having perverted thoughts, I’m not doing anything to you until you heal,” he speaks into your ear.

You complain, “But it’s my ankle and it’s nothing serious.”

“Needy little thing,” he smirks at you.

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a sigh, you try your very best to not think about the heavy weight of his cock in your mouth but it’s a paradox and now all you’re thinking about is sucking his dick, like you had said you would. Though, he still hasn’t changed your sheets like he was meant to.

“Still present, sweet girl?” He asks you.

You’re brought back from your thoughts, and you smile at him, “I’m here, sorry.”

He checks with you, “I’m gonna wash you, okay?”

“Okay,” you confirm.

He lathers your body with the soap, it’s intimate how attentive he’s being. Making sure to clean your body properly, it’s honestly not necessary but it makes your heart feel full. Knowing that he would take care of you with no complaints, or at least minimal complaints, it’s comforting to know. It’s also confronting.

You rinse yourself under the water, once all the soap suds are off your body, you lean into him. Leaning up you kiss his lips; his hands hold your hips as he kisses you back. He only indulges you temporarily, pulling away after a bit. He’s trying his best to restrain himself, but you can feel his semi hard cock resting against the skin of your stomach.

He grabs either side of your face and looks into your eyes, “Take it easy.”

You lightly scowl at him, unhappy with the idea but knowing he’s right, for now anyways. The sprain is fresh and with the prolonged time on your feet you’re really starting to feel it. He turns the water off and guides you out of the shower, covering you in a towel before wrapping one low around his hips.

The view of water droplets running down his abs, down his pelvis and below the towel has your mouth watering. The Gods are unkind because you have never wanted to give head to a man more than you do right now.

He pulls you closer and uses your towel to dry you off, “You got clothes?”

“Yeah, I can go get them–”

He doesn’t speak but his expression cuts you off. Walking away, he comes back with some pyjamas for you. He helps dress you and then guides you back to the bed, you flatten yourself against it and Bi-Han places pillows under your foot for elevation again.

His form wanders around the room and you would love nothing more than to watch him, but you feel way too comfortable to move right now and you don’t want to jostle your ankle. You’ve put yourself through enough pain for now.

The shower has made you warm and docile and even though you’ve spent most of the day in this bed, it’s never felt more comfortable than it does right now.

When Bi-Han is dressed, he crawls into bed beside you and lays flat on his back too.

“Why are you being so resistant to my help?” He asks, clearly fed up with you and your stubbornness. Which is rich considering you think he’d be about as difficult as you’re being, if not more so.

You answer him honestly though, “I’m not used to being cared for and I don’t want to burden anyone.”

“You are not a burden to me,” his tone is firm, serious, he wants you to understand at least this much. “I care for you, deeply. Let me.”

You can’t look at him right now, whatever expression he’s making would make you cry. Opening up to people is hard. At least it usually is, it’s scary how easy he makes it for you. How easy it is for you to give him your heart, there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for him and it’s frightening.

There are a million things you want to say, or a billion things you could say but you ultimately settle on, “Okay.”

He holds himself up on his forearm so he can look over you, his hand on the side of your face. He’s searching for something in your expression, but you don’t really know what it is. His own gaze is open and soft for you, and you think this is his way of being vulnerable.

You realise he’s been vulnerable with you every step of the way, not being quiet about how much he wants you, how much he likes and cares for you. You think to Bi-Han, that is one of the most scariest things he can admit to. For you, it’s being cared for and for Bi-Han, it’s caring for another. What a pair you two make.

“Bi-Han,” you want to say more, something profound but all you manage is, “Thank you.”

He smiles so softly at you, filled with so much affection, “You’re welcome.” He replies before dipping to take your lips in his, the kiss is caring, unhurried, kissing you only to kiss you, not to take your breath away.

The night you both share is quiet, mostly filled with soft kisses and warm words whispered to each other. The only intention is to be together, nothing more. It’s frightening but only because the longer you talk with him, the more it daunts on you, with how much you have gained, there is so much more you could lose.

⋆⁺₊❅.

It been a bit over a week and your ankle has sufficiently healed – to you it has anyways, Bi-Han says it needs longer before you can train. And you agree with him on that much, it’s not ready for training, it’s still too tender for that but you can walk around freely now and that was what was most important to you.

Bi-Han spent almost the whole week with you, he did have to leave a couple days ago due to Grandmaster duties but he was attentive and borderline doting for the whole week. It was foreign and challenging, to have someone ask if you were okay regularly or remind you to wrap your ankle.

He also made sure you did stretches to help with the healing, it was all very kind of him and you are thankful. But to you, it was frustrating, normally you just brute force through pain until it either goes away or kills you. Which you keep doing because, well, you aren’t dead yet.

For the whole week he spent with you, he didn’t try anything sexual… the whole week. It didn’t matter if you wanted it or not, he refused to do anything that would move your ankle too much. You told him he was being ridiculous but he didn’t want to risk making it worse, you also suspect that if you had hurt yourself, he would’ve endlessly blamed himself. You wonder what would happen if you were seriously injured, how he would cope with it, if he would ever touch you again.

It’s sweet that he cares but it’s also stressing you out because he’s been looking at you like you’ll break. Like you’re a piece of paper and the world is a shredder, with your injury, you think he’s forgotten you are a trained fighter and a damn good one. You’ve been letting him care for you like he asked, which has been new and uncomfortable at times, but it’s literally just a sprained ankle and he’s treating it like you got shot or something.

Anyways, you’re going to show him you’re fine. Currently, it is later in the evening and you are very impatiently waiting for him, he is due back any second. He hasn’t done much more than kiss you in the last week and you know his resolve is weak. Your plan is mostly self-indulgent, you’ll have an actual talk with him about how he’s been treating you like a piece of glass but for now, the course of action you’ve decided on is getting on your knees for him.

When he’s back and sees you, he makes a beeline towards you, “Waiting for me, this late?”

“Yes.”

He smiles at you, “I missed you.”

“Good.” You tell him, grabbing his hand and walking away with him.

“Slow down,” he protests, worried about your ankle, you ignore his concern and continue tugging him forward.

He stops suddenly and it causes you to stop too, showing just how little control you actually had over pulling him.

You groan at him, “Why’d you stop?”

“What are you planning?” He’s unmoving, wanting an answer for your rush.

Looking up to him, you gaze into his eyes, his expression is questioning. The perpetual crease between his brows present as he looks back at you. He looks good right now but he always looks good, it’s not fair. His unanswered question has a single brow raising at you, prompting you to speak.

“I want to suck you off,” you state simply.

His face lights up in shock and delight, suddenly you’re upside down. He’s thrown you over his shoulder and hastily walked off to his room with you. He whispers curses about how you’re trying to kill him on the way there, grumbling mostly to himself.

Back in his room, he very gently places you on the floor, “Are you sure,” he double checks with you, still worried about your ankle – which is fine.

Your response is an eye roll before walking up to him, reaching up and grabbing his face, you pull him down to you, his face right in front of yours. The action has him grabbing onto your hips.

“Unless you stop me, I’m dropping to my knees right now.” You whisper against his lips; you’ve been forced to be bold and straightforward.

He groans at you and takes your mouth in a kiss; you sigh against him. He’s kissing you fervently, in a way he hasn’t kissed you for a while. It makes you unbelievably happy. His tongue slides into your mouth and it makes you whimper. He’s holding you firmly to him, lips greedy and hands exploratory.

His hands grab at your ass before moving up your whole body, one of them lands on your neck, holding you. He moves your head to the side and his tongue continues to lick into your mouth. The kiss is overwhelming, especially since the last time you were kissed with so much ferocity was over a week ago, you’re needy and desperate for him.

The moans that slip from you can’t be stopped, not when he’s taking over all your senses. All you can see, hear, feel, smell, is him. You aren’t capable of pulling back from him, too involved in the feeling of his lips on yours. He’s the one who pulls away from you.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper against him, and not just from the past few days but you’ve missed him while he was beside you. Missed his overwhelming presence, everything he does takes your breath away. He takes up so much space in your life but he made himself small in fear of hurting you and that devastated you.

“I missed you too,” he replies. 

You look at him with an intensity you hope reaches him, “No. I’ve missed you.”

He looks struck by you, by your words. You don’t wait for his reply, dropping to your knees in front of him instead. Whatever needs to be said can be spoken about properly later. Your plan was this and you are not getting side tracked, not when he’s finally letting you do this for him.

“Sweet girl–” You look up to him, on your knees and waiting. The sight makes him groan, “You’re always playing dirty.”

You hum as you reach up to his pants, palming at his erection, it makes him growl out your name. He seems to be sensitive; you wonder how much he deprived himself. He shrugs off the outer layer of his shirt, giving you unobstructed access to his pants.

When you plant a kiss on the head of his cock over his pants it makes him twitch in response, you don’t tease too long because at the moment, teasing him is just teasing yourself. You pull his pants down enough to free his dick from them, he groans at the feeling.

Grabbing the base of him, you kiss the tip of his bare cock, obviously not completely done with teasing him. Your tongue licks along the whole underside of him and Bi-Han almost keels over at the unexpected feeling.

“Ffffuck,” he sighs out above you.

Opening your mouth on him, you suck his tip in, your tongue flicks at the slit of his head and he shudders in response. You hum around him and he grunts at the feeling.

His hand reaches out to your face, gently cradling you, his thumb strokes high on your cheek bone, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

You start moving your head up and down his shaft, sucking him in, you’re practically drooling on his fat cock. He stretches your lips with the width of him and you can barely take half of him down. One of your hands compensates for what you can’t take, gripping the base of him and twisting lightly, while the other rests on his thigh, holding him for purchase.

“Doing such a good job, sweetie,” he praises you and it makes your cunt jump.

He’s groaning above you and the sounds he releases are making you needy, arousal spiking. You try to take more of him but it has you choking on him, tears spring to your eyes, your throat spasms around him and Bi-Han moans. Your thighs clench at the sound of him, a small moan of your own falls from you.

Tears are slipping from your eyes at the sheer size and weight of him on your tongue, spit drooling down his length and the corners of your mouth.

“Ffffuck, look at me, sweet girl –ngh– wanna see your pretty wet eyes,” his words are on the verge of slurring, lost in the feeling of your mouth suctioned around him.

You hum around him and look him in the eyes, he’s fucked at the sight. Devastated by how you look with his big cock in your mouth. The longer you suck up and down his dick, the closer he is to cumming. When you pull back your tongue licks at the tip of him and he whimpers, eyes fighting against the pleasure, wanting to watch you for as long as possible.

He temporarily loses the battle and his eyes slip shut as he grunts at the feeling of your warm mouth and tongue, you’re loving how his face is pulled into a pleased expression. His hips mindlessly pull back and forth lightly, you let him use your mouth. His hand rests on your head lightly for leverage.

Your cunt is throbbing with need, your thighs are clenching together for some kind of friction. As he carefully fucks into your mouth, you can’t take it any longer and one of your hands reach into your pants, rubbing into your clit. The stimulation makes you moan around him and Bi-Han’s eyes flick back open to look at you.

His gaze is low and lidded as he says, “Sucking me –hah– off getting you all worked up, sweetie?” He moans low in his throat, still moving his cock in and out of your mouth.

You nod against him as best as you can, your hand not stopping, shamelessly horny for him at this point. Your head is meeting his thrusts and he groans at the feeling, mumbling filthy praise to you. He’s getting close based on the way he’s twitching in your mouth, you take more of him down, swallowing around him, a large moan comes from him at the unexpected movement.

He pulls from your mouth completely all at once and it makes you whine, not understanding what you did wrong. Your own hand withdrawals from your panties, waiting for him to talk to you.

His eyes are closed and his eyebrows are drawn up in concentration, “Fuck, I almost came.”

“I know, I wanted you to,” you tell him, still confused.

“Sweet girl, I’ve not been inside your pretty little cunt in over a week.” His gaze is dark, “I’m cumming inside you.”

Based on the look on his face alone, he’s trying to kill you, “I wanted you to cum in my mouth…” you pout slightly.

He tuts at you, “Sweet talker.” His hands reach for you and pull you up, he undresses you. Almost tearing your clothes in his haste to see you naked. His hands grope at your breasts, tugging at your nipples, “Mm gonna fuck your tits one day.” His words are blunt.

“Okay,” you answer simply, because yeah, he will.

His smile is evil and pleased, “Never change, my sweet girl.” He leans down and kisses you, full and heady.

He picks you up effortlessly and carries you to the bed, still gentle with you as he drops you onto it. He doesn’t follow immediately, staying standing to undress himself completely. He’s always so pretty, and as you watch him undress you feel completely captivated by him.

“Bi-Han, you are beautiful,” you tell him.

He’s stunned by your choice of words; he enjoys your compliments even though he finds the ones you give him odd in phrasing. He recovers quickly, retorting with, “Mmm and I’m gonna look even more beautiful stuffing you full of my cock.”

Crawling onto the bed, he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs. Always shameless in how he stares at you with greedy eyes. He rubs the head of cock through your folds, collecting your wetness and teasing you. As he kneels between your legs, he pushes your legs open as wide as they’ll go, bending them.

His hands hold under your knees, keeping you wide open for him. One of his hands leaves your knee to direct the tip of his dick to your pussy hole, slowly pushing into you, the stretch stinging the tiniest amount.

“Gods, always so tight, no matter how much I fuck you open,” he groans as he slips his cockhead inside you. His smile turns evil as he’s struck with an idea, “You’re gonna cum on every inch on me since you’ve been so needy.”

You shake your head at him, “It’ll be too much.”

He dismisses you, not even looking you in the eyes, all his attention on how his tip sits inside you, “You’ll be fine, want as much of your cum coating my cock as possible.” You whine at his words, cunt jumping and Bi-Han feels it, his smile growing at your reaction.

The hand that guided his cock head into you moves to your clit, rubbing circles into it, tight and controlled. The stimulation makes you clench down on the tip of his dick, whimpering at the feeling. He continues playing with your clit, you realise that he probably is going to keep his promise and you will be crying and shaking by the time he’s done with you.

Embarrassingly, with how worked up you are and how full just the tip of his dick fills you, you cum quickly. Your pussy flutters around him and he groans at the feeling.

“Poor girl, I’ve so been cruel and neglectful, got you fucken needy enough you came at the smallest touch,” he’s trying to take pity on you but he’s delighted by how quick you came. The joy in his eyes cancelling out any sympathy his tone may have held.  

“You’re gonna kill –ngh– me,” you pant out at him.

He chuckles at you, “Never, I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetie.”

The thumb on your clit picks back up as he slips another inch inside you, he repeats the process, playing with you until you cum on him. He adds another inch and continues, and with how the overstimulation gets worse after every orgasm, you cum faster each time.

At some point you’re able to cum just from him slapping your clit a few times, pussy jumping in shock and pleasure at each tap, eventually toppling you over the edge. What were moans, turn into wines and whimpers, tears fall from your eyes. Overstimulated to high hell and he’s not even completely inside you yet, almost, but not quite.

“You look so –mmph– cute when you cry, all fucked out and cock drunk, such a pretty girl,” he compliments you but you’re not convinced of your presence in the room anymore.

When you try to reply, it’s mostly a mumbled mess of words, mostly consisting of his name and when you look at him, his eyes are bright and beyond pleased with the state he’s reduced you to.

Because of how fucked you are, you don’t take any notice of how fucked Bi-Han is, you may be cock drunk but he’s pussy drunk. Having stopped temporarily because his orgasm is crawling up his spine, his control only able to hold on for so long before it snaps. He really wants to keep his promise and there’s only an inch of him left, it’d be a damn shame to give up so close to the finish line.

He takes a few breaths to stave off his orgasm before slipping the final inch inside you, your cunt throbs around him. A guttural groan is pulled from him, he pushes through and rubs your overstimulated clit again, his thumb slipping over your skin from how wet and messy he’s made your pussy.

You moan and whimper at the sensations, not able to do much but take what he gives you. Your cheeks are tear-stained and your vision is blurred, glazed over. Bi-Han is having a hard time, both your messy cunt and tear-stained face too much for him, both views that please him deeply and put him right on the edge.

His thumb speeds up and you cum very suddenly, a sharp whimper ripping from your lungs as your cunt creams all over him again, for the umpteenth time.

He moans at the feeling and the sight, his eyebrows pinched in pleasure, “Fuuuuuuck,” is all he manages. He slips his cock out of you until only the head remains, so he can look at the way your cum coats him. The sight of it making his dick jerk.

His eyes close, controlling his breathing for a moment. Your own breath is shuddering, you need a moment as well. Completely stupefied by how many orgasms he’s given you.

“Mmm I’m not done yet, sweet girl,” he warns.

You prattle out slurred words to him, “It’s –hah– so much –mmph– Grandmaster.”

“You can take it,” he hums at you before slamming back into you completely.

Being full again makes you borderline scream, last minute biting your lip to supress it. It doesn’t stop it but it turns into a loud strangled moan instead. Bi-Han laughs at your struggle, ecstatic at how he’s got you screaming on his dick.

He’s not slow about this part, to close to his own end and not actually wanting to kill you. He’s fucking into you quickly, still kneeling and pushing your legs back, using them as leverage. He keeps his fingers off your clit for now, which you are grateful for but each time he thrusts into you, his pelvis grinds into you and it has your pussy clenching at the stimulation.

Grunts and groans fall from his lips, they border on growls. Even with your poor vision you can see the wild look in his eyes. His control has snapped and he fucks into you like it’ll be the last thing he’ll ever do. Burying his cock so deep inside you it can be felt hitting your cervix. Lewd sounds of wet slapping fill the room, the squelch of your cunt obscene.

He’s getting closer to his end, that much you’re certain of, his cock twitching inside you. He grinds into you, his pelvis grinding into your clit. The abrupt stimulation shocking you and pushing you completely over the edge. Your cunt grips his cock hard, as you spasm around it, your release gushing around him.

He moans loudly as he cums, letting go, finally satisfied enough with how much he’s made you orgasm to allow himself the same pleasure. He grunts out your name along with various compliments, at least you think they’re compliments.

“Ffffuck, got the messiest cunt –mmph– so pretty when you cry, God– love how you look full of my –ngh– cum,” his words are filled with moans and are slurred as he babbles on about how perfect your pussy is.

He stays pressed to you for moment, letting you both ride out the high together. The amount he’s cum inside you is obscene, leaking out around him. He slips his cock out of you, sad to leave but always happy to see the sight of your cunt filled, obsessed with the way his spend dribbles out of you. You don’t even have the energy to fight off his hungry eyes, actively fighting passing out instead.

When he’s had an eyeful he pulls back, hopping off the bed and tugging on his pants before walking into the bathroom. When he comes back he sits you up and hands you water. Which you try to refuse.

He grumbles disapprovingly at you, “Drink it, I’ve just fucked you within an inch of your life.”

You feel boneless but you reach up and take the glass, you take a sip and pull away but he grunts at you in a reprimanding manner. So, you drink it all down while he watches. Once you’ve finished with it, he returns it to where he got it from, when he comes back, he sits beside your still sitting form.

“Are you okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

You’re blank for a moment before responding, “Mhm mm good,” you smile lazily at him.

It makes him chuckle, “Got you fucked dumb, sweetie.” His hand reaches up and rubs your cheeks, wiping away some of the tears there, “You really are pretty when you cry.”

“You’re pretty when you cum,” you retort.

He smiles at you, “Flatterer.” It’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “Hungry?”

You nod at him.

⋆⁺₊❅.

Bi-Han gave you a bit to recover before the pair of you wandered through the grounds to get to the kitchen attached to the main dining hall. You were still a little wobbly as you walked here but Bi-Han supported you, that and your curiosity was piqued enough to soldier through it.

When he’d asked if you were hungry, you half expected him to pull out an energy bar or something, so when he asked you to gather yourself before changing you were confused and very intrigued.

“What are we doing here?” You enquire.

He looks back to you, “I’m gonna make you something to eat.”

You’re a bit shocked at that, cooking isn’t something you considered him able to do. Though, it’d be equally surprising if he wasn’t capable of making anything at all.

You smile at him, “Can I help?”

“I’m sure you could,” his hand holds onto the side of your face, “But I’m not gonna let you.” He finishes, pecking you on the lips before turning around and looking through the cupboards of the kitchen. Pulling out everything he needs.

Pouting lightly, you complain, “Rude,” though you might not be the most help currently. Still a little spacey from the high of all your orgasms.

He chuckles at you but says nothing more, continuing to grab stuff. From what he’s pulled out, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be anything extravagant but he could boil you an egg and you’d be over the moon.

As you watch him light the stove, you wonder aloud, “Can I count this as a date?”

“No, I have something else planned for our date.” He replies, frowning, obviously having higher standards than this.

“I think I’m gonna count it,” you move closer to him and lean against the bench top.

He only grunts at you in acknowledgement, saying nothing further. Instead focusing on what he’s doing.

You wait patiently for him, watching him cook, he seems to be making some kind of noodle dish. Something simple, it smells good and it reminds you of being sick and making chicken noodle soup for yourself. Memories of cold winters and runny noses, being alone with only your plants to entertain you. Cooking and talking mindlessly to them, trying your best to find joy in the solitude.

“It smells good,” you hum to him.

He pats your head lightly, “It’s almost ready.”

It doesn’t take much longer; he dishes it up not long after his last statement. You both stay in the kitchen; you sit up on the bench and Bi-Han stands in front of you. Both holding your bowls, they’re warm and it feels nice to hold, warming your cold hands.

It’s good, not the same as what you used to make but you think you like this more. It warms your body better than yours ever did and you find yourself wishing for Bi-Han to have been present in your past.

You tell him as much, “It’s really good, thank you, Bi-Han.”

“I used to make this for my mother, when she was sick,” he reveals.

He’s shared something with you again, something private, something you didn’t ask for and it makes you happy, “I bet she loved it.”

“She did.” He doesn’t look sad right now, he looks content.

You decide to share a piece of yourself with him in return, “I used to make something like this for myself, when I was sick but it never tasted this good.” It’s not as special of a memory, but it’s a memory, nonetheless.

He frowns, “No one made it for you?”

“I didn’t have anyone,” you answer, continuing to eat rather than look him in the eyes.

He places a hand on your thigh, “You have me now.”

“And you have me,” you smile at him, placing your hand over his.

Dinner is good and you both don’t talk much, when you do speak it’s to sing him praise over the food. Enjoying it a lot, you think he blushes lightly at your unending compliments. He brushes you off, saying it’s a simple dish and you’re being silly but you only laugh and insist. You insist because it is that good to you, it makes you warm and you feel content after eating it.

When you’ve both finished he washes up all the dishes he used, cleaning up after himself, you help him. He tries to protest but you ignore him and continue helping, you can do this much. He cooked after all.

Once you both finished tidying up, you say to him, “Thank you, it was very nice.”

“You are more than welcome,” He pecks your cheek.

The pair of you are standing in the kitchen still, and in this empty moment you decide to bring up what should have been spoken about a week ago. “Bi-Han, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the last week.”

His eyes flick to yours, not saying anything but showing you have his attention.

You sigh, “I feel like you had been treating me like I’ll break, like I’m frail, but I am strong and capable. I messed up a little during training and sprained myself, it happens. It didn’t mean I was dying.”

“I didn’t think you were dying,” he objects.

“You were acting like I might.”

He groans, hand pinching the bridge of his nose, “I was worried about you.”

“And I understand that, but you barely touched me, and I don’t mean just sex. You take up so much space in my mind, in my heart, and you withdrew from me even though you were right beside me.” You pause, trying to find the right words, “You… you looked at me with so much fear… afraid of hurting me but that hurt more than any injury.”

He considers you for a moment, unsure of what to say,  “I didn’t mean to but you looked so…  delicate, it was a lot… seeing you like that… and it was an accident but what about the future?”

You counter, “And you? You put yourself in harm’s way more frequently but I trust you to take care of yourself,” you ask him, “What if I were to fall apart every time you went away?”

“You aren’t even done with your training yet, it’s not the same.” He argues.

“Maybe not but you didn’t know me before all this, I’ve been through worse, I’ve been through more and I am still here. I am not delicate and I will not break if you touch me wrong.” Your voice is firm, trying to convey to him that you are more than one injury, you are so much more.

“I am sorry,” He’s being genuine, he feels bad for how he’s made you feel because he knows you are capable, but anxieties are not rational. “But if something worse were to happen to you–”

“–The future is uncertain and nothing is promised. My worries are the same as yours. I worry about how I’ve gained so much and it is scary to think about losing it but I am not going to live less because of it.” You cradle the side of his face gently, “Bi-Han, if anything, you give me a reason to live more.”

His eyes are soft as he looks into yours, filled with so many emotions. He pulls you into a hug, it’s firm, he’s holding onto you tightly as he mumbles into the top of your head, “I am frightened…”

“Of what?” You pull back to look at him.

He lets you but leans down and kisses you, it’s tender in nature and when he pulls back the slightest bit, he whispers against your lips, “Of how quickly I am falling for you.”

⋆⁺₊❅.

A/N: Thank you for reading !!! Illegal cliffhanger anyone???? Please forgive me <33 I hope you all enjoyed !! I am a little concerned as to how this will be received, as attention and love for this series grows I get more anxious about writing the next part. I want you all to keep enjoying it so I hope I have delivered :))) PSA !!! Don’t be silly like reader, take your sprains seriously and care for yourself appropriately <333 I have a unique insight into the sprained ankle, due to my poor coordination and bad luck, I sprained my ankle not once, not twice but three times, in the same spot on the same ankle last year and let me tell you. It’s a bitch to heal. Anywhos, as per usual, if you have any thoughts, feelings, questions, concerns or requests do not hesitate to reach out !!! I love you all, have a good morning/day/evening <333

[endless-ineffabilities]

and what of your love?

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (nsfw / 18+)

part two of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: 'don't you love me?' , part three: the flames that divide , part four: the aftermath

themes: angst (obvi), smut, mention of violence/death, language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 4.6k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond Targaryen is to be married, but his heart is not in it. In fact, he feels as if he hasn't had a heart ever since you left.

The message sits on your desk, the words all too vivid and clear, as if mocking you.

"You are cordially requested to bear witness to the union of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his future consort, Lady Alys Rivers..."

You had rushed through the words, in utter disbelief, your heart breaking all the while. Towards the end, it also stated, “His Royal Highness, King Aegon II, wishes to extend a truce, only to the Lady y/n, for the entire duration of the royal festivities, at the behest of Prince Aemond."

Oh please.

It has been over a year since you last saw him in your field, and ever since that night, you've tried your hardest to erase him from your heart. When he played a hand in the death of Lucerys, you were sure that would be the nail in the coffin of whatever love you may have had for him. Sweet, brave Luke who grew to become a brother to you. He was too young. The pain was crippling, the rage it unravelled was immeasurable.

You tell yourself, every day, every hour, that Aemond is lost. The man you once loved, the Prince who relentlessly pursued you, the lover who promised you the world - was no more.

But even you can't fool yourself.

Every time word reaches you of his latest crime, you don't feel hate. You want to only be angry, you should be. But you just can't.

He will always be your Aemond. You may condemn his actions, but you could never cut yourself free of him. He will always have a part of you, which is why you haven't taken any other lover.

But, apparently, he has.

The Lady Alys Rivers was rumoured to be beautiful, and enchanting. The perfect match for the equally alluring young prince.

Oh, seven hells. This must be a joke. Surely, he doesn't think I would actually deign to attend this union.

When you gave word to Daemon and Rhaenyra, they were sure that Aemond is merely toying with you. They knew all too well about your past affair, and seemed assured that this invitation was just a way for Aemond to get under your skin. To get you to lower your defenses.

There was no way you would cross over into enemy territory, given the heightened scale of the ongoing war.

Besides, why the fuck would you want to?

If he truly has forgotten me, if he has truly fallen for another, then I must move on. He no longer is my Aemond. He is hers.

Resolute, you take the parchment, the confirmation of what you have lost, and throw it into the hearth.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The revelry is in full swing, and the lords and ladies of the court are jovially partaking in the week-long festivities, customary before a grand wedding of a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Albeit now there is an atmosphere of gloom. A sense of unease due to the war is felt by most, and tonight, ale and dancing and fucking are the thoughtless remedies.

The groom, Prince Aemond, sits stoically at the High Table. His inebriated King brother sits to his left, and his bride, Lady Alys, to his right.

She keeps one hand on him, as she does every time, as if she fears that he might run away.

He has half a mind to do just that, plotting as he sips his wine. You had not showed up. You had not even given any notice of having received the invitation.

Does she know I am to be married? Does she not care?

Aemond downs his cup of wine in one long swig, to which his brother cheers, and pats him on the back.

His soon-to-be wife, glances at him chastisingly, and says, "Slowly, my love, the feast has only just begun."

My love. Aemond whips his head to her in a flash, "I told you not to call me that. Call me whatever you wish, just not that."

Lady Alys flinches at his tone, "Careful with how you address me, Aemond. I am your wife."

Aemond takes another swig after his cup has been filled, "Not yet."

"It makes no difference. I will be, soon," his consort smiles, clearly satisfied with herself, "Dance with me, husband?"

"Hmm," he tries to remain polite, although it's taking much resolve, "you go ahead. I'll remain here for now."

She plants a heavy kiss on his cheek, giggling, and joins the dance, getting lost in the crowd.

Aemond muses about his consort, how provocative and sly she is. The reason why he chose her, after the incessant nagging from his mother Alicent that he should be married, is because she's just about the least likely prospect.

Alicent immediately wanted to marry him off to some other highborn lady, someone more proper. Not the bastard daughter of House Strong, but he disagreed. He had no personal desire to be married, anyway, and is merely performing his duty. Marrying for love was clearly out of the cards, since you...

You. Aemond takes another gulp of wine.

He chose Alys on a whim, but also because she was the most amusing out of his options. She is beautiful, brazen with her words, and didn't care much for pomp and nobility. And, well, she was the one who is the most similar to you. Although, she can never hold a candle to your hold on Aemond's heart.

Aemond didn't love her, no, but he is able to tolerate her at least. He once thought that, perhaps, if you had never been in the picture, maybe Alys might have been able to steal his heart instead.

But you are. And you had.

He wonders if you still feel longing, if you also possess that incessant emptiness in your chest. If you still... love...

Fuck. I need her. He takes another drink.

"Brother," Aegon claps him on the shoulder loudly, jeering, "I've never seen you swig ale that quickly. Don't worry about losing your bachelorhood. You're the fucking Prince! You can have any bedmate you want, and your wife can't say a single thing."

There is it again. Wife. Aemond begins to think it vile. A pang of pity also befalls him for his dear sister Helaena, that she should be saddled with an imbecile of a spouse such as Aegon.

Fortunately, in a twisted way, it may even be beneficial for Helaena that her husband sleeps around, so that she may constantly not be on the receiving end of his nightly drunken stupors.

He wonders, dread and jealousy enveloping him, if you had taken anyone to wed. If he is anything like Aegon is as a husband, then war be damned. He would take Vhagar, reach wherever you and that mongrel may be, and end him.

In truth, even if your chosen consort would be the kindest lord in all of the Seven Kingdoms, Aemond would still crush him. He would burn him to the ground.

Doesn’t she care the same? Why isn’t she here now, putting a halt to this farce of a marriage?

Perhaps, she doesn’t trust me. Of course, why would she? Given what I’ve done…

“I know why your face is so sour,” his drunken brother addresses him again, “It’s because of Lady y/n’s absence, is it not? Well, she may still be present at the actual wedding ceremony.”

“You reek of ale, brother. Drinking like a fucking Braavosi sea horse, as always.” Aemond snaps back, getting tense at the subject of you being brought up.

“Why must you be so into that bitch, Aemond?,” Aegon continues his tirade, “You have a lusty wife now, and you can have a thousand whores besides.”

In an instant, Aemond slams his fist on the table and gets off his seat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Aegon, the King, shirks away from his brother, knowing it was unwise to get on his nerve. Despite jesting with him so often, he may have forgotten that he shouldn’t have mentioned you in that way.

The Kingsguard draw close, prepared to defend their king. Ser Criston Cole rushes over to Aemond, “Stand down, my prince. Not here.”

Aemond glares at his brother, and if looks could kill…

Until he mumbles that sinister, “Hmm.” He composes himself, and raises a hand up to the guards, and to the crowd, “Carry on.”

The feast reluctantly restarts at first, but moments after, the whole exchange was forgotten.

But Aemond can no longer just sit there. If you weren’t going to come to the feast, or to the wedding, then there may be another way to get you to him.

He stands, ignoring the questioning looks coming his way, and he stalks out of the great hall.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It has been a long evening, mostly spent in the Black Council, analysing the current trajectory of the war. Everyone was in agreement that the Greens have not made any significant measures due to the ongoing wedding festivities of one Prince Aemond.

Half of the council wanted to strike then, while they were occupied with all that pompous nonsense, while the other half favoured a temporary truce, at least until the nuptials have been finalized, for the sake of upholding and respecting Westerosi tradition.

Daemon, being Daemon, had only this to say, “Oh, who cares if my one-eyed nephew will be wed? All our eggs will be there, drowned in booze, in one basket. We should ride and just burn everything down.”

But that was the problem. Everyone would indeed be there. Even the lords and ladies, the maesters, the children, who were simply forced to side with the Greens, out of fear for their lives. Rhaenyra didn’t want any more unnecessary bloodshed, to which you agree.

You return to your chambers, exhausted, mostly due to the sore subject of Aemond’s wedding having been mentioned often. You were grateful to Rhaenyra, who was quick to change the matter of discussion, when she noticed you were growing uncomfortable.

Walking over to your table, you notice a plain black box, one that was not there when you left. You trace your fingers over it, feeling the smooth wooden exterior, and carefully lift the lid.

Your heart stops.

Gillyflower.

A cluster of fresh gillyflower lay inside, in a bright burst of red and violet. The flower that grew so wildly in that field. Yours and Aemond’s.

This used to be your tradition. If either of you wished to meet the other there, all you had to do was surreptitiously send some gillyflower. Like your own shared secret message.

Normally, there would be have been a bit of parchment, with sweet words imprinted.

My love.

My flower.

Come to me.

Each day without you is one I cannot bear.

Now, there was none. But you are sure, this can only be from Aemond.

Should I…? What if it’s a trap?

You mind races, heart beating wildly. You want nothing more than to take the risk, but what of your allegiance? Would you be betraying them? You should be concerned for your safety, but you also knew, he would never hurt you.

You need answers. You need revenge. You need Ae…

Oh, seven hells. Grabbing your sword, and putting on your cloak, you make your way out the door.

“Going somewhere?”, Daemon stands, leaning against the wall, as if expecting you to come out at any moment.

“Daemon,” you say, surprised. The cloak and the sheathed sword surely gave you away.

“It’s my nephew, isn’t it?”

“What-“

“I intercepted the messenger who brought over that box. I wondered about the contents, but then, who else could it be from?”

“Hmm,” you whisper, knowing it futile to hide anything from Daemon, “he wishes to meet me. I know not what for.”

“And you’re going.” He replies, as if stating a fact.

You nod, thinking of the right thing to say next. About how you will never betray Rhaenyra, how you only need to see him even if you’re not sure why, how you will be able to fend for yourself.

But your worries are quelled when Daemon says, “You better hurry then.”

“Daemon,” you say, not expecting him to just let this slide so easily.

“Listen, y/n, I trust you. I trust that you know what you’re doing,” he moves closer to you, “As for my nephew, he may be a bloody monster, and I may never forgive him, but I’m sure he thinks himself lucky to have someone like you to love him truly.”

You stare at him in admiration. There was a reason why Daemon drew so many people to him. He was cunning and highly dangerous, yes. But he was also intelligent and fair.

“I myself think the same way in that I have Rhaenyra to love me, as wretched as I am,” he smiles, and nudges your shoulder, “Go.”

You start to walk away, but you turn back once more, “Thank you, Daemon.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The field is more or less the same, although the growth of gillyflower has become more relentless, pockets of red and violet and white spread all throughout.

You dismount from your dragon, close to Vhagar, and the great and terrifying beast only grunts in recognition. You were one of the only two people whom she was comfortable around, after your many trysts spent riding with Aemond.

“Hello again, you beauty,” you call out to her, “Where is your master, hmm?”

The field itself was empty, but there was a new fixture in the distance, close to the hills. A small, stone cabin, with faint candlelight burning inside.

Steeling yourself, you make your way over, knowing that nothing can truly prepare you for what’s to come.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“My love.”

You hear him the moment you walk inside, and you have to stop yourself from running straight into his arms. You raise your head, and finally meet his gaze.

Aemond looks rougher, more rugged. As if the war has taken its toll. All the fighting must have strained him, as his figure is still lean and lithe but more muscular.

“Aemond,” you finally say, taking a quick glance around the room. It’s a humble space, with a large bed pushed up against the wall, candles haphazardly placed around the room. You see a bunch of gillyflower on a round table, weapons hung neatly above the fireplace, as well as…

Aemond follows your eyeline, and takes the framed image from the wall.

“Do you wish to see it?” he says, but he’s already handing it to you.

Taking it in your hands, you study the image containing a likeness of you. Every detail of your face, to your neck, down to your shoulders, portrayed by an artist’s skilled hand.

You try to comprehend what the fuck exactly it is you’re looking at, and you also can’t seem to grasp how cordial Aemond is acting about everything.

As if he hadn’t played a hand in the demise of some people you truly cared for.

You slowly hand the painting back to him, the words stuck in your throat.

He hangs it back up, “Beautiful, isn’t it, my love? I had it made not too long ago. As for this place, well, I needed somewhere where I can still have you. One way or another.”

“What are you talking about?” you manage to say.

“I haven’t been able to see you in far too long, my love. Too. Long.”

“There’s a clear reason for that, Aemond,” you say firmly, growing uneasy at the unhinged look in his eye, unblinking, devouring the sight of you.

He reaches for your hands, and you instinctively flinch backwards.

“Don’t, Aemond.”

“Why not, hmm?” he circles you, pacing ever so slowly, stopping just behind you, “You came here on your own volition, pet. You wanted to come, to see me.”

“I came to talk.”

“Hmm,” he makes the low noise that he always does, and it makes you want to just capture that sound from his lips with your own. He lowers the hood of your cloak, and you just stand there, letting the situation unfold.

Aemond’s fingers brush purposefully against the back of your neck as he takes your cloak off, and leaves in it a pile by your feet.

He steps closer, and you feel his breath against your neck. Using one hand, he pulls you to his chest. You don’t want to turn around and face him, afraid you might lose control, but you also can’t find it in you to move away.

“You built this place,” you state, your voice flat.

“This is our secret place, y/n,” he whispers close to your ear, “Every corner is a tribute to you. There is your picture, your favourite flowers, the sheets are of your favourite colour, the volumes on the mantel are the stories you like the most. Through this, I have some way of being with you.”

“Aemond,” you force yourself to pull away from him, “my love.”

“You finally said it,” he smiles.

“What?” you lean against a wall.

“My love,” he says, and moves to sit on a chair opposite you, “you’ve called me by name since you arrived, until then. Even though I don’t mind the way my name rolls off of your sweet tongue.”

“Stop,” you remind yourself that you came here for answers, “why did you call me here? Aren’t you about to wed?”

“Only for the sake of my duty, to further the Targaryen line.”

“Really? Why Alys Rivers then? Why not some highborn, legitimate lady?” your voice grows cold, and Aemond smirks at your jealousy.

“Because I simply don’t care. It pisses mother off, and you as well, it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re free to wed whomever you wish, Aemond.”

“No,” he says, “I am not. Otherwise, I would have wed you a long time ago.”

“Well, your actions have forever buried that possibility,” you say too quickly, ire reflected in your words.

He flinches at your words, his lips pursing, “I only do what I have to do.”

“You didn’t have to kill Luke!” you lunge forward, your hand flying to the hilt of your sword by your waist.

Aemond notices your movement, but does nothing, “Hmm, Luke was merely a casualty in this war.”

“He was your family, Aemond. He was just a child. Why?”

He says nothing, and looks at you up and down, assessing your growing distress.

“Do you even regret it?” you ask.

A long pause passes, until he says, “I only regret that it has caused you pain.”

“Wrong answer, Aemond.” You unsheathe your sword, holding it out straight it front of you, “Fight me.”

This is the only right thing you can think of doing. The other things that have crossed your mind were completely unsavoury, unthinkable acts to do with the murderer who caused the death of your friend. You shouldn’t reach for him, you shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t admire him, you shouldn’t run your fingers down his scar with reverence. Never again.

So, perhaps, you should bring him to justice.

“My love,” his tone is amused, and you grow even more frustrated.

“Get your sword.”

He stands, a sly curve on his prominent bowed lips.

My brave girl, he thinks.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

For fuck’s sake, Aemond. No. “Your sword, Aemond.”

He backs away slowly to where his sword hangs above the fireplace, takes it, and diligently twirls it in one hand.

Your nerve starts to fail. Aemond was surely a better swordsman; he has been furiously training all his life. But, well, so have you.

Long ago, you and him even trained together. You may stand a chance.

“Your move, pet,” he says, tauntingly.

You cross the distance between the two of you, and deal the first parry, your blades connecting loudly in the air. An electric pause occurs, and Aemond smirks at you.

You dodge to the side, and lunge at him again. He easily deflects the blow.

You circle each other, and it’s unclear as to who is the predator and who is the prey.

Aemond deals a wide overhead arch, and you’re quick to block it halfway. This brings his face dangerously close to yours, and he whispers, nearly against your lips, “Surrender, my love.”

“Never,” you lunge backwards again, and Aemond twirls his sword smoothly, once, twice, and another final time.

Then, he spins in a circle, his sword a mere blur in the air, before delivering his final stroke, pushing you against the wall, the edge of his blade an inch away from your neck.

But, you were able to anticipate this, at the last second, as your sword slipped from your grasp.

“I win, pet. You’re mine.”

“Think again.” you whisper, and when he looks down, he finally notices the sharp edge of your knife poking at his ribs.

He looks at you in awe, “Well, I suppose we both have each other then, my love.”

He lunges forward, and claims your lips in a searing kiss. Wild, and passionate, as if to make up for lost time. Your respective blades remain where they are, and he muses, “Hmm, you know, we could just kill each other here. A glorious lovers’ death.”

“Aemond,” you say, out of breath from the kiss, and let your knife clatter to the floor.

He does the same with his sword, and pushes you against the wall once more, using his whole body to keep you in place.

“Tell me what you came for, my love. The truth.”

“I…” you say, deciding to let everything go, “I came for you.”

That is all he needed. And, for you, it feels freeing to allow yourself to just want Aemond. To love him. Despite what’s he has done, and how wrong this may be.

Your Aemond.

You run your fingers down the side of his face, and he shuts his eye in ecstasy. Your fingers stop at his eyepatch, asking permission, and he nods once, immediately.

His sapphire eye never fails to take your breath away. If anything, it only made him look otherworldly. Ethereal.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, and his heart swells.

He takes your face in his hand, admiration raw in his expression. Then he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your lips battle each other, as he strides over to the bed. He gently lowers you, and your arms naturally reach for his neck, bringing him down with you.

He chuckles deeply, flattered by your eagerness, “Patience, my love.”

“I have been patient,” you respond, as he nips at your neck, “but now I just want to take.”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’ve missed your fire.”

“I’ve missed my dragon.”

“And,” he says, softly, pausing to kiss you, “a dragon…” another kiss, “is nothing…”, and another, “without its fire.”

“Oh, Aemond.”

He presses his forehead to yours, “I am lost without you.”

He makes swift work of untying your dress, only pausing to leave kisses down your body, until you’re left in a sheer white shift. You sit up, helping him remove his tunic, admiring every ripple of muscle, every new scar, every stretch of his glowing skin. His hair had come loose, the signature Targaryen silver like an aura surrounding him.

When he’s undressed, he takes the final piece of clothing off of you, the white shift that leaves nothing to the imagination, and throws that to the floor with the rest.

You begin a sort of dance, one that you both know so well, repeated over many sleepless nights filled with passion.

He always starts with you, lowering himself down to your heat. You almost come undone every time you see him, lips close to your entrance, before he makes the first taste. His eye gleams up at you, and then he begins.

Tongue swirling at your entrance, while his thumb masterfully plays with your folds. He keeps at it for a long moment, before he takes a second to look you right in the eye while he brings his fingers to his lips.

“Mmm,” he breathes, then he lowers his lips to your wet cunt once more.

“Aemond,” your fist bunch up at the sheets, your back arches, your toes curl.

He makes you tremble, your breath hitching at intervals.

He feels you getting close, so he licks one last strip upward, “Not yet, my love.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Hmm, say that again,” he gets up, positioning his knees on either side of your thighs.

“My Prince Aemond,” you say, “Mine.”

“Yours,” he purrs.

He takes your lips again, an action you will never grow tired of, his fingers gripping your hair. He kisses down your cheek, your jaw, then your neck. He sucks at the flesh, marking his territory, making you press your pelvis onto his, feeling the length of his hardened shaft.

“Hmm,” he shivers, “fuck.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to position himself, and he does.

His pushes his tip to your cunt. Torturously, but only just.

“Oh, for gods’ sake,” you moan, “come inside me, Aemond.”

He laughs, “As you wish, my love.”

He stretches you wide, pushing inch by inch, and you have to grow accustomed to his size once more.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“Does it hurt badly, my love?” he is quick to ask, watching your face intently.

“It’s okay,” you grip the back of his neck, “keep going.”

With one deep grunt, he fills you completely, thrusting deep.

He moans, music to your ears, and whispers your name. He rolls his hips backward, then forward again, the motion more rough this time, moving your entire body upward.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “my Aemond.”

“My love,” he looks at you in wonder, sprawled beneath him, “it’s only been you. It will only ever be you.”

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him passionately. His hips resume movement. Slow, deep thrusts at first.

Then he turns wild. He ruts into you, quicker, more frantic, the smacking sounds of flesh and sweat, and unhinged animalistic moans echoing throughout the room.

He does a surprising move, his fingers first drifting around your neck, then applying pressure, and he looks like a vengeful, hot-blooded god above you. His face hovers just inches above yours, and his grip on your neck unexpectedly excites you, the danger of Aemond only serving to make things more erotic, and reckless. Your dark prince.

You dig your nails into his wrist, returning the pressure.

“You should have married me,” he breathes, “why didn’t you run away with me?”

“Aemond,” everything throbs, the fire in your abdomen reaching its climax, from his frenzied thrusts, to his hand on your neck, to his crazed expression.

“You’re mine. They can’t have you. No one else can.” His words are punctuated with hard thrust, after hard thrust.

Almost simultaneously, gloriously, you both come apart. Aemond spasms inside you, filling you with his seed. Your hips continue to jerk against him, as you writhe uncontrollably, riding down your high.

He places one more soft kiss upon your lips, then collapses beside you.

You close your eyes in satisfaction, letting the feeling wash over you.

You feel his fingertips on your neck, and you open your eyes, finding him lying on his side, studying you.

“Was that okay?" he asks, referring to his grip on your neck.

“Mhmm,” you reassure him, turning to your side as well.

He hums in return, before smirking, “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

You laugh at his forwardness, and he looks at you lovingly.

He leans forward to kiss you, “My heart has returned.”

You feel a pang of guilt at how you left him, all that time ago, even if it may have been the right thing to do. It will never be simple between you and Aemond.

“I missed you,” you say wholeheartedly.

“And what of your love?” he says, taking your hand.

“My Aemond,” you press your forehead to his, “It will never be gone.”

taglist: @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @literishdegree99 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @ladymoon666 @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @blueskies4everxo @stillinracooncity @julieeba @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @camspnt @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @amethystwonders11 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

I've decided to save most of the sadness & regret for the next part, and yes, there will be a part 3. Our boy Aemond is still to be married after all. And he is still a "bloody monster" with majestic hair.

I hope I've tagged all those who asked - I'll keep yous tagged for any upcoming Aemond fic as well.

Taglist open - just comment.

PS. Alys Rivers is apparently Aemond's lover in the books, and I fear the feral jealous monster I will become if they decide to show that old hag in the upcoming seasons of HOTD. Sorry, not sorry.