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sailoryooons · 1 year

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Knocked | ksj | (m)

☾ Pairing: Streamer!Seokjin x f. reader

☾ Summary: Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

☾ Word Count: 10,673

☾ Genre: Roommates to lovers, smut, humor

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Cheesy humor, Jin is an annoying gamer, a lot of game talk, stupid bets, explicit language, references to an ungendered ex partner, a very cheesy plot i like cheese, jin crossing a boundary but he apologizes okay!!! sexually explicit content including oral (m. receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of body fluids like a loooot of spit and drool, protected vaginal sex, fast sex because they’re both overwhelmed and honestly this is vanilla but they are CUTE!!!!

☾ Published: January 19, 2023

☾ A/N: SHE IS HERE AND SHE ISN’T BEAUTIFUL OR EDITED BUT SHE IS FINISHED AND CHEESY AND THIS JIN IS REALLY CUTE OKAY. My inner gamer went fucking nuts in this I am so sorry I really like playing Apex Legends and I got too deep into the game lore so hopefully people can appreciate that. These two were just thirsty for each other and both busted nuts quickly okay it has happened to me jgdhgijhd thats tmi okay HAPPY READING.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Room for Rent Collab

A crash and a yell startle you in the kitchen, the spatula in your hand clattering into the egg pan as Seokjin lets out an unintelligible string of cursing and yelling. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself in patience. It’s not uncommon in your apartment for two to hear him suddenly break out into yelling, and it surely won’t be the last.

Kim Seokjin isn’t the worst roommate. Not by a longshot, when you consider the horror stories you’ve read in Reddit threads and seen on TikTok. He’s clean, he has an aesthetic eye for decoration, he’s an amazing cook, he pays his portion of bills on time, and he doesn’t steal food. Nor does he hog any of the common spaces in the house.

The negative? Seokjin is constantly gaming, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he gamed quietly. Namjoon hadn’t warned you that Seokjin was a large-scale streamer before you moved in, focused on first-person shooter content and paid tournaments.

It had taken about three hours into moving in when he screamed for you to realize that there was no fixing that bit.

Meal finished and plated, you move to the dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and turning on the TV louder than necessary to tune out Seokjin’s hollering. You’ve come up with plenty of ways to tune him out, and listening to everything else on extreme volume is the easiest.

Your neighbors must hate you.

Halfway through your meal and eyes glued to RuPaul’s Drag Race, Seokjin comes trailing out of his room, drawing your attention. It isn’t a hard thing to do. For a grown man who is chronically wired to his PC, he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that is used in dramas and romantic comedies kind of beautiful.

Dark, soft hair that is usually left shaggy and air-dried from the shower but you know looks dashing styled back for parties, equally dark eyes that shimmer with delight when he tells a horrible joke that he thinks is particularly amusing, full lips that would earn the envy of Aphrodite herself - Seokjin is painfully, artfully perfect.

Except for the constant gaming.

“Wow, didn’t offer to make me breakfast?” he asks. It’s more of a jest than anything, popping the fridge open in search of a caffeinated beverage. “How little do I mean to you?”

“Check the microwave, nerd.”

He looks surprised, meandering to the appliance in question and opening the door to see a plate of breakfast for dinner inside. “Wow,” he sighs dreamily. “You really are my favorite roommate.”

“I’m your only roommate.”

“Well, you’re better than Namjoon.”

“Mmm. That isn’t a hard feat, I don’t chronically break pieces of furniture.”

Humming his agreement, Seokjin shoves eggs into his mouth, munching happily. “When are you going to finally play some games with me, huh?”

“Mmmm never.”

“You think I don’t know you have a little setup in there?”

“I like Animal Crossing. You like Apex.”

“Come on, I can teach you Apex.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had a million times. Gaming is the single thing that the two of you have in common. When you first discovered that Seokjin worked in the digital sphere and was a content creator for popular games online, you were a bit worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had been fetishized for so much as liking a game.

Thankfully, Seokjin was alright. He didn’t make it weird, and after a casual comparison of the things you liked to play, he decided that the interests weren’t common enough to be a huge pain in the ass about it.

He did really want to play at least once, with you though.

“I know how to play Apex,” you mumble, eyes flickering back to the TV. Your last situationship revolved around playing the stupid first-person shooter together. “I don’t like it.”

As in, you were absolutely never playing that game again after being worn out from it and having it associated with someone who kind of sucked anyway.

“How can you not like Apex?” Seokjin mutters, more to himself than anything else.

Thankfully he drops the subject, distracted by your show. He shuffles to the couch, where you join him eventually, both of you tucked into the cushions as you watch the show. For the most part, Seokjin is quiet, only peppering you with questions during the commercial breaks. You’re happy to answer.

It’s comfortable, your little life with him. You’ve almost lived together for a year, and despite the annoying gaming thing and his habitual bad jokes, you like living with Seokjin. You like having him as a friend, even.

Things are good.

Things are not good. You clench your jaw as you re-read the email, feeling the tension creep into your shoulders. You can already feel the headache that has not yet happened but is predestined.

If people would just read their emails before sending a snarky request with your boss CC’d-

Mark: Come by my office, please.

Sighing, you push out from the desk and head toward your boss's office. Your stomach flips uneasily, unsettled as you walked by the windowed offices of the executive staff. It isn’t that you’re afraid of your boss, but you certainly have been having a bad enough day without having to explain that if Alicia in accounting had just read your email she wouldn’t be confused.

At the appointed office, you tap lightly on the door frame. “Hi, still a good time?”

It’s obviously a good time, but for some reason, you feel the need to break the tension by clarifying. Your boss is a wide-set man who ushers you in with a wave. “Catch the door for me, please.”

The door shuts with a click and it feels like impending doom.

Sitting quickly in a chair, you wait with a racing heartbeat as Mark finishes writing an email. The silence is awkward so you distract yourself by looking at the pictures of him and his family on his shelves as if you haven’t seen them a dozen times, and looking at his nameplate and literally any other object in his office to keep from feeling uncomfortable.

The horrible 70s rock that plays softly in the background only makes it worse.

With a final click on his mouse, he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that, trying to get through all these damn sales contracts.”

“Sounds exhausting.” You have no idea if it is - sales isn’t your area of expertise. “I know they’ve been busy.”

“Tons of new clients, which is always great but the paperwork is a killer.”

“Makes sense.”

“What is Alice in accounts losing her mind about? I saw that you’re missing invoices for radio stations and it’s way past the cycle?”

“As explained in my email to Alice, the station in question filed for bankruptcy and has a halt on all their funds. This was something I communicated two months ago with accounting and legal. I believe you may have been on it as well, though perhaps I left you off.” You didn’t leave him off. You don’t leave him off any emails. “Those invoices are all going to be a mess until that’s sorted.”

“Look,” he sighs. “We all have a shit ton going on right now. One email letting us know that payment would be an issue isn’t going to cut it. You can’t assume that we see the emails. Was it flagged as high-importance?”

“Yes.”

And I mentioned it in three meetings and a sticky note, you think.

“See, it’s just not foolproof. It’s your job to overcommunicate these things. You can't rely on accounting or me to remember these things for you.”

You give him one slow blink. Then another.

“Understood,” you answer, throat tightening. “I will make sure to overcommunicate from now on, I apologize for the confusion.”

“Thanks,” he says, a dismissal. “Door closed on the way out, I have a stupid call to jump on.”

Door closed behind you, you wonder how anyone gets anything fucking done around this place. Because of course doing all of the things logical and reasonable to communicate a change in accounting isn’t reasonable. Going above and beyond and being responsible for other people not reading their email is now your job to compensate for.

Steam blowing from your ears, you march back toward your desk in a blind rage, fists open and closing. You don’t see it coming when Yoongi smacks into you, eyes glued to his phone and fresh iced-americano now coloring your blue shirt a nice shade of mud.

“Holy fuck I am so sorry,” Yoongi swears. “Shit - fuck - sorry.”

Cold leeches through you like a knife. You rush to the bathroom, Yoongi’s cursing and apologies drifting behind you. The press of paper towels lifts a little of the yellow from your shirt, but it doesn’t fix the sticky-cold cling of fabric to your chest and the unmistakable stain down the front of your outfit.

“Fucking perfect.”

Blessedly Seokjin isn’t home when you arrive stained in dry coffee, smelling like Starbucks, and sagging with a delightful mix of rage, wrath, and irritation. Like an angry little storm cloud, you move around the apartment, snapping cabinets closed extra hard and yanking your blouse off with a little more violence than usual.

A hot shower makes most of the tension bleed away, but not all of it vanishes. Wrapped in a towel and turned into a prune, you reach for the clothes on the counter and realized in your haste to peel yourself out of Yoongi’s coffee, you didn’t bring any with you.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Seokjin isn’t home, so you yank the door open and march toward your room, running smack into your second person of the day with a startled yelp and thankfully, a very tight grip on your towel.

“Why are you all wet?” Seokjin shrieks, wiping his shirt as though he could get rid of the you-shaped wet stain. “And naked!”

“I’m in a towel! Why are you here?”

“I live here!”

“I meant right now! You weren’t home!”

“Well, I do come home, usually! And I yelled I was home when I got here so you would hear me!”

“Well, I was in the shower!”

“Obviously!”

For a moment, the two of you stand there. You’re dripping a puddle onto the tile and the cold air has goosebumps breaking out all over your body. You shiver as Seokjin’s eyes flicker down for a split second before he’s looking at the ceiling and gesturing. “Well - go find clothes!”

“I will! Jeez!”

You storm into your room, slamming the door and pressing your back against it. Your towel is gripped tight in your fist, heart hammering. You’re both adults and while being in a towel in front of Seokjin isn’t embarrassing or scandalous, it was unexpected and new.

As you get dressed quickly, you can’t help but think of the way his cheeks tinged pink and the nervous way he shifted. It was… cute.

With clothes on, Seokjin seems a lot less nervous around you. He’s still a little stiff, you notice. You bump into him as the two of you navigate the kitchen together and he ducks his head, the tops of his ears red. You file the information away for another time, feeling your cheeks warm when you go to reach for a pair of tongs but he already has them held out to you.

It isn’t uncommon behavior. He’s known you long enough to know your habits around the kitchen, and you’ve cooked enough meals together to recognize the patterns in which the two of you move around the kitchen.

Music plays in the background, Seokjin humming along. Occasionally, he sings the words, voice low and soft over the notes.

“You have a nice voice,” you note as you flip the oven off. He’s always had a nice voice, but you’ve never said anything before. He raises his brows as you grab oven mitts. “You do,” you insist with a grin. “I promise I’m not lying.”

“A great voice to go with a great face right?”

“Ew, here we go.”

He moves out of your way as you open the oven, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe I should sing on stream. Do you think they would like that? People already think I’m the most handsome streamer.”

“Sure, maybe do some sort of caroling or something for the holidays.”

He pauses. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. What if I just called my friends who were streaming on Discord and started caroling to them? I could make it a charity thing and select streams based on donations.”

Placing the hot pan on the top of the stove, you glance at him sidelong. “Do you do charity streams a lot?”

“All the time. Most of the long streams I do are for charities.”

“So it’s not all just… earning cash?”

“No, I get plenty of that.”

“So why do you need a roommate?”

Seokjin leans over you, to pluck a fry off of the pan. He doesn’t move away immediately, eyes dropping down to yours as he sticks the french fry in his mouth. The warmth of his chest radiates through your shoulder where you touch and suddenly, you feel a buzz at his nearness.

It’s impossible not to drop your eyes down to his mouth as he chews. For a moment, you’re dazed by his pillow lips - they really are a marvel to look at. Then he’s smirking and murmuring, “For the cooking. Did you get these out of a frozen bag? Ugh.”

Spell broken you swat at him and he laughs, leaning away again. “I don’t like to be alone,” Seokjin admits. “Having a roommate is nice. Granted, I was supposed to be living with Namjoon until he and Jungkook decided to be in love and all that. Now I have you filling out the rest of his lease.”

“So you can afford to live alone in this city and don’t?”

“Hey, I also save a ton of money. I will want to buy a house one day. Consider yourself as a part of my savings tactic.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rooming with Seokjin had been of convenience. Finding affordable living in the city was nearly impossible - especially on your salary - and when Namjoon had announced after only two months of living with Seokjin that he and his boyfriend were getting their own place, it had timed up perfectly. You had been vaguely familiar with Seokjin at the time, and you desperately needed cheaper rent.

You’d never really asked why Seokjin had a roommate at all. He had a work-from-home job at a software company doing something that went far beyond your understanding, and he made a ton from streaming.

Seokjin plops down on the couch instead of the dining room table, a plate full of chicken nuggets and fries balanced on his knee as he pats the seat next to him without looking. You definitely went the easy route for dinner after your terrible day, and Seokjin seems to pick up on the fact that tonight is an eat-from-the-comfort-of-the-couch kind of vibe.

“Ugh,” Seokjin sighs as he watches Shangela get eliminated from the top four on All-Stars 3. “That is heartbreaking. She worked really hard.”

Seokjin has never really voiced being a fan of the show, but you have a sneaking suspicion he watches it because you are, and it’s something to bond over. Maybe you should play a round of Apex with him.

Instead, you say, “Yeah, she deserved it.” You pause. “Thanks for watching with me, tonight. I had a rough day.”

“Hmm. I can tell.” He leans and squeezes your bicep absently. “I’m here for ya.”

Though you say nothing, your insides do a little bit of a flip.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, you frown. Pausing your show, you pull up your phone, paging over to Twitch to pull up Seokjin’s stream. He’s been doing one of those stream-a-thon things again, and you haven’t seen him come out to eat since the morning. It’s well into the evening now.

Seokjin’s stream pulls up and you see him in the corner of his screen, the familiar lighting in his room glowing in the background. His room is surreptitiously clean, free of any garbage and clutter. His bed is always made any time you see it, and the beautiful tiles of pulsing lights above it make a nice ambiance for his stream.

Currently, he is focused, leaning a little too far toward his screen as he talks to his teammates. Taehyung and Jungkook, by the sound of it. There’s no evidence suggesting he has left his room today, which urges you to get up and head to the kitchen, closing out the stream.

In silence, you put together a small meal. A wrap, a small back of chips, and some damn water will do him some good. Pulling up his stream again, you wait until his match finishes and he’s leaning back, talking to chat.

A little nervous, you walk with food in hand to his bedroom door where you can hear his soft voice. You knock lightly and he calls you in. Carefully, you stick your head in and see him turn. You’re out of shot from his stream, but he’s confused nonetheless. You never interrupt.

Sliding the plate into view, Seokjin’s face lights up. He rolls away from the computer and comes over, his headset on his head still as he gushes, “Holy fuck thank you. You are literally the best. A goddess. A queen. Royalty. Angel among humans. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, it’s like seven at night idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.” He bites into the wrap eagerly, taking a few minutes to chew and swallow. He pauses and glances you up and down before smiling. “Really, thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“Uh-huh.” You glance at his screen. “Have a good rest of your stream.”

Jin: Left lunch for you in the fridge. I made extra this morning.

You look at the text and furrow your brow, toothbrush still popped into the side of your cheek. You continue absently scrubbing as you walk to the fridge and pull it open. Sure enough, there’s a glass dish with a sticky note on it and a smiley face.

Plucking the note off the top, you read it. Thanks for taking care of me. Now I’ll take care of you.

With a smile bright enough to light up the entire city, you go about getting dressed for work.

The smile doesn’t last long. Work drags on unsteady, tired feet, and once again, you are stuck in a slew of responsibilities that shouldn’t be yours, reading emails that are reiterating things already discussed, and joining meetings that should be emailed.

By the time lunch comes and goes, you realize that you haven’t yet eaten. Tucked in the small cubicle, you nibble on Seokjin’s homemade meal, eyes glued to the neverending scroll of budget tracking and invoices.

A raging headache lurks behind your eyes and though your lunch is superb - as it often is with Seokjin’s cooking - you can’t help but feel your frustration mount by the time your next meeting rolls around.

Meeting after meeting interrupts your afternoon, and when you finish your last one long past the time to go home, your nerves are fried and a high-strung feeling follows you all the way to your car as you scroll through all of the emails you have yet to get to.

Because of all the fucking meetings.

The trip home is silent. Your fingers ache with the grip on the steering wheel of your car and when you park in the lot of the apartment complex, you sit there for a moment, car off, world muted by the car doors.

Head pressed against the steering wheel, you take a few steady breaths. It feels like you might cry, which isn’t typical after a work day. But you’re frustrated and tired, and that goddamn headache is still looming in the back of your eye sockets.

Upstairs and in your apartment, you breeze past Seokjin who is in the kitchen. You mumble something about a migraine and he barely gets a moment to say anything before you’re in your room, door pressed shut. You lay in your bed without even taking your work close off, wrapping yourself in your blanket and closing your eyes.

The next thing you know, there’s something warm pressed against your brow. You frown and groan, rolling over and feeling several joints in your body pop. Your eyes flutter open and you see Seokjin leaning over you, making you flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But it’s really late and you should eat. I know you have a headache so I brought you meds and a cold towel. And ramen. I make the best ramen.”

“Jungkook makes the best ramen,” you correct, sighing and leaning up a little. Your movements are stiff, tangled in a blazer and dress pants. “Ugh, I slept like this?”

“Jungkook does not make the best ramen. I will take that away.”

“Fine, fine.” You take the medicine from the nightstand and chase it with the water glass offered. “Thanks.” You look at all the things he brought you and your insides begin to melt. He lingers near the doorway, eyes soft, expression warm. “Thank you for thinking of me. I… wow.”

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “No big deal. Now eat the best ramen in the world or I’m going to have a fit.”

With that, Seokjin leaves you to eat your ramen in peace. The first taste is amazing, already warming you up. You realized you’re ravenous, pulling noodles into your mouth hungrily. Absently, you think that it is the best fucking ramen in the world.

“What’s with you?” Seokjin asks as you drag your feet slowly in the grocery store. Rarely do you shop together, but today is an exception. “You look like a zombie.”

You nearly shoot daggers at him. “I lost my headphones,” you snap. “Which means I have to hear your gaming all night.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that loud.”

“Watch one of your streams back, I’m sure you’ll disagree.”

He sighs, turning the cart as you walk down the spice aisle. “Sorry, I’m preparing for this huge Apex tournament. Jungkook and I have been practicing duos a lot and it’s been a bit frustrating. Everyone has fucking aim assist these days, I swear that console players are doing to ruin-”

“Jin.” He pauses his rant. “I’m just asking you to keep it down a little. I no longer have the means to ignore you… moaning weirdly during a game.”

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed? You kind of moan and yell. It’s… ask your stream about it.”

He stops walking, staring at you as you walk ahead. “I don’t do that.” You snicker and he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t!”

Five minutes pass with Seokjin sulking about your comment. It’s when you’re in the milk aisle that he says, “So you’ve just been imagining me moaning on the other side of the wall, huh?”

“W-what?”

“Admit it. You’ve been thinking about me moooaaaning you’re having dirty thooooughts.” He sing-songs this to you, poking at your sides as you open the fridge to get milk.

“I am not.”

“It’s totally cool. I get it, handsome bachelor right on the other side of the wall, you’re bound to get curious and - oof.”

“Put this in the cart,” you deadpan, having hit him in the stomach with the gallon of milk. He takes it from you and obliges, though there is a shit-eating grin on his face.

Seokjin isn’t right, but he isn’t explicitly wrong. When you first moved in, you had been shy and wondered about the attractive boy who lived just on the other side of the wall. Once you had fallen into familiarity, though, there had not been anything there.

Except recently.

The last few weeks have felt like the two of you have reached a new level of shared living space. You had done things together before, but now you find yourself making all your meals with Seokjin, bringing him snacks during stream, waking up to him making you breakfast or having prepared you lunch.

And now you’re doing groceries together, which was something uncommon enough to make you wonder.

You think back to the gentle way he made you dinner and brought you medicine when you had a headache, the way that your insides had turned cotton candy at the action and house these days, your eyes lingered on him just a little bit more.

But no. Seokjin was your roommate, and you learned in your last situationship that you don’t shit where you eat. Which is why you moved out of the old apartment and in with Seokjin in the first place.

The rest of your shopping experience goes with mild teasing. You’re still a little bit on edge, but not enough to be truly mad, especially when he offers to cook dinner.

Once again, you find yourself nestled on the couch watching TV before he finally relents and announces he’s going to practice duos with Jungkook. He assures you that he’ll keep it down this time - he isn’t streaming, so you sure hope so - and vanishes for the rest of the evening.

When you get ready for bed, it is mostly silent on his of the wall. No yelling, but you can hear the soft lull of his voice. Oddly enough, it’s soothing, and you end up falling asleep with the barest sound of his hum through the walls.

Most nights, you can sleep through Seokjin’s yelling at the sudden sound of his knee hitting his gaming desk as he jumps up, a string of expletives laced with other unintelligible expressions of shock, horror, and frustration. Most nights, you can tuck your headphones in, and blissfully fall asleep to the sound of rain, hearing his insanity only once in a while.

Except now you’ve lost your headphones, you don’t have enough money to splurge on a new pair, and Seokjin has been practicing for a tournament for some extremely long stream he has coming up.

So now, you go nights without sleep. Nights where you drift off to dreamland after a long shift at the bar or studying for your dissertation. Nights like this, where you teeter on the edge between awake and asleep, and you’re startled straight out of your bed from a shout.

Heart pounding, you grip the edge of your bed, trying to get your bearings as Seokjin’s shouting echoes through the shared wall. You feel sick with the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, closing your eyes for a moment as the room spins.

Gritting your teeth and ripping your blankets from you, you march to his room, stumbling as you try to get your bearings from waking up so suddenly. Your stomach does a nasty flip, churning at the unplanned activity as you pound your fist on his door.

“Open up, motherfucker!” You screech, hand slamming on the door without pause. “I swear, Seokjin, sometimes I just want to-“

The door rips open and you nearly knock him right in his chest. His very bare, very broad chest, lit up by the purple RBG lights on his headphones and strip lighting around his room to improve the ambiance of his setup.

“Holy shit, woman! What?”

You blink, momentarily dazed at what you came here for, distracted entirely by the firm curves of his pectorals, skin smooth and gold. Was Seokjin always this in shape or is it a figment spurred by the rush of adrenaline?

Finding your words is hard, your brain is scrambled and near ready to make dial-up noises at the site of your roommate’s bare skin. “We just talked about this,” you manage to spit out. “And you’re literally going to start screaming the same fucking day we talk about keeping it down?”

“I mean I’m sorry but damn. You don’t have to break the door down.”

“Then stop screaming!”

“You’re the one screaming!”

“Because I’m trying to fucking sleep! I have dealt with you yelling, cheering, slamming the desk and hollering and doing your little moan-scream for almost a year without saying anything!” You yell back, fists clenched and rage boiling. “I’m so fucking over it!”

“Then why have you never mentioned it before? You know, like an adult!”

Your mouth hangs open at the clap back. “Be for real. I am not the problem here.”

“Well if I’m the problem, why haven’t you communicated that? You’ve been here eight months and it took me asking you at the grocery store to fess up that I was bothering you.”

“I mean. Yeah, but-”

“So don’t yell at me that I didn’t read your mind and I had no idea I was bothering you. Or get headphones.”

“How about you start gaming at normal hours? Have you ever thought of that?”

He rolls his eyes. “You mean my working hours?”

“I mean between the hours before 11 at night, Jin!”

“Make me!”

“Fine!” You snap, rage pushing you over. “Shall we make a wager?”

This catches him by surprise. He blinds a few times, tilting his head. “What are you proposing?”

Crossing your arms, you nod to the computer. “You want me to play Apex so bad? Fine, we’ll make it a competition.”

“There’s no 1 v 1 in Apex.”

“Duos. Whoever gets the most kills wins. No shields higher than blue, no turning on each other. Just strictly kill count. If win, you don’t get to game past 11 pm anymore.”

“And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“What can I have?” He pauses, looking you up and down. Something feels different as he does this. His gaze heavier. Darker. He licks his lips, your attention is drawn to the way the blue lights glittering on his wall turn the spit-slicked surface blue. “How about any favor at any time that I ask? Are we also trying to win as a duo?”

“Sure. No holds barred on how we get kills.”

Again, he examines you, trying to puzzle something out. Wordlessly, he walks to his computer and grabs his headset. The door is open to his room, showing that he just has his basic setup turned on, with no intention of streaming. “Jungkook I’ll hit you up tomorrow. I have to kick my roommate's ass.” Jungkook says something on the other side and Seokjin clears his throat. “Yeah, no. Bye.”

He returns, phone in hand. Your phone pings in your room. “Add me on Discord, I guess.”

Wordlessly, you spin and head to your room.

There are still things Seokjin doesn’t know about you. Like how you played his favorite game for a year straight, trying to impress your last roommate-turned-fuck-buddy with your skills. While it partially worked in your favor, their failure to commit to you gave you a sour taste about the game.

It’s been a while since you’ve played. Slower games are more your style, and you haven’t turned on your PC in a while, but as it starts, lights inside of the glass case glittering, you feel a shiver of excitement.

Your setup is not nearly as advanced as your roommate's, who has three screens, a massive desk and hi-tech camera, a microphone, and a massive custom-built unit that could probably power a tank. Yours is pre-built but sturdy, and you have a single screen with a modest keyboard and headset to match.

Glancing at the Discord user, you roll your eyes at what Seokjin’s written: WorldWideHandsomeJin.

“Weirdo,” you mutter.

You add him anyway, getting comfortable in your chair and hitting the call button. He answers immediately, his voice making the hair at the back of your neck tingle as he says, “So are you going to be my Discord kitten?”

“Ew, don’t ever say that again,” you mutter. Navigating your desktop, you start to update the game. “Give me fifteen. I have to update.”

“Really? Newbie.”

“Sorry I don’t play this game every second of my life. I haven’t played since I moved out of the last place.”

He hums, voice vibrating in your very nice headset. You turn him down a little bit, feeling just a little drunk from the rich timbre of his voice. “That was a… weird situation, huh?”

“A bit.”

“They play Apex that much too?”

“Not as much as you do.” He hums again. “Who do you main?”

“Loba.”

“Fine,” you answer as the program opens. “I’m playing Wraith.”

The game menu blares in your ears, making you squeak and reset all of your old settings. It feels weird to log on, pointedly ignoring the familiar username as you navigate your friends list to add Seokjin. He pops up and selects duos for you.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see his rank. “Diamond? Holy fuck do you touch grass?”

“Says you! You played enough that you hit Diamond in your first season too, nerd. It shows your historical stats. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Whatever. Ready up.”

Neither of you says anything as the system prepares to put you in a game. You look at his stats, raising your brows as you flip through. He’s historically hit the highest rank in the game, making you wonder why he’s dropped recently. He also has a ridiculous skin on his character, making you wonder how long he’s been playing.

Apex Legends is a first-person shooter game with a battle royale format. Similar to Fortnite, teams load into the game and pick up weapons and other materials to fight other teams the ring of combat gets smaller and smaller. With Seokjin’s selection of Loba guarantees that you’ll be able to stock weapons and ammo. With your selection of Wraith, you can get in and out of situations quickly and you’ll know when an enemy team focuses on you.

As the map loads, you can’t help but feel the tremor in your hand. Your leg bounces up and down as you wait, watching the dropship come into focus. You give Seokjin the power to drop your duo anywhere on the complex map. You almost expect him to launch immediately, but you’re impressed to see that he has enough patience to drop you a moderate distance on the map.

Which means fewer weapons, fewer shields, and fewer teams to kill. You frown as you navigate your character to land near utility boxes full of weapons. Does he think you need to take it slow? Or maybe he’s worried about giving you too many people to kill easily.

“Team to the north,” you comm, opening up boxes and selecting weapons, shields, and med packs. “What do you shoot?”

“Energy. Preferably the volt.”

“Volt here. Let me know if you see a flatline or sentinel.”

“You snipe with Wraith?”

“When she says someone’s aiming at me, yeah?”

He hums but does not comment the two of you use the map to navigate. You fall into a rhythm, using the controls feels sort of familiar. As you work your way toward the next ring, Seokjin startles you when he starts firing shots at a time looting that you miss. You flinch and whirl, but he’s already eliminated the pair.

“Two zero.”

“Whatever,” you growl, ignoring his smug voice.

Shooter, move your character in game commands. You dodge behind a box as an enemy team rattles off shots. Your heart pounds as you use a sniper to look in the direction of the shots, seeing the duo up on a tower. Lining up the scope, you click and hit a player.

“Knocked,” you call automatically. The second teammate makes a bad call and tries to get their knocked pair up. You line up the shot and click twice. “Knocked. Out.” You move your mouse and finish the other teammate. “Out.”

“Yeah, yeah, good comms whatever. We’re even.”

You grin. “Just trying to communicate to my teammate.”

He snorts. “Sure.”

For a few moments, the two of you navigate to a safe zone. When you see two teams clash, you don’t even think. Normally you’d wait for one team to finish off the other, but you’re in a competition with Seokjin, too. Suddenly, winning means more than just peace and silence.

“Knocked,” you call, sniping another player. “Out. Out. Knocked.”

“You motherfucker,” Jin hisses. “You’re supposed to - out - tell me when we’re going to push a team.”

“Hey, that was my kill!”

“You only knocked him!”

“Whatever. And I pushed them because I want to win.”

“I didn’t realize you were so good at this.” The two of you start looting the load out of the eliminated players. “You kept saying I don’t like Apex and here you are, really good at it.”

“Honestly, I used to like it.” Together, you traverse the map until you enter the next ring. Seokjin pauses to use Loba’s pop shop ability, a cache of weapons and materials in the local area showing up in front of you. As you sort through them, you continue, “But I used to play with my old roommate and I used to do it to impress them. As it turns out, being good at a video game does not a relationship make.”

“Hmm. Well if it makes you feel any better, I like you even without the Apex.”

“I meant I was trying to get them to like me romantically.”

“I know what you meant.”

You pause. Seokjin does not explain his statement, humming lightly as he picks up ammo and leaves the little shop running. He skips down the hill with his character, his happy little tune deep in your ear.

Nerves get the best of you in the next firefight with a team. You get knocked and screech into the headset, thinking that your chance to win is over. Seokjin, thankfully, takes pity on you and heals you after your near-death experience. But now he’s in the lead, and there are only five teams left.

I know what you meant.

The words sit heavy on you. While you are attracted to Seokjin you know it’s a bad idea. Roommates being anything more than roommates often brings other issues. You’d learned firsthand how poorly not defining a relationship could go. That was on you as an adult too but… you didn’t want something in between.

And you have no inclination of what he meant.

Seokjin wasn’t a very flirty person. Teasing you came easily enough, and he was always nice. He had been a little extra nice recently since you’d been spending more time together, but there wasn’t anything that would suggest he saw you as more than a roommate.

Two more people downed, and you were tied. The two of you were more into the game and less into the bet. Your interrupted sleep was long forgotten, and you leaned forward as you devised a plan, locking down a high tower where you could see enemy teams coming to escape the shrinking ring.

“Glad you got that stupid sentinel,” Seokjin mutters. “Who snipes with Wraith.”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, though you don’t really mean it. “Your second gun is a fucking wingman.”

“Because it’s like a one tap to the head!” An incoming team distracts him from arguing with you. “Over by that dino cage.”

“Got it,” you comm back. The second you shoot, you draw fire. “Oh my god do they have a Kraber?”

“Yeah, but they fucked the shot. You got this.”

Taking a breath - a little dramatic, you realize as you scope them - you take the shot. You tap one, but they have red armor. You curse, pissed you installed a fucking armor limitation, and duck behind the wall as the other team misses the shot with their kraber again.

“Best gun in the game and they can’t hit shots!” Seokjin laughs. “Imagine! Their buddy must be fuming.”

You scope again and tap the person again. “Knocked. Do we stand our ground or try and take them?” Another shot misses. “Can you keep a scope on that person you cracked and I can push? Other team is probably trying to wait it out.”

“If they see you?”

“Then you’re fucked but they’re not going to engage between two snipers. Maybe? I don’t know. Just do your thing.”

And you do your thing as Seokjin runs off toward the enemy team. They no longer have shots on their gun - which makes you roll your eyes, it’s the best gun on the map - and keep focused. Either they think you’re moving or they make a bad call - the healthy teammate tries to pick up their knocked ally and you take the shot.

“They’re both cracked.”

“Got it- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OTHER TEAM.”

His screech makes you slam your knee into the underside of your desk. No wonder he does this all the time, you think, realizing that the disrupting noise is a lot easier to make than you originally thought. “Let them take the kill then!”

“Fuck that I want to win!”

“Ew is this about the bet still? Now I want to win the game!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Ye of little fAIIIIIITH!”

It’s hard not to giggle as he breaks off into yelling, entering a firefight while you try to provide cover and miss your shots. “Stop fucking portaling where I want to shoot!”

“Stop missing!”

“Knocked motherfucker!”

“Got it!”

Seokjin finishes the two teammates as the knocked enemies on the other team expire. Both of you scream over your headsets. You shoot to your feet as the victory screen flashes. You don’t even wait - you bolt toward the door, your wired-in headset ripping off your head and nearly yanking you back as you go.

The door is already open as he yells loudly, jumping up and down and grabbing you by the forearms, jumping around in circles with you. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and you can’t help but feel elated as he shakes you wildly, screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

His hands are warm on your biceps, gentle and squeezing you excitedly. And then between one breath and the next, he’s pulling you toward him, pressing his lips to yours.

A shock goes through you. You freeze for a moment, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Seokjin realizes what he’s done and immediately backs away, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands as he says, “Shit - I am so sorry. That was wow - that was a line crossed without your consent and I’m so sorry.”

Heat floods you from head to toe. Your heart slams against your chest and you stare at him as he fumbles over an apology, his face red as you feel. Your mind can’t catch up as the warmth spreads from your face to the rest of you.

“I’m genuinely so sorry, I just got really excited and-”

“What did you mean earlier,” you cut him off. “When you were all I know what you meant. Look I… really don’t want to make this living situation weird.”

“Totally understand, I’m so sorry.”

You chew on your lip, looking at him. He looks earnest, eyes round and expression pleading. Your lips tingle where he kissed you, so quickly that you’ve already forgotten. Part of you wants to tell him to kiss you again. It was nice. And the flip in your stomach was… good.

But the part of you speaking now says, “I had fun gaming with you. Apology accepted. I am super tired though, so I’m going to go to bed okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, I am so sorry. That won’t happen again and I just - that was not cool of me at all.”

“It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t.”

You offer a smile, still nervous, fingers twitching. “I know you didn’t like, mean anything by it.”

He frowns. “Well I did but that’s my issue.”

Your heart is a stone skipping on the smooth surface of a pond. “What does that mean?”

“Look,” he sighs. “I don’t want to make things weird, alright? I harbor a bit of a crush on you and that was honestly absolutely not okay for me to just-” He gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to do.”

A crush. Your breathing hitches and you rub sweaty palms against your pants, nodding. “It’s - we’re okay. We’re fine.”

Seokjin nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as he stares at you, red-faced and nervous. The silence turns awkward, your mind blanks and buzzes as you try to digest his words.

Crush crush crush crush.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce abruptly, needing to escape the room to breathe for a moment. He nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as you rush out. “Night!”

Behind locked doors in your room, you cover your face, feeling the way your cheeks are flushed. You do some deep breathing, trying to regulate your heart rate as your brain spins its tires on Seokjin’s words- confession.

He confused. That he has a crush.

For a few moments, you just lean over and pant, trying to think how you feel. Your stomach is a bundle of nervousness and your hands are a little shaky. But you’re not upset. In fact, you smile a bit, thinking of the way that Seokjin had turned shy and the way his lips had felt soft for that split second of a chance.

Straightening, you stare at the wall between your bedrooms. Seokjin is right there. Has been right there. And has admitted to liking you and is sweet and kind and fun to hang out with and-

It might be a bad decision. You’ve been down this road before. It ended up with you nursing feelings and deciding that feelings with roommates was a bad idea. But your last roommate didn’t have feelings for you like that. They liked the sex, but that was where the attraction ended.

So maybe -

You knock loudly on Seokjin’s door. There’s some shuffling on the other side and he opens it, brows furrowed and a little breathless. Before he can ask what you’re doing, you’re pushing past him and asking, “When you say you have a crush on me what do you mean? In the physical, only attracted to your appearance kind of way, or like the would date kind of way?”

“Well I am physically attracted to you,” he answers slowly, turning to look at you. “But I also like you. You’re funny and incredibly kind, and you’re easy to live with. I like the way that you make your hashbrowns a little extra crispy and crunchy, and I like that you think of me when you do things.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes, I think I… included that?”

You lick your lips, taking a shaky breath. “So you don’t want to just fuck me no strings attached?”

He blanches. “No. I don’t. Look I know I made you uncomfortable-”

“Kiss me.”

“What now?”

“Kiss me!”

There is a fleeting smile Seokjin gives you that later, you’ll think on with a fluttering heart and breathless laugh. But now, all you can think about is the gentle touch of his hands as they cradle your face and the delicate way his lips press against yours, pillow soft and sweet.

Seokjin smells like his body wash, the sage and juniper intoxicating as you wrap your arms around his neck. His skin is warm as you press your palms against his skin, his pulse throbbing underneath your thumb.

The kiss is chaste, just a firm press of lips and a surprised noise shared between the two of you. Tentatively, you pull away, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. Seokjin’s eyes are swimming pools of darkness framed by long lashes. He’s so beautiful, but up close he’s deadly, flecks of gold glittering in his irises.

“I just,” you whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird but I also… want.”

You don’t have to explain. Seokjin’s grin is easy, nodding. He gets it. He gets you. So he leans down again and pulls you in by the waist, fingers curling in the hem of your t-shirt as he tugs you toward him. The motion makes you gasp and he takes the chance to turn the kiss from sweet to carnal, tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Seokjin kisses you slowly, tongue curious and gentle. Your head spins as you kiss him and you can barely breathe, so full of him and thoughts of him and the taste of him that you grip him tight, desperate not to fall over.

The irritation from him waking you up is long forgotten as he tugs you closer. Your hips press against his, mouths sliding, a mix of gentle smacks, spit, and gasps for air. A buzz tingles through you as you nudge Seokjin toward his bed and he responds immediately, backing up and pulling you with him.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls backward. The two of you become a tangled pile of limbs and kisses and giggles, but you find your place as you slot your knees on either side of his narrow waist, palms flat against his chest and the steady beating of his heart.

There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you. For a second, you just look at one another, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs and his eyes locked on your face. His lips and face are rouge, hair messy. You grin and lean down, pressing your lips against him again.

Kissing Seokjin is invigorating. You can’t help but let little noises slip from your mouth. His fingers press into your thighs, dimpling the flesh as he groans, hips twitching upward for friction. The bulge through his sweatpants makes you squeak and you break the kiss, wiggling your hips down to press against his clothed cock.

“Ugh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut and head pressing back into his mattress. “Don’t do that. I’m so fucking hard.”

“Do you want some help with that?”

His gaze softens and his thumbs slide back and forth on your thighs, caressing gently. “I want whatever you want. Nothing, everything, something. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well right now… I really want to suck you off.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Without breaking eye contact, you drop and slide your hand from where it presses against his chest downward. His abs twitch under your hand as you dance along his over-warm skin. His breathing has turned faint and breathy, body nearly trembling as you brush your fingers along the trail of hair leading into his sweatpants.

Watching him is hypnotizing. Seokjin’s lips part slightly as you slide your hand underneath the elastic, brows shooting up when you brush the sticky tip of his cock.

“No underwear?”

“They’re - nggg - restricting.”

His shaft is long and smooth, your fingers brushing along the underside, tracing a vein. You’re impressed by the sheer size of his dick, wondering if you’re going to manage to not choke, but the sound he lets you when you wrap your fingers around him and grip him tight erases the apprehension.

“You sound so good like that,” you breathe, giving a loose-fisted stroke toward the crown, beaded with precum. “Also you have a sizeable dick.”

“Sizeable, huh?” You brush your thumb over the tip, nail gliding over his leaking slit and he lets out a loud moan, making you grin. “Take it out and see how fucking sizeable it is, hmm?”

It’s hard to take him seriously with how ridiculous he sounds, but you slide down the bed, gently getting onto your knees. Using both hands, you tug at his sweatpants, looking up at him through fluttered lashes.

And… suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. Your mouth waters a bit at the side, his tip swollen and needy. His thick, and you know how good it would feel to just sink down on top of his length, filling up the throb that aches between your legs.

Pressing your palms firmly into his thighs, you lift yourself up, dipping low to run your tongue along the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. He lets out a sinful growl, hands fisting the sheet and gasping as you watch him struggle.

At the tip, you slid a hand up, gripping him firmly as you suckle the dark, swollen flesh into your mouth. His precum is salty on your tongue and you hum, eyes fixed on the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blush blossoming from his neck to his pecs.

Seokjin is beautiful under the assault of your mouth.

Suckling gently, you watch his reaction as your tongue lazily circles around the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips wiggle back and forth but he never bucks up into your mouth, never thrusts deeper than you’re willing to go.

“Please,” he whispers and it comes out as an almost whine. “More.”

You give him more, gently sinking your mouth down on him. It’s a stretch but you manage, careful to mind your breathing as you bob gently, hollowing your cheeks for added suction. Expletive-laced moans drip from his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut as you continue to suck gently.

Drool runs out the sides of your mouth. You let it, the stickiness of your spit and his presume slicking down his cock helps you take more of him in his mouth. When his tip brushes the back of your throat, he nearly growls, fully writhing underneath you now.

Seeing him like this is addicting, worked up and sweating, and falling apart. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grip with your hand, mouth, and fingers stroking together in time to work him up. Your mouth buzzes around him in a self-satisfied hum.

Seokjin can’t help himself. His hands leave the sheets, one hand going to the back of your head, fingers pressed firmly. He doesn’t push or pull, his grip just firm and begging. The sound as you let him thrust a little is sinful and wet, the cough-choke of your throat accompanied by stilted curses.

Suddenly, he pulls you up. Cum-mixed spit dribbles down your chin, mouth feeling stretched and swollen as you look up at him. His sweats are around his ankles, abs and thighs flexing as he leans forward, urging you upward.

Your mouths meet in a heated smack of cum and spit and moans and teeth. Your mind is spinning as he cups your face fiercely, pulling you to your feet and up onto his naked waist. His hands pull at your shirt and you yank it fiercely, breaking your messy kiss just to toss it.

Seokjin’s hands are warm and starving for you and vicious as he pulls your bralette off, adding it to the messy pile in his room. Steady hands cup your breasts, his eyes glittering as he makes a noise. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”

You fall forward but his hands steady you, lifting his head to catch a nipple with his mouth. It sets you alight, electricity snapping to life from the motion. You moan, head thrown back, eyes rolling as he nipples lightly on your nipple.

“Fuck,” you squeak. The heat between your legs hurts, your cunting throbbing for him. “That feels so good.”

He hums, letting go of the hardened peak with a gentle scrape of his teeth, moving his mouth to lavish your other breast. His thumb brushes back and forth over the glossy peak, keeping it stimulated.

You tremble in his grip, seated in his lap as he places luscious sucks across your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Seokjin’s words are mumbled in damp kisses against your collarbone. “You’re smart and sweet and generous and stunning.”

“You’re beautiful,” you answer. It feels stupid to say, but it’s the only thing you can come up with. Everything feels fuzzy and you’re drowning in the praise. “Why is your discord WorldWideHandsomJin?”

“Shut up.” He rolls the two of you over, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. “Cause I wanted it to be, and it’s true.”

“It is,” you agreed, gasping as he slides his hand into your pajama shorts. His fingers brush over your damp panties, and he huffs a laugh when he feels how sticky wet you are. “More.”

He hums and applies more pressure, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. “No,” you whine, clawing his chest. “Please.”

“Because you said please.”

With a swift hand, he pulls your shorts and underwear down. You don’t have time to shiver at the cool air of his room hitting your pussy, his fingers brushing up and down. “God,” he groans, dropping his head against the side of your neck. “You’re soaked, baby.”

Pleasure sparks as he thumbs your clit in gentle circles. You feel arousal flood the pit of your stomach, cunt aching and leaking as he slides a finger up and down, applying pressure to your hole before gently sliding into your cunt.

It’s not enough. You get breathy all the same, the feel of his finger stroking your front wall making the world around you melt. Your limbs feel heavy and you shut your eyes, feeling the way he strokes your g-spot over and over again.

“Another,” you gasp, hips bucking upward. “Please, more.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Greedy pussy needs more?”

His filth makes your mouth pop open. He complies, though, sliding in another finger and fucking into you properly. He lets you roll your hips upward, trying to ride his hand as you chase the feeling in your stomach.

It feels like you can’t get enough air, heat trapped between your bodies, static sticking to your skin. Seokjin feels like heaven and fucking hell, skin sticky where your bodies touch, thrumming with energy.

And it’s so much - almost too much. You want him closer, want to be fuller, want the snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his biceps, mouth brushing against his, words mumbled between pressed lips, “Please.”

With a slick sound, he pulls his fingers from you. Immediately you miss the feeling, but you’re rewarded as he brings shine-slicked fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. He leers around his fingers, eyes dark.

“Yum,” he whispers, bending down and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

For a quick moment, he fumbles in his nightstand, pulling out a condom and breaking the foil with a soft crinkle. He’s painted a soft blue in the lights of his room, the changing colors making him a mirage of neons and soft colors, a haunting and stunning creature all at once.

Seokjin shuffles you carefully up the bed, peppering your skin with kisses as he goes. Reverent hands stretch your legs wide open for him as he slots himself against you, giving shallow thrusts so that his cock slides against your messy fold. You whine, needed more stimulation, needing to feel full to relieve the ache.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he strokes upwards again, letting his cockhead catch on your trembling hole. A stream of expletives falls from your lips as your head falls backward, your entire frame vibrating as he slowly slides in. You’re so wet that it helps, but the thick girth of him burns all the way until he is fully sheathed and your walls are fluttering around him.

“Shit, you’re fucking squeezing me.”

“Cause your cock is fucking big!”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

“No, but please fuck me.”

You need the slide of his shaft against your walls, need to feel the way he hits so deep it’s like he’s in your fucking stomach. Seokjin starts a slow but purposeful pace, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, sliding his hands under your as to lift you slightly. The angle allows him to fuck your spot as he thrusts in, your limbs going slack as the feeling of an orgasm winds from just a few strokes.

Seokjin fucks you with purpose, stroking a little faster. Sweat beads on his chest, hair clinging to his forehead as he bites his bottom lip, stomach flexing. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers wrapped around his wrist where he holds you, practically pulling you onto his cock as he fucks you open.

It’s mind-numbing, everything else fading away as his room swirls in colors, punctuated by the snap of his hips against your wet ass and your high-pitched moans.

You wish you could be more of a participant, but the way he makes you feel has the room spinning. He fucks you down into the mattress, the slide of your skin against his sheets added friction. Your head hits a pillow, knocking it sideways, your hand trying to find a grip on anything. It finds the wall and you press against it, feeling the squeeze of your breath in your lungs and the coil in your stomach.

“That's it,” Seokjin urges, one hand leaving your ass to slip between your legs. He circles your clit and your eyes roll back in your head, the roaring feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer. “Fuck your feel so fucking good - you look so fucking good just taking my cock like this.” He is the vision you think. Brow furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, all tan, flushed skin and twitching muscles. You can't remember the last time you were fucked into mindlessness, no chance of cognitive thinking at your fingertips. The filth that leaves his mouth only sends you spiraling further, admiration-laced curses punctuated with moans.

You can only moan back in response, most of the sound stuck in your throat. You think you’re babbling now, mouth agape, eyes squeezed so shut that colors explode across your vision. He fucks you hard but at a medium pace, each thrust supported with his full weight, hitting so deep that you can’t breathe.

When you cum, it’s like a freight train hits you, the world going absolute white noise and numb. You lose yourself in the feeling, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re aware of the way your pussy pulses around his cock and through the buzz in your ears, you hear him curse, gasping your name as he cums just as hard.

You have no idea how long it takes for you to come back down. You barely feel your limbs, the tingle in them like when your foot falls asleep but far more pleasant. You roll your head over to find Seokjin breathing deeply, skin glowing with sweat. His eyes flutter open as you stare at him and he grins, tired but genuine. Your stomach leaps.

“I swear,” he mumbles. “Next time I will last way longer than that. But fuck.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard,” you admit, voice hoarse. “I think that is why they call it le petite mort. Holy shit.”

He laughs and he pulls you in. With the shift of your limbs, you feel how sticky and wet your legs are, thighs pressed together in the mess. You make a face at the feeling, no longer finding it attractive now that you’re not actively fucking, but he kisses you and you immediately forget about it.

“By the way,” he mutters, voice deep. “I won the bet so you owe me a favor.”

You grit your teeth, realizing that he did win by a single kill. “Fine. What’s your favor?”

“Not much, just want to take you out somewhere nice. Buy you a beautiful dinner. Learn all of your embarrassing stories from middle school and if you had an emo phase.”

“Did you have an emo phase?”

“You’ll only find out if we go on a date.”

You smile. Your mouth hurts from the kissing and the stretch of his dick, but it doesn’t matter. You brush the sweaty hair from his face, his eyes fixed on your reaction. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Hmm. Good. Now come on, I wanna fuck you in the shower.”

“That I can agree with.”

#seokjin smut #jin smut #jin bts smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #jin fanfic #jin x reader #roommate jin #bts fanfic #jin x you #minors dni #minors do not interact

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 10 months

Note

getting into an argument at dinner with jj?? 😚

i fall apart

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!reader

warnings: arguing, pet names

summary: while out at dinner, you and jj get into a disagreement.

authors note: thank you for the request, love! enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you and your boyfriend, jj, were currently out at a cute diner just off the cut for a much deserved date night.

you guys had spent most of your day at the beach with your friends and as much as you loved your friends, now you just wanted to spend some time together without them.

but as the night was winding down, it was time to pay. you hated this draining task. you knew how it would end.

especially when you started pulling out your wallet.

“stop,” he said. “put it away.”

you glanced up at him. “j, it’s fine. you always pay. let me do it.”

“it was my idea,” he replied. “i’m takin’ my girl out, so i’m paying.”

this always happened. “you said you were saving money, jj,” you added more firmly.

he pursed his lips into a thin line and looked at you. “i know, but i’m taking you out on a date, babe. we’re done arguing about it, got it? i’m paying and thats final.”

your brows furrowed as you looked at him. “excuse me?” he was never that aggressive when talking about something like this.

when the waiter returned, he handed a few bills to him and looked at your annoyed expression. you appreciated that he paid, but at the same time, you had just had a talk about how he wanted to save money and he was going to stop spending so much.

you understood that more than anything else and you supported him. you did your best to pitch in more, buying most of the things he usually bought for your hangouts with the pogues, buying as much of the stuff to make food during the week as he’d allow before taking over and paying the rest. you’d tried to help him out as much as possible.

so why he had gotten so rude about it this time was beyond you. but you knew you weren’t tolerating it.

once the waiter came back with the receipt, you had stood up quickly and made your way to the car, not caring to wait for him like you usually did.

and when he’d gotten in the car too, he had the nerve to try and place a rough hand on your upper thigh. in response, you’d just picked it up and placed it on the center console without a word.

at the house, there were still no words exchanged. but once you headed into your bedroom and he noticed you were genuinely upset, he started brainstorming his apology.

about two hours had gone past and you hadn’t come out of the room. not even for a snack. you were just sat in there watching your movie. it was getting late though and he wanted nothing more right now than to cuddle up with you and go to sleep.

so he decided it was time. lucky for him, the door was still open. so he headed inside only to find you knocked out already. he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

he walked over to his side of the bed and took a seat. he lightly tapped your arm. “baby,” he mumbled softly.

you stirred and rolled over to your other side to find him sat there. “hm?”

“‘m sorry for acting like that earlier. i know it was rude. you know how i get. and ‘m not making an excuse, i know it was wrong, i jus’ should’ve handled it better and i promise i won’t do it again,” he said just above a whisper, a hand coming up to brush the strands of hair from your forehead.

you hummed and rubbed your heavy eyes. “‘s okay, j. i know you meant well,” you replied tiredly. “now can we go to bed?”

he chuckled and nodded. he got up to quickly shut off the lights then was back at your side underneath the sheets, allowing you to cuddle up into his chest.

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#gracies asks and requests 💌#jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x you #obx #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfiction #obx jj maybank

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for not buying something for a friend on card when they only have cash? (profanity warning up ahead lol) 🦈🦈🦈

A few months ago myself and some of my friends (fake names: Lucy F, Mark M, Kai NB, Jenny F, Charlie NB) decided to go see a movie at the local cinema (we chose it because it's the cheapest in the area). For a very long time, this place only accepted cash unless you booked tickets in advance but after COVID now operates exclusively on contactless payments — no exceptions. Whenever we got there everybody had already booked tickets so we went right into the theatre to get good seats (tickets don't have specific seats at this cinema; it's first come, first served). Once we got our seats of choice, we decided to go to the cinema shop for food in pairs so that nobody would take out spot and after Mark and Kai went, Lucy and I went.

I went first and paid for a medium popcorn and a small box of Maltesers but when it was Lucy's turn she only had cash, therefore could not pay, which made her get snappy at the worker there who obviously couldn't do anything about it. Lucy then asked me if I could pay on card and she could repay me with cash (which is a reasonable request but shit goes sideways after this) so I checked my balance to see if I could. Turns out I only had twenty cents left on my card.

Side note: we're all teenagers and Lucy, Mark, Charlie and I don't have jobs because at the time we were still considered to young to be hired in my area unless we wanted to get paid severely below the minimum wage (McDonald's, I see you). My money consists solely of birthday money that I can spend on buying gifts for myself and others, and going out with my friends. I budget myself strictly because I don't have a steady source of income and keep my unspent money in my savings dedicated towards university. My parents won't start a uni fund for me until I get my first job (which I personally think is fairly reasonable so that I can work for my education) Also I've been saving money in my budget to see this movie for a while since I was excited about it's release (FNAF lol).

Anyway, I tell Lucy I only have 20c and I'm sorry, but she snatches my phone without asking to look at my bank details to see $400 in savings (I know it's not enough for uni but please bare with me /lh). I naturally freaked out in my head and take it back from her, worried that she was going to try buy food anyway, read my bank account details or take money out of my literal uni fund. When I quickly explained it was my only fund for university and I didn't feel comfortable whittling it down (we're in public and there's a line of three people behind Lucy) she gets mad and properly yells that I'm being a "selfish bitch" and only thinking about myself, and that I should just pay for her anyway so she can give me the cash (I would have nowhere safe to keep it in my house as my sister takes any physical money and lies about it, which she has done to me before). I offer to go back to the group and take someone else down like Jenny or Kai who can make the trade or that she can share my food (she likes popcorn and Maltesers) but she again called me a "bitch" at the top of her lungs in a public space with people behind her and families with young children nearby, and stormed back to the theatre, leaving me to apologise to the workers and members of the public.

We go back to the theatre and I again offer for her to share my food and ask if any of my friends could do the trade but she once more announced I was a "selfish, stupid bitch" quote unquote and that it didn't matter anymore anyways. She proceeded to sulk the rest of the movie and later when we walked around the area just for fun.

Later when we all went home, it turned out Lucy, immediately after I got on my bus, made a group chat with everybody but me to talk shit about me. I found out about this because I was on the bus home with Mark (we're practically neighbours) and he showed me the messages right away. She had completely changed the story to make her a hapless victim that I, the unfeeling antagonist, publicly shamed even though after the movie I apologised to her again (I genuinely felt like shit after all of it) and explained the situation to my curious friends (Lucy agreed with what I said then — except I kept out the "bitch" stuff — but rewrote the whole story in their group chat).

At school she started avoiding myself, Mark, Charlie, and other friends who didn't go see the FNAF movie with us because apparently they were all on "my side" (I didn't realise that this whole thing was a big deal or that there were definitive sides people had to choose). Kai and Jenny (who were sticking with Lucy but still talking to the rest of us) came up to me separately and told me that Lucy was "hurt by my actions" and just because I didn't like her, didn't give me the right to "take that experience away". I asked why they thought I didn't like her and that's how I found out she had been talking shit about me for months behind my back (and others like Mark and people who didn't go see the movie), which did upset me because I still considered Lucy a friend despite all this.

Kai and Jenny told me to apologise. Mark and Charlie told me not to. I haven't yet and it's been over a month now. Lucy, Kai and Jenny still hang out with us but Lucy still shit-talks myself and others and will consistently bring up that I didn't pay for her despite the fact that it was ages ago now and I really didn't think it was that deep.

Do you guys think I'm the asshole for not draining my uni funds to get my friend a popcorn and Maltesers, and then not apologising when she tried to turn our friends against me over it?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mrsmiagreer · 11 months

Text

MILO AND SWEETHEART ON A WALK AND SOMEONE HITS ON SWEETHEART 🙏🙏

Warnings: Fluff, a little cussing

Characters: Milo Greer × Gn!Sweetheart

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Milo and Sweetheart were on a walk to the store. They suggested it because why waste gas when they can get some fresh air and a good exercise in? The two walked hand in hand to their local liquor store, just wanting a few snacks before they laid down for a movie or something of the sort. When they arrived Milo darted to the back of the store and grabbed his favorite salty and his favorite sweet with a soda and a water bottle to balance it out. Meanwhile, Sweetheart was in the front, fulfilling their cheat day with a big bag of chips and a share size of M&MS.

Sweetheart was finished browsing the store and decided to go ahead and buy their own stuff, not waiting for Milo to come and offer his money like they figured he would. Milo soon met them at the counter with an armful of stuff.

“You should’ve waited for me, I could’ve paid for it baby” He spoke as he set his items on the counter and took out his wallet

Knew it.

“It’s fine Milo” they smiled at him, watching him do his thing. God he was so fine, even just paying for junk food at a corner store. They chuckled to themselves as they thought about how in love with they were with him.

When he was finally ready with his bag together, they started to exit the store. Not even a minute into leaving, he realized he forgot one thing.

“Sweetheart, did you pick up the few packs of gum you said you wanted?”

“Oh shit no I didn’t. Good catch” They spoke as they started to turn around and go back in to get it. But Milo, being the gentleman he was, wanted to actually pay for it this time.

“No it’s okay i’ll go pay for it, you stay right here” He said, turning around and going back in.

While Sweetheart waited patiently, scrolling on their phone, the unimaginable happened. A man, conventionally good looking, approached them. He looked a bit nervous but masked it with a false sense of confidence. They looked up at him and saw he was quite tall too. He wasn’t Milo, but they could see why people might like him.

“Hello good evening! I just came over here to tell you that I saw you from across the street and I think you’re really undeniably gorgeous”

It’s been a while since Sweetheart was hit on, they’re usually seen out with Milo or on a job, they never really had time to be outside enough for someone to stop and see them. Let alone approach them. If they were honest, they were flattered by it.

“Oh— Thank you” They spoke back, tone kind and cordial, trying not to give this man the wrong impression, but also trying not to be rude.

“Uhm…Are you single?” The man worked up the courage to finally ask, after a little banter. Sweetheart almost felt bad that they had to deject him like this, but they soon realized that they didn’t have to

“No they’re not” Milo came out of nowhere, with the packs of gum in his hand, putting his wallet in his back pocket with the other.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” The man immediately spoke up, getting the hint. Sweetheart held in a giggle when they could sense the possessiveness radiating off of Milo and the intimidated fear coming off of the man.“They are truly really stunning, I just came over to tell them”

“I know they are” Milo said, looking the man in the eyes and never looking away, not even once.

He left the sentence at that, making the guy a little uncomfortable, and with that, he muttered another apology and a goodbye to sweetheart before leaving, going back across the street.

Milo scoffed, sucking his teeth before wrapping an arm around Sweetheart’s waist and leading them back down the street that they came from, letting them know to walk with him. They’re going home, right now.

“Jeez baby did you have to scare him like that? I had it covered” Sweetheart giggled on their way back home

“Hey I had every right. I step back into the store for three god damn minutes waitin’ in that stupid ass line for three packs of fuckin double mint and come out to some random guy tryna hit on you, what else was I supposed to do? Plus whenever you say you got it covered, it almost always leads to a disaster”

“Uh— That is NOT true”

“You wanna bet?”

————————————————————————-

A/N: I’m definitely not sure how good this one is, but i thought it was kinda cute and short. I also happen to love a jealous Milo so this was kinda fun to write.

@annahhopee this one’s for you :)

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted shaw pack #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted milo greer #daddy milo

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rise-my-angel · 2 years

Text

A Poisonous Truth (Part One)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Length: 25k

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions past instances of rape not related to reader, inference to past domestic abuse, sex work/prostitution, smut, m/f/f dynamics, canon divergence, semi slow burn

Notes: Follows along season 4 but the story diverts from canon more and more as it goes along. Ellaria is an active part of the romance story. There are and will be many book elements pulled into the story as opposed to strictly the show canon. I don't know what happened with the length , I'm so sorry.

Part 2 Now Posted

Cross Posted to Ao3

King’s Landing by far is the most disgusting place you had been too. Your journey, if you could call it that, traveling down south had you encountering a multitude of unfavorable conditions, and yet, the capitol was somehow the most unpleasant of them all. When the city had first come up into sight, a distant view coming into the light as the morning sun rose above the red keep. It didn’t even look good then.

The only part of the city that didn’t look jam packed was the peak where the Red Keep lay, but the presence of your ruling monarch did little to impress. The streets were packed with people, most of whom didn’t seem to have anywhere near the comforts you would have expected of the citizens of the capitol. Poverty seemed everywhere, every twist and turn protruding a foul plethora of odors, and without the brightness of the sun to shine, too busy geaning onto the delicately constructed city centre, the streets felt dark and cramped.

The only silver lining was that the Street of Silk was just a breath more attractive then the claustrophobic unkempt streets which you had been led there by. A discreet metal sign hanging from the tops of an entrance with nothing more than a mockingbird printed on it, signified the brothel to which you now had to call home.

Only one real thing could be said about where your life had now led you, a small silver lining to your new accommodations, your brothel was owned by the once titled Master of Coin Petyr Baelish. The only positive of that being that you had consistent access to proper food and clean water, a luxury you were only afforded because such amenities needed to be made for what you were told was, high quality clientele.

Though, those aren’t quite the words you would attribute to them. High quality only meant, they could afford to pay inordinate amounts of cash to do whatever they want and demand to be spoiled as much as they want. You were told before arriving that, because it was nobles, knights, men of the royal court who you would be servicing, that you would find better treatment here.

Not even close. The smaller brothel you had found refuge in, was more cramped, dark, dirty, and clean water wasn’t even a guarantee, but the clients were travellers. People in the middle of a journey, looking to find company or reprieve from the quiet monotony of travel. Sure, they weren’t all kind, but they were interesting. Loud, boisterous men, almost more concerned with being seen as strong and entertaining then with the quality of service from whomever they had paid for.

Quiet folk, wanting the companionship of intimacy to quell the long spells of nights filled with silence. Sometimes, they were simply people just looking to find a bed for the night, and being able to share one with a woman was more appealing then another night on a bedroll laid in the dirt next to the same stinky men they had travelled with for weeks. They were unique, such vast personalities not worried with how they appeared or looked because it did not matter. You remembered having nights where clients had spent more time making you laugh with their stories, then they had inside your body. Other times, they were men eager to teach you something, playful sessions showing you how to yield their weapons leading to an inevitable pin by the stronger warrior.

Kings Landing was nothing like that. These men, these nobles and knights were not kind. They were greedy, demanding, and rough. They paid high amounts of coin to have the right to use you how they saw fit. The brothel was set up this way on purpose. The loose rules of treatment Little Finger had set into place allowed these rich members of the court to come back time and time again, spending their gold on the right to use you like a doll made for their pleasure alone.

You had yet to meet the infamous weasel. You knew he was still in King's Landing, but having many cogs in motion at once he clearly felt he had better things to do than run his own business. Olyvar was currently the one in charge, well, in a sense.

He also was under Little Fingers employ, catering to men with same sex interests alone, that gave him a certain level of time to find new responsibility. Simply put, Kings Landing seemed to look down upon that kind of behaviour, clients seeking out male services being much more uncommon, but highly sought after when needed. It seemed to have given him time to learn a touch of leadership.

It was Olyvar who had been in charge the day you arrived, which honestly, was far better than meeting the infamous Lord himself. Sure he was personable and charming, most of them here were, but he also, wasn’t the one whom had made the deal to bring you here. Whatever backwater deals had been made to bring you here without any explanation, wasn’t made by him. One woman would later tell you that Baelish was dirty and manipulative, that speaking to him sometimes could feel almost humiliating. That when he held all the cards in a plan that you had no knowledge about, he would take pleasure in knowing he could control you however you wanted.

Olyvar was still human deep down, which meant that he recognized the mask you wore when you arrived, a level of fear in your eyes giving away a terror that you tried so desperately to hide in your body language. He didn’t know why obviously, no one knew why, and they never could.

You had been brought here from another brothel, so it wasn’t the fear of being forced into a position you knew nothing of, no this was a fear you intended to keep silent. The fear of a secret you were once so sure no one could guess, now in a place where someone could know. Someone who may recognize who you used to be.

Part of you recognized that it was unlikely. It had been well over a year, maybe even closer to two years since that day and you knew you looked different. Your hair, cut, styled, and dyed already hid the resemblance in your face quite well, you wore makeup now, even your body had changed. Recognizable scars that you never used to have, the way you hold yourself drastically altered due to your new profession, even your size, now softer. Weak, under fed, with no muscles to speak of, gave way to much softer, more plush skin. A plushness that lured men into your services with the promise of something to grab onto that matched your softer, quieter disposition.

Something the other girls here picked up on right away. One you had seemed to form some kind of a friendship with, Genna, had commented on that fact one evening. "Sometimes men ask for me cus they have no idea what they’re doing.”

Your own body, laying back one arm draped across your stomach while the other arched above your head, hand slipping to rest beneath the pillow, suddenly perched up onto your elbows with a raise of your eyebrows to accompany it. “So they what, ask you to teach them?”

A smug little smile stretched across her face, “More like they need someone to guide them.” Genna hops back to the bed, knees placed down on each side of your own thighs, as she starts moving her fingertips to dance over them, “Need a girl in charge, show them how it works, tell them what to do.”

Her fingers reach your stomach, and playfully pulls off the thin fabric you had lazily covered yourself with after your last client had finished with the two of you. In reaction, one of your own hands goes to grab it back, face scrunching in an unconvincing annoyed look. Genna simply jerks it back harder, only to come back with both hands and grasp your wrists holding them in place as she leans over you. “Virgins who need me to show them how to be in charge of little softies like you.”

Your face barely hid the need to laugh, pretending as if her giggles were one sided. “Oh so I’m such a little softie now, huh? Not sure that's the word big boy was just calling me 10 minutes ago.” Wiggling your eyebrows enough that both you and Genna laughed.

Releasing your hands, she finally relaxes, flops down onto the ruffled sheets beside you, both of you too lazy to detangle your legs as you both turned enough to see the other. Genna’s own hand comes up to gently move hair out of your face as she speaks. “Yeah, but I reckon that’s why they brought you here.’

You only got out a disbelieving look before she continued. “No, I'm serious. Some girls either come in here, hoping that fancy men means more money, and then leave when they aren’t dressed in golden robes bought with piles of their new riches. Those that stay, usually are normal. Here to do a job, smile at men, suck their cock and make ‘em happy. But I think you fit a specific niche.”

Turning your body to lay on its side, head propped up by your hand as Genna does the same. “Oh, and what would that be?” Part of you already knows the answer, but you want to know what the others see in you.

“Someone soft, someone gentle but not timid. Men who want a submissive girl that makes them feel like they’re really in charge. Willing quiet things who need a big dominating man to corrupt your soft little innocence, instead of just a girl following orders because she’s getting paid to.”

Her hand coming back to stroke stands of your hair, “A real fantasy of a soft sweet girl willing to do anything a big strong man needs and demands of her, simply because she just really wants it.”

Your eyes cast downward for a moment, the faint sounds of giggling and loud moans echoing from other rooms. For a brief moment, you felt like you were somewhere far from where you ended up. Flashing to the reason you were hiding, barely a whisper coming out with a small nod of your head. “Men who want to feel in charge, not just act like it.”

Genna calls your name, well, what you had told them what your name was, “You still with me? Or all that cock today finally putting you to sleep?”

And like that, you were back. Back to the name you had given them, the person you were brought here to be. Your secret locked back up, no one to ever find it. Your hand grabbing the pillow behind you and giving her a hearty smack.

Genna’s yelp only to be followed with a fight to take the pillow from you, giggling turning into loud laughter until the expected sight of two naked girls playing around in bed caught the attention of yet another faceless highborn ready to put you right back to work.

You weren’t in the building the day Peytr Baelish tuned up. Having spent the morning, up and down the streets with another girl you worked alongside, Armeca. The morning sun grew hotter and hotter, the two of you made your way to get a view of the water before returning back. It was a short reprieve from the life you had created for yourself. Looking upon the strikingly bright blue water that ran from the channel out into the Narrow Sea. An escape that felt so painfully far from your resch.

Getting lost in the striking water, you missed Armeca calling your name until she came up beside you and linked your arm into hers. “What have you never seen water before?” She laughs gently before pulling you alongside her to make the walk back. “We need to get back.”

There had been whispers around the city regarding the King as of late. It was hard to make out the details, whispers amongst the people you walked by on the streets, or fragments of conversation between the knights and nobles. Sometimes you heard things indirectly, the men assuming you weren’t listening too busy with the task at hand, or more blatantly as men had you and other girls sit in their laps as they drank and traded gossip like a couple of fish wives.

Honestly, you didn’t know much about how the war had ended, but you knew the talk grew louder after it had. Gathering as much as the North had been defeated, usually only spoken about in shrewd and disgusting mockery of what became of the Stark corpses. Learning that the North was now held by Roose Bolton, a decision no doubt decided by Tywin Lannister you could only guess. Choosing men as heartless and cruel as he to hold the Lannister influence wherever they could get their hands on.

It made your spine tingle, having a good sense of the kind of men loyal to Tywin. You knew Roose Bolton, since he had known your father. A man just as vile as the plethora of distantly related Lannisters who frequented your services. But you pushed it down. That wasn’t your life anymore.

Arriving back at the brothel, you finally met the man so mysteriously spoken of, even by those in his employ. Walking in on the tail end of a discussion with Olyvar about preparations of some kind. You stayed close to a wall, Baelish hadn’t been here since you’ve arrived, but he was the one who brought you here, paid off your previous boss to bring you all the way to King's Landing for reasons never explained to you. They were reasons only he knew, and you had a strong suspicion he had no intentions of telling you outright.

It was Armeca who spoke, bringing his gaze right in your direction. “Preparations for what?”

Did that unnerving smirk ever leave his face? “For the wedding, of course. King Joeffry’s marriage to Margaery Tyrell is soon approaching, and we’ll need to be ready.”

Baelish had begun walking towards the two of you, but slowly, and not even in a straight path. As if he was toying with you by not just coming up to you directly. “Men all over the city will be busy, worked up, in need more than ever of some close company. But more importantly, visitors. Many head of houses will be making their way to the capitol to attend the wedding, and I need every one of you,”

Finally coming up closer, he looked at you as he spoke. You hadn’t asked any question, but he answered almost to you as he invaded your personal space. “To be on alert at all times.” He looked at you, watching him with such a hard impassive face there was no mistaking you were trying to play a facade. “You never know what kind of men will walk through our doors in the upcoming weeks, you need to be prepared.”

Finally he turned away. “All of you.”

America has already left your side, but you stood there watching him as he turned his back to share some final words with Olyvar before leaving. As he faced your direction, you began to busy yourself, hoping to rush past in a display of needing to change into proper attire, but your arm was grabbed just as your body passed his.

It was unclear if the look in your eyes was fear, anger, or shock, but that smirk on Lord Baelish's own face stayed all the same. “So good to have you here, my dear. I knew bringing you all the way to the city would work out just fine. “

His eyes locked with yours, until he let his hold on you go, and walked out. The girls were right, you were better off never speaking to him directly. Making your way to your quarters you were lost, distracted with uncovering what he meant.

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Baelish was the furthest option of anyone who could possibly recognize you, and yet, the way he looked at you, spoke to you. Spies all over the city for various individuals were commonplace in Kings Landing, but part of you wondered, how far did that network reach. Were you really brought here for this, or did he bring you here for something else entirely?

If he knew who you were, no doubt there was some plan in his mind of how to use you, and the second he was ready to do it you might be trapped forever from making any free choice of your own ever again. If everything went according to plan, you felt terrified towards whatever intentions were in store for you.

Only, no one’s plans were going to work out the way they wanted. Only one person’s plans would, and it would slowly unravel the very core of anyone you now, or will know. But, it was impossible for you to know that fate was even an option, it was a fate that would, in due time, shock everyone. But for now, you had work to do, you and the others all preparing yourself for a constant flow of brand new rich noblemen whom would continue to line Baelish’s pockets with gold.

For a while, you found yourself catering to a variety of clientele making their way into the city for the Royal Wedding. Mostly thoughtless Lords looking to take advantage of having a beautiful woman in a luxurious bed. Sometimes married men who can now do whatever they desire with you, that their wives back home have no interest in, but all of whom have little to no interest in even learning your name.

For a while, it almost felt like a kind of routine, a predictable round of clients coming in and out, so busy that only a few regular faces popping by in the business. The ones you know from multiple visits, commenting that most of the arrivals piled into the city at once, coming from nearby areas. Eager to take advantage of the festivities and attempting to schmooze their way into a closer seat to the crown during the celebration.

The influx of people was enough for a while to distract you from your encounter with Little Finger. The constant demand of your attention taking the forefront of your mind, but it wouldn’t last forever. As the families closer to Kings Landing had settled in, there was less traffic of new faces as the further the House lived, the longer in between new people you began to see.

During the early hours of the morning, sun just barely beginning to peek into the sky, pouring just enough light into your room to wake up your distracted mind, was when you had the thought. Standing by the window, a velvety sheet draped over your person, you thought of your home. A pang of nerves all set off at once, your body feeling a flow of anxiety as sharp as the strike of a match.

He wouldn’t come here, would he? The ruling class here was unarguably Lannister, and his allegiance wouldn’t be brushed off lightly. Not by the hot tempered king, rife with anger and immaturity, and not by the hand of the king. Tywin, a man who only strikes against his enemies with patience and strategy, but aims to devastate when he does. Neither man would welcome him here at the drop of a hat, only willing to switch sides right before the one he started in, lost. Afterall, you had seen almost no Northern men since arriving in King's Landing.

But it didn’t stop the fear. The growing anxiety of him finding you, how quickly he would drag you out into the streets, humiliate you for all to see. Would he draw the torture out? Bring you all the way back, just to execute you in the place and people you ran from? Or would his anger boil over and end you right there, leaving you in the dirty streets until someone had the decency to move your rotting corpse.

Either was as likely as the other. The great shame finding you alive and hiding in a brothel in the capitol, the shame it would bring upon him that he failed so badly that keeping you alive would be out of the question.

Afterall, your father was nothing but a cruel and sadistic man. Put your life on a cliifs edge when you threatened to expose the extent of his cruelness, and when that failed? When no one on your land or in the neighbouring towns could find a hint of you? He had declared you missing, and not long after that, dead.

You couldn’t be sure why he had waited to declare you dead, when you knew he would never pretend like you were still alive. Maybe to buy him some time to come up with a plausible explanation to why they knew you were dead, but no body was seen and no funeral was held. By that point, you were too far away. You were already travelling south, and what he was saying about you didn’t matter.

Did Little Finger know? Is that why he brought you here? He finds out the supposedly dead daughter of Lord is hiding with a new identity in a brothel, and brings you here to use as some kind of collateral or pawn in one of the many despicable plans he has?

Little Finger hadn’t been around for days, and you hoped the much more interesting opportunity of manipulating the many fresh nobles and court members was a better priority. To the people of this city, you were no one. Just a soft face, seen only by rich men looking to fuck, and none of them cared enough to consider your existence beyond that.

Well, no one cared, until more eyes than just the ever untrustworthy Little Finger, found yours. More eyes than had ever paid that kind of attention to you, and in ways much less sinister than those of your elusive boss.

The day he arrived, you hadn’t even been aware of his presence until he had already caused a commotion. Too preoccupied with a more senior man, lonely and requesting one of the hot water tubs which rested in a private room with a closed door for client privacy. Not too demanding of a man, just a widowed gentleman looking for a woman to sit on his cock while giving him a gentle scrub while soaking in the warm water. By the time you had made your way into the main room, a trio of men arrived in the brothel, one of which had trained his eyes upon you almost instantly.

It wasn’t uncommon as of late, for you to be placed near the entrance, welcoming the men coming in with your soft eyes and a gentle touch. You were told it helped make new visitors feel admired and wanted as they found their pick.

Their early needs were quite simple, really. Leading them to a warm room, and letting them take a seat as you begun pouring drinks. One of them, quite touchy from the beginning. The other two men, bright eyes with smug, satisfied faces made passing comments. Nothing interesting or remotely new, just a back and forth as if you couldn't hear them making lewd comments about you. What others consider regular small talk, was typically replaced with just thirst and greedy touches in places like this.

The third man has found his way behind you, one hand finding its way under the sheer, loose fabric covering your chest, while the other pulling your hips back into his own. “She’s such a gracious host isn’t she boys?” Chuckles followed, yours with a fake flattery meant to stroke an ego. “Woman like this? She definitely needs some one on one time, to thank her. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?”

So, you had found the remaining pair, two young beauties, poured their drinks, and left them to their own devices. The two girls each sat in one of their laps. The door to the next room had only just shut, the man finding his own seat nearby and beckoning you to kneel between his legs. As you worked to undress his lower half, he boasted. Lamenting what a great opportunity it was for a girl such as yourself to be on your knees in front of a Lannister.

Typical. You hadn’t the chance to meet many of them face to face since your arrival, but their presence left a smug trail anywhere they went. Proud and cocky, their family’s prominent rule on the Iron Throne no doubt left any relative in the house the desire to show off how appealing they were. The fact that you couldn’t even tell them what their names were was a big indicator of how unimportant they didnt realize they were. Not that you could ever think of saying it, but you out of all the working girls here, would be able to easily recognize someone of any actual significance.

You worked him over with your hand as he spoke, the man’s ego not able to keep quiet enough to even let you just get to work. No, he wanted to keep your mouth free still, just so you could shower him with soft, wide eyed awe of his success and skill, the prowess all such men surrounding the family held.

At first, the sound in the room next to you wasn’t enough to worry. A grunt or yell of some sorts had come from one of the men next door, not exactly tinted in something that screamed pleasure. It was enough for the both of you to cast your eyes to the door, but if there was speaking going on it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it through the door.

The two girls leaving the room whispering urgently to each other as they left. One turned her head to look back at the shut door they came through, only to have the other tug her away out of sight before you could figure out the situation. Another grunt of what sounded much more like pain came through again. This time alerting the both of you enough that he had stood up from his seat. Eyes trained on the door, he gestured for you to silently tuck him back in before he took a step forward.

Then a loud cry of clear agony let out, finding its way from your ears down into your heart as it began to pump with anxiety. It was more common that a girl would find herself on the end of that kind of pain, then a client. What on earth were the remaining pair doing in there?

An immediate answer found you as the two men from before came bursting through the door, one doubled over as if the other had to carry part of him out. Blood clearly spewing from his wrist and cries of pain coming out freely. Your own companion moved forward to hold onto the wound and made their way to leave, in discernible anger being muttered from one of the men as they left.

Before the door could shut, you moved to step into its threshold to see what had even taken place. Blood on the table you had just set up, and a number of people standing in the middle of the room who you didn't normally see here. You could see Olyvar at the other end of the room, by the open hall watching carefully but also surprised at whatever had occurred before leaving the room.

You recognized the sound of Tyrion Lannister, you had never seen him here for sex by the time you arrived, but there had been more than one occasion he had to come in to get the guard typically by his side. You don’t remember his name though, you think Armeca was one of his regular girls.

Then your eyes found them. How you could have possibly missed it before was beyond you, the tall pair in the middle, dressed in golds and orange standing out in the middle of the deeper, more muted colours draped around the room. One of them turning, his body now facing your view more clearly, as the woman behind him wrapping her arms around to follow.

The man's voice is what really stuck out. “You don’t partake?” You knew this accent, but it had been many years since you last heard one like it, and it didn’t quite place right away.

“Oh, I partook. Now I’m married.” Sansa Stark, right. You had heard about after her fathers execution was announced, and rumours of her being held there by the Queen like a prisoner. And whispers followed through Westeros about her being forced into a marriage. Gods, she was still here even now. Married to Tyrion Lannister in some kind of cruel joke on both of them it seems.

The man in gold, tall and broad from what you could see, with a handsome face to match, noting an angular nose framing him quite handsomely, In the moment, you weren't sure. But, clear dark eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds in the silence before Tyrion begun to speak again.

“Prince Oberyn,” A cold shiver crept its way down your spine. That’s who this was. You knew this man, or at least, you knew of him by way of reputation. It was another Martell who you actually knew, it felt like a lifetime ago now or a different life to be more accurate. “If I may, a word in private?”

There was a pause in his movements as he watched Tyrion closely, before separating from the woman behind him to follow the Lannister outside. You could only stand in your place, watching them leave. You didn’t know Tyrion, the whispers about him vary from place to place and person to person.

He was a Lannister, a member of the most powerful, yet most hated family in the Seven Kingdoms. A family deeply hated by the very man he asked to speak with. On the other hand, he also was said to be smart, very smart, but very despised by his own family. The part of you inside, the one still alive deep down, couldn’t help but wonder what’s to come of that. The old person you once were finding itself lost in wonder of what Oberyn Martell’s presence meant to the Lannisters, and what Tyrion intended to get out of him.

But, in this place, in this brothel that was not your place. Your only curiosity about the man should be if the rumours of the short Lannister’s prowess in bed was true. It should be on simply providing the Prince as quality of service as you can. Nothing more.

Though maybe, not quite just those things. You hadn’t heard Tyrion's guard leave, too distracted by pushing down your true curiosities. That’s not surprising, you were never keen on making yourself available to him. He liked the sound of his voice so much that you’re not sure he ever shut up, and insultingly enough, you suspected you just weren’t small and petite enough for his taste.

This woman in front of you, she was something else entirely. Like her lover, she was quite tall, with long curls falling down her back and the orange dress across her body soft and enticing. Her face though, was anything but soft.

Neither was her voice. “Do all the girls here like to stare, or am I just special?” A smooth yet seductive tone to her voice matched with the sharp eyes trained on your person.

Your body straightened up as you took a step further into the room, but her own feet moved faster. She hovered above you, eyes unblinking as she searched your person for something unknown. “I was going to apologize for such a mess being caused during a guest's stay, but something tells me you are used to things getting messy.”

She’s hard to read, but you wonder if she was surprised in any way, her eyebrows raised almost in question as you slipped by her, making your way to the table to gauge how much blood there would be to clean. The silky accent followed in your path as you moved. “I would put all of the blame on my dear lover, but you cannot be with someone as long as we have had each other, without becoming just a little too much like them. If not just used to his temper.”

Coming up to the table, she stood at the adjacent side and glanced down to the blood you were now moving one of the drinks away from. “This particular mess though, is Oberyn’s speciality, so in this case yes it is his fault.” She chuckled before grabbing the other drink to join the other you had moved.

“And yours?” You were closer than she expected, seeing a sly glint in your eye the more she looked into them.

“My what?” Her head tilted slightly, black curls falling over one shoulder slightly.

Your hand raised up, letting her hair slip into a gentle grasp of your fingers, before sweeping them over the skin of her shoulder to put it back into place. You didn’t look back up as you said, too preoccupied with how she felt under your fingertips. “What kind of messes does a woman such as yourself leave?”

That feeling sparked across your skin, following your veins and finding a home electrocuting your heat just a tad more, as her own hand took yours into hers. Placing it between both of hers as she turned your palm up and traced the lines laying there. “Only the kinds you could ever want.”

Eyes widening playfully, mouth opening in a mock surprise. “That I could want? Last time I checked, my services haven’t been booked by any women such as yourself at the moment.” What was it about this woman that kept you speaking in such a free way? She drew you in, but almost like she was a mystery you intended to only unravel at your leisure. Not like a client wanting to appear mysterious simply as boast.

Her head leaned into your personal space, her words lowering closer to something akin to a whisper. “And has it ever?” Your eyes squinted in question, the woman's hand coming up to trail down your cheek with the touch of a feather. “Has a woman ever had your time in such a way, little one?”

It was a fight, keeping the pounding of your heart, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your body down and masked by a smirk. Leaning closer, sealing more of the shrinking gap between you. “Not many women in a place like this, other than to drag their husbands right back out.”

Her curious smirk turned closer to a smile, “Is that why I get those stares? Because I'm usually the bad guy?”

An actual laugh was finally brought out of you, you could lie and help make the girls she had already encountered look a little more confident, but a louder part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the truth she wanted more. So you gave it to her. “The girls stare at you honestly because you intimidate them.” You leaned back slightly to nod at the door you knew the Lannister men had run out of. “Usually orders from paying men are the only reasons women find any pleasure in each other. Most beyond that have no interest in it beyond satisfying the ome giving the gold. It’s your interest in them that the girls find intimidating.”

Her coy but seductive gaze simmered down into one full of thought. Whatever she had been searching for in watching you earlier, had just deepened how hard she would have to look. “And what about you little one? How do you find me?”

Your answer was as honest as you had been the entire conversation, and you think that honesty surprises her. “Intriguing. I find you intriguing.”

Her hand that had traced a path on your cheek moved to run down the length of your hair, pulling a strand to her and laying it rest on your chest. Her hand kept its gentle grasp on the strands as it remained laying on you. “I expected someone as gentle and sweet looking as yourself, to be much more shy and timid. Especially with no experience with another woman.”

Your hand reached to lightly grasp onto hers, your seductive role had begun finding its end. A much more genuine curiosity though, remained in its absence. “Maybe that’s normal for most girls like me. Afterall men who want me for such gentleness, usually want me quiet and meek to go along with it.”

Both your touches on the other remained, unmoving but not at all eager to let go. “Are you?”

Softly you smiled, hoping the twinge of rushing emotion was held back, that the conflict you felt within didn’t show in your face. “Maybe if I were better at my job right now I would pretend to be.”

This time when her head leaned back into yours, you didn’t follow in. The coy flirty games no longer feeling right here. This woman seemed to almost enjoy you being more genuine, but you didn’t understand why. Her hand moving back to your hair, grazing it with her fingers as her palm slipped over to lightly cup your cheek through her hold on your hair. “I prefer smart and honest over dumb and loose. What is your name, smart girl?”

Lurching in your stomach felt so strong it almost jerked your entire body. Your real name almost bursted out of its own accord, but you forced it down. Sealing it inside you where it belonged. So told her a name, the one you had given the Madam of the previous brothel you had been to. The one where this new lie, this fake identity had taken hold. And you asked hers in return.

Her deep eyes were a trap, so full of life and emotion swirling through the gorgeous colours. Losing your gaze so quickly in their hold, it took you a few seconds to realize that not only had she answered, but that the answer didn’t actually come out of her mouth.

No, the answer had come from the same deep toned voice from before. A voice you hadn’t even realized was back in the room or even when he had returned.

“Ellaria Sand. My paramour.” Both your heads turned to see Oberyn approaching. Yellow robes, rich in colour matching that of the sun, and a chain laying down across his chest holding a symbol you could not quite make out. A strong chest leading up to broad shoulders which held themselves high.

A confidence radiated from him, but also seemed to also withhold some tension. A steeled gaze as he watches you detach your grasp from Ellaria completely. “Prince Oberyn, forgive me I was simply apologizing to the lady for such an unpleasant greeting upon your arrival.”

Oberyn Martell was a difficult man to read, while his face seemed to look impassive as he spoke, his eyes very much felt like his companions had. Deep, thoughtful and seemingly trying to figure something out which you did not know. “What unpleasantness?”

Beside you, Ellaria could be heard chuckling as Oberyn gestured to the table you stood by, “A small amount of Lannister blood spilt is nothing to feel upset about, quite the opposite in fact.”

A challenging look, eyebrows raised as he seemed to wait for your response. Gauging how such a comment would make you feel. You were in a land ruled by Lannisters, afterall. “I simply meant that it is my apologies that such a confrontation even occurred.”

You were tight, formal, polite borderlining on controlled, not quite what a regular working girl in a brothel would concern herself with, and it seems both saw right through it. Oberyn’s chuckle matched that of his lover. “I told her when one is around you long enough, it’s something you get used to.”

Their eyes spoke another language to each other, while their words said otherwise. Both had moved to you rather than returning to the others arms. Ellaria simply being closer, getting there first, this time her hand giving a deliberate show of finding a home in the strands of your hair. Oberyn mocking a betrayed gasp, “Already discussing her opinion about me?”

Her smooth hand found the bottom of your chin, bumping it up to look at her face with little force. “Or just warning her of your antics,” Her own eyes moving from that of her lovers, to a softened but introspective look watching your own face. “This one’s different, aren’t you little one?”

“You are the guest, there’s no need to flatter me. I’m the one who should be buttering you up to sway you to buy my own services.”

Ellaria’s grasp on you suddenly passed over to that of the Prince. His hold on you, quite different. Having his eyes on yours is just as appealing, but somehow holding an intensity toy had never experienced before. “It is not flattery if it is true, no?”

You opened your mouth, expression turning to the side as if to hide from his gaze, but he interrupted whatever your inevitable denial would be. “I sense there is a complicated mind behind all of this,” his hand moved to cup the side of your styled hair up in the air. “What's your name?”

Unlike Ellaria, telling Oberyn your made up name seemed to be the wrong answer. Brows furrowed with Oberyn's squint as he looked at you more closely. Saying your name out loud, as if to test whether or not it matched what stood in front of him. For now, it seemed to pass.

Oberyn moved around you, keeping his eyes trained, never leaving yours as he stood behind Ellaria, pulling her back into his chest, mouth finding her ear, “Tell me what you are thinking, my love.”

Like an attracted magnet, her arms reached to return his embrace, their eyes watching yours with thoughts you were not privy to. “I think you, my dear, are far more interesting than any of the mindless girls we were shown before.”

You shook your head, but one of her arms pulled you close, as if to bring you into her own arms. “I wouldn’t be so quick to turn them away, the girls and men here are all quite beautiful-”

Ellaria’s smile was honest but also a tad coy as she pulled you the rest of the way to stand in her personal space, her arm moving to trace down your neck and collarbones, the other still firmly in Oberyn's grasp. “Every brothel has beautiful people, that's not much of a selling point. You though, your interesting, and that’s far more unique. And like he said, my name is Ellaria, not my lady."

Footsteps approached the room as Olyvar returned. He spoke, but kept his gaze curious onto the scene in front of him rather than looking directly at the Oberyn as he spoke. “My apologies for the delay,” He seemed to slow his words as he spoke, as if trying to figure out what he was watching. “I have had all the necessary arrangements made for both of your stays, if you woul-”

Oberyn’s voice commanded out, like Ellaria, watching you while speaking to another. “I appreciate your efforts, but our plans have changed.” He said your name, and finally turned to look at Olyvar, “I presume she has other work, but I would request her company be made available to myself and Ellaria during our stay.”

Your surprise matched Olyvars. “That can be arranged, but we do have a wide variety of quite experienced girls and boys to match either of your needs.” It wasn’t meant to be insulting, you understood Olyvar’s intention. You were still new here, more soft and quiet then other girls and he likely assumed the appetite of Prince Oberyn and Ellaria would require more than what he presumed you could provide. But you still felt it, the attention so dedicated to you leaving you feel, warm. Almost like a tingle of curious excitement.

Oberyn moved from Ellaria to you, his hands grazing over her body as he stepped in front of you directly. “That won’t be necessary, my paramour and I have all we need right here don’t we?”

Ever in sync, Ellaria now moved to hold onto Oberyn's back as he did hers. “More than enough.” Turning to face Olyvar, “She will need some of her things moved into where we are staying. I have a feeling she will be spending quite a bit of her time,” Ellaria looking back at you, her tone shifting to sound almost amused. “Entertaining the two of us, won’t you, little one?”

You and Olyvar looked at each other for a moment, neither of you finding suspicion or any kind of uncertainty in the other. It seems the Dornish couple’s decisions have taken both of you by surprise. So he nodded, calling your name. “I will have some of your necessities moved to their room, if that is alright with you.”

At least Olyvar also was for hire here, so he understood the rareness of being exclusively asked for by two people for an unspecified number of days, let alone when one of them is a Prince. Both of you knew Little Finger would have simply demanded it regardless of your comfort. You knew you were okay with this arrangement, but you appreciated a small check of your concern from him. So you nodded in affirmation to him, before looking back to the man in front of you. “Who am I to deny a Prince of what he asks of me?”

He chuckled, his hand trailing down your side almost innocently, before moving to push the small of your back into Ellaria. “Show her the way, my love. We have a very exciting few days ahead of us, I imagine.”

Guided by Ellaria’s touch, more smooth and warm than the intense watchful eyes of her companion following behind. Ellaria’s arms wrapped around yours as she walked, telling you of the Dornish amenities they have brought with them, boasting of how much better quality wine and food are from Dorne than the drab and somewhat tasteless food this city can provide. The entire time, Oberyn was watching. Tickling the back of your mind the spark of doubt you had been feeling as of late. The prick of anxiety that if Oberyn didn’t seem to know who you are now, he would take great time and lengths to figure it out.

While you recognized the room they were staying in, you simply hadn’t spent much time in it. It's large, with one large bed with silky sheets and plush pillows strayed about it, deep maroons, purples, and shades of blue matching the drapes on the windows, giving it an air of dark privacy that other rooms did not normally have. It wasn’t unknown for the more wealthy of clients to be able to afford longer stays. Usually men of high houses who didn’t want to be kept in the stuffy air and watchful eyes of the Red Keep.

You knew the brothel itself held more than one person acting as spies for the various players in the city, but you assumed it was a safer gamble to bet on for a Martell than to stay in the Red Keep where almost every person inside watches some and reports to others.

There hadn’t been a guest like that in the few months you had been here, but you never expected any stay you’d have in it would be with an unbelievably beautiful woman and a Prince as her companion. Some of their things already finding a home amongst the room, you wonder how early in the day they had arrived. Clearly keeping a quiet profile at first, you had been awake since the sun had also awoken, and you never saw or heard of their arrival. That is, until the draw of confronting a Lannister drew the Viper from his Den.

While Oberyn spoke, it was Ellaria who kept an arm linked with yours, bringing you around the room with her, the other arm slinked behind your back to hold your waist as she directed you. “You are welcome to anything in this room that we also have, you are not being bought as a prisoner to us, you are free to do whatever you like. As long as it is our company that you return to, instead of whatever spoiled men tries to throw his money at you.”

Ellaria chuckled in your ear, turning your body to face the Prince as she wraps her own body around the back of yours, “He is either quite brave or quite foolish to speak about your own city men in such a way.” You could not see hers, but by the way Oberyn's own eyes glint at her with a mock offence drenched in a playful familiarity, you begin to assume she is the only one who has the bravery and freedom to tease him so openly.

“I see right through your games.” His chuckle fades into the sounds of his footsteps as he approaches. While Ellaria keeps a hold on your waist, Oberyn's own hand traces circles around your hip, before leaning into your shoulder blade to find her face. “Were she not trying to impress you, my beautiful paramour would have no qualms about telling me about how utterly foolish she thinks I am.”

While their own lips met, Ellaria’s hold on you tightened, and Oberyn's hand found a grip on your hip, the other cupping the side of your face. Separating after just a quick kiss, Oberyn tilted his head so his lips were at your ear. “You are a smart girl though, little one. If you think me foolish I expect you to come to that conclusion on your own, not by the tempting words of a manipulative woman.”

Ellaria responds by pulling you from his hold entirely, the hands on your waist, now across your torso and stomach keeping you away. “If I am the manipulative one, then what does that make you?” Leaning her lips onto the top of your head, she almost started to laugh with her words, “Oberyn is the one who demanded all of your time to himself, I would have asked before making such a request.”

Both laughed together, as your mind started to wander. You needed to remind yourself what you were here for, what they are buying you for. It had been so easy to lose yourself in their gentle touches and laughter, but they bought you for a reason.

Your eyes casting back and forth between them, before moving your hands to slip off the light and translucent fabric over your shoulders and down your arms, a pounding heartbeat conflicting with your mind telling you this is all you’re here to be. It didn’t get far, Ellaria’s hands slid to your arms, pulling the fabric back up in place as her smooth palms trail over your skin.

Oberyn stepped forward, to catch your hands, holding them in the air with an eyebrow raised, waiting for you to begin lowering your arms back down to relax before he let you go. Ellaria’s hold behind you became less possessive and playful, finding a new hold on you around your shoulders with one palm still pressed against the crease between your dress and shoulder. Oberyn tilted your head up to look at him. “I appreciate the eagerness, but this is not why we brought you here.”

The conflict in your mind started to feel silenced as the pounding of your heart grew louder and faster. “You mean, you’re not interested in-”

Fingers tracing over your cheeks, his eyes cast down to follow the path he made, the air of play in his presence giving way to something more inward and thought filled. “Oh we are, sweet girl I assure you. That is not the problem.”

Ellaria was the one to finish his thought process. “We want to spend time with you, for you to spend time with us, talking, laughing, getting to know our little world here more than just what happens between those sheets.”

Finally her body moves from yours, giving you the physical space to accompany your thoughts. “Why me though? Why choose me out of all the-”

Oberyn’s voice smaller, less demanding of attention to its tone, lowering down to a much calmer, more personable level. “They are all beautiful and eager to serve, yes. But you are interesting. You fascinate not just me, but Ellaria as well.” His hand finally cups the side of your face entirely, thumb only stroking back and forth lightly as he finds your eyes. “It’s rare to find someone who fascinates both of us so deeply. I requested all of your time, because I want the time and freedom to discover why.”

It tempted you in a way more than anyone else had ever tempted you in the year and a half you had been this new person. It had been even longer, since anyone had shown you such decency and interest as you as a human being. Maybe it was going to be a mistake, allowing yourself to get attached to two people who inevitably were going to go back to their home and their lives without once this celebration is over. Oberyn voiced one last draw to the offer. “There is nothing we will ask of you in your time with us, other than giving us the chance to strip all of this away.” He gestured around the room, gesturing to the kind of building you were in and what you were supposed to be.

He tapped the side of your head with his other hand. “What’s in here is far more endearing than what is expected of you.”

Ellaria was sat on the edge of the bed now, palms braced behind her as she watched closely, watching for the signs of hesitancy or even discomfort that Oberyn may have missed standing so close. “Anything physical with us is incidental. We don’t want you to feel pressured into performing simply because you are normally paid to fuck us. If you want to, it needs to be because you want us. Not because you think you should.”

Chest rising up and down with an audible deep breath, your mind outweighing the cons of how alone you will be back to existing once they leave, with the pros of how genuine they were speaking. So just maybe, you chose the wrong decision. You nodded.

Oberyn’s grip on your face pulled you back to look his way. “Outloud. If you are truly okay with this, I need you to tell us. Tell me. Outloud.”

Doubling down on the bad decisions, that's what you knew you were about to do, and yet, you did it anyway. You jumped into the freezing water with little knowledge of how you were going to swim to the surface. Your hand reached up and held his, your own thumb finding comfort in swiping back and forth against his own skin. “I would like that.”

Oberyn smiled, and beyond your eyesight so did Ellaria. The pounding of your heart knocking out all other noises as Oberyn leaned into your face close, only for his lips to press against your other cheek. Finally he moved, pushing the small of your back to a table near the back of the room. “Sit, sit. I will get you a drink, I don’t imagine many men in Kings Landing bother to just allow a beautiful woman the courtesy of enjoying a drink with them like an equal.”

As he begins pouring, Ellaria joins you at the table, the smile on her face light. Little emotion hidden behind it beyond a genuine content. “We have our own wines. You people have absolutely no taste, so we had Dornish wine brought in specifically.”

Goblets appear in front of your persons, as Oberyn takes the other seat, leaning back with as much a light casualness as his paramour. You tried to match, trying to feel alright with just being yourself here, but you needed time, and you had a feeling neither would rush you into it.

Oberyn watches you take your first sip, and his next words have a smile attached to them as he watches your surprised expression before eagerly taking another sip. “We have some food, our true delicacies don’t travel as well, but we certainly have enough to prove that the people in the capitol have absolutely no taste buds.”

You laugh at yourself, as Ellaria comes to your defence “Careful lover, you keep that attitude up and our little bird may start feeling offended that you’re just insulting her home.”

Oberyn found your eyes again, that squinting analytical expression returning. As if he is once again challenging what your response may be, and you still, aren’t quite sure as to why. But you give an answer that is as honest as you can compose. “I’ve only been here a few months, the food where I was born wasn't much better than here.”

Oberyn leaned back in his seat, watching you with those challenging eyes “And where would that be?” He says your name in a question as well, as if your identity was a part of it.

So you just smirked into your goblet, “If I gave everything away right away, there wouldn’t be any mystery to uncover would there?”

Ellaria chuckled beside you as she tells you she agreed. Oberyn watches for a moment, “All in good time. I have all the time I need to unravel such a mystery.” He takes another sip of his own drink, before the conversation flows in a different direction. Giving you the time to relax more into getting used to them as the hours of the afternoon begin to tick away.

With the wedding rapidly approaching, it seemed more people grew tense rather than having the growing excitement of a celebration. Perhaps it was due to the unfavourable attitude King Joffery was so infamous for, perhaps it was the growing frustration of having so much nobility all in one place trying to buy favours with the crown, but you suspected otherwise.

It was easy at first, hardly feeling like work. Oberyn and Ellaria were fascinating people with rich and wild lives, yet they also found tons of entertainment in the small, almost domestic stories you had to offer. Like the difference in scale of your lives actually made for a complimentary contrast, as opposed to highborns looking down on you for not living like they do.

Oberyn especially captured your keen eye, a man who holds himself so differently than both men here, and from your own home. He was unashamed of his honestly, and didn’t yield it like a weapon. Sure, there were darker aspects about him that shine through his sheer intensity, but you never got the sense that what he was presenting you with, was anyone other than his real self. He’s not just an act to play with those around him.

The downside was that he was also interested in pulling that real side out of you. Seeing hints of a much more reserved but polite version of what you should put out to other clients. The first time seeing the Prince without much in the way of clothes on, your guard had been so let down that your instant response was to turn and apologize immediately.

His deep chuckle only added to the embarrassment flooding your body. “While I appreciate the respect for my privacy, there’s nothing here to hide, I assure you.”

Slowly turning around, a small smile forming on your face was currently covered up poorly by your fingers casually resting on your mouth almost as cover. I-Shock and embarrassment probably isn’t the reaction you’re used to when getting walked in on, I imagine.”

As you start to walk into the room proper, you could see Ellaria where she sat clearly trying not to laugh solely at Oberyn's expense. Not fooled for a moment, the two shared a playful glare as he passed her by. Pants on, but not fully done up, giving you a teasing glint of skin and coarse hair if you looked lewdly down further. His broad size and penetrating gaze though, kept your attention.

“Embarrassed because I’m nothing like what you were expecting compared to your usuals, or shocked because I am?” He was broad and clearly strong, sure. His shoulders and arms radiated strength, but his chest and stomach were much less showy. Scars and faded marks are etched into his skin, and his stomach softer almost like a normal man not trying to show off.

Your hand reached out to trace one scar which caught your eye, and trailed down to the softer skin below. An innocent touch of curiosity, instead of a teasing path with a more direct destination in mind. “It’s just..nice.” His eyebrows raised in curiosity as you continued. “For someone everybody talks about being a feared warrior or an intimidating force, it’s just nice to know that while handsome, you still look like most normal men.”

Oberyn grasps your hand in his, while his eyes watch yours, he slides your hand down just a smidge. Your fingers touch the very edge of his pants, threatening to dip them inside, before suddenly moving it the opposite way. Up in the air until he could kiss your hand, then pulled you alongside him to where he previously stood.

Gently helping assemble his clothes should have felt like simple servant work. Oberyn though, would softly take over your task so you could move onto the next part, working in tandem. Almost feeling domestic of sorts.

As he turns to face you, you look over him to make sure everything is in place, as your palms smooth down his chest to ensure his robe sits cleanly. All you did was compliment him, saying how well the colours match him.

Oberyn threading through strands of your hair as he looks over your own dress in the same fashion. Rich and low he smiles slightly as his fingers holding your hair also trace your cheek. “One day we’ll get you clothes that look more like ours. Dorne would suit you much more than this place I'm sure.”

You brushed it off. You loved the whites, and yellows, and oranges both of them were draped in compared to the dark and muted tones so common here and further North. He didn’t mean anything more than wondering what you’d look like in them was all it was.

Eventually each night ticked closer to the day of the wedding, but you still found yourself crawling away from the warmth radiating from the couple. You had a welcome place in bed with them, and they were happy to pull you into their arms like they do each other, but once they were asleep you always slid over to be alone. They were kind, but sleeping in such an affectionate and intimate way with two people who would always have each other, and eventually forget you, kept your mind awake to wander until it inevitably got you out of bed to stand alone in thought.

The lesson you learned the quickest since arriving in King's Landing, was that most of the major players here had a wide reach of eyes and influence. It seemed every other person was some kind of watchful spy for someone else, and the growing whispers passing around gave you the sense of plotting. Like the different persons being reported to all had their own plans setting into place around such a major event. Workers in the brothel always seemed to either be writing something in secret, or scurrying off at odd hours of the day to report to somebody else.

You were pretty sure you had figured out who reported to who though, some were more obvious spies then others, but then again, a house of whores was not known for their subtlety and subterfuge.

The growing wound at the back of your head seemed to fester more every day, the anxiety of why you were brought here. A paralyzing, sleep disruptive fear that Little Finger had brought you here for a reason, and left you working and waiting until his use for you finally reached its need. If he knew who you were, then someone must have been watching you since you had at least been hiding in The Riverlands.

Too many voices floating around in your head to stay asleep. If he knew, did one of his own spies in this very building have eyes on you right now, did they know why they watched you or were they just told to do as he says?

Push it down, you thought to yourself. Focusing on this was a bad idea, the anxiety would only spread if you did. Instead your gaze remained out the window, as your mind tried to focus on watching the tiny but of morning sun reach the cramped and filthy streets below it. You knew you were being watched at this very moment, but you were fairly certain there were no malicious intents from the watcher this time.

Ellaria had a warm presence as she found her way next to you. Both in body, the heat from the warm Dorne sun must be trapped under her very skin, as the air beside you felt warm as she approached. Also though, in her very person. Her radiance was calm, unrushed, and almost cozy, as if the happenings around her did little to even attract her attention.

Her voice, muttered quietly in the early hours of the morning, felt just as calm. “If sleeping in the same bed that me and Oberyn keeps making you uncomfortable-”

Your head shook as you interrupted her. “No, no, please. You’re the guests. This is a brothel and you are lovers in a bed that you paid for. What you choose to do in it has nothing to do with me being comfortable.”

You couldn’t see if her eyes were on you or if they were watching the same drab view of the city as you were. “Does it?” That made you turn to her first, her gaze only moving to yours as you turned to face her first. “Make you uncomfortable?”

Her sharp features felt somehow soft as she watched you, eyes searching for an answer, not judging, but in a curious sense. They were intense though, consuming your focus like looking at her for too long would cause you to get lost, so you turned your head abruptly. Taking a deep breath as you pulled the thin shawl over your shoulders more. “Uncomfortable is the wrong word. I’m..not quite sure what it is. Being so close to your and Oberyn’s intense little world. As if knowing you are sharing this part of yourselves with me is a strange feeling. I don’t know. Real intimacy is just, it’s strange to me I guess. That’s all.”

Ellaria knew that was not quite as honest an answer as she wanted to hear, but it was early. Not just in hours, but in your time together. Ellaria preferred to patiently wait outside of the gates, giving you the time you need to make your way down the steps to unlock them. She wants to know you in many ways, but parts of you were closed off, and she was happy to take her time making her way past that.

Sparing a moment to turn her head, Ellaria watched her lover still laying out underthe sheets. One of the few times his intensity was nowhere to be found. Glancing back at you though, Ellaria knew Oberyn’s approach was not quite the same. Oberyn was smart, and cunning but his nature was much more aggressive. She knew what he was feeling when he declined the other offers in favour of you. So many years together they could communicate through very little, so he knew they felt the same thing. But then that brash, bold nature of his suddenly bought out your entire company for their stay rather than letting her join in on the prospects the pair had already started to seek out amongst the other workers.

She knew Oberyn well enough to tell that there was something else in his mind about you. Ellaria was more direct and simple. You were beautiful, you looked at her and spoke to her in such a genuine way she had not seen from girls in places like this, there was something about who you were behind the sultry dress and the painted features trying to force you to look just like all the other average pretty whores in here. Who you were on the inside was far more fascinating to Ellaria than the dozens of the small staured, pale girls with the same kind of boring pretty faces willing to do whatever she wanted for the money she offered.

She had been lost in thought for longer then she suspected, your continued solemn silence feeling more anxious than calming. “That still doesn’t explain why you are wide awake long before anyone else in this building has even opened their eyes.”

Her voice was far away. Were you not close enough to see her long curls loose and flowing, or the beautiful almost pastel colour of the robe she had slipped on, you would have thought there were mountains between you. “I don’t sleep well. Never have.”

You spared a glance at her, those curious eyes now deep and almost with concern, as if that small response had found something upsetting within her. You couldn’t afford that though, not today. It was too busy today, and too many people in the city to watch all at the same time. You didn’t want Ellaria and Oberyn to be watched for simply being concerned for the feelings of a meaningless whore they hired, whatever you were being watched for, you didn’t want them to be watched for it as well.

You finally turned your body to her, a small on your face not reaching your eyes, as you gently pushed her back towards the lush bed. “You should get some more rest while you can, you’ll want as much time as you can to get ready.”

Before her legs could touch the sheets, she turned back to you, cupping the side of your face with a smirk “Why is that? Because all of these highborn women will expect me to spend the kinds of hours on my look as they do theirs?”

A real laugh finally came out of you, quiet and soft, but genuine, Playfully shoving her hand off of your face you turned her around to the bed, slipping the silky robe off of her once more. “Please you could walk into this wedding right now and look better than any other woman there.”

Finally you turned to gather some of your own things, ready to take a few moments to wash away the anxiety trapped in your skin before anyone else woke up. “Getting ready is just to prepare yourself for an entire day of dull and uptight Lords all trying to look and act the most impressive.”

Ellaria laughed as she found her way onto the sheets, making your way to step out. You assuree her once more before slipping quietly out the door. “Trust me, there’s nothing more boring than listening to the Lords and men of the Crownlands all try to pretend they are the most successful House.”

Just as you shut the door, quiet as possible to not to wake the still sleeping Prince, Oberyn had quietly shifted enough to sit upright, pulling Ellaria up against his chest. Her arm reached up behind her to find a home behind his neck, “I’ve never met someone who works in a place like this honestly confess that she doesn’t understand intimacy.”

Oberyn, tracing the skin of her stomach he also nudged at the side of her neck to make a spot for himself, began to trace a path on her neck with the tip of his nose before following that same path back down with gentle presses of his lips. “It’s not that she doesn’t understand intimacy, I think she just has genuinely never experienced it.”

Ellaria’s free hand rested on the forearm across her, caressing the skin as she watched the closed door. “So, what a quiet little poor girl growing up in the Riverlands just decides to sell her body for money, something she is not comfortable with, over any of the other things she could have succeeded as?”

She didn’t know what kind of things were going through Oberyn's mind, but she suspects he seems to know something she doesn’t. He'll tell her on the way today no doubt, but his answer makes that suspension almost certain. “Her accent is Northern. Or at least, she's trying not to sound like she is. Nothing like the daughter of a Maidenpool fisherman.”

Oberyn moved his lips to the top of her head, pulling her closer into his chest, wanting to lull her back to sleep. “She’s used to telling that lie to brainless men only half listening to her long enough to get her clothes off. Usually they aren’t there long enough to care."

Turning more into his chest, Ellaria felt the pulls of sleep draw her back in. “Why lie to us though? Why not tell the truth when she knows we want to hear it?”

Oberyn was now much more awake than his paramour, it was going to be an eventful day afterall, and now he was adding a tactful plan to broach the subject to his list of ongoing affairs in this wretched city. Watching Ellaria’s eyes slip shut, breathing softening as she let sleep bring her under once more before his eyes darkened. Watching the door for how long you would take to return. “People only lie about being so unimportant when they are trying to hide, and to her? Kings Landing is the worst place to start telling the truth.”

He got no response, keeping her in his arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest move with his, but his eyes still watching the door. As if the solution would come right through it. This early wasn't the time to start. He had been awake when he noticed you slip out of the bed, covering yourself up from a cold that did not exist, trying to hide in the material as if it would protect you from whatever you were looking for in the streets.

He would think it through more. A better plan laid out more carefully, Oberyn needed to make sure he did not scare you off before he could settle you. You would take your time getting ready for the day, and then begin to assist reading he and Ellaria for the wedding. You would not come yourself in any way, he already knew that. Ellaria likely would make a plea for her to be your escort as Oberyn is hers. He had already seen on a previous day another girl, Kayla, begged you to join her as she made a performance at the reception, even just to watch but you had adamantly refused.

Oberyn knows you would not risk being so out in the open around that many key figures. For you, that would be too risky. He would though, selfishly he knew, request you not take any of the scattered clientele that may make their way in during the day. Getting you to open up to them would not be made any easier by the constant onslaught of being poorly fucked by the uncaring brutes slinking through these doors.

What he did not plan for, was the events of the wedding itself. The events of the wedding would, in fact, drastically alter any of the set plots in motion for the people of King's Landing.

Your plans for the day had actually been quite simple. You took some time to yourself, walking through a market with more ease than there would be on a normal day. No doubt people all over were flocking to the Red Keep trying to get a glimpse of the ceremony, catching what small glimpses of the royals that they could.

You had never attended a wedding, but nothing about it seemed particularly endearing. Maybe part of it was you never quite felt comfortable in large crowds, but watching two people become bonded under the eyes of the Seven wasn’t really what you would call entertainment, and the reception didn’t seem better. Too much drinking, too much posturing to the married Lord and Lady to look impressive, and you didn’t even want to think about the bedding ceremony.

You figure someone such a the King, especially one with the attitude of Joffrey, likely wouldn’t allow that for himself, even though you had heard some pretty nasty rumours that he tried to force his own Uncle into it. For brief moments your mind wandered to Sansa Stark. She would never know it, but you and her seemed to have some things in common. Two women finding themselves trapped from ever going home, stuck in King's Landing to just be used as pawns for whatever games the biggest players had in mind for you. Though you’re not quite sure who got the worst end of the bargain.

Most of the regulars in both brothels you had worked in were content with what they did, but selling yourself for money was supposed to just be something to hide you until you got yourself together, figured out a better place to go, how to get there, who to be when you arrived. But you were stuck, being able to only make just enough gold to pay your dues, not enough to buy a new life. Then they arrived, men with swords claiming to work for House Baelish, and now you were here.

Walking through the streets of Kings Landing, living life on a cliffs edge wondering how long it will take before someone figures out who you are, and what they would do with that information. At least all of the Lord’s were at the royal wedding, at last you had that few hours to look through the market in quiet peace.

Wedding festivities are long, typically beginning in the warm afternoon and only coming to a close in the hours of the night when the wine ran dry. There weren’t many clients in the building, a few girls gone to accompany Kayla in her performance. No doubt bringing back a number of men looking to take advantage of her unique talents and whomever else they could throw their gold at.

But that’s not what happened. In fact, Kayla arrived back soon after her performance, rushing into the door in a total state. Horrified eyes wide open, panting so hard you thought she may faint. And a rushed, frantic tale, of a dead King.

We all gathered around her, listening to her talk about these, rather unfunny sounding skits making fun of the dead Starks that had won them the war, Joffrey in an unusual state of cruelty as he publicly humiliated Lord Tyrion for the entire crowd to watch. The tears came back, two of the other girls rushing to Kayla’s side, simply trying to calm her down enough to speak through the shock. Then she tells of the King drinking from his wine, and choking on it. Falling to the ground as Lady Cersei rushed to his side as, from what Kayla had claimed, his skin turned purple and bled from his face before everything stopped.

Cersei having ordered the guards take Tyrion away for the crime, on what basis you weren’t sure, Kayla was too upset. She was brought to a private room to calm down after that, and everyone broke up. Clients leaving to confirm the tale, and little groups whispering about the horrors just heard.

You and Olyvar were left standing alone in the main room. There was an air between you two, like an electric charge sparkling between you, but in a doubt. You both looked at each other for some moments, eyes far away and trying to put the pieces together, but both of you were unsure of how to say it. You took the bait first. “Why would Lord Tyrion want to make the King choke in front of all those people?”

Olyvar looked at you, and then around the room. Taking a step closer, you leaned in to match as his own voice came out in more of a whisper. “The man is bold, but not stupid. Public murder doesn’t seem like quite his taste.”

There was something neither of you were saying, something neither of you were quite brave enough to risk in front of the other. “What has Lord Baelish been so busy with, Olyvar?”

His head tilted, eyes narrowing at the question, but answered regardless. “He's been busy preparing for an extended trip out of the city.”

You didn’t move a muscle as you spoke, as if moving too quickly would spook him from this dangerous path you two were on. “Did he say where to or why?”

He didn’t move either. “No. I tell him everything, he tells me very little, and in return I get to run his business for not asking why.”

Both of you knew neither was going to say it, or ask it. It didn’t add up exactly, but there were enough questions between you two that a seed of doubt was still there. Would he risk all of his other agenda’s for it? You didn’t know. “Why did he bring me here, Olyvar?”

He didn’t answer, but his silence was an answer itself. You raised your chin, chest rising with a deep breath before nodding. Your face turning impassive and small as if your head could shake the doubt out of existence. “I will need one of the girls to join me in preparing food for the evening. I won’t presume our usual outside assistance will be available as usual.”

Olyvar’s face matched you. Impassive and forcing a professional appearance. “I’ll get one of the younger ones to help you. The King was close to their age, I imagine they could use the distraction.”

Turning to leave, you both had only made it a number of steps before you called his name out. “Since their arrival, how much have you told to Lord Baelish?” You weren’t mad about it, spying was just a part of his life now. He spies on others, and you, and in return he gets the freedom to run Baelish’s brothel instead of taking orders all day.

His answer though, surprised you. He gaze cast downwards, looking almost sheepish, unsure of himself. Sighing and looking up to you again, a kind fondness for this strange friendship between you two. “Not as much as I’m supposed to.”

Hearing approaching steps, a soft smile formed on your lips. Olyvar gave one in return before nodding as he left the room. Maybe you should be angry knowing he is spying on you, knowing that Little Finger is holding your identity hostage as he figured out what to do with you. But you can’t blame Olyvar for that, he had shown you nothing but kindness, both in kinship but also in a degree of silence.

He could have told him the extent to which you had been spending time with Oberyn Martell and his paramour, telling Baelish how suspicious it was that all the Dornish Prince had asked of you was company instead of sex. You’re not sure why he wouldn’t just tell him that, or how that knowledge figured into Baelish’s plan, but with the murder of the King, all you knew is that something was brewing in the distance.

Ellaria was the first one back, you were already in their room when she arrived. Everyone was in such a strange variety of emotions, that honestly you couldn’t handle it. You were tidying up, sweeping, cleaning dust, making sure all the sheets were fresh. Monotonous work that could distract you enough until the door opened.

If you were completely honest, you did briefly forget that she was at a wedding where a teenage boy choke to death. You had seen her off, helped her get ready, but enough hours had passed that you forgot the beauty. Her dress was long, down to her legs, covering her arms but the torso left open, shrinking in size until reaching her navel. An almost gold tinted chest covering underneath but showing off the smooth skin underneath.

Quickly you regained your senses, placing the folded sheets to be washed down onto the ground as you rushed to her. She met you halfway, both catching the other in your arms as you looked her over much closer now, “I heard what happened, the King,” you stammered off looking her over as if she were the one in danger before slowing down. Your hands raised to hold the sides of her now much more solemn face. “Are you alright, you would have been right there,”

Ellaria raised her own hands to hold onto yours, moving one off of her and bringing your hand in for a kiss, keeping it tucked against the exposed skin of her chest. “I am perfectly fine, I promise.”

You nodded, worry in your eyes starting to fade a bit, as you ushered her over to a plush seat near the window. “Sit, please.”

Continuing to flutter around her you moved your broom and cloth out of view into a small alcove where some shelves just large enough to fit such supplies sat hidden from client view.

“Wait, what about,” You looked towards the door, shut firmly and silent behind it as you made your way around to her. “Where’s Oberyn?” Ellaria grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you enough to look at her with a small shush. Though you implored her to sit back down, you didn’t remove her hand on you.

“He is perfectly fine. He sent me back as he stayed behind to..watch things.” Looking off towards nowhere, her attention moved far off, “It was quite an awful scene.” You cupped her cheek to look at you, as you knelt down just enough to look her closer in the eye. “The Lannisters were in quite a state,” looking you in the eye she relaxed a bit more. “Oberyn didn’t want me anywhere near their wrath, Lady Cersei herself was rather angry and hysterical. Losing her child like that."

You nodded, before sliding behind her. A hand stroking over the skin of her neck as you began to undo the beautiful, ornate headcovering, which you were pretty sure matched her chest covering. You took your time, making sure you didn’t snag a strand of her thick curls in with the metal. “I can only imagine. Kayla was..very distraught when she returned. We could only just get her to calm down enough to tell us he choked.”

Ellaria grabbed a hand of yours, pulling it away from her hair as she held it closer to her heart. Both of hers holding it closely, “I knew nothing about the King, I mean I know they say about him, but I had never spoken to him. But he was just a boy. A child. Maybe just a few years older than my oldest girl.” Her voice was far once more.

The other hand, finishing your work and gently lifting the headwear off to lay gently on a table, you leaned in. Wrapping your own free arm around her front as you lay your head against the side of hers. “Tell me about her.”

That got her to smile. She needed a distraction, not to think about what she saw, how close in age he was to her daughter. So getting her to tell you about her may help. “Well she belongs to Oberyn that’s for sure.” Ellaria even let out a soft breath of a laugh. “Stubborn. Such a stubborn girl. Always trying to get away with as much as possible, but she has such a soft heart under it all. I think it’s just hard for her to remember it sometimes.”

She pulled you over to her front, moving to sit you down with her. Straddling her legs so you could make sure to move her gaze onto you. “Why is that?”

Ellaria sighed. Raking a hand through your hair as she spoke. “She’d probably be able to settle more if she wasn’t still pining for her father’s attention. We named her Elia, after his sister.”

She watched you for a second, your brows furrowing as you nodded before catching her loose hand to hold in her lap. Assuming she was looking to see if you understood what that meant, she seemed to get that you knew what she was inferring too. Since his arrival in Kings Landing Oberyn had not brought it up once, and you wouldn’t either. That’s a kind of heartbreak that you never quite get over.

Ellaria at least, seemed to relax under your person a bit more. “Oberyn is a great father not even she would contest that, but I think the older Elia gets, the more of his sister he sees in her. It’s painful. To look at your daughter and be reminded of losing someone you loved so horrifically. It’s put some distance between them, Oberyn doesn’t want his hurt and anger to be taken out on her but it also means Elia wants to try that much harder to pull him back.”

It was nicer now, both of you close, just holding the other as she opened up to you. This kind of vulnerability wasn’t something you had gotten in many years. “If she’s as much like him as you say, then at least you know she will never just give up on him. She’ll always try to mend that gap.”

Nodding, Ellaria tried to loosen her hair up a bit from the tight hold it struggled to let go of. She leaned up into you close, “I think I’d like to get all of this off me if you would be so kind.” Bending her head towards the orange dress on her.

Both of you standing up, you held onto her hips and leaned close to her own mouth. “Lucky for you that’s exactly what I’m paid to be good at.”

The pair of you laughed, but Ellaria leaned in, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke. “Don’t tempt me, little one. I’ve worked very hard to get to know what's in here,” tapping at the side of your head, “before here.” Then moving her hand to brush down your chest, covered by the loose cheer material.

You smiled at her before moving to help her undress, “I can’t think of a single person I’ve seen come through here that would pay me money, not to fuck them.”

Helping her into one of her much more loose dresses, the material much more plush and soft then the sleek silk like material before it. She let you fluff her hair up, loosening it so it fell comfortably down her back. “If we wanted to just fuck you and be done with you, we wouldn’t have had to fight so hard to keep you all to ourselves. Oberyn finds your mind just as tempting as whatever these are hiding from us.” She tugs at your dress once more, before you pull away from her.

The two of you start to settle back into something much more normal but not before Ellaria gives you a specific piece of advice. “I’m not sure what kind of mood Oberyn will be in when he returns. Such an awful thing to watch mixed with spending far more time around the Lannisters than expected may leave him a bit more aggressive when he comes back.”

From your spot on the bed, you lean up with your palms supporting you, “Do you- should I..give you space, if he is? So you can,” trailing off, Ellaria still understood what you asked.

She sits next to you and nudges your chin to look at her. “I am warning you, because so far we have kept our distance. Getting to know you this way, instead of making you think you were just another passing whore to us.”

You tried to ask why, why would you be different from anyone else. But that seems to be a question that only the two of them know the answer to, that silent understanding they have with one another that you weren’t yet privy too. “Oberyn is a good man, but he can also be very impatient. He’s been careful to take his time with you, but when he is pressed, he can only hold off what he wants for so long.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

Ellaria leaned in, not quite as close as before but enough that her breath could be felt on your own skin. “If the only reason you would fuck him or me is because you are getting paid to, then you need to tell us. Neither of us will push for something you do not truly want of your own choice. If we just wanted another body, we would have just paid any of the others in here and moved on.”

She knew you weren’t going to answer. You didn’t really know the answer yet. So much was in your heart, so many anxieties in your mind. You had also spent more time with Ellaria alone, you know the desire that grew with each interaction, but Oberyn was a much harder read. That silly little girl in you, the part of you that was supposed to stay hidden, kept telling you that you wanted to spend time with just him. Saying that you needed to spend more time alone with him as if you were still a young girl with a crush.

Conflicting with the other part of you. This fake name, this unreal identity that grew up in Maidenpool and worked in brothels because sex was just another activity to you. Oberyn wasn’t supposed to care about who you are, he was here to fuck you while he stayed in the city then leave you forever. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with him.

Standing up you found yourself moving pour yourself some wine, as if you could simply drown that stupid girl inside of you down with the taste. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you both will move on at some point regardless.” Your swallow was audible, loud and painful. It would take closer to drinking the entire jug to drown this out apparently.

You didn’t turn to face her as she spoke, you couldn’t. Not right now. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You shut your eyes. Another sip. Drown it out. Two beautiful people show up, give you a sliver of attention and you attach yourself to them like a lech. You were entertainment to them. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be. Nothing else made sense, you were just a whore in some brothel.

So you tried again, tried playing the part they wanted. Spinning around to lean against the tale edge as you spoke, glass lifting up to your lips as you spoke. “Well the last time I checked, this city isn’t quite Sunspear is it? Your lives are a long ways away from my own.”

Ellaria didn’t answer. The door opening that moment, with Oberyn walking through. He was quite calm in fact, nothing like the unnerved distance Ellaria had returned with. You didn’t want to look at him either. You felt embarrassed, so you simply turned away, fussing with the sheets on the bed as they embraced. “You are okay, right? Everything is,” her voice trailing off. No doubt looking him over to ensure everything was in proper place.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry about me.” His voice was quieter, no doubt pulling her close to him, “And you, my love? Are you okay?” She must have nodded, you weren’t sure. All you could do was fuss with a bed that no doubt would get ruffled again in an instant. “I would have spared you the upset and gone alone had I known it was going to be that ugly.”

A kiss shared, your grip turned harder. An intimacy, a love you never had, and in this name, never will. Your growing attachment to them feels suffocating. You’re knuckles straining from the grip on whatever you picked up, why did they want to know you? They had each other, they didn’t need to know you this way. Out of all the whores in this brothel, why were you the only one they were interested in, like that?

Their talk turned to muffles, clearly wanting to keep you out of it. Maybe Olyvar kept your small little room available, you could just return there. Let them play out their desires in peace for the rest of their stay. Your heart pounded in your chest, the suffocating feeling growing tighter and tighter. Everything inside you was so loud that you couldn’t even hear them speak anymore.

It had been a long time since you had felt this kind of resentment towards this life. You didn’t even have one to go home to, that choice was taken away from you. It was either this now, or the road. At least your childish heart couldn't get attached to people alone out in the open air.

Just as it was too much, just as your heart constricted, refusing to let your lungs breathe, you fell backwards into a deep warmth. Something all encompassing, flooding your body with heat, forcing your heart to go back to normal, the tightness in your chest relaxing. Oberyn’s voice at your ears, the deep bass rich in tone, matching the rich scent always accompanying him. “You can get away with telling Ellaria that you’re fine because she doesn’t like to push people.” One by one your senses regained their ability, the warmth was his broad chest against your back, his hands reached around you, holding your own firmly as he pries your fingers open trying to take the painful strain off of them. “But this,” his palms rubbing over the top of yours, forcing out the tense hold in them as he says your name, “This is not fine. You can’t just stand away from me with tears in your eyes and tell me nothing is wrong.”

You hadn’t realized you had been crying, you weren’t sure when you started, or what train of thought even forced them out. “It’s- there's nothing to worry about. Let me just finish up he-”

Oberyn cuts you off, saying your name much more commandingly, almost angry as he grabs your hips to spin you and face him. He yanks you close to him, leaning over you, his face torn between frustration and concern. “You are only fine when you think we’re looking. The second you think no one's watching I see you trying not to fall apart.” His hands move from your hips to cradle the sides of your face. “Talk to me.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to say, but it slipped out before you could stop it. A small, cracked voice peeping out, “Why did you pick me?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t come here to waste all your time just talking, you came here to fuck. Why bother spending time with me like this?”

Voice breathless and weak, you were just tired of it all. Oberyn’s forehead came to rest on yours for a moment, both your eyes shut at the simple contact. “I am a man who always knows what he wants. I walked into this building with Ellaria, and we quickly chose whichever body attracted us the most.” As if he could feel your pull, his grip on your cheeks and jaw tightened, pulling you against him closer, your torsos almost pressed against the other. “But then there was you, and I could feel your place in my heart even then. We aren’t spending time with you because we are bored, we chose you, I chose you because the last time someone captured my attention so quickly and deeply was when I met Ellaria.”

Oberyn kept you in place as he moved slightly, his nose trailing down your own. “If I just fucked you, then you would have felt like everyone else. And I don’t want you to be everyone else here.”

They hovered over yours, like Ellaria before, you could feel his breath on your skin, but then he sealed the space. You expected a man like Oberyn to kiss you like he lived his life, fast, harsh and demanding but passionate. Passion was there, but he was much kinder than you thought.

Moving his soft lips against yours, not trying to pry you open and taste you more, just your lips moving together with a tenderness unknown to you, the feeling on your cheeks being his thumbs stroking back and forth in place. Your hands hovered over touching his waist when he pulled back ever so slightly. Your lips jutting forward to chase his, as he gave you one more, then pulled you chin up to look at him.

Brown deep eyes locking your own gaze into his. “If this part is all you want that’s okay. But I want more. And I want you to give me that chance.” He tugs your chin up more, “I need you to say what you want. Out loud.”

Finally you allowed your hands to touch at his waist, nodding first in his hold before remembering his demand. “I do, I do want that. I’m just..no one’s ever.” You sucked in a breath before the tears had a chance to water up again. “My body’s only ever been the things people are interested in. I’m not used to this.”

Oberyn pressed his lips against yours once more, pulling away as he nudged his nose against yours, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head, as he pulled your body into his chest completely. “You’ve been patient with us the past few days. Answering all our questions and stories. Now, let me repay the favour.”

The yes this time came from you leaning in to kiss him. A kiss that sparked something deeper in Oberyn's chest. His hands gripped tight, jaw clenching. “Lay on the bed.”

While you moved back, there was just enough hesitation in your eyes for Oberyn to gently rub a thumb down your cheek before taking a step back. “Not for that. Not now. I’m going to give you something I think you need.”

As you lay back, Oberyn kept his gaze locked onto you. Shedding the lushious white robe he had worn to the wedding, and pulling off the shirt covering his chest. When you raised your hands to pull the thin fabric down your shoulders, he grabbed at your hand.

Shaking his head with a look of disapproval. A better view, you could see just how broad this man really was. Tall and large, taking up your whole view, a dark chest littered with faded scars and muscle that gave way to a softer stomach below.

Lurching his body forward, Oberyn propped himself over top of you, as he grabbed your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you. This was harsher, more demanding, much more what you had expected. His soft lips contrasting with how much he took and took, how he molded your lips to his control.

Your hands began to roam the path of his chest and back, your touch enough to jolt his body like a fire had sparked below him. Simple lips against yours turned to biting, small whines from your mouth filling into his own groans. His tongue tracing your lips and moving in at your gasp. His tongue stroked against yours, before moving back to a biting kiss. It was almost messy, but Oberyn was in full control. He moved your mouth exactly how he wanted it, and all you could do was grab at his skin, push your palms up against his stomach and whine.

One arm wrapped around your side and pulled you closer into his body before he laid down closer into you, pressing his weight more and as he began to pull his lips away, just out of reach, and then back. A few times he would do that, pull away just enough to nudge his nose against yours before recapturing your lips again.

It was almost soothing, like his lips against yours and the back under your palms forced your anxieties down. No greedy touches, groping that bordered on painful, vulgar dribble meant to do nothing more than boost the man’s own ego. Just his touch, his mouth sealed against yours. Your bodies moved together, almost grinding of their own accord but he kept his attention on your lips.

You think he mutters your name a few times, but the blood is ringing in your ears so loudly that you barely hear anything over his deep grunts and the desperate sound of trying to catch your breath anytime you remotely separate. Finally, Oberyn pulls back saying your name once more. “I want to do something for you, will you let me do that?”

Your chest heaved against his, nothing but the thin sheer material of your dress keeping your bare chest from pressing against his. You only nod, fingers pressing down harder on the skin they lay, when Oberyn grabs your jaw, tilting your head to look into his eyes. “I need you to tell me, little one. Use your words.”

High pitched and breathless, you spit it out. “Yes, please. You can touch me.” You want to shut your eyes, body buzzing from his intensity, but the hard and serious gaze towards you, a silent but unquestionable demand to look at him.

The hand on your jaw slides down, facing down on the sheets beside your head, as he moves his other arm down. Tracing the soft skin of your thigh, whatever was exposed when you lay down. His nose once again rubs against yours, before moving to your cheek, and moments later, his lips, light as a feather press against your throat. The feeling like rushing water being dumped on you, your back arching with a gasp as he chuckles. “How often do men take their time with you?”

His hand slid higher, but wasn’t greedy, a slow ascent to its peak, unphased by the warmth flowing from it the closer he got. You shook your head vigorously, “Never, they, they don’t- it’s not what they want.”

Oberyn bites down on your skin, lips and tongue following to ease the bright sting. His bites burn down the length of your neck, only to have his kiss apologise against them on his way back up. “A shame. They’re missing out on something very addicting.” Reclaiming your lips, Oberyn moved his hand up right between your legs.

Cupping your mound, he laughs into a harsh biting kiss when you gasp, hips lurching into his hand of their own accord. Thick fingers trace up and down against your entrance, gathering up whatever slickness he is given, before sliding them up to your clit.

His first touch isn’t gentle, he grasps it in his fingers when you whine loudly. Gentle shushing purrs against your mouth, as another finger once again toys against sliding inside. Oberyn's fingers rub harshly, but soaked with your own juices and lingering on whichever pattern had you pressing against him the most. One of your hands found the back of his neck, a tight hold between his skin and wanting to thread through his hair.

When the other hand found his chest, you moved your way down to the waistband of his pants, but it all stopped. His fingers pressed into your clit with an unrelenting pressure, but didn’t move. Snatching your hand from his skin he slams it down up above your head. “I-, I jus-”” you stammered, unable to find the right words between the hold on your wrist and the fire burning on your clit as he pressed down.

Oberyn bites your bottom lip, tugging it just slightly to watch it bounce back into place with gritted teeth. “This is not about me. I am touching you, not the other way around.”

Slowly he starts moving again, much more gentle circles against your clit, as the finger toying at your entrance slides in, so wet there is no resistance, he buries it as far as can reach. “Bu- But don't you want,”

His finger strokes against your walls in tandem with the rubs of your clit. He chuckles, almost a deep and threatening laugh. It would be intimidating if you didn’t know any better. “Oh I do, little one. But I won’t fuck you yet.” The second straggling finger on his hand slides sin with the first and you squirm helplessly against the fire coiling inside you. “When I fuck you, I want your heart not just your cunt.”

You can’t respond, his lips and tongue consume you. Flaming inside your mouth, and as it flows down your body like a spreading blaze, and meeting the white burning between your legs. You tense up, your body pressed against his large frame as you coil like a spring inside.

You clench against the thick fingers inside you, causing Oberyn to release your wrist, holding your hand against his now, fingers tangled with each other. “Oberyn, please," You couldn’t think, you don’t know why it was a beg, or a question, you just wanted, needed him to bring you over the cliff into the waters below.

His lips commanded you as his fingers wound you, your moans turn to whines the closer you get. But there was one final push he knew you didn’t realize you needed. “I’ve got you. Give it to me, my love.”

Your orgasm hit you with no remorse. Your body shook as it felt like everything hit you at once, pleasure, pain, burning, sting, all mixed together as you barely have enough air in your lungs left to breathe out his name.

There were a few moments that went by before he moved away from your cunt. Very slow pull of his fingers out of your warmth, as his rubs on your clit slowed to a stop, His hand once again cupping you entirely as the fog lifted. His nose rubbed against yours again, a manner almost loving and romantic. Your free hand slid down to the front of his neck against his collarbone, stroking the skin there back and forth.

His lips around your ear, a much more playful yet condescending tone you’ve come to enjoy almost mocking you. “I assume none of these men also have ever made you cum, even if they meant to, have they?”

Laughing filled the air between you. He didn’t need the answer, he already knew. Especially in a place like Kings Landing, the men here didn’t exactly emulate the aura of generosity. “Where did Ellaria go?”

Smiling with nothing but fondness, Oberyn finally moved his hand away from his spot between your legs. Flopping onto his back, he pulled you right with him, your body splayed partially on top of his chest. “I’m sure she found some kind of trouble to keep her entertained. She wanted to give us privacy.”

Trying to ask why, Oberyn leaned up enough to force you into a sitting position, putting his hand around a cheek covering your mouth with a thumb. “You’re not who you say you are.”

In an instant dread slapped you in the face, you were right. He knew. If Oberyn knew who else in the city knew? Why wouldn’t he say anything, when did he find out? Your eyes were wide, full of fear but everything else from you was silent, unmoving like stone. When you tried to shake your head, his grip got tighter.

“I’m not asking you to tell me, not right now. But I want you to think. When you are with me you are safe, no matter what, everything you tell me will not leave this room. But we do need to discuss it. When you’re ready.” Laying back against the sheets, Oberyn pulled you with him, laying your head on his chest, and your hands delicately placed near the softer stomach below. His own hands stroking the skin where he touched, fingers grazing the pulse on your wrist to feel you calm down.

“Does Ellaria know?” Your voice was small and meek, unlike anything about the person you were trying to play.

“She knows what I know.” You felt confused, trying to ask him why she wasn’t here then, but Oberyn just pulled you closer. “Having both of us in the room for this would be too much. Neither of us want you to feel pressured to talk just because we both are there.”

You felt lips at the top of your head, and for the briefest of moments, you snuggled closer into his chest, trying to shut out the fear with his touch. Nothing about today was right. It was all wrong, for everyone. Whatever the future held for you it was now stripped of any certainty, but they weren’t pressuring you. They didn't threaten you, or hurt you for it, and for that all you can say to him, “Thank you. I just..can we stay like this a while longer?”

His own head stayed against the top of yours, feeling him nod in agreement. For a while you just stayed like that, your anxiety threatening to take you over while Oberyn tried to tame it down with his touch. At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next time you opened your eyes, a smaller dainty hand was draped across your stomach, having pulled you into Ellaria’s soft body behind. Oberyn on his side as well now, keeping you tucked in his chest while Ellaria’s lay like a guard behind you.

You just shut your eyes, when you wake up things will be a little better you hope. Evening will have fallen over the city, and you three would share a meal, then relax like usual. At least for tonight, you could pretend as if things weren’t all about to fall apart.

The quiet didn’t last long. It was only a matter of time, hours, days, for everything to come out, the instigator for the conversation though, was surprising. At the present moment, you were currently kneeled on the bed behind Ellaria who was sitting on the edge. Both of you laughed with each tug you had to make at her hair to undo the mess.

Both her and Oberyn have been much more freely touchy towards you and you felt much more natural in returning it. You’re not sure if he told her directly what happened between you, or if she just knows her paramour so well that they both knew she could tell. Either way, both of them seemed to find a way to have their hands on you or vice versa almost all the time.

It was when you went to start smoothing her hair down, that she had gotten the idea. You didn’t know much about traditional Dornish hair styling, but you had simply commented that it was nice to see her leaving her hair flow down naturally most of the time, as opposed to here. Saying that no matter what some of the girls suggested, you could never bring yourself to spend so much time on those styles, that Ellaria’s was much more like where you were from.

“They don’t like those elaborate updos in the North?” You had paused for a moment, your hands falling from her hair and splat onto her shoulders, your fingers briefly gripping the skin there. Both you and Ellaria could see Oberyn clear as day in the mirror reflection, she watched your face as you looked at Oberyns. His head nodding briefly, a calm softer smile gracing it.

A reassurance that he and Ellaria were on the same page, that you didn’t have to keep such an elaborate ruse in front of her. She was safe too. So you blinked a few times, wiping away the conflict, and simply laughed. “Northern women traditionally prefer to keep it down like this. I’m not sure if it’s solely because we see these weird Crownland styles and feel like they are obviously just to show off, or if somewhere back years ago we realized longer hair keeps your head warmer the closer to Winter we got.”

Ellaria had reached behind her and playfully tugged a strand of your own hair near her face, holding onto it almost to keep you close enough she could see you in her own field of view. “I’m glad. You look far better when your hair is free to sit however you want, and of course, when you don’t have to paint your pretty little face up with so much makeup just to impress these dogs.”

This time she had definitely looked at Oberyn, almost trying to poke at him with a smirk on her face. He had come up behind you, his large hands placing themselves on your hips as he draped his body over your back. “I would have to agree my love,” his fingers tilting your face up to look at him, as they then ran across your lips. “You’re infinitely more beautiful when you’re not just trying to impress us. Besides, I can't do this whenever I want if you colour them all day.” Leaning in to capture your lips with his.

While his tongue had taken charge of your mouth, one of his hands blindly reached up to grasp Ellaria’s shoulders around you, and pulled her to the edge of the stool she sat in, putting her back right into your hips as Oberyn's hand stroked the skin on her neck.

She hasn’t kissed you yet, even though she has touched you all morning in the same tender ways she does Oberyn. You’re not sure if she wants you to make the first move, so she knows this is what you want as well, or if she is waiting for something. When Oberyn pulled back from your lips, Ellaria took her chance, standing up and turning to hold you in her arms like Oberyn before, only hers were draped across your collarbones and the tops of your breasts.

Looking him in the eye, Oberyn glared back as if deeply offended. “He’s had enough time with you already, don’t you think?” A smile took over the facade quickly. “It’s our turn to play, little one. Come,” she patted your hip, close to the edge of your ass. “Show me one of those hairstyles I keep seeing these women around here are always doing.”

That’s how you ended up behind her, untangling the mess. It had not gone well. It was fun, and you both were laughing at how needlessly complicated it was, but neither you or Oberyn could figure out if it was just you who did a bad job, or if the style just looked terribly strange on Ellaria’s beautiful face.

The day had been full of fun but endless teasing. Oberyn’s shirt had not been put back on since it was pulled off earlier by Ellaria. They had almost taunted you in their fucking, both of them making sure you had your eyes on them at all times. Oberyn’s dark and intense as he handled her more rough the longer his eyes watched yours, and Ellaria’s consumed with desire as she watched your voyeurism. Tempting you with their sex, trying to guide you to them as if saying “This could be yours as well, just open up and let us in, and this can be you too.”

They had made a point not to hide their fucking in front of you, in fact, both putting on very deliberate shows, trying to get you off through sight alone it seemed. Tempting you to trust them with your heart before you trusted them with your body.

At the present moment, Obeyrn hadn’t been away from the room for long. You had made an offhand comment about after you were done, you would go check if their washing was dry and bring it back. The man never ceasing to be a surprise, simply waved his hand, telling you to stay as he went to do the work you know the Royals here never would consider doing the work their servants were for.

Finally done, you had just placed your feet on the ground, you were greeted by Olyvar’s entrance. Calling you over to him, a serious look trying to bask itself as simple professionalism. His voice speaking out loud seemingly for whomever may be outside the open door. “Problem with another room, I just need you to keep some left behind belongings under closer supervision.” As he handed you a simple pile of what appeared to be a man's robe, and some jewellery, neither of you looked down at the pass over.

You could feel it under your hand, right at the bottom. Paper. Small, scrunched paper being very carefully placed into your palm. “If you could, right away.” You nodded.

There had been somewhat of an understanding between you and Olyvar. How much Baelish had disclosed to him you didn’t know, but it was clear that both of you were trying to protect that secret without stepping on anyone's toes. It may be Baelish he did the spying for, but none of the spies in Kings Landing did it out of pure loyalty. It could just have easily been Lord Varys the one who he passes on to. It wasn't personal.

You moved right away. The small alcove in the room was just out of sight of the door, you would have to be right beside it to see into the darker corner. Sometimes things left behind were kept under lock and key in certain rooms to avoid theft. Most of these men wouldn’t fare well being told someone stole something they left behind in a brothel. This room was one of them.

Just as you started to walk over, Olyvar began talking with Ellaria, trying to use the conversation as a way to pull her out of your sight. As you stood in the small shelf space placing the items down, you pulled the paper out.

A note. A note much like the ones he would sneak to Baelish for information. You didn’t know how he learned this, but you knew you didn’t want to. Your heart jumped in your chest at the words.

“The Bird has flown North. The Rock shines bright in its absence.”

He knew. How could he know, how would he have found out? You couldn’t think, you couldn’t even hear. Voices were chatting away in the main room, but you were paralyzed. Staring at the ink scrawl as if it would tell you something different by sheer force. It was one thing to know Baelish brought you here knowing who you are, that was enough to leave you in fear. But this? This was something else entirely. You had to focus, act normal for now. The amount of people you can put any trust in was dwindling.

You took a few deep breaths, hidden in the darkness. You could make out both Oberyn and Ellaria’s voice, and Olyvar in response. You could handle it, it was just them. But it wasn’t. Because footsteps, loud, thundering footsteps in tandem rang through the hall and into the door.

A deep voice spoke, but far unlike Oberyns. This one, booming, full of command with no smoothness or comfort. “Prince Oberyn.”

You pressed your back up against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. “Lord Twyin.” This was all wrong, not now, it can’t be. Did he give you this note because he knew who was coming? The sounds of people leaving the room, doors shutting behind them leaving the room in a strange silence.

They didn’t say you were here. Olyvar and Ellaria walked out, they knew you were here. What was said between them all? You couldn’t come out now, you can’t make your presence be known, not to him. Everything could end right now if you do. So you stayed, pressed against the wall, unable to give whatever privacy Lord Twyin has requested.

Oberyn’s voice rang out, “Would you like to sit?” A shockingly polite no thank you came from Lord Tywin. The same politeness still, as Oberyn offers wine. You could partially see Oberyn from where you were. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were here or not, if they had said anything when leaving. Currently he wouldn’t be able to see you, but if he or Tywin moved to a closer angle, no doubt one of them would. “I’m sorry about your grandson.”

“Are you?” Were you not so utterly terrified, you may have wanted to laugh. Not everyone is as cold and unfeeling as you, you thought.

Oberyn took it with little offence. “I don’t believe a child is responsible for the sins of his father. Or his grandfather. An awful way to die.”

“Which way is that?” Why would he be asking that? What game could he be playing involving his own grandson's death? Oberyn seemed to sense whatever intent Tywin had walked in with. His cocky voice rang out, asking almost in jest if this was supposed to be an interrogation.

Twyin’s next words made little sense to you. “Some believe the King choked.”

Your eyes were stuck on a meaningless wooden panel on the floor. Believe? Why would some believe that but not others? You remembered, vividly Kayla’s horrified face as she returned, telling a horrible tale of the boy choking in the middle of the ceremony as he fell to the ground. Turning purple as the air in his lungs has no way to go. Oberyn, though, seemed to know exactly what this game was. “Some believe the sky is blue, because we live in the eye of a blue eyed giant. The king was poisoned.”

Your eyes widened, head turning to the room catching a glimpse of Oberyn on the bed, eyes watching Tywin, anticipating whatever it was he was going to say. Everyone said he choked, no one had told you otherwise, but you suppose, you didn’t ask.

“I hear you studied poisons at the citadel.” Oberyn wasn’t even phased it seemed. Confirming to the Lannister that's why he knows it was poison. What you thought or even suspected made less and less sense. Tyrion poisoning his nephew made little sense, but Oberyn’s made even less. Joffrey was a cruel boy, but his slights weren’t against Oberyn, or even Dorne.

Tywin began to speak, as if filling the gaps in for your slow mind to keep up. “Your hatred for my family is rather well known. You arrive at the Capitol, an expert in poisoning. Some days later my grandson dies. Of poisoning.”

Still on the bed, still unphased. “Rather suspicious. Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?” He was never going to, that much seemed obvious.

“You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived. What did you discuss?” You struggled. This wasn’t your game, you were never exposed to the politics, you never watched and learned the games the highborns and royals all crafted. Tywin never answered Oberyn's questions directly. And again Oberyn being utterly unphased by whatever accusations he was implying.

“You think we conspired together?” Oberyn was up, moving out of your view. Tywin simply asked again. You shouldn’t be here. You had no idea what Oberyn had discussed with Tyrion that day, it wasn’t your business or place to know.

Oberyn’s voice grew cold. Dropping whatever charade he was toying Lord Tywin with. “The death of my sister.”

“For which you blame me.” Your fingertips dug into the wall behind you, a painful strain as you desperately tried to keep grounded. You definitely should not be here.

Oberyn’s voice was quieter, you had to guess merely feet away from the Lannister. He was restrained, but a viciousness hissed behind them. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain. The Mountain follows your orders, of course I blame you.”

Your chest heaved in desperation, trying to breathe but it felt like you were constricting again. Dumb little girl, thats what you felt. You never questioned why he was here, why he came to a land full of a family he hates. He was here for something much more.

“Well here I stand, unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?” Tywin was almost condescending, as if trying to goat Oberyn into something. But neither man was a brawler, and certainly not stupid. Games you didn’t understand.

Oberyn didn’t take it. “You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason. If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.”

Tywin wouldn’t budge if you had to guess. “Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors’ knowledge.”

“So you deny involvement in Elia’s murder.” There was a silence between them. Your bated breath listening to something unfold you had to right to, but yet, made your little fake life feel even smaller. It took a moment. Both men do doubt staring intently at the other before Tywin spoke.

“Categorically.”

Eyes shut, you had to pull it together. Neither man was fooled by the other. Both of them knew exactly what had happened, but that's how Tywin works. Passes his dirty work to others who will do the job and take the blame. No trace leading back to just his words. Your father worked exactly the same.

Oberyn came back closer into view, his tone clipped and restrained. “I would like to speak to the Mountain.” In a cruel twist, you ended up thinking exactly what Tywin said, only he was far much more condescending. That you were sure the Mountain would love that meeting.

“I could arrange for this meeting.” Confused, you watched Oberyn diligently. He knew the game Tywin was playing, but you weren’t so sure Tywin knew that.

“But you want something in return.” Tywin and your father were made for eachother, both powerful commanding men only doing things for others if he could find a benefit for himself.

“There will be a trial for my son, and as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.”

Oberyn only asked why. Lord Tywin was granting him a strange amount of respect for the threat he poses to his person and his family. “Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne. Now they are our strongest allies.”

You knew the Tyrells somewhat. As a girl, you met The Lady Olenna, your mother hated her, but the woman seemed somewhat fond of you. Sometimes you wonder if the wit you developed not long after that, had influence rooted in Roses. You had also met Loras a few times since being here, though you were mostly busy trying to figure out if he was genuinely trying to hide his preference for men or if he just wasn't subtle. You could at least take some pleasure in knowing at least you were better at keeping a secret then Loras.

Oberyn’s response was dangerous. “You made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn’t quite as tempting.”

It was only just audible. A breath of a laugh leaving you, before you could worry if Oberyn had heard you, it was too late.

“I would also invite you to sit on the Small Council.” His body turned away from Tywin, that hit something in him. Oberyn's head lifting up, a darkness masked behind a stone wall in his face. Then his eyes found you. Pressed terrified against a wall, hiding from Lord Tywin. Your eyes pleaded. You wanted to apologize, you wanted to run, but you were stuck. Tywin, unable to see the exchange continued, “To Serve as one of the new King’s principal advisors.”

Whatever running through his head, slunk back down out of sight. His head lowering just enough with his deep brown eyes soft, reassuring. Telling you not to be scared of him of all people. Then a shift, cocky and ready to play as he turned to the Lannister once more. “I never realized you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.”

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold.” And which family had actively made that next to impossible? “The King is dead, the Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wilding army marches on the wall,”

Wildings? That was news to you. “And in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

There it was. Dorne was the only Kingdom in Westeros ever to resist the Targareyans in the past. It had nothing to do with his grandson, he just wanted to find a way to use Dorne for his own advantage.

“You’re saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.” Oberyn's condescending tone couldn’t even bring you out of your thoughts enough to be amused. No doubt he saw through this, right? Tywin Lannister is not a man trying to reunite Dorne with the rest of the Kingdom to work with them in equal peace.

“We need each other. You help me serve justice to the King’s assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia’s.” No, you thought. No he won’t, justice isn’t what he's looking for. He’s placing his own son on trial at the behest of him and his malicious sister. There was no justice here and he doesn’t care about any kind of justice for Elia Martell, or her children. Men like Tywin Lannister have no compassion.

You’re not sure how long you stood there in silence, still pressed against the wall, but slouched down. Almost as if you were about to slide to the floor under the weight of everything. The sound of the door shutting registered in the back of your mind, but did little to entice you to move. At some point your eyes slid shut, watching the words swirl in your mind.

It wasn’t until the soft sounds of footsteps came in front of you, did you open them, bringing yourself back to the present. Looking up slightly to face him, his own face lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning you up and down for a moment. “I think there are a few things we need to talk about.”

With a deep sigh you moved yourself up and off the wall, following Oberyn’s arms gesturing to the main room. Ellaria stood near the wall, and briefly the dread built, the anxiety of angering both of them. As she moved towards you though, the feeling of your heart dropping settled as her outstretched arms pulled you into her body, soft hands finding your face. “You’re okay?” Nodding her face lightened in relief. “What happened?”

Your hands grasp her wrists, as you look down. But it was Oberyn’s voice who answered for her. “It would seem more than just Lord Baelish knows you.” Not looking up, you pulled Ellaria’s hands from your face before stepping away.

There was only so much you could see when you looked out the window, but the crowded, filthy city streets below. “I don’t know which people may or may not know. I don’t know how far South the it spread.” That growing anxiety felt too much, like it had tipped beyond its peak and now weighed you down with exhaustion. This was a ruse you didn’t think you would still be anywhere near here. If the walls were closing in on this secret, you’d rather at least be able to tell someone who you didn’t hate.

Instead of either of their warm, all encompassing embrace you’d come to know, you simply felt Oberyn’s hands on either side of your arms. His voice is quiet, almost soothing in its calmness. “Unfortunately, sweet girl, it doesn’t need to spread that far. All it takes is the wrong person to see you, and they’re already writing to whoever they’re working for.”

You think you hear Ellaria coming up beside Oberyn, and you turn in his grasp suddenly, looking up at them both. “Is that how you knew? Why you’re even bothering with me in the first place? Someone told you I’m alive, so you spend time with me, and get me to tell you who I am and use it to your own advantage?”

That wasn't a fair accusation, but you were upset and it just spilt out in anxiety.

Ellaria’s grip on Oberyn's waist tightens as Oberyn steps forward, forcing your chin up with his fingers, and for once you understand his reputation. This plotting darkness behind such rich brown eyes is seeping with intensity, though it’s not quite anger or contempt as many likely have been subjected to. “I knew who you were, because unlike the unsuspecting men who just follow your father without question, I’m not fooled by a half baked story of a Lord’s missing daughter, who unceremoniously turns up dead, yet no one ever saw a body.”

When your eyes widen, one finger under your chin climbs up, stroking lightly against your bottom lip. Oberyn then says your name, your real name. “We spend our time with you, because we wanted to know you. Both of us saw you, and knew there was more to this,” His head looking your sultry attire up and down, “then what you’re trying to convince people of. I’m not some Lord looking to take advantage of you, or a Lannister using you for leverage I don’t need, and I am not one of your father’s allies willing to sell you out just to gain favour with the despicable man you ran from.”

Finally, his gaze softened, Ellaria calmly watching his tension slip back down. “I wanted you to tell me yourself, because that meant you trusted me. Not because you’re scared of me.” Waiting until you either said yes, or nodded in understanding, Ellaria slid between you both, Oberyn's own hands going to hold her waist in return as Ellaria once again cupped one of your cheeks.

“You are safe with Oberyn. Safe with me. In this room you have us, you don’t need to keep all this building up inside. All we want from you, is to just let us in.” Your own eyes shut as you let out a breath. First feeling her forehead gently press against yours, and then the sensation of your face being pulled in.

If Oberyn’s kiss was overwhelming, Ellaria’s was intoxicating. She wasn’t commanding, but almost guiding, wanting you to just let her kiss you the way you need. Pulling away too soon, your eyes remained shut for a brief moment, fluttering open as the breath of her chuckle hit your skin. “I’m sorry. For everything today. It’s all just so much in my head, I don’t know, I wasn’t really thinking clearly.”

Oberyn’s head leaned into Ellaria’s shoulder, “Don’t apologize. Neither of us have any need for you to say sorry. Besides, I assume this was the first time you learned most of that news. That alone would be enough to overwhelm anyone.” Finally he moved away from Ellaria, and gestured to you to come over to the bed. “Come. We’ll just sit and have a drink. However much you want to tell us, you can do so at any time. If I wanted to interrogate you, I’d simply give you vague threats about your intentions being in the capitol, not fill you with wine and share your bed.”

Gods, that was something else entirely. Being in the room hiding from the one man who would have no qualms using you as a pawn for his newly secured power in the North was one thing. Listening to him come in and imply a Prince conspiring to murder a kid was another.

You found a smirk made its way to your face as Oberyn handed you a drink, feeling more yourself now that your heartbeat has stopped feeling like a constant explosion. “Well if you do, let me know. I’ll practice walking around the room shirtless with a condescending attitude.”

Before getting a word out, Ellaria pulled your legs to drape over hers. “Oh you don’t need an excuse to do that, Sweet girl. Neither of us will stop you from slipping this off.” Her finger toyed against your sleeve fabric.

For a while things were a bit calmer, but you weren’t sure what to say about anything otherwise. That trickle of worry slipping back into your head, telling you that it doesn’t matter that they want to know you, or if they like you. Reminding you that when they leave, you’re back alone in this city and no ready plans of where to go or how to escape the capitols always watchful eyes.

No one brought up Elia. None of you needed to. Oberyn wasn't here by coincidence, and neither were you. Something would snap eventually. It always does. So for now, things kept going and you could just pretend.

The lovers had a routine, your time became equally split between each of them. Oberyn’s new place on the small council kept his days busy in the Red Keep, so Ellaria had your time during the day. The woman was light, and full of life. Listening to her spin stories of the people she’s met, places she’s been, trouble she’s found herself in and it all makes you yearn for a kind of freedom you never had.

Evenings and into the night were spent with both of them usually, but Ellaria gave him the space to keep you all to himself most of the time. To them, they had spent many years together, giving up time with each other to allow them separate time with you which didn't even phase the other.

This particular evening, Ellaria had found a spot at the table away from you both, so she could write to her daughters in peace. You and Oberyn had moved to the bed, trying to let her work quietly, but the distance did nothing to deafen your laughter.

“I’m just saying, picturing you as a full Maester might be the most absurd thing I’ve ever imagined.” Your body splayed out, only your elbows holding you up slightly as Oberyn splayed over your legs, keeping you trapped from scrambling away further.

“What? You’re not turned on imagining me dressed in boring rags? Puttering around weak and feeble from like the Grandmaester Pycelle? Only getting your attention from whines and sympathy?” Making his way up so he took up the space over your chest, smile shining as he dares you to picture that.

Almost without thinking, your head leaned back in laughter, before you flopped your body back down entirely on the bed as you spoke. “He’s not as weak as he plays at. You wouldn’t believe the stories some of the girls come back with. Based on what they say he’s probably that slow because he’s constantly exhausted from the night before.”

For a moment your eyes widen, realizing you’ve spilt something the Grandmaester probably would like to keep secret. Oberyn’s fingers start toying with your dress, forcing a frown like a child, “Well if you’re so enamored with him, I’m sure he’d love to work something out.”

Slapping at his hands to shove him away, but he’s faster and more sly, tugging and pulling just enough to almost expose you.

His laugh is deep and almost adorable at your disgusted shout through laughter, “Stop, if you’re gonna be that disgusting you’re not allowed to touch me.”

All he can do is once more moving up your body more, such clearly fake sincere looks on his face. “So I’m not good enough you admit,” Nose brushing against yours as you rustle under him, “We can always roleplay if that helps.”

His smirk was too much, summoning just enough strength to shove his broad chest away from you, so you could sit up properly. “Alright , enough.” Playfully pointing at him turns into a light smack as he tries to grab at your hands. “I was amused imagining you so uniform and boring, but now I’m just horrified.”

Settling closer to your own body, he starts to tenderly push the messy pieces of hair back into place, almost without thinking. “They aren’t all boring at the Citadel,” pausing in his movements for a second he half shrugs, “Well, most of them are. I forged six links before I had enough of how incredibly bored I was. Besides, I have needs I’d prefer not to ignore.” His hand traced down your dress’s neckline before sliding his legs onto the bed properly to lay next to you, more propped up.

Laying now on your side to see him properly, your head sat upright on your palm. “Is that where you got your name? From the poisons you studied there?”

A fond smile crossed his lips, “Somewhat. It didn’t start spreading around until after I had left, when they realized I found ways to use poison with my weapons instead of replacing them. What did you think it referred to?”

Your free hand resting along your hip gestured up to his body before finding a tiny grasp on the edge of his shirt. “I always just assumed it was because everyone always said you fought and moved so fast and sleek as you fought. Viper, because that’s like how snakes move around.”

Oberyn moved to grab wine that was previously being ignored. Helping move you to sit propped up, face turned closer to his. “That’s a reasonable guess. But people simply realized that a snake’s bite is far more dangerous than how fast it moves.” His hand coming up to your lips, a tight watchful gaze behind his dark eyes as he gently pours some into your mouth. “You wouldn’t believe the ways you can hide a poison in plain sight.”

His hand pulled away, as you drew a hand up to your chest in mock horror, “I should have known. Feeding me with something to trick me into liking you. I knew a man so attractive but charismatic was just too unrealistic to not be a trick.”

You watched the muscles in his neck move as he took a sip of his own, but watching the barley held back lust pleading to be let out in your eyes. Reaching blindly behind to put it back down, he pulled your chin in with his fingers closer to whisper, that sly seductive look painted all across it. “That’s hurtful, if I slipped you anything, it would be much more likely an aphrodisiac, get you more worked up to my touch, not more brainless.”

Oberyn captured your lips in a brief kiss, just with enough force to start pulling you under his spell before he pulled away. As he leaned up so his torso sat upright, you leaned in to sit almost cross legged beside him, looking now with genuine wonder. “But really, there’s that much to learn about poisons that you can spend years on it?”

You could see his thoughts drifting, even as he looked you in the eye, for a moment he was drawn into his own plans it seemed. He returned to you almost in a blink, seemingly pushing whatever it was down for the time being. “Most of them are quite similar. But it’s those very tiny changes in your mixture that can turn it in either direction.”

His hand reached out, cupping your cheek as he lost the other part of him in your eager and intrigued expression. “For some using a tasteless and painless way to kill us preferred. Most don’t deserve to go otherwise, especially in such a spectacle.”

Grabbing the hand on your cheek, you brought it around to kiss his knuckles. Holding it to the exposed skin near your heart. “And the others?”

Oberyn knew you didn’t have any intentions asking that, you were a curious little thing after such a reserved existence. Still those thoughts flowed back to the surface. He’s not sure where you fit in with this plan, or how it will play out. Ellaria has spent years by his side to understand what she was getting herself into when coming here.

You came here under someone else’s orders, for a reason unknown to either of you, but more and more you were creeping your way into his. Mapping a way to keep you safe, without leaving you behind in the dark.

The next few days were going to determine many things for a number of people in the city, including himself. So he had to think carefully, and for now, he could only answer carefully as well.

“The other kinds are cruel. A burning pain that can leave one in such agony they want to end themselves before the poison finally does. It’s rare that someone would deserve to die like that. But they do exist, and they’ll get nothing more than what they deserve.”

Oberyn's eyes flashing dark and intense, lost in his pain, his rage. So you pushed gently at his chest to lay own, draping your body over his chest and captured his soft lips with yours to soothe the darkness away.

For now that was enough, but you felt something more again. An approaching storm you wouldn't be able to navigate alone.

A unknown that plauges you with fear.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #Oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand #Oberyn Martell x you x Ellaria Sand #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 months

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Sunflower, Book 1 Chapter 7

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Tom sticks his foot in his mouth some? AN: Sorry for the delay, we didn't get home as early as I thought. Chapter 6, Masterlist, Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~~

Dinner time quickly approached, giving Mia and Tom both a break from the awkward small talk. Tom sat on the couch, Sally next to him talking through her favorite movie. A blond haired fairy in green fluttered around the screen while Tom had the origin of the fairy explained to him.

He didn’t need the lesson in Tinker Bell though, no one did. The whole point of the movie itself was to explain that but Tom was a good sport about it. Mia couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her daughter with what, maybe- if she gave into Tom’s delusion for a second- could be a father figure.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?” Sally’s ability to change trains of thought quickly and rather suddenly seemed to catch Tom off guard but Mia was used to it.

“I’ll figure something out.” Mia couldn’t commit to anything.

She had been so focused on surviving the day that she hadn’t thought to pull any meat out to thaw. There were dishes in her sink that were not there when she had left her apartment yet had appeared by some magic before she had returned. The sandwich bread was left open as was the sandwich meat in the refrigerator, leaving both dried out.

It was disheartening. Money was tight and the kitchen was hardly stocked before she had left. In a ideal world, she should have been surprised that the maintenance staff helped themselves to her food but she wasn’t. It wasn’t the first time it had happened and she was far from the only person it happened to.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Tom had excused himself from the lecture on Tink without Mia noticing.

“No.” She choked on the word and closed the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” He kept his voice low.

“Nothing.” She lied but he didn’t buy it.

She was helpless as he opened the fridge to find it nearly empty. The same was said for most of her cabinets and the freezer. “You have no food?”

“I did- not a lot but it’s fine.” She sighed. “But the maintenance guys used it up. Repairing the AC was hard work and I’m sure they don’t get paid well, they probably needed something for lunch.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Tom was clearly incredulous. “They ate your food?”

“I can’t make it not have happened.” Mia shrugged. “I’ve got a box of Kraft and some cans of peas- It’s better than nothing. I’ll go shopping later.”

“When’s later?” Tom wasn’t letting it go and she wanted to scream. “That’s hardly a nutritious dinner.”

He didn’t realize it but he was walking a very dangerous line. Mia had spent everything she had to provide for her daughter. While their meals often missed the mark nutritionally, she did the best she could with what she had.

“Look- if you don’t like it go out to a fancy restaurant or order yourself some take out.” The conversation wasn’t going how Tom wanted it. “I’ll make sure my daughter is fed, don’t worry about that. When I can, I’ll get her better food but she won’t starve. Kraft hasn’t killed a poor kid yet.”

Don’t slam things. Don’t bang things. Don’t snap. Don’t crumble in the face of reality and an empty bank account. Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

Don’t ask for help.

Never ask for help.

~~~~~<3

Tom ate the overly yellow mac and cheese and too mushy canned vegetables without complaint. He had enough sense to back down in the end.

It was surprising, if Mia was honest. She had expected him to order himself some take out or order a Lyft to take him to somewhere with proper food.

Before they knew it, it was time for bath and bed time. Sally had insisted Tom read her the bedtime story. Mia stood in the doorway, an ever present shadow supervising her daughter’s time with the stranger in her home.

While his velvet voice finished ‘One Fish, Two Fish’ and moved onto the next book in the small stack Sally had gathered up, Mia searched everything she could find about Tom’s background. He surely had people to hide controversies and poor behavior for him but she had to look for any sign that he would be unsafe to have in their home overnight. Every search came up that he was perfectly fine, though a little flirty.

Could that be trusted? Could she trust him?

“Alright.” Mia pocketed her phone and put her hand on the switch. “Tom needs to get his beauty rest so he has the energy to play tomorrow. Us adults don’t have unlimited energy like some kids.”

There was a soft pink light that spilled into the hall from Sally’s room. The pink bulb in her desk lamp provided more than enough light to keep childhood monsters away. Usually, the door would be left creaked open but tonight, Mia closed it.

In her hand she had a string of Christmas bells Sally had refused to part with when it came time to put away the Holiday decorations. Careful to make as little noise as possible, Mia tied the string of bells to the doorknob while trying to ignore the feeling of Tom’s eyes on her.

Sally was a easy sleeper and was probably asleep before the door latched shut. She also tended to sleep through the night and sleep in some in the mornings.

Mia had little doubt she would have the bells removed before Sally got up in the morning. If the child did wake in the middle of the night for the bathroom or something, she would be amused by the tinkling of the bells when she opened the door. Mia could make up some story of silly fairies and their antics.

Unlike Sally though, Mia was often a light sleeper. With a stranger in the home, Mia would be even more easy to wake. She hoped she was just being paranoid.

Really, she probably was, she knew that. But she couldn’t help it.

“Bells?” Tom asked.

“So I know if the door opens.”

“Is that necessary, really?”

“If it was, would you honestly tell me?” Mia challenged and Tom had to admit she had a point. Still, the idea of someone being so threatened by his presence as to put a make shift alarm on a child’s door ruffled his feathers.

Thankfully, he didn’t argue as they made their way back downstairs.

~~~~~<3

Mia stood and watched as Tom spread out the fuzzy throw blanket on the small couch. He was dedicated to sleeping on it, just as he had said. It was clear as day that it wouldn’t be comfortable for him. The couch wasn’t six feet long or even close to it. He wouldn’t fit.

Sure, he could sleep on the floor but she couldn’t have him do that. Not down stairs. Not sandwiched between the front door with it’s gaps around the poorly hung frame and and the kitchen.

Tom fluffed the couch cushions and a large stuffed animals.

“Stop.” Mia failed at hiding her annoyance from her voice.

“I figured I’d sleep early?” Tom turned to her as he continued to fluff. “For all the excitement of last night- I’m knackered. I figured, lay down, check the emails I’ve been ignoring…”

“Grab your bag.” This was fucking dumb, she told herself as she grabbed the smaller of his bags and started her way up the stairs. This whole situation was awkward enough as it was. Why not make it just a little worse?

Tom followed her as she marched single mindedly down the hall. She had paused at the stairs to flip off the living room light and again to turn off the light in the stairs. She didn’t stop or look back until she tossed the small carry on bag onto her bed.

“I’m not following?” Tom carefully set his own bag down on the floor.

“You can’t sleep on the couch.” He started to protest but she spoke over him. “You don’t fit. And the floor isn’t an option either.”

“I’m not going to have you sleeping on the couch in your own home.”

“I’m not.” She sighed and fluffed blankets just to busy her hands. “We shared a bed last night, didn’t we?”

“As you’ve reminded me multiple times today, we were very drunk.”

“Look- I agreed to give this thing a chance. I don’t think making you break your back sleeping rough when there’s a bed is giving this a chance.”

“Okay.” He watched her cautiously. “Only if you are sure. I don’t want to rush things before you’re ready.”

“That ship’s already sailed.” Mia mumbled to herself as she walked into the closet portion of the room. “You can put your bags somewhere in here, if you want.” The sentence was finished through a long yawn. Tom was right- between the late night and the hangover exhaustion was quick to set in.

As Mia grabbed a pair of shorts and an over sized shirt from the closet, Tom’s bag unzipped in the room behind her. She came out into the bedroom space to Tom rummaging for a pair of sweatpants.

“I’ll go change in the bathroom.” Tom shut the bedroom door behind him on his way to the hall. Mia started working the buttons of her shirt. “Oh, shit-” Tom’s voice was cut off by the shutting of the second bathroom door.

She couldn’t help but smile for just a moment. It was exhausting being on guard, keeping her walls up even as he did everything right all day long. Every so often though, she would find herself caught by the way the sunlight lit up his eyes or the way his voice sounded when he remembered there were two doors to the bathroom.

There were moments of tenderness he extended toward her that were easy enough to resist- thank you anxiety for that. It could be so easy to just give in and care.

The moments of every so slight judgement helped too.

Was there actually judgement though or was she imagining it? No, they had been there. She needed them to be exactly what they felt like, an attack on her parenting and her ability to provide for her daughter.

What made it hard to resist the fairy tale romance he petitioned for that morning was the moments of tenderness she caught sight of with Sally. He was good with her, that much couldn’t be denied. Sure, it’s easy to be easy with a kid on day one as an unknown stranger. How things would go when Sally got really comfortable with him was the real question.

Would he be around long enough for that to happen though? They said they would give this a fair shot but neither had defined what giving it a try looked like. He had to go back to England in a few days or so, didn’t he?

They would be married legally but what did that really matter? What was that more than a paper? What was that at all?

This was all too confusing. How was she expected to make sense of this fucked up situation?

A knock on the door between the bathroom and the closet area brought her back to reality. Thinking herself into a circle wouldn’t do any good.

“Are you decent?”

“Does it matter?” The exhaustion made it hard to keep her thoughts to herself.

“Why shouldn’t it?” Tom peeked from a cracked door as if that would somehow filter his view, preventing him from seeing anything indecent while letting him evaluate if it was safe to enter the room. “Are you good?”

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

“If you could have any ring, which would you want?” Ton asked in front of the jewelry counter. Everything glittered and was shiny. There were no price tags to be seen.

“I can’t tell you that!” She giggled, leaning over the counter. Her hair was messy and her lipstick was smudged slightly but to Tom, she was a vision.

“Why not?” Tom wrapped his warm arm around her and looked over her should at the sea of rings.

“You’re supposed to pick for me.” She teased and so he did.

He took his time as she fluttered from display to display looking at trinkets. Every ring looked to be either too much for his bride to be or not enough. She was normal but she was lovely. She was natural but she was beautiful.

“Can I see that one?” Tom pointed to a rose gold band with what looked to be a pile around the top of the band.

It was small and delicate in his fingers as they held it to him. “We have it in her size.” The staff offered without prompting.

There was a larger center diamond, sparkling as a traditional center piece. To each side of the larger diamond was a scattering of five smaller diamonds, each getting smaller than the next and looking very much like snowflakes. The band wasn’t crowded with the number of stones and there were bare points between the diamonds.

“There’s a band that goes with it.” The woman behind the counter supplied, taking the ring from him for a moment. She slipped the tip of her index finger into the rings and lined them up.

The wedding band nestled right against the engagement ring. The band waved against the larger one, reaching down into a delicate point below the large center stone. There were five diamonds on the wedding band. Much like the engagement ring, the diamonds of varying size looked to be scattered like snowfall. The rose gold band was a warm complement to the icy fire of the diamonds.

Would she like it?

~~~~~<3 Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72

#tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddelson x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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furrbbyx · 1 year

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M👹NSTER March Day 8: Lake

Ok this little shortie was inspired by some tumblr art of a slutty, fish-stealing scalie. Look, I made y'all a cover image!

Croc-Manxafab!reader (Black)

Sfw-ish, no seccs but much horn.

cw: bratty behavior, mentions organs, mentions a dead fish, snark

Do not copy, do not reproduce.

Approx 600 words

You take the fresh trout you'd bought on to your hook and toss it into the lake. The familiar zzzzsh of the unwinding reel feels like its zinging through you body. You wait for your bait to be taken with a giddiness and a growing creaminess between your legs

It doesn't take long. You can see a large figure swimming out of the lilies, towards you, from the far side of the lake. You squeeze your thighs tightly and try not to fall off the rock you sitting on and humping slightly.

You wait to feel the pull on the line, but it doesn't come. Instead a big hulking croc rises up out of the water before you with a terrific splash.

You squeal and kick your legs pretending to avoid the water as it soaks through your flimsy crop top and bikini bottom.

"I don't know what kind of beast you take me for. I must have really lost my mind taking a dead fish off a line." The thickly scaled anthropomorphic croc-man growls, causing your heart to flutter.

He sounds bored, annoyed and utterly bratty about the fish he's holding in his clawed hand like a ...well like like it was a dead fish.

You grin widely and take in his dripping wet, powerful body, his bright reptilian eyes and his tail cutting lazily through the water beside him.

"Oh come on." you purr" "Didn't anyone ever tell you to be nice when someone gives you a gift?"

"Cheap gift." He scoffs

"Nuh uh! I paid a pretty penny for that trout."

"Yeah cuz you can't catch your own."

"Or somethin steals 'em" You grumble turning away with a smirk.

He yanks on the fish and you suddenly find yourself face first in the lake.

"Awk!"

Your big, sexy croc-Man crush plucks you out of the water and holds you against his broad smooth chest so that your shirt rides up, exposing a generous curve of underboob flesh. You wrap your thighs around his trunk of a torso and squeeze him.

"If you don't want it" you splutter "Give it back!" You grab at the fish but he holds it out of your reach, above his head.

"No way, I'm hungry" With two snaps of his fang filled jaw he devours the fish to your delight. Bits of the fish, scales and blood splat on your cheek causing you to squeal again.

Watching him annihilate the food you'd brought him makes a hot little feeling squirm in your belly, and watching him swallow in big gulps that distend his throat turns your nipples into stiff points.

You roll your eyes, pretending to be the annoyed one now.

"Ugh, gross!" you exclaim, but you reach up to wipe a bit of organ meat off of his chin and narrow your eyes in pleasure when his long rough tongue snakes out to curl around your fingers.

"You better have more where that came from." he demands.

"Mmmph, I thought bought fish was too good for you." you sass him.

"Maybe if you feed me by hand I wont notice."

"Hmm, I've got some squid and shark in the cooler"

His eyes light up.

"I've always wanted to try shark. But I imagined gutting one in battle."

"Oh wow, you're impossible to please."

"I can think of a few ways you can please me." He coos and lowers his head to nuzzle your neck. You revel in the the touch and the feeling of your crop top slipping further up your breasts as he crushes you tighter against his side.

You roll your hips in encouragement and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He begins to carry you toward the shore and you lean in to say quietly

"I wanna feed you while you split me open"

He just grins and makes his way towards the shore.

#furrbbyx #terato #scalie #scales #monster lover #monster march #monster fluff #writing practice #writing prompt #monster fucker #monster smut

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sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare · 5 months

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A Poet Could Not But Be Gay — Part 5

Pairing: college!au Ellie Williams x f!reader

Summary: You go on a movie date with Ellie and end up at her place

Word count: 2808

warnings: mutual pining, reader has no some rizz , anxiety, insecurity, mentions of gore (for a second about the movie they watch), pet names (includ), kissing/making out, softdom!ellie, sub!reader, nipple play (if you squint), fingering (r!receiving), dirty talk, virgin!reader

a/n: M (minors and men) DNI, please! btw i tried to make the description of the reader as broad as possible but i am an average sized white girl so pls let me know if it wasn't inclusive!

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The drive to the theatre was only 15 minutes but you wanted so badly to hear her voice and you didn't know what to say to her. It seemed that Ellie recognized your dilemma as she asked, "Wanna listen to music?" as she briefly looked over at you.

Only if you sing it. "Sure" you replied and she pressed play on a playlist whose name you didn't have time to read. An upbeat tune began to play and you quickly knew it to be Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Your lips quirked into a big smile as you struggled to keep a giggle at bay. Unfortunately for you, Ellie looked over and noticed your grin.

"What?" she laughed.

"Nothing, nothing..." you answered, "It's just... 80s?" you managed between giggles.

Ellie's expression turned to one of shock and fake-hurt as she looked at you for a second before she sarcastically said, "Fuck you, what's wrong with the 80s??" You burst out laughing and didn't get a chance to say anything before she continued, laughing now as well. "What? Do you not like joy, you monster!" This just made you laugh harder.

After a few minutes of wheezing and Ellie nearly swerving into another lane, you both caught your breaths.

"No, but really, I like the music." you now said confidently, looking at her as her eyes focused on the road in front of her.

She smiled at that but you didn't expect her to start singing the chorus, turning to look at you expectantly. Her voice sounded like an angel's. You'd never heard anything sound better than her singing, even if it was to an old song. But you couldn't leave her to sing by herself. By the time you started singing, the song was almost over, so there were limited lyrics for you to follow. Ellie looked at you flabberghasted nonetheless.

You spent the rest of the ride singing together until you got to the theatre. As you went in, Ellie started walking to the ticket booth. You grabbed her hand to stop her and she looked at you confused.

"I already got 'em online. I didn't know how close to the screen you liked so I got a middle-to-back row." You told her, both proud and suddenly shy.

"Why'd you do that, sweetheart?" she asked with an adoring smile.

"Well for one..." you pointed at the long and growing line. "And I also know you, Ellie Williams, and I know you would've tried to pay for them." She blushed at that, not bothering to deny it.

"Alright then," she started, "Let's go get some snacks." She then looked at you sternly, setting your stomach ablaze, "And you better have left your wallet in the car." All you could do was nod, which she smiled at. She then started leading you to the snack stand which is when you realized neither of your hands had let go. The thought immediately made you squeeze her hand, a gesture which quickly she returned.

When you got to the front of the queue, Ellie ordered a large popcorn and a drink for herself, and looked over at you. Still gripped by your earlier shyness, you could only softly tell her the drink you wanted.

"Sorry, I didn't get that." said the cheery cashier. That only made you more shy and you felt yourself starting to panic.

Noticing your descent, Ellie told the worker, "Just a medium root beer for her, thanks!" and paid for the food. She then looked over at you as you moved toward the other side of the counter to wait for your food. "Hey," she said, squeezing your hand again, "you don't have to be nervous. There's nothing to be scared of, I promise. Except for the movie which is apparently very gory, but I'll keep you safe."

You laughed through your nose at her comment, "Yeah it's pretty much just blood and guts," you smiled and hugged her arm. You couldn't see her face but you felt her head lean on yours.

Soon, you heard her whisper with a smile in her voice, perhaps to you or just herself, "Damn, I picked up a freak!"

Before you could react, your food came out, giving you 10 minutes to find your seats.

Once you were both sat, you noticed Ellie waiting for you to take a handful of popcorn before she took hers, making you giggle. She turned her head left to look at you with amusement. You looked at each other for a long time. You studied every feature of her face, vowing to remember each freckle and every little scar when you realized she was leaning closer to you. Your eyes widened as the met hers and her mouth grew into a small smile and she drew so close to you that your noses were touching. That's when your breath caught in your throat and Ellie's smile turned into a smirk. You could hear your heartbeat and you were sure she could hear it too. You then remembered her words from earlier.

Nothing to be scared of.

Fuck it.

You closed the gap between your lips and sighed when you felt her right hand caress your cheek. Her lips were as soft as her touch and, despite the growing din of the audience, you thought you could hear a small hum escape her mouth. When your lips left hers to catch a breath, there was a loud boom, indicating the start of the movie.

You both stayed where you were, debating whether you even wanted to see the movie. You were decided. Nope. This movie means nothing to me. you concluded. You started leaning toward Ellie again and she used the hand on your cheek to reach your ear. As the sound from the movie quieted, you heard her whisper, "Be patient," before she sat back in her seat, draping her arm over your shoulders, leaving you a needy mess.

***

By the time the movie ended, you could hardly handle yourself. You had tried to get closer to Ellie throughout but the seperate seats made that impossible. Damn those stupid armrests. As the lights turned on, Ellie turned to ask you what you thought of the movie.

"It was good," you said, "still predictable but at least the traps were awesome! Did you like it?"

"Yeah, it wasn't bad." she replied, "I just saw more broken bones than I've seen before but other than that I liked it." she joked. "So, it's still pretty early, what did you wanna do."

You.

"I dunno." you pretended to think, "We could go to your place, if you want." you suggested.

"Sure! I do have to warn you though, there is something living in the walls so if you here scratching, just ignore it"

"You're such an idiot" you laughed, lightly shoving her shoulder.

Because you had stood up, waiting for people in your row to file out, she took this opportunity to give you some of the closeness you'd been craving. She reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you so close you could have melted into her. You set your arms on her shoulders, hoping she'd understand your gesture. Again, instead of kissing you, she leaned in and spoke so only you could hear, "I don't know what's gotten into you today, but if you keep going like this we might not make it to my place."

You were thankful that she decided to speak in your ear again and couldn't see the blush explode all over your face. You were able to compose yourself in time as she pulled back to look at you, only for you to lean in, touching her lips with yours, "Sounds promising."

She quickly spun you around, guided you out of the theatre from behind and led you to the car. The ride to her place was short but it felt like an eternity. You had both opted against music, given the atmosphere, and her hand rested on your thigh as you traced the lines of her tattoo.

You entered her apartment and were immediately in awe of her decorations. She had multiple posters of various comic books she enjoyed. Shelves of her lego creations littered the walls and you caught a glimpse of the black comforter on the bed in a far room.

"Woah, Ellie, did you build all of these?!" you said, pointing at the legos. Occasionally moving the moveable pieces.

She smiled shyly at your amazement, "Yeah I spent hours building all of these with my dad."

You looked at her and grinned, "That's awesome." you said, looking back at the creations. "They look so good."

You felt her arms wrap around your middle as she nuzzled your neck, "Not as good as you." She was practically squeezing you into her. "How did I manage to get you?"

"Me?" you asked, holding her arms against you, "Have you seen yourself lately?"

With that she kissed all the way up your neck, reaching your jaw and staying there, sometimes nipping at your skin until you turned your head toward her and she captured your lips. Your neck started huring from this awkward angle so you turned in Ellie's arms which lowered to grope your ass. The small gesture made you sigh into Ellie which she took as an opportunity to slip her tongue in your mouth. Overwhelmed by the attention she was giving you, your hand reached up to her hair, tugging at, and ultimately ruining, her low bun, making her moan in your mouth.

She pulled away, still gripping you tight, looking at you like you were her favourite constilation. "Jump." she said, softly.

You looked at her, dazed, and replied, "Huh?"

She squeezed the underside of your ass, pulling you up a little, and she repeated, "Jump."

You raised your right leg up to her hip as her hand followed to your mid thigh and jumped up to wrap both legs around her waist. You felt her hands grip your plump thighs when you decided no one else could have her. You quickly kissed her lips, moving underneath her jaw and suckling until you could feel her heartbeat quicken beneath your lips. "Fuck-" she breathed, "such a good girl f'me." Before she good regret letting the petname slip, she felt you nod in her neck which is all she needed to convince herself to bring you to her bedroom.

Before you could register the movement, your back hit a soft matress, forcing a whimper out of you. Ellie was on you in an instant, kissing your cheeks, your lips, your neck, and the top of your chest. "God, you're so pretty, sweet girl, will you let me see more of you?" To which you replied by grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. She gave the top of your breasts a few kisses before tugging at your bra stap and catching your gaze. "On or off?"

"Off! Off, please!" you practically pleaded. She smiled, pressing her lips against yours softly as her hands unclasped your bra. As soon as your bra was off, Ellie was on your nipples, sucking, nipping, and pinching at them until every touch elicited a whine. She popped of one nipple, propping herself up on one hand while the other continued its assault. She took her time, admiring the beauty of your upper half: the bruises forming on your breast; the rounding of your stomach which, Ellie noted, is very biteable; and the absolute perfection of your skin.

While she was distracted, you decided to reach underneath her shirt, bringing her attention back to you. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking you what you wanted. "Wanna see you too" you asked.

"Whatever my girl wants." she said, taking off her flannel and bringing her shirt over her head. My girl. You ran your hands over her stomach, feeling her muscles tense under your touch. By the time she'd rid herself of her bra, you were entranced by her beauty. There was no way you'd remember every freckle now! She noticed your new daze and placed her hand under your chin, tipping your face towards hers. "You with me?" she asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm with you." you told her, admiring her expanding pupils.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you."

"I figured that much out." you both laugh at her comment. "Tell me what you want me to do for you. What do you like."

You tried to look away but Ellie's hand held you in place. "I dont know."

She looked at you, unsure of what you meant. She asked a question she dreaded. "What have other people done that you liked."

You let out a nervous laugh, "uh nothing. There've been no people."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Well don't you worry sweet girl," she told you slowly pushing you back down, "I'm gonna take good care of you. Can I make you feel good?"

"Yes, please." you replied, squirming under her touch.

Without another word, she unbuttoned your denim shorts and pulled them all the way down your legs. When she looked back up, she swore she could have died at the sight of you in nothing but silky, red panties. She toyed with the hem and looked up at you. "Did you wear these for me?" she asked.

You nodded, a small smile finding your lips, "You like 'em?"

"Oh babygirl, I love 'em. You act so innocent but really," she moved closer to your face, so close you could feel her breath, "really you just need someone to fuck you." You opened your mouth to deny it but before you could object, her hand slipped into your panties, fingers instantly finding your clit. A soft and relieved moan left your lips as you bucked your hips into her hand.

"God, you're so wet I can't wait to taste you." she saw you hold your breath and leaned down, lips entangling with yours until she felt your breath leave your lungs. "Don't worry, I won't do that yet."

You couldn't focus on anything. Her fingers were working expert circles around your clit and her mouth had gone back to your right nipple. You sometimes felt her fingers leave your clit and worried she was done until you felt them teasing your hole which had you whining every time.

"Stop teasing" You whined at her.

She looked up from the growing bruise on your chest, "Yeah? You want me to stretch you out with my fingers?" she said as she returned to tight circles on your clit.

"Fuck! Yes, please, I need to feel you in me please Ellie!" you moaned desperately.

She moved back up to kiss your lips as her fingers left their position to rid you of your panties. "You have to tell me if it hurts, ok?" all you could do was nod and soon you felt her middle finger slide into you with minimal effort, making you moan breathlessly. Her finger curled repeatedly inside of you, never in the same spot, and though it did feel erotic (you were wetter than you'd ever been), you didn't feel what all the fuss was about.

"Ellie, it's n— oh fuck!" you threw your head back, suddenly overwhelmed by pleasure as you felt your pussy pull Ellie in.

"There you go. That's it, just needed a little more didn't you." You couldn't answer her as you barely had time to breathe between each moan. All you could do was reach around her neck and hold on to her as she pleasured your hole. She added a second finger, both now abusing the sweet spot she had found. "You sound so sweet angel. You're just my good girl, aren't you."

You were almost there, just needing a little more of Ellie's heveanly assault on your pussy. "I'm so close Ellie — oh no I'm gonna pee—"

"Do you trust me?" you nodded quickly. "The let go for me."

That was all you needed to cum all over her hand, letting out pornographic moans and scratching her back. Her fingers never slowed and you came so hard your vision went blank for a few seconds.

When you looked back up at her, you saw her staring down toward her hand. You followed her gaze and saw he stomach was sleek with wetness.

Just as you realized what you'd just done, Ellie stuck her fingers in her mouth, groaning at the taste and letting go with a pop. "That was the hottest thing anyone has ever done." she told you, as if anticipating your embarassement.

You kissed her softly and tried to sit up but she pushed you harshly back down on the bed. "Oh, baby I'm not done with you yet."

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a.n: may have gotten carried away a little and yes im writing on christmas bc im lonely ok leave me be. also i will be defending root beer with my life fight me! so this was my first smut for ellie!! lemme know if you like it! is there anything i should add in the next part?

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly @alexpritch

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hearts4golbach · 1 month

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The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 29.

i scanned the restaurant for the raven haired boy i adored. whenever my eyes landed on him, my heart skipped a beat. he stared down at his phone while he awaited our arrival. i led my parents to the table, climbing in next to johnnie as my parents sat across from us.

my mom gave him a fake ass smile and stuck out her hand. "Hi, i'm y/m/n."

johnnie took it with a sincere smile on his face, shaking it gently. "johnnie. it's nice to meet you."

my mom had a glare in her eyes as she silently judged his tattoos, piercings, and makeup. i was relieved to see that johnnie wasn't too scared not to go in makeup or anything but what he usually wears. i smiled softly as i stared at him, admiring his calm attitude.

my dad seemed much more genuine as he shook johnnies hand. "i'm y/f/n, it's great to meet you, man."

"i think you have a brave style choice," my mom glared towards me, giving me the stink eye before making eye contact with him again. i took johnnies hand from under the table and held onto it like my life depended on it. "How long have you been dressing like this."

"Since i was around 14," he answered confidently, "i guess it just kind of stuck with me all these years."

my parents began talking amongst themselves before we got to order our drinks and food. johnnie quietly filled me in on how his morning went, simultaneously comforting me. his voice was soft and sweet, just above a whisper, so only I could hear him.

whenever drinks arrived at the table, my mother turned back to johnnie. "What's your current occupation?"

johnnie stuttered, "I'm a youtuber."

"Wow, does that make good money for you?" My father seemed somewhat interested.

"Actually, yeah. I'm pretty big on YouTube, and it pays really well." johnnie stayed respectful with his words, but I could tell he was being extremely cautious.

"That's good to hear. so, I heard you two live together, is that right?" My mom interrupted. johnnie nodded in response. "How's that working?"

it seemed as if my mother was trying to find all of the little cracks and holes in our relationship, as if she was digging for where our relationship could go wrong.

"It's working really well, we haven't had any issues so far." he took a sip of his drink.

my mom looked slightly annoyed by how well this was going.

despite her acting off, the rest of the brunch went smoothly. johnnie and my dad had a conversation about what he wants in the future. johnnie expressed that he does, in fact, want a family at some point, which made my dad's face light up. meanwhile, my mother stayed silent.

after me and johnnie had paid the bill for all 4 of us, Johnnie rode with us back to the hotel. I dropped my parents off and drove back home with johnnie in the passenger seat.

"that was fucking scary. it seemed like your mom had something against me." he laughed nervously.

"she has something against everyone. I think she's just mad cause I'm actually happy or something along those lines. my dad seems a lot better, though." I explained, waving my hand around as I spoke. "i can tell my dad likes you."

he smiled softly at my comment. "well, at least your dad fucking likes me. maybe i'm just not cool enough for your mom."

"well, i think you're too cool for my mom." i teased him.

johnnie took my hand and squeezed it. "did they say anything about your tattoos?"

i laughed nervously. "i didn't show them. my mom was already being weird. i might show my dad later, though."

about 15 minutes later we made it back to the house. i crawled into our bed and went on my phone while johnnie decided to hop on and stream. he decided to go on his stream and play a highly requested game, Poppy Playtime 3. about an hour later, i went to sit next to him and join the stream, which made the chat go wild. i got to speak to the chat for a little longer before he decided to save the game where he was at and end the stream. he then joined me in the bed and we cuddled and watched movies for the rest of the day. with the eventful morning, i was glad to spend the rest of the day with johnnie.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #jake webber #johnnie guilbert smut #the night shift #hearts4golbach #cafe aesthetic #cafe #café #tara yummy #fluff

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amorgansgal · 2 years

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Just stumbled upon your stuff and your stuff are very cool!! Can I request Arthur with a POC M!Reader? I don't see them often :(

Can be NSFW or SFW your pick :)

Aww, thank you! I went with a Chinese Male Reader, because I always wanted to have the ability to use the Chinese restaurants in Saint Denis! I've also been doing a lot of reading on Chinese migration to the US and of course, went down a rabbit hole of research, so figured I might as well use it! Hope you enjoy. I've kept it SFW, but it's quite long so there is a cut.

Warnings: Physical and verbal aggression, depiction of injury

You’d gone to America when your parents had died and you had been left in the care of an uncle and aunt. Your aunt could not stand you and seemed intent on making your life difficult each and every day.

Your father had hoped to see you become a doctor, given your intelligence and natural inclination towards the sciences. But you had been forced to work as a labourer, as a merchant’s assistant, anything that brought in some money otherwise you would not hear the end of it from your aunt.

You had no time for your studies, no time for anything, but by the end of six months, you had decided to save up a little of your money each time you were paid and to put that aside for a boat ticket to America. Anything had to be better than this and if you had to work as a labourer in the US, at least you would get to keep all your wages.

You did not tell your aunt and uncle until the morning that you left, knowing if you told them beforehand, they would insist you should not go. Your aunt yelled at you for abandoning the family and abandoning your parents, but your uncle said nothing and simply looked deeply regretful. He had wished you well.

You didn’t like the journey over, spending most of the time confined to your bunk with seasickness, but when you arrived at the dock and staggered down the plank, you smiled excitedly.

You hoped to continue your studies, maybe get a small shared room and a part time job to keep you going. For the first few months, you worked hard on improving your English and studied medical books late into the night.

But even after you could speak, read and write enough English, it’s not good enough for anyone. You try to apply for any and all positions, even as a cleaner in a hospital. But when they see you’re Chinese, you are guided out from the building.

You are forced to find what work you can, carrying heavy baskets of dirty clothes at a laundry, sweeping the street, until one day you see a sign advertising construction work on a rail line. It pays better than what you earn currently and you think it would be nice to escape the humid air and filthy streets of Saint Denis.

Perhaps you were still too naïve and optimistic for your own good! The work is back breaking, you can barely get enough time to gasp for air or take a sip of water, when the foreman is yelling at you, calling you every name under the sun and telling you you’re doing a shit job.

The pay is crap, certainly not the amount they said on the poster that it would be. When you question this, you get told that pay level was for white men. Apart from the foreman and his boss, there are no other white men, and you’re certain they’re getting paid a lot more.

The food is awful, tinned muck that rots before you can even eat it and you get told that you can’t set up traps for rabbits or anything that might make things more bearable. The tents you have to huddle in let in the rain and provide very little protection from the elements.

And then your pay starts being delayed. At first, it’s just a week, then two, then a month. Some of the men are fuming, they send home what they can to their families, they beg you to speak to the foreman as you can speak and understand English.

You’re nervous, but it’s getting too much to do all this work and get nothing for it. You approach the foreman, while he’s standing away from the camp. You hope that he’ll be more amiable to have a discussion when he’s not working and having a smoke.

You were wrong. The man explodes in anger. His fist collides with your jaw and you are sent reeling. You slip down the hill and tumble down. You try to get up, but he grabs you by your hair and pulls his fist back.

‘You’ll get paid when you’ll get paid, you damn dog! You ask again for wages and I’ll shoot the fucking lot of ya! You think it’s hard finding men like you? It’s goddamn easy!’

‘Sir, the men have families who-!’ you cry out, but the man punches you again and your lip splits. You taste blood on your tongue. He kicks and punches you in the ribs and you struggle to gasp for breath. You do your best to defend yourself, raising your arms over your face and trying to push him off, but a lack of good food, exhausting work and poor sleep has left you weak and tired.

‘HEY! LEAVE THE BOY BE, YER GODDAMN COWARD!’

You only catch a brief glance of the foreman being lifted off his feet and then hurled like he’s a sack of potatoes, against a nearby tree. The heavy thunk of his head hitting the sturdy oak echoes through the woods.

You slowly get up, though not before a large hand is under your arm and helping you to your feet. You look up at the man who apparently saved your life! He seems impossibly tall and broad wearing a brown leather jacket that barely seems to contain him. He lifts his hat momentarily and wipes away the sweat from his brow. His brow is furrowed, and for a moment you wonder if he is angry at you, but when your eyes reach his, you can see the clear concern in the sharp, blue green depths. You lower your gaze quickly.

‘You alrigh’, boy?’ he asks, and even with his rough drawl, he sounds like he cares about you.

‘I’m fine, thank you, sir.’ You look at the foreman, his eyes are unseeing, a dribble of blood runs down from the back of his head along his neck. Your heart races rapidly on seeing the dead man.

‘You… uh… you migh’ want to get out of here. ‘m sorry about… all of tha’, there’s some real bastards in the world. But gettin’ treated like tha’ just cos you asked for yer wages… didn’ seem righ’.’

It feels like the ground has fallen away from your feet. You can feel your brain swirling as though covered in a layer of fog. Where the hell can you go? What can you do?

‘You… uh… you got somewhere you can go?’ the man asks, as though reading your mind!

‘No,’ you whisper faintly, still staring at the foreman. You hear the man next to you sigh, then rub the back of his neck.

‘Welp, seein’ as I got ya into this shit, guess I might owe ya! C’mon,’ he says, gesturing for you to follow him.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask, though you find your feet obeying the man and following him through the woods.

‘There’s a gang I’m with, run with ‘em. Can give ya a place to rest up. Can you shoot?’

‘A gun?’

‘Yeah.’

‘No, but I have other skills. I wanted to be a doctor.’

‘Ahh, good,’ the man smiles and despite everything that has happened, you find yourself smiling back. ‘What’s yer name?’

You give it and he says it a couple of times, he smiles happily when you give a quick nod at his closest pronunciation.

‘’m Arthur. Arthur Morgan.’

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x m!reader #arthur morgan x m reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x m/reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr

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untilwedont · 2 years

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can i pls request Vinnie hacker x male reader? The story is inspired by Happier than ever. Vinnie and Reader were in a toxic relationship and M/n finally leaves him. Than you!!

Happier Than Ever

Pairings: Vinnie Hacker x Male!Reader

Warnings: Strong language

When I'm away from you, I'm Happier Than Ever

Wish I could explain it better, I wish it wasn't true.

"Vinnie, what the fuck?! Do you seriously think I'm cheating on you? It was a hug! One fucking hug!" Both of you guys had been fighting for almost an hour. This wasn't even the longest you both have fought before, but this one was probably the worst of them all. Things were thrown across the room, stuff was smashed, all because Vinnie thought you were cheating on him.

"Oh, don't play stupid with me, M/N! He was all over you the whole fucking time, but you didn't seem to care!" Vinnie said throwing his arms up.

"Vinnie, listen to me when I say this. He is just a friend, okay? Ju-"

"Just a friend?" Vinnie scoffed, "Yeah okay." Vinnie said leaving the room.

You call me again, drunk in your Benz, drivin' home under the influence

"Hello, vin? Are you alright?"

"HhHey baaAbe. Oon my waY home." Vinnie slurred.

"Vinnie are you drunk?! Do not tell me you're drunk!"

You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath, cause' you only listen to your fucking friends

You flinched as Vinnie raised his hand in the air. You looked at Vinnie, fear in his eyes. "M/n.." Vinnie said, attempting to place his hand on your shoulder. "Don't touch me.." You said removing his hand from your shoulder and leaving the room. This wasn't the first time it happened. Every time he raised he hand in the air while you both were fighting, you felt like he was always going to hit you. He always made up an excuse, but deep down inside you, you felt like he wanted to.

I don't relate to you, no, cause' I'd never treat me this shitty. You made me hate this city

"Vinnie, please tell me how the hell you can forget about our anniversary. We've been together for 3 years! You've never forgotten about our anniversary, so why is it now that you do?!'

"M/N, can you chill the fuck out? I mean, it's not even a big deal. Isn't me loving you already enough?"

"Loving me, huh?" you scoff, "Vinnie you sure have a way of showing your love for me."

And I don't talk shit about you on the internet, never told anyone anything bad. Cause' that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything, and all that you did was make me fucking sad

After you broke up with Vinnie, he started posting all your secrets, pictures, etc. He completely exposed you, but this only made things worse for Vinnie. "He's a fucking douche, M/N. Don't cry over him, okay? Even though he did leak everything, it completely backfired on him." Your friend said. "Just be happy you're out if that toxic relationship. You deserve to be happy."

So don't waste the time I don't have, and don't try to make me feel bad I could talk about every time that you showed up on time, but I'd have an empty line cause' you never did

"I've had it with you Vinnie! I've fucking had it with you! This is like the 20th time you've called our dates off! And for what? Just so you could hang out with a couple of your shit friends?!"

"M/N, we've had plenty of dates, plenty! You always hang around me and I never get any time to see my friends! You aren't the only one in my life M/N!"

"Vinnie, you saw your friends yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, so don't you play fucking stupid with me! Vinnie I'm tired, okay? I'm tired of trying to keep this relationship stable Vin, but it's not working out. We aren't good enough for each other. I think it's time to call it quits between us Vinnie."

Never paid any mind to my mother or friends so I shut them all out for you cause' I was a kid

"Hey vin, my friends offered to go get food, do you wanna go?"

"Seriously, right now?' Vinnie said laying in bed, "Can't we just stay here? I'm not even that hungry."

"Yeah" you sighed, "Sure.." You left the room.

You ruined everything good. Always said you were misunderstood. Made all my moments your own, just fucking leave me alone!

You looked at your phone, so many notifications from Vinnie. The same few texts messages, "M/N, please take me back!" or "I'm sorry M/n! Can we please work things out!" or "I never meant to hurt you! I love you with all my heart. Please M/N!" You knew Vinnie was very manipulative. You knew he didn't mean what he said. "Leave me the fuck alone Vinnie! We're done. I don't know how many times I have to tell you." That was the final message you sent to Vinnie. You hoped you would never need to see him again/.

#male reader #malereader #gay #male!reader #malereaderimagine #malereaderinsert #mxm #vinnie hacker x male reader #angst #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader

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primaverea · 6 months

Text

bitches get stitches.

trigger warning: domestic violence.

Coppery and salty across his mouth, blood pools and wells in a cut just inside Emilio’s lower lip. The cause; a backhanded slap that had knocked him clean off his feet. It’s not exactly how he’d expected the confrontation of his boyfriend cheating on him to go. If anyone should have been sporting a busted lip, it should have been Stefan, who’d pushed the smaller man outside the hotel room (that Emilio had paid for) with his bag strewn open at his feet.

He'd come to Milan just two days before Stefan was supposed to head back to Dresden, for good. The man’s working visa had finally come to an end after a year of being in and out of Italy, and – well, whatever the hell the two of them had going on.

At first, it’d been sunshine, flowers, secret kisses around corners and stupid pet names like Stefanovski. In the end, black eyes and tears, lots of tears, and derogatory words being thrown around like cunt. The German man wasn’t worth dog food scraps, but he’d been Emilio’s first. His first love, his first boyfriend and someone he had even considered a friend. So, even when he’d been flung into walls and cursed at, he could never find the strength in himself to leave.

Moments before the hit had landed, Emilio had confronted Stefan about him hanging out with a woman that Emilio’s own friends had seen Stefan kissing, in some piazza late one night before he’d arrived in Milan. The news had made him violently ill and even though part of him knew that saying something would end in a brutal screaming match, Emilio wanted to give Stefan the benefit of the doubt. Again, as he always had, without paying mind to his better judgement.

Instead of coming clean, Stefan had decided to settle with ‘if you want to act like a bitch, I’ll treat you like one,’ and dealt one of his harshest blows yet. Not only because the force had rocked his entire body into the ground, but because Emilio finally understood that Stefan had never loved him in the way he so wholly had.

let the light in At your back door yelling 'cause I wanna come in

Sobs wrack his frame as he knocks on the door over and over again, loud and harsh despite the time nearing 2AM. “Please, Stefan, just open the fucking door! It’s so late, just let me in so I can sleep and leave in the fucking morning!” His English is heavily accented but he makes do as his fist comes down on the wood again and again.

turn your light on Look at us, you and I, back at it again

“Qual è il problema? Cos'è tutto questo rumore?” A voice comes from a room the other side of the hall, an Italian woman in a robe pulled tight around her with a frown on her face. Milan was supposedly the city of smiles – you could be fined $100 for frowning –but all Emilio had done since he’d gotten to Milan was cry.

“Sorry, my–” what was he? “…friend won’t open the door and I’ve left some things inside.” He lies, wiping at his face, but he knows how he looks to her. Like a batshit crazy foreigner, with his blonde hair a mess on his head and eyes almost swollen shut from all the crying he’d done.

She takes a contemplative moment before she responds, as if weighing out what scene was unfolding before her, an exasperated sigh coming out as she shoves hair behind her ears. “Cazzo... Call the reception and shut up then, or I’ll call the police.” She huffs, before shutting the door hard behind her.

The slam makes him wince with his shoulders, and the silence that follows is deafening. He’s alone in the hallway again and the tears continue to roll down hot over his cheeks. “Please, Stefan.” He mumbles, trying the doorhandle one last time as the last shred of dignity leaves his body.

Only silence fills the space.

“Emilio? Stai bene? Sono le due del mattino...” His mother grumbles through sleep from the other end of the line. Hearing her voice is enough to spark another crying fit as he sits on the curb just outside of the hotel, and he’s suddenly very thankful that it’s a weekday. Not many people are out to witness the lowest point of his life.

He’s silent for a long moment despite the questions on the other end, so his crying can’t be heard, because he doesn’t want to worry her. “I’m okay. I’m sorry for calling so late, but can you…” He swallows down a sob and takes a breath before trying to speak again, “…wake papa and tell him to come and get me? Per favore, mama. Right now. I want to come home.”

Emilio loves his parents for many reason but especially because they don’t question him. Not even as his father pulls up to see the bloodied lip and the distraught look on his face some hours later. Not even as his father rubs his back continuously as he cries with his head tucked between his knees for the entire trip back to Monterosso Al Mare.

Pick you up around quarter to two Usually we got nothin' to do

The only thing his dad, Antonio, asks is “Is it over? Whatever it is, is it done, Emilio?”

A weakened nod is enough to get the message across. It’s over. He doesn’t love me, and he never did. You don’t hurt the people you love. Not like this.

It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.

And the words resonate inside his chest hard enough to make his ribs reverberate to the point he feels like throwing up. There’s no food in his stomach to vomit, so he spends the ride choking around tears that at some point seem to stop coming.

Until they start like clockwork all over again when his mother greets the two of them at the front door, a look of shock settling onto her graceful features as she sees a bruised, bloody mouth. “Emilio, who…” But she doesn’t finish her sentence as her own eyes well with tears, and Antonio gives her a look from over Emilio’s shoulder that translates to something like; ‘I don’t know, he wouldn’t say.’

They expected that much from their son after all; always secretive about the wrong things so not to worry his, supportive, loving parents. This was no exception, seeing as they didn’t know he was gay let alone the fact that he’d had a boyfriend who had been downright abusive for several months.

So, as they normally do, they wait in silence for him to come to them, always kind and encouraging and never overly forceful, yet ready to spring to action. But as the days of being bedridden and force fed slowly out of his heartache, his parents realise he’ll never mention it – and they never ask.

Not even when he’s finally gotten back to being okay, and then suddenly breaks down in the kitchen one morning, a mess of snot and tears. All because Stefan had decided he wanted to get back together, and when Emilio had shut him down – which had taken every ounce of strength he could muster – he’d turned to all of Emilio’s friends and chopped and changed the story to make Emilio the bad guy. The one who’d cheated first.

Look at us, you and me back at it again

He thinks it finally over when he blocks Stefan's number and all the bullshit he’d been spurting, but then a new number texts him. A new email messages him, and no matter how many numbers and email's he churns through, he’s forced to change it time and time again, until he’s almost strangely missing it on the days where Stefan doesn’t message. As though he's been conditioned to expect them, to want them.

They continue to come,

and they never stop.

They won’t stop until I’m dead, Emilio thinks. He won’t stop until he makes me suffer one last time.

#self para #wrote this listening to ldr let the light in because yelling and screaming at each others door is on brand for the stefan x emilio trope #this writing is really low effort zero braincell behaviour but at least its something #emilio lore!#right in time for christmas to make him suffer

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Wednesday 1 July 1840

7 20/..

11 5/..

fine morning – till near 11 breakfast and Mr. Marr who brought with him a Professor (university of Landscron?) botanist, employed by the Russian government as such and just returned from Akhaltsikhé by the valley of Barjour, 4 days – 8 horses – paid 23/. silver – could not sleep at the villages or post stations but where there was food (pasture) for the horses .:. slept à belle étoile or under his bourca and some sort of shelter during the 2 days it rained – could not easily make out but it seemed that he had halted during these 2 days of rain – these pack horses carry iron from here to Akhaltsikhé – Mr. Marr had some English iron from Odessa – they think it bad here – our botanist gave a terrible account of the state of the country – the Turks in arms – the pachas of Kars and Erzeroum [Erzurum] in rebellion against the Sultan of Constantinople and in league with Ibrahim son of Ali Pacha of Egypt – in march towards Constantinople – we are on the eve of a great crisis – dangerous to go by Bagdad to A- but should be safe in Guriel chez Mr. Marr for nobody would hunt him – nor Turks nor men Guriel – all know and like him! – he had brought the botanist on purpose to tell me all this – might not be able to learn as much from the commandant – not to mention to him the information I had got – what would English and France do – I know nothing about French and Mr. Marr could not understand his Russian .:. we could not gain much but I said I should do nothing without consulting the commandant – what was I to do with Mr. Marrs’ letter if I did not go to Akhaltsikl where I was to forward it by Erzeroum [Erzurum] thro’ the commandant, by the post to Tabriz – I had before asked why Mr. Marr did not send the letter from here – because a Sardinian Russian vice consul there would open it and he did not want him to know his family secrets – explained that the letter was respecting the marriage of his son with the daughter of ............ somebody, and who is a ward of Mr. Riach’s or whatever is his name and who has £7,000 a nice fortune for Mr. Marrs’ son – he gave me this duty looking letter on Tuesday – why so dirty? he told me he had sent it by several people or by somebody who had sent it back to him – droll enough to ask a person like me (so uncertain as I told him) to take it – but I shall give it in charge to the commandant at A- if I go – and if not, Mr. Marr said it did not signify – he could write another - // Sat down to my Journal at 11 and at it till 4 or after when Mr. Marr came and staid till 4 ½ had written from near bottom of p.227 to line 18 of p. 231. the man asked 3 abasses per horse per day (pack horses) too much – an officer in this great [?] square (close by here) had 5 good horses – and would be glad if Mr. Marr could get him 2 ½ ab. per horse per day – the officer poor – his affairs derangées – he would find a man to take care of the horses and Mr. M- had ventured to say I would give this man one abasse a day and for this and the 2 ½ ab. per horse I should have nothing more to pay – horses feeding and taking care, and a man, all included in the 2 ½ x 5 = 12 ½ + 1 ab. = 13 ½ ab. per day – the horses out at pasture 20v. off – I said I would try before positively engage them – to be sent for – would try them

SH:7/ML/E/24/0141

Tomorrow and then settle the matter – in the mean had our Georgian – he is to be here at 10 a.m. tomorrow to be ready if wanted and will have his horse here anytime in ½ hour and in that case his month is to begin from tomorrow – he for himself and his horse to have 15/. silver per month – sent the man to the bazaar to tell the owner of the other horses (and he had only 4) that his price 3ab. a day was too dear, and I was looking out for other horses or some such message for said Mr. Marr dont positively put it out of your power to hire this mans’ horses for there are no others to be had here if you do not take the officers’ horses – but he said at Choni there are plenty of horses – you may have 500 there if you like there are 2 Frenchmen here, one has his wife with him – very respectable people – seeking leeches – plenty of leeches in Guriel – buy them here at 1/. silver per oke and 1 oke = 3lbs. for making the walnut oil he mentioned yesterday

take 20 or 30 walnuts (dry) epluchez (I suppose) and beat them in a mortar – then mix well with a little millet (gôrni they use here) bruised and moistened I suppose for the gôrni is a pâte- the casha of the Russians? and squeeze this mixed mass in your hands or in a small press and you will extract the oil –

boil trout in weak vinegar and water and when quite cold pour over them – tea over at 5 25/.. – Mr. Marr then came again and staid till 6 – going away early tomorrow morning (to chez Mademoiselle Gamba near Bagdad for a few days) – A- and I set off at 6 ½ to walk to Madame Boujouroff’s, and R20 ½° and F77 ½° at 6 20/.. p.m. on my table – or rather one table the only one we have for everything – A- and I off at 6 ½ - sauntered thro’ the bazaar – bought brass padlock to replace the one bought at Baku and left at Gori – walked slowly up the hill – rambled up to pretty cottage from the balcony of which fine view of town and river and country of wooded hills – at Madame B-‘s at 7 35/.. – she had the wife (dame) d’un officier Cossack with her who could only speak Russian – Madame B- very civil and glad to see us – a plate of dark red ripe cherries on the table of which I ate 5 dozen + 5 – sat chatting till 8 40/.. Madame B- and her friend walked with us to end of their Cossack-green till we got into the highroad – it is as it were a green common, or larger open green space of several acres – home in 40 minutes at 9 20/.. – fine day – very hot, tho’ un peu couvert – dullish –

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 2 years

Text

Contractual Obligations, Chapter Two

Word Count: 5313

TW: Smut (PiV, protected; oral, m!receiving). 18+ only.

AN: Part of an unfinished series. The series masterlist here.

Bryan was so used to being alone (or in relationships with selfish people who were generally thoughtless) that he completely forgot about his lunch date with you. He had just sent his secretary scurrying off with his lunch order when you came strolling into his office like a refreshing breeze off of the lake.

He couldn’t help the grin that split his face in two, and the expression was so alien – a genuine smile – that the muscles in his face twitched from the sudden exertion. You looked gorgeous in a down-to-earth way: a simple cotton dress in deep purple that walked the fine line between sweet and sexy. The skirt hit right at your knees, but it flared out a little when you pivoted on your heel, closed his office door behind you with a smile.

“Sorry I didn’t call or text first,” you said apologetically. You held up the picnic hamper in your arms. “I don’t know your schedule yet, but this reheats well.”

It’s the yet in your sentence that makes his shitty day brighten considerably. I don’t know your schedule yet. He’s not used to it at all, the realization that you’re there, at his beck and call, whenever he wants you. Whenever he needs you. He doesn’t need to call his secretary in, a mousy little thing that bursts into tears at the slightest provocation, when he wants lunch.

Bryan stood up and rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain hatching a dastardly plan. “What’d you bring me?” he asked.

-----

Bryan had never dated anyone who could cook. Or, at least, he didn’t think he had. Cooking – domestic shit like that – never factored into his relationships. Any food consumed was at trendy restaurants and privately catered functions.

In fact, when he sat back in his seat and thought about it, the last person to really cook for him was his mother. Before the divorce. Before….

He pushed the thought away, buried it deep where it belonged. Scowled at the memory but then schooled his face, because you were sitting across his desk and watching him eat.

“Is it okay?” you asked, and Bryan gave a nod.

It was better than okay – it was amazing. You were, he’d admit to himself, a fantastic fucking cook. He’d never admit it to you, since he was still grumbling about your steep price, but still…

Part of him assumed you pulled out all the proverbial stops on this meal, trying to impress him in these early stages. It was all French cuisine, those deceptively simple-seeming dishes that required a hundred ingredients and infinite patience. There was Navarin D’Agneau, the lamb tender, the vegetables with just the right amount of crispness. A side of tartiflette, pure comfort food. A Roquefort salad. For dessert, some flaky pastry with apples and almonds.

He could see himself putting on weight if this became a habit. If he had been alone eating, he would have sighed contently and undid his belt. Although, the thought of undoing his belt with you there…he remembered your previous conversation.

“As my dutiful girlfriend, don’t you owe me a blowjob now?” he asked, and you gave that light laugh of yours and shook your head.

“Not until you’ve gotten a clean bill of health,” you said. “Unless you have a condom that doesn’t taste like lubricant.”

He had neither, unfortunately, but that could wait. You were his, after all, bought and paid for, and he didn’t need to snatch moments of selfish pleasure now. He had that breathing room now. Besides, he had other things to give you.

“Here,” he said, reaching into his top desk drawer. He had pulled everything together days earlier, before he even signed the contract with you. He slid the envelope across the desk and watched you open it.

Inside was a key to his condo and the entry code to the garage. Those weren’t necessary, you had explained to him, but if he wanted certain things (you running errands for him, you waiting for him on your knees in salacious lingerie), you needed access to his home.

Also in the envelope? An Amex black card. Another thing that wasn’t necessary, but the contract was clear about certain expenditures being his responsibility, and the last thing he wanted to do was to spend hours every month adding up receipts to reimburse you.

“Don’t go crazy with that,” he warned. A single night together, and now a lunch in his office, but Bryan still didn’t really know you. You could be a hustler, running some long-con. You could max out the card and leave him holding the debt, all for the price of one fuck and one lunch.

“I won’t,” you replied, and your tone had just a hint of weariness to it, as if you’d heard that before. As if you knew what he was thinking. “It’s strictly for Bryan-related expenses.”

This was where he wasn’t quite sure how the entire contractual relationship worked. According to his research, sugar babies seemed to thrive on gifts – jewelry and designer clothing and shoes, lavish vacations – but nothing in your contract hinted at that. Did your other clients give you gifts? Did you expect them from him? He knew fuck-all about you, so the thought of getting you a gift seemed stupid, at least at this early juncture.

“There’s a work event on Saturday,” he finally said. “Standard, boring networking shit. You’re coming with me.”

“What’s the dress code?”

“Cocktail,” he replied. “Take that card and get yourself a dress. Shoes. Whatever you need. I want every asshole in the room to turn and look at you when we get there.”

You nodded. “I think I can handle that.”

The psychotically chipper ping on his computer let him know that he had fifteen minutes until his next meeting. He scowled at it, then sighed and stood up. Helped you pack up the leftovers. Escorted you to the door of his office, and his hand fell to your lower back as if to guide you through the doorway. It felt natural already, all the other questions aside, and he could feel the warmth of your body through the thin cotton of your dress. It sparked the memory of last night.

“You have a key to my place now,” he said. He kept his voice low so that no one in the cubicles outside of his office could hear him.

“I do,” you agreed. You glanced up at him, your eyes sparkling a little. “Would you like me to use it tonight?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he breathed out. “I’ll be home by eight. Be there.”

You only nodded again and then waved goodbye, and though the entire afternoon and early evening was nothing but meetings – boring, infuriating fucking meetings – Bryan could hardly focus, the thought of you waiting for him at his condo crowding out every other thought in his head.

-----

You were there when he got home, just as you promised. He could tell before he even actually saw you. There was a charge in the air of his place, and as he toed off his shoes and hung up his coat, he noticed it. It felt like the air before a storm, one of those spectacular light shows of thunder and lightning that come across the lake and wash the sky in retina-searing bolts of electricity.

He rounded the corner by his entryway and entered the living room and there you were: a vision sitting right there on his couch. You were in the same purple cotton dress, which disappointed him, until he considered what you might have underneath it. You were paging through one of his coffee table books (the one about mid-century modern furniture), but when he entered the room, you sat it down and smiled at him.

“Hard day at the office?” you asked, and when he smirked a little and nodded, you stood up and joined him. You reached out and loosened his tie for him in a move that was pure established-girlfriend, and Bryan took a deep breath. This close, he noted that you didn’t seem to wear perfume or anything overly scented – all he could smell was the faint scent of coconut, probably from your shampoo.

“How was your afternoon?” he asked, and it wasn’t just politeness. He was genuinely curious about how you spent your time. What did sugar babies do in their down time?

You weren’t very forthcoming. You only shrugged at him, mentioned something about errands…but then you were pressing the length of your body against his, and suddenly Bryan didn’t give two royal fucks what you did in your spare time.

*****

You were still sussing Bryan out, so you took things slowly. Eased into it. Men were almost uniformly the same: there were the things they wanted because they thought they wanted them, and then there were the things they really wanted.

Take anal sex, for one. Most men swore they loved it, wanted it all the time….because they saw it all the time in the awful porn they watched. When the reality of it hit them – the preparation, the messy cleanup – their ardor for it died off.

Take cuddling, for another. Many men would never dare cop to wanting a cuddle, but how many of your clients ended up asking for that more than anything else? More than your more niche kinks, more than rough sex…most men just wanted to be held and soothed like babies.

Bryan Kneef – it was hard to picture him whining to be held. There was something assured about him. Deliberate. He seemed like a man who knew what he wanted, truly, and got it. He had all the hallmarks of an alpha male: the job, the condo, the cars. Enough money to hire a professional girlfriend.

And that said something – if he were so assured, so on-top of everything, why did he need to hire you? You could picture him with a whole bevy of women: everything from the frosty, WASP-y blonde wife in the suburbs to the angular brunette model to the high-powered woman attorney who could match him in work and in bed. He struck you as an omnivore – not particularly picky about who he took to bed.

There was some hidden facet there that you’d have to figure out. In the meantime, though, Bryan was easy enough to handle.

You had gone home and showered, changed into more risqué lingerie, then went to his place to wait for him. While the feral little gleam in his eye had been obvious, it was the more subtle look of pleased surprise, as if he thought you might not be there after all.

His hands were on you, pawing at you as if he wanted to verify what his eyes were seeing. Yes, you were there. He hauled you to him, dragged your face to his so that he could kiss you. He had a demanding mouth, his tongue sliding into yours as if he owned you. His teeth nipping down on your lower lip before he sucked against it. His beard an abrasive that raised a sweet burn against your neck when he moved his mouth to the soft skin there.

He didn’t even take you to his bedroom this time. Maybe Bryan was settling into the reality of your arrangement: that you were his, with few rules or restrictions. That first night was a little tentative, a little awkward. He had wanted to feel like it was organic, like he met you at a bar and convinced you to come home with him.

Now, Bryan seemed more assured, the way he maneuvered you backwards until you were sprawled on his couch. He reared up above you long enough to shed his suit coat, his tie. You reached up to unbutton his shirt but you don’t get very far – it was like a chain reaction.

Bryan paused long enough to fish his wallet out of his pocket, to retrieve a condom he had there, and then it was pure economy of movement. He didn’t even bother to strip you, or to undress himself further. There was a lone moment where he pushed your skirt up around your hips, where he slid his blunt fingers under the waistband of your panties to gauge your readiness. Which he needn’t done – you were already ready for him.

In the time it took for him to undo his belt buckle, to pull his impressive length out of his pants and roll the condom onto himself, you were able to shimmy out of your panties. Bryan paused to watch you, and his green eyes seemed nearly black from how wide his pupils were.

But he never said anything. His eyes searched yours for a moment, as if judging your thoughts, so you nodded at him. That was enough for him – he pushed you back against the couch cushions, laid one of his big hands on your inner thigh so that he could push it off the edge of the couch, spreading you open wider for him. Then he settled his weight onto you, mounted you in a smooth motion that pulled a gasp out of you. Fuck, but he was big – the length of him splitting you open, the solid bulk of him pressing you down into the cushions.

You knew, objectively, that you were a possession to many of your clients, but in that moment, Bryan made you feel possessed. And it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling, the steady roll of his hips as he drove into you, the way his mouth sought yours until he was growling against your lips, muttering words you couldn’t quite make out because of your own fast-approaching orgasm, your own heartbeat loud in your ears as you arched under him when you came.

*****

The networking event was at Marchesa, so Bryan just planned on picking you up on the way there. But you stopped that plan – gently, with an apologetic smile on your face.

“No one comes to my place,” you reminded him. “I’ll just meet you at your condo and we can go from there.”

Well, therein lay the problem – you made good use of Bryan’s credit card, and it took most of his admittedly poor impulse control to let you out of his apartment. You were stunning in a simple sheath dress, a deep teal that looked amazing on you, tailored within a millimeter to your form. Bryan hated networking in the best of times, but now?

He’d much rather spend the evening tearing you out of that expensive dress and fucking you senseless.

But he wanted to be a partner at STR Laurie one day, wanted his damned name on the letterhead of the firm, so he bit back his more feral urges and ushered you into his Jaguar.

The event was a mixed bag – other people from STR Laurie, people from local government, people from other firms. A few judges. And for the first time, Bryan saw how your skills may serve him beyond the bedroom.

I’m an excellent conversationalist, you had told him after that first night together. Bryan had scoffed at you then, but he saw the truth of it now. During the cocktail hour, and then into dinner over duck breast and wild mushrooms, you charmed the entire table with your conversational skills. You had a knack for making people feel like the only person in the room, your bright gaze and warm smile enchanting people one by one.

But…Bryan saw what you were really doing. You were talking him up.

You played up your lack of legal knowledge, asking a million questions about cases, legislation…and you layered in praise and compliments for Bryan so seamlessly, no one seemed to realize what you were doing. No one but Bryan.

In chatting with a state senator about a tricky bit of legislation that he was trying to get passed – you turned a little in your seat and patted Bryan on the shoulder, told the senator that Bryan had expressed the same frustration about the bill in question. That earned Bryan a second look from the senator, who later that evening slipped him his card and told him to get in touch with his office sometime.

When you talked with a judge, you pulled Bryan over and introduced them to each other – introduced Bryan as “my brilliant boyfriend, an actual legal genius” that nearly made him blush. And Bryan Kneef never fucking blushed.

It was wonderful, actually. You drew eyes as you moved around the room, as you ate your dinner. You were fucking gorgeous, and you were a gracious guest, but you kept adding in little comments about Bryan – to the point where he left the evening with new contacts, and a firm commitment to play tennis with the judge and his wife at their country club next weekend.

Sex aside, Bryan was starting to realize how much of a bargain you really were. What girlfriend ever snagged him a tennis date with a judge? His other dates to these events usually looked bored or spent an inordinate amount of time scrolling through their phones.

But he’d consider that all later. Because, well, you were fucking gorgeous, and he had spent the night half-hard as he watched others watch you, watched their eyes roam over you, appraising you. But you were his – his – and other people could look, but he got to touch you. He got to fuck you. And….

“I got my test results emailed to me today,” he told you on the drive home. “Thought they would take another week.” His right hand drifted between the gearstick and your leg, and every time he shifted to another gear and moved his hand back to you, he drew his hand a little higher. Until his palm was between your thighs, parted enough for him to slide against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Yeah?”

“Clean on all counts,” he said. “I’ll forward it to you.”

You only hummed at that, but Bryan swore you sounded pleased.

-----

He did forward you the clean bill of health, on the elevator ride up to his condo. He heard the ping on your phone, watched out of the corner of his eye as you opened the email and read it.

“Your cholesterol is on the high end of normal,” you remarked.

“Does that preclude me from fucking you?”

That made you laugh as you tucked your phone away in your clutch. “No, but you may want to cut back on the red meat and alcohol.”

“Already telling me what to do?”

Another laugh. “Playing around with dominance is within the bounds of our contract, Bryan. If you want me to boss you around, just let me know.”

The elevator chimed at the top floor, and the doors slid open to release both of you onto his floor. Bryan laid his hand on the small of your back, shepherding you into his condo as he unlocked his door. Just before he turned the key, though, he dropped his head to whisper in your ear.

“Maybe some other time,” he growled. “But tonight, I want to boss you around.”

-----

It was because of how you talked him up all night, and Bryan knew it – it was addictive. You spent the entire event just a step away from openly worshipping him, and it sang in his blood worse than any drug he ever dabbled with in his younger days. He wanted more of it now, those big doe eyes of yours gazing at him in open adoration.

It made him feel like a god.

“I want you to suck my cock,” he said as he led you into his bedroom, but you paused and tilted your head at him. Offered him a small smile.

“Are you asking me or telling me, sir?” You emphasized the last word, and that made his blood heat up even more.

“I’m telling you.”

You only stood there as he sat down on the edge of his bed, that bright gaze of yours studying him. There was a long stretch of silence as you each watched each other, and the tension building in the room was almost palpable, a thing taking form as each silent moment ticked by.

“Tell me exactly what you want me to do, sir.” Your voice was different now – softer. Deferential.

Bryan contemplated for a moment, watched you through narrowed eyes. It again occurred to him, a mean little thought, that you were only an actress, really, a person paid to be this good to him. That if he hadn’t paid for you, you’d have nothing to do with a man like him.

He paid for you. That thought simmered at the front of his mind as he studied you: he paid for the dress you were wearing, the heels. Possibly even the pedicure you had, your perfectly lacquered toes painted a soft pink, peeping out from your shoes. And you – you were a thing his money bought him; a woman who wouldn’t say no to much in bed, a woman who hyped him up to a room full of important people.

“You used my credit card for that dress, right?” he asked in a low voice.

You nodded at him.

“Did you use my card for what you’re wearing underneath it?” he continued.

Another nod.

Bryan scrubbed his palms along his thighs and gave you another long look. Finally he said, “take off your dress and then kneel down here. I want to see what I paid for.”

If you sensed his double meaning, you didn’t show it. Instead, you did exactly what he said: you reached behind you and unzipped yourself, and then you shimmied out of the dress until it was pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it – still in your heels and lingerie, a flimsy sheer black set that sent the remaining blood in Bryan’s head southward.

And then you took the couple of steps towards him before you sank to your knees in front of him. It was purely graceful, and your eyes never left his as you did it.

Your eyes stayed on his too as you reached – slowly, as if testing the bounds of your orders – and undid his belt buckle, unzipped his pants. Your hand, it’s slim fingers reaching past the layers of clothing to touch him, to grasp his solid length and free it from its confines.

Bryan leaned back on his elbows and just watched you, focused on controlling his own breathing. It would be so easy to give in to his rising lust, to yank you onto your feet and then toss you on the bed. To skip all of this foreplay and get to what he really wanted – to fuck you without a condom, finally.

But this was…this was something else. Bryan didn’t mind blow jobs at all, but his expectations always exceeded reality – the actual act was almost always a hurried, mechanical affair. His usual partners, bored and rushing, usually stressed him out to finish quicker. Then came the inevitable disgust, as his partners grimaced at the taste of him, rushed off to the bathroom to rinse with mouthwash.

You didn’t seem to be cut from that mold though. You didn’t even lower your head to him at first, instead stroking him leisurely in your hand, gazing up at him with those big, adoring eyes that made him twitch in your palm. Fuck, he could get used to it, that feeling all the time, you staring at him like he invented the world –

Then your mouth was on him, and all of his thoughts ran out of his mind like water through a sieve, until all he could think of was the feeling of you sucking his cock.

You weren’t hurried. Or mechanical. You went slowly, as if you relished every inch of him, your tongue tracing the veins that ran the length of him, your lips – the crimson stain now a little smeared – wrapped around him. Bit by bit, you worked him further into your mouth, and Bryan waited for you to stop, for you to reach some point where you couldn’t take him any further.

That point never came. He sat, stock-still, his breathing shaky, as you took more and more of him into your mouth. One of your hands was still wrapped around the base of his cock, but the other was on his thigh, steadying you. You bobbed your head against him, each time taking just a bit more….until you removed your hand from him, and took the entirety of his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, the moment he felt it – the crown of his cock hitting the back of your throat and slipping just beyond it, the length of your tongue pressing against the underside of him, pressing against that sensitive spot. Your teeth, carefully set against him, not to hurt him – no…to let him feel how deep he was in you, the straight even line of your teeth right at the base of him, your lips wrapped around him, your nose pressed against him, against the coarse curls –

And then you pulled away slowly, and did it again. And again.

Your eyes were closed now that you had a rhythm going – a slow rhythm, but steady, and Bryan watched through narrowed eyes as you worked yourself against him, taking deep, even breaths when you pulled away, your breath tickling against him as you swallowed his length. Your free hand, the one that had been wrapped around his cock, was now cupping his balls, stoking him gently there, shoving his orgasm closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice harsh even to his own ears. “Open your eyes.”

You did, right at the moment he was buried in you, the tip of him pressing against the back of your throat. Your eyes were watery, your mascara smeared and ringed around your eyes, and your lips were nearly bare of lipstick now – the deep red transferred into a blurred ring around the base of his cock, as if he were marked by your mouth now.

It was the hottest thing Bryan had ever seen.

And then – you fucking smiled around the rigid length of him, gave a pleased little hum that sent vibrations right into the tight coil of encroaching pleasure at the base of his spine. Then you hollowed your cheeks, sucked hard against him until Bryan’s entire universe collapsed onto the singular sensation of you – your warm mouth engulfing him, your warm palm caressing him. It only took another spare moment before he felt himself snap, felt that familiar warmth coursing through his veins as he came.

He reached out, laid his hand against the back of your head to hold you there, but he didn’t need to – you felt the shift in him, the way his hips lifted off of the bed involuntarily. You laid both of your hands on his hips and held him steady as you pulled his cock into your mouth and held it there as he came. Bryan wasn’t sure if he ever came so much in his life – it seemed never ending, the thick ropes of his release that you swallowed with another pleased-sounding hum against him.

Even after he came, after his pleasure receded a little like the tide, you held him in your mouth, suckling gently against his softening cock. Cleaning him off. Easing him down carefully.

And afterwards? You didn’t dart into his bathroom at all to rinse out your mouth. There was no disgusted look writ across your face. Your makeup was ruined – you reached up and swiped away the tears from the corners of your eyes, and you ran the back of your hand over your mouth to wipe away the spit that glossed your lips. But then you rocked back onto your heels, still kneeling in front of him, and offered him a smile.

“Was that acceptable, sir?” you asked, and Bryan swore he could hear a hint of fear in your tone, as if you thought he might say it was terrible. It wasn’t terrible – it was the best blowjob he’d ever had, but he didn’t want to tell you so. Something held him back from lavishing you with praise. You were only paid to be good; it wasn’t really that you had wanted to –

“It was fine,” he said, and he pretended he didn’t see the flash of disappointment in your eyes.

*****

Bryan didn’t fuck you that night, though he did wave his hand dismissively and tell you that if you wanted to stay, it was fine by him.

He was difficult to read. You had been so certain that he’d pounce on you, clean bill of health in hand, but after he came in your mouth, he turned cold. Distant. You wondered what thoughts were churning through that head of his as he pushed you away to change out of his suit and into his sleepwear.

While he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, you sat on the edge of the bed and thought about it. Tried to suss out the right thing to do. Men were usually so easy to get a handle on – the ones that wanted to sleep alone, the ones that wanted a warm body beside them. What did Bryan want?

Well, if he wasn’t going to say it, and since his ardor seemed to have cooled off for the night, you put your dress back on and ordered a car. You certainly didn’t feel welcome to stay, and something in the tenor of the evening had shifted in a way you couldn’t understand yet.

“Heading home?” Bryan asked as he came back into the bedroom and saw that you were dressed again. You pushed your thoughts aside and offered him a smile.

“Yes, I think I’ll leave you be,” you replied.

“I said you could stay.” He almost sounded petulant, like a little boy who wanted the adult to guess at what they wanted. He could pay you to be many things, but you weren’t a mind reader. That was something Bryan would have to realize eventually.

You nodded. “I appreciate that, but I don’t have an overnight bag.” A flimsy excuse, that – you had stayed over at other clients’ homes without a toothbrush or pajamas. You glanced at Bryan, and his green eyes were fixed on you, his expression stony and inscrutable. You hesitated a moment, enough for him to notice, and his face softened a little. You walked over to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his frowning mouth.

“Call me,” you reminded him softly. “You’re the only one with that number, so use it.”

He grunted and didn’t reply, but after a beat, he nodded.

You were halfway to the front door when you heard him calling for you, so you pivoted on your heel and went back into the bedroom.

“You said you have a lot of talents,” Bryan said. “Does that included tennis? Because I have a doubles date at the judge’s country club next weekend…” He trailed off.

You smiled at him again. “You’re in luck,” you told him. “My parents made me take lessons for ten years.”

That earned you a faint smile from him, and you counted it as a win. He looked so small suddenly, perched on the edge of his bed in his pajamas, his hair a little tousled. How could he be that and the man who had ordered you to suck his cock within the same hour?

You walked over and kissed him again, just a closed-mouth peck, but he kissed you back this time. Gifted you with another small smile as you said goodbye again and left.

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