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rip-quizilla · 1 year

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1405 Peach Tree Lane

Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.

Word Count: 8.2K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub

(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)

💜💜💜

Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.

The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.

Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn.

You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.

You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.

As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin.

You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”

Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring.

He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return.

An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time.

“That book any good?”

His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair.

“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already.

The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.

“What’s it about?”

Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”

The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face.

“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.”

That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest.

“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”

You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?”

Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.”

God, his voice is like brown sugar.

You tried again. “Forty, then.”

“Older.”

“No way.”

His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”

You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.”

He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”

“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”

He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”

You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”

“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.

You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’.

“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”

A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.

You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits.

One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset.

“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence.

You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”

“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.”

You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink.

“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.”

You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”

Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met.

You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”

Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”

You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”

“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“It’s porn with a plot.”

“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”

You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”

Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away.

This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-

Uh oh.

You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him.

But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair?

You weren’t sure he would.

In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight.

That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you.

And you definitely wanted to fuck him.

So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer.

“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”

A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property.

You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries.

Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.

“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls.

“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.”

You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”

Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench.

You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you.

You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’

He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his.

Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.

“This is beer?”

Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.”

You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”

As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity.

Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.”

Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”

You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”

His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze.

Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks.

“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”

You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?”

Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.”

You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”

His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”

And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.

Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn?

Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.

Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”

You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed.

Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.

You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”

You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”

You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”

You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath.

“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.

“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb.

You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-”

Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him.

You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence.

“-I know how boys like you think.”

The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…

You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”

Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?”

You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”

You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.

“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.

“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”

You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek.

“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”

Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips.

Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”

You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs.

“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.”

Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks.

As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”

You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”

“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”

You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”

He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”

He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.”

Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished.

He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat.

“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.”

Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had.

“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”

You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today.

You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?”

Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”

He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.

“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it.

You could play, too.

You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.

Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.”

You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly as your movements grew faster and more desperate.

Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!”

You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”

You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”

His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?”

You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”

A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”

You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop.

“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”

You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”

He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”

Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask.

“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly.

“Oh yeah! I love that song!”

Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”

Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”

He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”

So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist.

“You wanna see something even cooler?”

Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up.

Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school.

You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…

You snorted.

“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?”

Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself.

He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor.

God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day.

You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name.

Which he did.

The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips.

When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead.

“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked.

You nodded, “I have an IUD.”

He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”

“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”

He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-”

He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”

He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom.

“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.”

Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”

You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.

Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”

“Yes!” you practically yelled it.

“Yes what?” He taunted.

“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air.

Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined.

Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”

You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”

“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”

“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”

“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”

Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.

He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied.

Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”

He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”

***

The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this:

Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.

Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day.

Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed.

Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out.

The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you.

You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him.

You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.

He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was.

You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.

#eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #neighbor!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #modern au

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messylustt · 1 year

Text

LITTLE RED ( nsfw ) — miguel o’hara + reader: an innocent walk in the woods to your grandmother’s, with your red hood and basket turns a little different than expected.

marks intended age gap. non con/dub con. dark!miggy. red riding hood au. kinda monster kink. primal kink. size kink wc 2.5k.

the whole town had heard the stories. a monster who lived in the woods. woods that parents used to let their kids frolic in, now turned into a desolate area everyone steered clear of. there were the occasional hunters who brought back food for their families, but they never travelled too far past the less denser trees. a horror story. that’s what it was. one kids told others to freak them out in the dark. the beast with claws, fangs, and blood red eyes. he ate anyone who dared venture too far. at least that’s the story the townspeople were going with.

“oh please, there’s no such thing as that beast.” your mother says as she tucks your hair into your hood. your hands clutch a basket, filled with breads and pastries that you insisted on baking yourself. “now, head straight to grandmothers cottage. no dawdling.” she speaks sternly, knowing how easy your attention can sway. you nod, adjusting the red hood around yourself. your grandmother was sick. ill to the point of staying bedridden. she hadn’t wanted to die in this dirty town, as she had put it. she wanted to die peacefully, alone in the woods. your mother was against it, but ever since you were young every argument had always been won by your grandmother.

you make your way out the door, as your mother calls behind you ‘to be back before the sun sets’. you raise your hand to acknowledge her words as you continue on to the edge of the woods. you could hear the distant birds chirping, the woods looking far less scary than normally portrayed. the way the sun gleamed through the gaps between the trees was actually rather beautiful. with a growing smile you skipped over a small running lake, the wood’s animals darting away from your feet.

you made it through the first section of woods with ease, your lips pressed together in a hum. but the moment you edged into the shadier parts of the bush and shrub the singing birds had fallen silent. your own soft tune slowed too, as you gazed around. most hunters stopped here, where the denser trees casted heavier shadows. grandmothers cottage shouldn’t be far. she had chosen a spot in the midst of the forest, as far in as she could make it, without being too close to the fast rushing lake.

you switched hands, holding the basket as your feet softly slipped past large twigs, the grass now a dark shade as the sun became blocked by the heavy leaves. you spared a look up, seeing less animals scurrying about in the trees, and even less on the forest floor. and that’s when you hear it. the faint snap of a branch that has you spinning on your heels. but the moment you turn you’re pleasantly surprised to see a small patch of sunlight, almost acting like a spotlight on bundles of flowers.

the gorgeous colours made your feet move, crouching down as you brushed your hand over the different petals, the worry from the snap gone entirely. “she’d love some…” you speak to yourself, thinking of your grandmother. along with the bread, some flowers would do nicely. a pretty touch. don’t dawdle. you could hear your mothers voice. “it won’t take long.” you say softly, as you fully kneel and begin to pick some of the flowers. “what brings you here, little girl?” a low voice has you pausing, hand midway from picking a tulip. you swiftly turn on your knees and gaze up.

there, standing before you is a man. no…your eyes dart down to his flexing hands. claws. you shift your gaze back up to his slightly shadowed face. and as he takes a step closer to you your breathing gets caught. fangs and red eyes. you stare at him, your body seemingly frozen. “well?” he asks, his tongue moving to run along his lower lip as he stares down at you. you rush to a stance, quickly looking around for your basket. “you make these yourself?” he speaks again, and you shift your gaze back to him to see him holding up your basket.

you’re hesitant to grab it off him, hesitant to even speak. “you’re a quiet thing, aren’t you?” his tone has shifted a fraction. his view of you originally being ‘intruder’, now instead…something else. something…small. something that smells so so sweet. “can you…can you give that back please?” your voice is so soft. almost like a caress to him. this only makes him tighten his hold on your basket. he keeps his eyes on you as he grabs out one of your pastries. he takes a bite as you hold back your protest. “mm.” he hums, still keeping those red eyes on you. “so…sweet…delicious.” he licks the small crumbs off his lower lip, giving you another view of his fangs. his eyes haven’t strayed from you. and the way he stated those words of praise. you had an uncomfortable feeling that he wasn’t praising the food. you carefully reach over, stepping closer to take the basket off him. “those aren’t for you.”

he watches as you near, letting you take the basket. he then leans down to your height, making your body stiffen. “what a shame.” his hand moves up to brush away a strand of hair, before his claw flips your hood down. he drags that same claw over you cheek, just feeling your skin. “maybe i’ll just have to try something else.” at first you don’t catch the look of hunger in his eyes, before his hand is drawing you closer by your neck. with wide eyes, you try and struggle away from him. “no, please, you don’t have to eat me. i’m…i won’t taste very good.” you try and persuade him, thinking him licking his fangs is a sign that he wants to kill you.

but he just chuckles, slipping that hand at the back of your neck, down your spine, making you straighten. his claws slip past your dress and coat, softly scratching at your back as he draws you closer to his large frame. “eat you?” he practically coos. “why would i eat you?” he’s still stroking the skin of your cheek, before he tilts your chin further up. “because…because you’re a…monster.” you tilt your head further back to get away from his grip, but he’s then picking you up, hiking your skirt along your thighs as you gasp and instinctively grab onto his shoulders.

“now that’s a little rude. you don’t even know me.” he says, claws nearly sinking into your legs, keeping you straddled around him as you do your best to try and struggle free. “i know of you. the beast in the woods. the one who eats those who trespass.” you breath out, gripping the material of his shirt tighter as you wriggle. his grip on you only harshens at your movements, as he manhandles you over his shoulder. you screech, your hits on his back doing nothing. with the fast flip, and the state that your dress was already in, your panties are now on display. cute, innocent panties that have easily captured the attention of the monster.

he tilts his head as he stares at your covered pussy, his mouth already salivating. “maybe i do eat those who venture too far into the woods.” he plays along with your fear, as his hand pushes your dress even farther over your ass. “no—“ but your words cut short when you feel two claws run right down the middle of your panties. your hips shift as you bite your lower lip harshly. “please…” your anger has dissipated, leaving you with only your fear. “begging already?” he coos, sticking his two claws right against where your entrance is. he can see the stain beginning to form. you’re soaked, and the sight makes his grip on you tighten.

he suddenly flips you back around, manhandling you onto the ground, where the shadows create a little nook. his hands are fast as he rips the cotton of your panties. “what are you—“ you try but choke on your words the minute the monster slips two of his fingers inside you. your legs shake as you push up on your elbows. the sound of his fingers going in and out of you is embarrassing. you grab at his wrist, your legs already shaking as you try not to succumb to the immediate pleasure you had begun to feel.

“n-no.” you breathe. “yes.” he breathes back, curling his fingers inside you. any further words are choked, as your lips part in a pathetic whimper. “aw.” he coos, now holding you down with his other hand on your stomach. “stop…no—god.” your pleas fall on deaf ears. “yeah…you’ll do nicely.” he hums, continuing to fuck you with his long fingers. too long, in your opinion. his claws scrap against your already sensitive insides, as you squirm on the ground.

your cheeks and nose are flushed, your mismatched breath almost egging him on. “stop squirming or maybe i will have to eat you.” those words have you pausing, fists clenching around the grass. “please…” you gulp out, stomach contracting. but all the beast does is finger you harder, pushing at your thighs so he can get a good look at what a mess he’s already made of you. and just as you’re about to cum, your legs shaking, he pulls away. this fact seems to make you squirm again, as he pushes you completely onto the ground, before fully hiking your dress up and over your breasts.

“i’m only inspecting you, sweetheart. not to give you pleasure. so, stay. still.” he speaks as his hands grab at your breasts, beginning to squeeze and fondle them as he pleases. he bounces them, while pinching your nipples, as you try to gulp down any arousal you still feel. “you’re a very pretty girl, aren’t you little red?” he hums, glancing at the red hood surrounding you on the ground. “tell me, why aren’t you some hunter looking to kill tiny animals?” he hums out as he keeps playing with your breasts, pushing them together, before circling your nipples.

through hard breathes you manage “i’m going to see my…my grandmother.” the monster grins. “with these breads? how sweet of you.” he coos, as he nudged your legs apart again, flicking at your clit experimentally, as he keeps playing with your tits. “i don’t usually get little things wandering into my forest. and certainly not this far in.” he then catches your gaze as he leans towards you. “now be a good girl f’me, and flip over.” he whispers, so close to your lips. after your pause he continues. “eating you is still an option. i haven’t had something delicious in a whi—“

but he’s cut off as you quickly turn around on the ground, his grip on your hips keeping them raised, as he grins. “that’s it…” you’re now pressed up against the grass, your ass stuck out for him as he taps at your pussy, making you jolt a fraction. “you’re rather tiny…” his tone gives away that he likes this fact, his fingers spreading your pussy lips as you then feel something hard pressed against your clit. you can’t see him, but can instantly tell what he’s about to do. you grip the grass again, looking for stability in this unstable situation.

from the taps of his cock against your pussy you can feel how weighted it is. the hint at his size making your fear accelerate. he then begins to push the head of his cock into your entrance making a small cry leave you. and once he begins to rut into you relentlessly, your body moving along the ground at his harsh thrusts, your mind turns dizzy. your lips parting as you claw at the grass, ripping out strands. “are you drooling, sweetheart?” he hums. “open your mouth wider, let me see.” he gazes at your face, pushed up against the ground, as he fucks you from behind.

you slowly open your mouth, as his fingers slip down and drag at the flesh of your inside bottom lip. “just as soaked as your cunt is, huh?” he then begins to play with your tongue, coating your spit over his claws and fingers. “making such a mess.” he coos, as his balls slap against your clit making a small whimper fall past his fingers. his free hand grips your hair, pulling your head slightly back as his cock goes deeper, making you cry out, drooling even more over his fingers. “how bout this…” he says, a little breathless from how well your hole is taking him. “your grandma can have your breads and pastries.” he glances at the basket, haphazardly thrown to the side. “and i can have you.”

he sticks his fingers further into your mouth until you’re practically gagging, your tits bouncing as he thrusts his hips into you. “that sounds fair doesn’t it?” he’s nodding, licking at his lower lip as he murmurs “dios…” you can hear his breathing change, showing he’s getting close. as his cock twitches inside you, he pulls out, bringing you around to kneeling by the grip of his fingers in your mouth. he holds your mouth wide open as he rests his cock on your tongue. “give it a lick, little red.” he’s so close. with drool coating your lower lip in a shimmer, and his fingers hooked inside, you drag your tongue over the tip of his cock, as his hips shudder, finally spilling down your throat.

he makes a mess of your mouth, your only solution being to swallow. you gulp down as much as you can, though some spill out due to the unwavering grip of his fingers in your mouth. he stares down at you, a new emotion behind his eyes, that says more than a passing hunger. he grabs your chin and leans down to lick the remaining mix of cum and drool off your lips. your mind is reeling, this whole situation feeling like a fever dream.

“i’m sure your grandmother is worried about you.” he hums, running his thumb over your chin and swollen lips. “you should get going. and don’t forget the pretty flowers.” his words are far too sinister to make you stand with a skip in your step. as he soothes your dirty dress down and fixes your hood, his cock away as if nothing had happened. he hands you back your basket, your shaky hands gripping it. “now run along, little girl. and please do remember to visit your poor, sick grandmother more often.”

it was a demand. not a suggestion.

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hanjisick · 7 months

Text

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.  This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

2K notes · View notes

bunnys-kisses · 2 months

Note

Hello,

If you're still taking orders, would it be alright if I ordered profiteroles with a side of champagne with max verstappen please.

bakery menu

want to order something? find the menu above to see all of our delicious treats! remember to specify who you want to bring you your order! as for this one, i am biting my first. i am biting my fist a sugar daddy max verstappen who is painfully desperate. big ol' simp.

profiteroles: ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, needy!max, missionary,

the money was nice. you saw how that watch of his gleamed in the sunlight when you two were on his boat. it was nice to see your debt trickle away until it hit zero. it was all nice, the kind of money you'd sell your morals for. you'd even take it out of his hand with your mouth like a dog if it meant keeping every last scent.

the one thing you didn't except, was a needy sugar daddy.

you were in max's penthouse, cooking breakfast while the driver kept around you like a shadow.

"scrambled or fried there, mon ombre." you said as you looked to him. you smiled softly, "i can't guarantee that they'll come out fried."

he pulled away from the wall of the kitchen and settled his hands on your hips. his nose in your hair behind your ear, "i know you can do well. i know you're a good girl."

you chuckled, "right right." you leaned over and cracked two eggs in the pan and had max following you closely as you put the shells in the garbage. then followed you back to the stove, his arms remained a fixture around your waist.

max liked to be around you. he once said it was like flowers in the sun. he curled around you as you cooked. the agreement was that you were his live-in girlfriend while he was in monaco, when he went away for races you could either stay at his penthouse or go back to your apartment (which also paid for).

while he was away, he made sure that you still got your "allowance", it basically was on auto-pay. you thought it was a big of an ego stroke that he paid you right before a race. as he was about to get into that car and drive his heart out.

but when you got the notification, you smiled a little bit. as if you weren't watching the race on a (illegal) live stream.

you didn't think much about competitive driving when you started. you knew of formula one, but nothing of this new generation of drivers and drama. you had seen a few faces plastered on adverts, but couldn't really place a name to them. so when you met max through a "friend", you had a whole world to learn about.

his eggs came out scrambled, but he happily ate them with a slice of toast. it was the only way he'd part from you. he gazed at you from across the table, his foot rubbed against your ankle.

his desire for closeness was sated. he washed the dishes for the both of you, leaving them in the dish rack to dry before he was on you once more.

max paid handsomely for you. you just wanted enough to survive, but he always pushed your pay more. he never told you how much he made in a year, but a quick google search answered your question.

after breakfast, he got you into the bedroom. his hands around your middle once more. his lips on the back of your neck, when you got close enough to the bed, he pulled the bottom of your shirt up your back and over your head.

you turned to him and gazed at him as he pulled you in for a searing kiss. he tasted like ketchup and butter as he got your bra off of you. you felt a thump in your chest when he got his shirt off. his toned body always looked so nice

"you have tanlines." you remarked as you ran a finger down his arm, seeing how it went from darker to lighter, "maybe red bull should put you in a tank tops to even it out." you chuckled.

he raised his eyebrows, "maybe you should wear one, red bull across those pretty tits." he cupped them and rubbed your nipples with his thumbs.

you held onto his biceps and remarked, "maybe your little logo, i think it would nicer." then winked at him. you were moved to the bed and max quickly got the rest of your clothes off and onto the floor.

it was followed by his basketball shorts and briefs. he got into bed with you and pressed you under his body. he kissed at your face with such devotion. he loved the feeling of you under him.

"you're so good for me." he said, "you always listen. so pretty for me. always making sure that i'm taken care of. do i do the same for you?"

you cupped his face and chuckled, "max. of course you do." when got put on your back and your legs around him. you eyed the sight of his erect cock, it made your stomach flip.

"more than just money?" he asked.

you replied, "max, of course." you reached up and touched his face, "i'm surprised that we aren't already dating."

his heart flipped and his cock twitched. he said, "well." then swallowed, "you know how busy i am with racing." his hands trailed down your soft sides, "it wouldn't be fair to you. honestly."

you chuckled, "don't worry, max. i know. don't worry. you're already enough." then leaned up to kiss him before he settled one hand on your hip and the other on his cock.

"too good for me." he said under a low breath before he rubbed his cock up against your sweet pussy. he slowly sank in and then placed both hands on your hips. he grit his teeth as he pushed into you.

you wrapped your legs around him and felt his cock nudge against the deepest parts of you. he curved over you to kiss you on the lips as he thrust further into you. you held onto his shoulders and let him try to get as deep as he could inside of you.

"max."

"yes?"

"why do you spoil me?" you asked as he moved against you. you clung to his shoulders tightly, nails dug into his broad shoulders. you felt the sweat down your neck.

"because when i look at you." he said between heavy breaths, "everything feels alright. even if i lose, to know that i get to come back to you. to be spoiled as i spoil you." he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

you clawed down his back as you felt your core throb. you whined between heavy thrusts. you felt so protected by him. he kissed down your neck as he continued to thrust.

"don't make me blush, max." you said softly.

"why? you look so good when you do. especially when you try to hide from me, treasure." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips once more.

he continued to thrust up against you. you held onto him tightly, your nails left angry tracks across his backside. his pace became more brutal the more that he thrusted into you. you could feel him deep inside of you, it felt so good.

it made your gut pool into a heap of warmth as he continued to move against you. you whimpered and whined, you felt your heartbeat deep in your chest.

you kissed his cheek some more and down his jaw, you felt the sweat pin prick your back as you clung to him. you even gave his jaw a small kitten lick which made him groan.

"such a pretty girl. perfect for me." he said, "i can't believe that you let me into your life."

you chuckled, feeling more heat in your cheeks, "what life, i was in university for a dumb degree with no job prospects."

he said, "no, it wasn't stupid."

you chuckled and clung to him, "see, you spoil me." then panted heavily against your sugar daddy.

"come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go." he panted between heavy thrusts. he wanted to be close to you all the time, he wanted to feel you close to him. he wanted to say something else, but didn't want to ruin the moment.

he could only give you a time away, somewhere, anywhere, you'd be with him.

he wanted to bask in your rays for days on end. he wanted some peace with his beautiful girl.

you moaned, "of course. please! ah, i need to cum." you dug your nails further into his shoulders as he thrusted up into you.

"good, good." he panted, "so good for me, letting me have all your attention." he held onto you tighter as he pushed his cock as deep as he could possibly go. he wanted to enjoy every inch of you, inside and out.

you tightened your hold on him and panted heavily. a few more heavy thrusts and he finished inside of you. he grit his teeth and felt the heat down his back. you came soon after as he continued to fuck you, the two of you holding on to one another.

he slowed down and held you for a moment. those strong arms around you, he felt like a sense of safety. you laid there, heavily panting. he pressed kisses to your face.

"i'm a lucky man." hie said, his voice low but gentle. he kissed the top of your head before he got off of you and laid next to you under the thin white sheet.

you felt like home to max. but cat got his tongue whenever he tried to ask you out on a proper date. to be more than just someone to pay to be a pretend girlfriend.

he wanted you in ways that made his heart thump in his chest. you kept him alive, you eternal sun.

the next morning you laid next to him in bed. his strong arm over your middle as he kissed at your jaw. in a few days he'd be in some other country, doing some other race.

so he'd have to be clingy from a distance. and that was the hardest part. he shift next to you and sighed contently. he said to you, "my offer still stands. when i come home, let's go away somewhere."

you looked at him, "i'd love to. anywhere with you, max. you take me wherever and i'll go."

he kissed your cheek and said, "good, i'll give you the whole world."

615 notes · View notes

hannieween · 3 months

Text

chaser | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Breakups are tough. For years, you had to push your feelings down to try and move on. But now, you were back again with Choi Seungcheol, rekindling the ardent flame of your love, and lost promises.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ✧ aus: bar owner seungcheol, ex seungcheol, secret relationship ✧ word count: 15.8k

→ previous chapters – read more

› smut warnings under the cut

✧ warnings: smut with plot, dubcon (slight somnophilia), daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, reader is on birth control, big dick seungcheol, multiple sex scenes (these two are unstoppable), literal love making, pussy eating, morning sex, unprotected p in v sex, creampies, overstimming, rough fucking, manhandling, dirty talk, edging, seungcheol is kind of a menace, creampies, aftercare, pillowtalk, exhibitionism: groping in the workspace, quickie in the workspace. pet names: love, baby, angel (hers) daddy, babe (his) ✧ author's note: this is very long overdue, i kept putting it off and on because i wasn't feeling it and honestly, the city lights series is kind of a hyperfixation of mine so... yeah hehe. i hope you like this!! (❁´◡`❁) ✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

part iv

It was more than just a dream.

You remember everything quite well. It was one of those games in which you were certain that Seungcheol could get anything he wanted only by his determination.

Seungcheol was sweaty. His long black hair stuck to the back of his neck and his forehead. He grabbed the hem of the red jersey he wore, lifted it up, to clean the sweat on his upper lip, revealing his abdomen in the process.

You remember overhearing the chattering and muffled giggles from the girls sitting behind you on the bleachers. You didn't bother to look back, or to even try and listen to what they were saying. Because all eyes were on him.

Seungcheol was the team captain, top of his class. And he was hot as fuck. So that made him inadvertently popular around the campus.

It also didn't help that he was putting on a show. It was late at night but the misty summer breeze didn't help to alleviate the heat that had him covered in sweat, plus the exercise he got from running on the field.

He would let his head hang back a little as he crossed the field with a slow, exhausted walk, recovering with hard and deep breaths before jumping on a sprint. Sometimes, whenever he was just on standby, he would grab his shirt by the hem and lift it upwards, fanning some air to his sweaty tummy.

Slowly, you felt the dream slip away from you as wakefulness started to kick in. You tried to hold on to the faint slivers of your dream, to the memory of Seungcheol's gummy smile, running to you, victorious.

You were fully awake now, but you had to force yourself to remember. He lifted you in his arms, spinning you around, laughing at the squeal you made. It was his last game as a university student. And he had won, just as he always did.

"You won, baby," he told you.

"I didn't, you did," you smiled at him, encircling his neck with your arms.

"You gave me luck," he said, as he always did.

The sunlight poured through the tall windows and onto the large bed, until slowly as the morning rolled in, you felt its warm soaking on your skin, pouring slowly onto your exposed arm and chest, and then onto your face.

Upon blinking you realized that you had shed some tears in your sleep.

A heavy arm slid on your waist and circled your torso with a pleased sigh, pulling you so his front was pressed to your back. The warmth radiating from his body was unlike the sunlight creeping onto your bodies. It was snuggly and familiar.

Seungcheol hummed softly, half asleep but conscious enough to plant a kiss in your hair, nuzzling his face with another soft sigh. The arm wrapped around you moved again, his hand sliding to the centre of your tummy.

You were still trying to come to terms that you were back to reality, barely aware of what Seungcheol was up to when with a small grunt, he moved his body on top of yours, littering your chest with kisses, trailing down to your tummy.

In seconds, his hands were angling your thighs open for him, kissing your lower tummy, making you arch your back to get more of his open kisses, the slight brush of his wet lips against your inner thighs making you open your eyes.

You brought up a hand to gather your tears, feeling a bit puzzled as the other hand found his head nuzzled between your languid thighs, when his teeth grazed your skin softly, bringing out a groggy moan from you.

Your hands quickly grabbed the sides of his head. "Babe?" you rasped. "Cheol, what are you doing?"

His mouth was already sliding on your mound with sweet, wet kisses, trailing down to lick and softly bite your pussy lips, bringing you back to life in a second.

"Baby, oh god, yes," you mewled, body jolting on the bed, you pulled back the bedsheets, uncovering your body, Seungcheol between your thighs as he slowly began to push his mouth between your folds, kissing you openly.

You arched your back instinctively, letting out a raspy moan as his tongue laved generously at the arousal already pooling at your entrance.

Your mind fragmented between the dream and reality. Your ex-boyfriend's hair was long, but now it was dyed in a pale blond. As you propped yourself up on one elbow, you saw his upper back, stockier than you remembered it.

But there was no denying that no matter how long it had passed, Seungcheol still knew you like the back of his hand. He pushed a hand on your lower tummy, very close to your mound, leaving the top of it exposed, your swollen clit to the mercy of his tongue.

Seungcheol paused, casting a loving look at you before diving right back into your pussy, letting out a raspy hum like a man starved, his free hand creeping up to your chest, finding your breast to give a gentle squeeze with his fingers, a thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Cheol," you called softly, fingers grazing his scalp as you held onto his hair. "Just like that, daddy, please."

He groaned in response, moving his tongue in swift side to side movements on your clit, his hand pressing harder on your lower tummy, the feeling in your cunt intensifying.

"Oh god!" you gasped when his fingers pinched your nipple and tugged at it, caressing your boob with his fingers just to hear more of the noises you made.

He trapped your puffy clit between his lips, pulling at it, causing smacking noises as he continued to do it repeatedly, humming in your pussy, the sound vibrating in your sensitive bud.

"Cheol," you mewled, closing your eyes to the pleasure burning in your body. "God, daddy, I'm close," you whispered.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, immediately starting to suckle at it, the slurping sounding loudly in between your lewd whimpers and sharp gasps.

You used the hand clenching on his hair to press him down your cunt almost as a reflex before your head lolled back, pleasure consuming your body quickly, tingling in your face and making you cry out his name.

As your orgasm flooded inside your body, Seungcheol continued teasing your clit with his mouth, waiting for you to relax into your high. His big eyes darted a look up at you, but his mouth didn't relent.

"Mmn, Cheol," you called in a breathy tone, being that you were a languid mess. "So good."

His tongue pressed flatly on your core again, drinking in your arousal with a pleased and raspy moan.

Seungcheol didn't say anything, pressing kisses on your pussy lips before detaching his mouth from it, pulling his body back so he stood on his knees.

The bed covers and the sheets fell from his back. Your eyes roamed all over his body, wholly naked in between your thighs. His milky white skin bathed by the morning sunlight contrasting beautifully with the dark backdrop of his bedroom.

You would never get enough of such a sight. His body was perfect, his broad chest and beefy and strong arms that held you throughout the night, his meaty thighs, his long and thick cock, standing fully hard now. Seungcheol was perfect.

Seungcheol noticed your eyes on him, giving you a smile that could heal every wound, every ache you have ever felt. Your heart jolted in your chest, you loved him so much still that you could sob.

"You're okay there, baby?" he asked softly. There was a light frown on his face, probably noticing the tears brimming in your eyes.

You nodded, leaning your back into the mattress and you extended a hand to him. "I need you. Right now, Cheol."

Seungcheol trusted you. He knew that if you were not okay, you would speak out. But that didn't ease the frown. He moved his body on top of you, his big arms framing your head, his face leaning closer to yours.

"Are you sure? Am I doing something wrong?" he whispered with genuine worry lacing his tone.

You used the proximity to his face to press feathery kisses on his lips. "No, I'm sure," you whispered. "Don't stop, please, Cheol."

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly, but he didn't reply verbally. He moved one arm from the side to your head, sneaking it between your body and his to grab his cock, guiding it to your core.

"Look at me, angel," he breathed, nudging his cockhead in your entrance.

If you could lose yourself in those sweet, but dark eyes, you would. As he started pushing in, you felt the muscles of your face go lax, making your mouth part.

Seungcheol mimicked your expression, his full lips parting as he sheathed himself inside you slowly, a quiet, strangled groan coiling in his throat, making his Adam's apple bob.

His eyebrows knitted when his hips met your own, making him sigh deeply, his cock fully inside you now, his arm returned to frame your head and you realized that you had pushed your eyebrows inward too.

Your hands held onto his strong shoulders, then your fingernails dug deeply into the hard muscle on his back, making him moan as he dragged his thick cock back and pushed it right into your tight and warm walls.

"God," he breathed, his eyelids fluttering when he closed them briefly.

The experience of being with him after so long of being apart was nearly mind-shattering for a second. You never wanted something more than being with him like this, the nights spent dreaming with memories of him... and now you were there. It was real.

"Seungcheol?" you called, your voice tiny, but quivering slightly.

"Yes, baby?" he rasped, hips rolling slowly on top of yours, moving his cock inside you at a deliciously good pace.

You shivered slightly when his fingers grazed your scalp, twisting gently in the locks of your hair.

"Baby? What's wrong?" he asked softly, his brow furrowed again when your eyes finally let your tears go.

You moved one hand from his back, meeting his cheek. A tiny sob broke inside you when Seungcheol leaned his face against the palm of your hand. The movement was almost instinctive, as though his body remembered all of the times he did that in the past.

"I love you," you whispered.

For a moment, it seemed that the world had stopped, because your heart had. It had been years since you uttered those words to anyone, and the last person to hear those words coming from you was him.

His dark eyes glinted with some emotion, reading the features of your face swiftly. His frown had relaxed the moment he heard you utter those words to him.

"I love you," he whispered back, gulped hard and dropped his forehead on top of yours with a moany sigh. "I love you. I love you."

You sobbed, your other hand finding his other cheek so you were cupping his face fully now, lips meeting in tender and brief kisses as he kept moving his hips in deep and slow thrusts.

"Cheol," you sighed, instinctively pushing your knees back angling your hips for him to push his own against yours, his cock reaching deeper in this new position.

"I'm here, baby," he whispered, and then with a sharp intake of breath, added: "I never stopped loving you."

"Neither did I," you breathed.

Seungcheol let out a sound between a raspy moan and sighed as he crushed his mouth with yours, kissing you deeply, as if trying to convey all of the I love yous he didn't get to say when you left.

His chest pressed flush against yours as he rolled his hips on yours. "You are my everything," he muttered, though his voice broke halfway through the sentence.

You knew him well enough to know that he struggled with saying what his heart felt. So hearing that caused a powerful shudder in you. "You are too, Seungcheol," you whispered, swallowing your tears. "Always have been."

"I missed you so much," he continued, as if in a maddened frenzy, pushing his hips slowly and urgently, his pace pushing your body in the sheets slightly, if it were now for his arms framing your head.

"I missed you too," you breathed, running your fingers through his hair to then link them on his nape. "Everyday, all the time."

"God, baby," he whispered, squeezing his eyelids shut for a second. "Angel, I'm close."

You only nodded with your head, not caring anymore about coming for a second time, you just wanted to feel him, to hear his raspy moans and sighs, to be this close to him.

However, Seungcheol thought differently. "I want you to come again," he said, hooking one of your legs on his shoulder expertly, and then the other.

Your eyes brimmed with tears of pleasure as he pushed his cock inside you but deeper this time, eliciting a long and raw moan from you from the change. Your hands tightened the grip on his hard biceps as his hips plowed on you.

"God, " you mewled as your head sank back on the pillow, writhing under his body. "Please, please, Cheol, don't stop, please."

"That's it, angel," he praised, sighing a pleased smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. But then, you could see his own orgasm overtaking him, his dark eyes glazing over the overwhelming pleasure, his lower lip quivering slightly as he let out a guttural moan but his eyes never left your face, watching your face as you came around him. "That's it, baby. Come for me."

As if on command, you felt pleasure blooming inside you, waves of bliss washing and sizzling from under your skin. The feeling so strong that you had to squeeze your eyes for a second, seeing stars in the sudden darkness. "Fuck," you mouthed, being overcome by ecstasy. "Cheol, babe," you mewled.

"I'm here," he whispered. "Look at me, baby," he pleaded in a louder, raspy tone.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his lips parting, his eyes glistening, his nose wrinkled a little bit before he grunted with his mouth slightly opened. "God, baby," he groaned, pushing his hips against you sloppily, his cock clamped by your pulsating warmth, tipping him over too.

You moved your hand to cup his cheek, locking eyes with him as he came. There was a sense of satisfaction filling your chest when he too, looked overwhelmed by pleasure. He sucked in a breath, and a grunt left his mouth next, thrusting his cum inside you slowly and forcefully, until he stopped, breathless.

Your hand slided on his cheek, running the pad of your thumb on his lower lip as you kept your gaze on the features of his face, smiling at him when he did the same, moving one hand clumsily to caress your face.

"Hi, baby," he sighed heavily, his red lips stretching in a wide smile.

"Hi, Cheol," you giggled, his gaze softening when he heard your laugh.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked then, his eyes roaming over the features of your face, reading you expertly.

"Yeah, I'm okay, babe," you gave him a nod with your head.

"Are you sure?" he insisted, his hand on your cheek slipped beneath your head, leaning over to leave a kiss on your forehead.

"I was just feeling a little sentimental," you mumbled, pushing his long blond hair back, using the pads of your fingers to caress his face. "I dreamt of you, that's all," you explained, now toying with the earrings adorning his earlobe.

"Oh, yeah?" he whispered with a sweet, endearing looking grin. "What did you dream about that got you tearing up, baby?"

"Remember your last match in uni?" you ventured to ask, pausing for him to give you a short nod with his head. "That's it, I guess it was more like a memory than a dream."

"And that was the reason you were crying, baby?" his tone was sweet, his dark, glistening eyes still outlining your features. He grinned when you nodded at him again. "Really? Why?"

"I'm–I just miss you," you whispered nervously, choking up with the memory of him in his university days, when your relationship was blooming and you felt like nothing could tear you down, as long as you were with him.

"I'm here, baby," he leaned over, bumping the tip of his nose with yours before he pressed his smiling lips on yours, grazing them before he locked yours in a brief, warm kiss. "Not going anywhere."

You giggled. "Neither will I," you mumbled with a shaky voice, feeling like you were threading down a dangerous path with that sentence.

"I'm not letting you go either way," he replied, his tone had dropped to a raspy low one.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he replied with certainty. "I meant what I said, I'm ready for us," he said and you pretty much understood that he was calling back to the big discussion you had when you finalized your relationship with him.

"I'm ready too," you said, choking up again at the memory of that night.

"I know," he smirked.

After all, he knew you better than anyone in the world.

He propped his hands on the pillows to peel his body off yours, thus pulling out of your sopping wet walls, with a tired grunt. "Come here," he whispered when he climbed off the bed.

You obediently crawled to the edge of the bed, where he promptly lifted you up, bridal style. "You know I can walk there," you smiled at the proud look on his face.

"And you know that you don't have to, baby," he replied, the tips of his ears turning red. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

That made you giggle giddily. "You may have a point there, Cheol," you shrugged slightly.

Seungcheol set you down on the bathroom floor, turning his back on you to reach out to turn the shower on. You looked around the room, aimlessly.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrow cocking up slightly when he read your face.

"Can you... give me a minute, please?" you asked meekly.

"Seriously?" he started with a breathy laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm serious!" you replied in kind.

"Why are you being shy about that?" he asked bewilderedly. "I've seen you pee before. Like thousands of times."

You scrunched up your face in a grimace. "Please, babe. I don't know if I can hold it anymore."

His laugh bounced on the walls of the polished bathroom. "Okay, okay!" he replied, still giggling himself silly.

But he did not turn and walk out of the bathroom, instead, he just simply hopped in the shower, closing the glass door and moving to stand under the shower head.

"Babe!" you squealed, eliciting another goofy laugh from him.

"What, I'm not watching!" he protested. "My eyes are closed!"

You sat on the toilet, biting your lower lip in concentration, feeling your brow furrow and you let out a big sigh.

Seungcheol heard that. "Baby, just go," he sneaked a look through the glass door of the shower, hair completely wet and pushed back, his naked, gorgeous body glistening wet.

"I can't if you're watching me," you said shyly, a smile breaking the concentration written in your face.

"Why? You've done it in front of me before," he shrugged and returned to stand under the stream of water. "Countless times."

"Yeah but..." you sighed again, but now in relief as you finally could relieve yourself.

Seungcheol smiled when you stepped into the shower floor afterwards, moving so you could stand beneath the showerhead. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing," you pressed your lips into a smile. "You're right, I was just feeling shy."

"It's okay baby. I get it," he shrugged, his eyes set on the movements of your body as you started rubbing your shampoo on your scalp.

"I guess we have been away from each other for so long that it's hard to get myself back to how we were before."

The honesty in your words was so blunt that it hit you only after you had already uttered them. Time froze for a second and you blinked the water from your lashes to sneak a look to his face.

He looked solemn, nodding slowly but you noticed the sad glint in his eyes, dimming the natural spark in them. "I understand," he muttered, but you noticed right away that he felt rejected. "I don't want you to feel pressured into doing stuff that we used to do like before. We can take it step by step. Mark new boundaries."

And with that, he stepped out of the shower, leaving you to continue showering in your own space.

Seungcheol was so quick to jump back to the relationship that he did not share the same burden that you carried. It was stupid, but you still felt like you had a lot to atone. And that stopped you from jumping with him.

You felt bad, but not only because of the dejectedness your words caused Seungcheol to feel. You felt bad for all of the time that you lost while being away from him. You felt bad for not being able to pick up where you left off with him.

And you wanted to change that, consequences be damned.

Kim Mingyu missed his shift for the second time the following day.

He sent a text early in the morning in the group chat, telling Seungcheol he had family matters to tend to.

But Seungcheol knew Mingyu well enough to tell when he was bullshitting.

"He's not doing great at the moment," Wonwoo informed his boss as they were setting up before open hours.

"I'll talk to him," Seungcheol stated with decisiveness, drawing a curious glance from you.

"Sure, boss?" Wonwoo asked. "I can do it. He's been avoiding everyone."

Wonwoo brought a hand to his nape, scratching aimlessly as he appeared to consider something over a moment. "On second thought..." he paused, then brought a lithe finger to push up the frames sitting on the nose of his bridge. "I think it's a good idea. You should talk to him, boss. Maybe he'll listen to you."

Seungcheol gave no verbal reply. He just nodded his pale blond head and disappeared behind the kitchen doors.

"Is Mingyu alright, though?" you asked curiously as you wiped a glass jar with a dishcloth.

"Absolutely not," Wonwoo confessed with a hollow laugh. "He's been a mess. He doesn't leave his room."

Wonwoo was worried, you could tell from the way the muscles above his eyebrows dipped slightly.

"And you think Seungcheol talking to him is a good idea?" you wondered, a genuine curiosity reverberating in your tone.

Wonwoo sent a side glance at you. The tall man was standing beside you, now that you were overtaking Mingyu's position for the day. It was a very slow day though, but Seungcheol had asked for you to cover.

"Boss might not be the most tactful guy I know," Wonwoo muttered between his teeth, sending casual glances to the kitchen doors. "But he definitely has more experience than me around... this stuff."

You stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming to clean the next jar. "What do you mean?" you pressed, trying to sound as unknowingly as you could.

"Mmn, let's just say that I've never been through a breakup like this," he put in with a nonchalant tone. "But boss has."

Your heart skipped a beat, sending a painful spasm in your chest. "Oh," you blinked. "I didn't know that."

It appeared as though Wonwoo believed your lie, pressing his lips into a tight line as he nodded slowly. "I met him after it happened, but it apparently shocked everyone that knew him and his ex. We have some friends in common, so that's how I heard of it."

"Sounds like a big breakup," you smiled stiffly.

"Yeah, I mean," Wonwoo cocked his head towards the very big neon sign on the wall behind the bartop that read Heartbreaker in red letters.

You filled your tummy with a big breath to suppress the guilt trying to set right in. "That explains some things," you sighed awkwardly.

"I've only heard stories," Wonwoo said with a low tone, still sending cautious glances at the kitchen door. "Boss has never actually said nothing about it. Well, to be honest, he rarely ever tells nothing about himself. He's all work."

"Really?" your voice shot up slightly.

Wonwoo's gaze panned over to where you stood behind the bartop. "Really. I've known him for two years already, he's never said a thing," he told you casually. "But I met him through a friend who knows him from a while back so, word got around that he was left broken pretty badly."

You had expected to hear something like this, but not from Wonwoo, not from someone that was not aware that it was you who broke his heart. The guilt consumed you like a fiery discomfort settling on the pit of your stomach, but with a gulp of air, you tried your best to compose yourself.

It was too late, Wonwoo had his head tilted to one side, his eyes analyzing your face. He didn't budge like you did, when Seungcheol came back to the general area.

"Everything alright?" Seungcheol asked, noticing the very evident interruption in the conversation.

"Everything alright, boss," Wonwoo replied without deterring his eyes from your face, a second passed and then he turned to Seungcheol. "Are you handling the tables tonight, then?"

"It's a slow day, so I might help you out here and there," he looked around, a frown on his face. "Where is the new kid? Chan."

Wonwoo shook his head. "He only comes on the weekends."

"Right," Seungcheol scrunched up his nose, palming the lacquered bartop with his hand. "Well, then I'm going to be handling the tables tonight. And maybe we should think of hiring more people starting next month."

He pressed his lips into a line before walking to the door that led to the back of the bar and disappeared.

"What is your deal with him, anyway?" Wonwoo asked abruptly, grabbing a box of beers to place in an organized rows inside the fridges.

"I just... want to understand why he is like this," you explained, though your words were uncertain, making your tone sound hollow.

"It was worse when I met him," he muttered, stretching his arm into the fridge to obsessively place the bottles into neat rows. "Like you said, he is not that bad now. And to be fair, he hasn't been nearly as bad to you as he was to Mings when he was the newbie."

You realized that the bottles were organized by the brewing style as well. "I see," you replied unconvincingly.

Wonwoo closed the door of the fridge for a moment, wiping his hands with a dry cloth as he took some reluctant steps towards you. "In fact, he's gotten a lot better lately. It wasn't until you arrived here that he got all pissy again."

"Is that so?" you asked, trying to keep a blank face, but you were pretty sure that he had you all figured out already.

"That's so," Wonwoo said, his voice dropping to a mere whisper, the corner of his mouth curved up slightly.

You and your stupid mouth.

You knew there was no issue with Seungcheol if Wonwoo and Mingyu knew about your shared past. He has told you time and time again that you could trust the two bartenders because he trusts them both with his life.

The truth was, you were scared. You didn't want to bear witness to Wonwoo or Mingyu treating you differently if they knew you were partially the reason why their boss had this reputation of being a jerk.

But it was clear that Wonwoo, being the detective that he was, had already noticed your very difficult to hide attraction to Seungcheol. That, on top with your brief interrogation might be two things to put together, thus uncovering you as the evil ex that left him badly broken.

"Maybe he likes you," he shrugged, clicking his tongue and sucking in a slow breath.

"Wonwoo!" you reprimanded in an scandalous fashion, dropping your hands at your sides and you felt the muscles of your eyes stretch wildly. "You can't know that!"

Jeon Wonwoo laughed, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in the process so he had to push his glasses back up with the tip of his finger. "I mean, that's the only explanation in my mind. Why would he get this pissy? Maybe he finds a certain attraction for you but can't really express it, you know? He's a difficult man when it comes to that stuff."

"What do you mean?" you tilted your head to one side, pretending to be completely clueless.

"He uh..." he shot a look to the door that led to the backrooms. And being certain that the coast was clear, he continued, he even leaned back against the door of the fridge. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I am also intrigued, so, whatever," he shrugged. "He dated someone briefly not long ago, cut it off shortly after, worst week of my life."

A sharp pain crossed your heart like a lightning bolt, making the muscles of your face freeze. "Of your life?" you tried smiling but it came out as a stiff recoil of your facial features. "Seems a bit much, doesn't it?"

"I'm not saying that to make it about myself, I get how it sounds but," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "The man was pissed off all the time."

"Well, maybe it just didn't work out like he expected," you muttered, pretending to be cleaning the surface of the bartop thoroughly, but your heart was pounding a mile per second, each pump hurting your chest, robbing you of air.

A thought crossed the back of your mind: the way Seungcheol comfortably threw the comment of you dating other people, having sex with other people during the time you were abroad. He assumed that you also moved on, because he had too.

Wonwoo muttered something under his breath that sounded like: "It makes me wonder," but did not proceed to tell you more. And you did not push.

Because you were trying with all of your might to appear uninterested. Even if Wonwoo was apparently open to the idea to talk about your boss behind his back, you were completely unequipped to take this new information with a blank face.

"So have you found a place to stay?" Wonwoo asked some minutes after.

You understood that the question came from a place of genuine interest and not just because he wanted to change the subject of conversation. "Yeah, I'm staying with someone," you pressed your lips in a tight smile when your voice broke at the last word.

"Oh, that's good to hear," he muttered, resuming to place the beer bottles neatly on the shelves of the fridge. "So you do have friends after all."

"What is that supposed to mean now?" you laughed and you noticed him raise his eyes above the rim of his glasses to take a look at your smile.

He smiled too. "You said you didn't have friends, if I remember correctly," he muttered with an awkwardness about his manner.

"You don't," you chuckled. "I never said that. I do have friends... just not that many."

"Imaginary friends don't count."

"He's not imaginary, he's very real!" you protested with a high-keen tone.

"He?" he huffed with a small grin. "So it's just one friend."

"Yeah," you sighed shamefully, your tone dropping to a tiny one. "Just one."

"Well, consider me and Mings as friends," he closed the fridge, swinging the cloth over his shoulder. "So it's plural now. Friends."

Friends.

Something warm and cozy filled your chest. It felt nice, it felt right.

"I usually don't drink on mondays," Yoon Jeonghan stated, looking down at the table as the large jug of pale beer was set in the middle along with your food.

"You're gonna," you replied to him, pouring him and yourself a glass.

"Damn, you do need it," his eyes widened and his jaw dropped in a wide smile.

"I do," you sighed, chugging the half of your glass before stopping to breathe. "I don't think I can do this sober."

He chuckled with his mouth wide open. "Fair enough," he lifted his glass and drank, throwing you a curious glance.

"What?" you inquired.

He let out a breath after chugging half of his glass to be on par with you. "Nothing, it's just... I never thought I would see you again, y'know?"

"I could say the same," you admitted.

"Before you start explaining and I really do want to hear your version of this, let me put you in my perspective," he spoke fast, and you could tell he was nervous because he was bouncing on his seat like a little kid.

"Okay," you conceded, though it was unnecessary because this was Jeonghan, he was going to have his way.

He set his palms down on the restaurant table. "One night you were telling me that you were dropping all of your plans of getting your master's degree and the next day, you were gone."

You blinked and nodded, understanding how the situation looked for him.

He continued. "I had to find out from your crazy ass parents that you were gone."

"Seungcheol didn't tell you?" you had to ask, feeling shy to interrupt him.

He shook his black haired head. "He didn't speak to me or to anyone I know for a month. He hid from everyone, to this day, I don't know where he went," he paused and you saw that he was still upset about it. "I showed up to your parents' and had to ask what the hell was happening 'cause you were out of reach and Seungcheol didn't answer his phone," his gaze fell out of focus, lost in the memory. "When I saw him again, he was packing up his stuff, moving to another apartment."

"God, I'm so sorry, Han," you muttered, dropping your gaze in utter shame.

"And then, you know what your parents say?" he pushed his hair back from his forehead, getting angrier at the mention of your parents. "They told me that you were not coming back. They acted like it was funny that I was looking for you. They told me you were continuing your studies and god knows where you were coming back."

You nodded slowly, biting your lower lip.

"So you do know about that. Great," he sat back and drank the remaining half of his glass. "Care to take it from there?"

"That's why I'm not on speaking terms with my parents," you begun to explain. "They wanted me married to some old guy by the time I received my master's diploma."

"Let me tell you this before you continue," he placed a hand softly on your forearm. "Your parents are the worst people I've ever met in my life."

"I know," you nodded again, hearing that from your closest friends wasn't exactly a new thing but you wondered for how long Jeonghan held that back.

"Shittiest parents in the world," he went on, throwing his hand away.

"Damn, okay," you laughed.

"Sorry," he chuckled again. "Got carried off."

You had to pause upon hearing his laugh, it sent a warm, fuzzy feeling inside you almost in an instant. Much as if your best friend's laugh was the kind of medicine you were missing for so long.

"Where was I?" you frowned. "Ah, yes—my parents married me off to some dude to form another political alliance and I didn't proceed so that's why I got cut off and been living alone since then."

Jeonghan blinked. "Jesus," he muttered. "You actually got married?"

"God, no," you shook your head violently. "They made me sign a binding contract saying that I'd marry anyone they selected for me. I broke the contract, paid a lawyer and everything."

"Jesus," he hissed again, dropping his chopsticks to his plate. "That's insane. Does Cheol know about that?"

You shook your head again and poured more beer in his glass and then yours, avoiding his gaze.

"Fuck, that's crazy," he muttered again, ruffling his fluffy black hair irately. "Your family is fucking crazy."

"I knoooow," you whispered, feeling the alcohol take its effect slowly, making your cheeks hot. "That's not the end of it, though."

"There's more?" his eyes widened in alarm. "You were right, I can't do this sober either."

Jeonghan chugged some more beer and you waited for him to stop swallowing it because you've known him to spit out his drink if he hears something shocking or worthy of a laugh.

"Because I had to pay a bunch of legal fees, and the PhD and everything I kind of started blowing off my savings and used my stipend to survive but, it wasn't enough so–"

"You ended up in Cheol's bar," he inferred.

"That's right," you nodded.

"And you didn't see him?" he asked with a frown. "He practically lives there."

"All the hiring process was handled by Wonwoo," you pressed your lips in a fine line. "I didn't see Seungcheol until it was my first day at the job."

He set his empty glass down on the table with a blank expression on his face. "You have the most terrible luck on earth, let me tell you that."

You started laughing—not out of joy. It was almost a crazed laugh, probably fuelled by coming clean and the two glasses of beer that you already downed.

"I know, I know," you wiped off a tear from your maniacal laugh.

"So what are you planning on doing now?" he asked, intrigued by your drunken laugh and honesty. "With Seungcheol."

You sent him an inquisitive look. "He told you something."

He sighed heavily and set aside his chopsticks again. "He didn't. But I'm not dumb and I know you two fuckers better than anyone else in the world."

Jeonghan was right, he was quick on reading you as well as Seungcheol.

"So are you back together?" he inquired.

You nodded.

"Do you still love him? After all this time?"

"I do," you frowned. "You know I didn't want to leave, right?"

"He told me something like that," he nodded. "Even if he didn't say a lot."

"Jeonghan," you placed a hand on top of his, drawing his gaze to yours. "I'm sorry for leaving with no explanation. I know I could've done things differently, and I'm sorry for not trying back then."

"You were dumb, I know. But I also know that you'll make things right," he pressed his lips in a comfy smile. "Everything's forgiven."

You smiled at that and he pulled you into a side hug and rubbed the back of your head briefly.

"You can start setting things straight by paying the bill," he laughed. "I'm kidding, 'mkidding!"

He laughed at the cold stare you sent him.

"Right, you're broke now so I should be treating you," he chuckled again.

"I'm not broke," you countered, toying with the hem of your shirt. "Well, just a bit."

"You'll be fine," he said soothingly.

"And how are you?" you asked, casting a glance upon the man you swore you'd be best friends with your whole life.

"I am alright," he shrugged, his eyes lost on the table below his arms. But you knew him like you knew yourself. He was avoidant, he didn't open up unless he was insisted to.

"I've seen that your company has grown a lot," you smiled with both hurt and pride. Pride for Jeonghan coming this far, hurt for not being there for him.

"Yeah, I've been doing well," he smiled shyly as he usually did, avoiding your gaze with a long blink of his eyes.

"Do you..." you inhaled deeply, and your pause was long enough for Jeonghan to search your eyes again. "Do you have someone special in your life now? Has someone finally worked up into Yoon Jeonghan's heart?"

Jeonghan looked hurt for a second before shaking his head. "Nah," he let out a characteristic low chuckle. "I gave up on that shit a while ago."

"Seriously?" you tried to give him a grin, but it failed when you saw that he did not respond to your expression well.

Jeonghan planted his elbow on the table to prop his head on his fist, the other hand pushing his plate aside. "If you knew how my fucking love life looks like right now," he laughed bitterly. "I don't know if this is the kind of conversation you want to have after years of not seeing each other."

Your heart deflated in your chest, causing some slight pain as you tried to recuperate yourself fast. "Tell me," you prompted. "I want to know everything I missed."

Jeonghan's eyes read your face, a downturned smile on his face as he pondered on your request.

"Jeonghan," you started, sliding a hand on the table to grab his own. "I haven't seen you in two years, or heard from you. I wanna know anything you have to tell me..."

He let out a deep sigh. "Okay," he conceded. "Although my life is not as crazy as yours, it has been a little... chaotic this past month."

"Pfft," you huffed. "I think it'll take a big, big scandalous thing to shock me."

Your best friend paused for a second, still reading your face with his big brown eyes before letting out with a shameful smile trying to break the features of his face. "Wow, you really missed out on so much," he realized for a second, now mustering some boldness before blurting: "I'm in love with my best friend's girlfriend."

For a second, you believed he might be trying to pull a prank on you. After all, you knew him as someone that likes to be a bit of a jester, to get the biggest reaction from you, in particular.

So you just stared him down in disbelief. "Be serious, Jeonghan."

"I'm being completely serious," he blinked slowly, the downturn smile turning into something sad, shameful even. "We might or might not have had sex a week ago."

"What?" you gasped, looking at the tables surrounding the one where you and Jeonghan sat. "Shouldn't you—shouldn't you tell your friend about this?"

"I don't have to tell him," he shrugged again, seemingly upon remembering something. "He knows about it. He knows everything. He was there too. Watched the whole thing."

"Hannie," your eyes were widened in bewilderment. "What the fuck?"

Jeonghan nodded, releasing a tired sigh that told you how emotionally worn he actually was. "He knows I love her. She doesn't," he bristled in pain, you noticed, the way that he blinked pausedly and the joints of his arms stiffened. "But I'm alright," he choked out, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of the table. "I will be fine."

"God, Jeonghan," you sighed, covering your mouth with a hand.

Jeonghan looked at you as if he were enjoying your reaction. "Is my love life more complicated than yours now?"

"Well..." you sucked in a breath in pause. "Would you believe me if I told you that I don't think so? What are you going to do now, Han?"

"I don't know," he laughed. "Try and forget about her. Try to make amends with my friend. Move on. Keep myself busy with work."

Your heart crushed when Jeonghan's gaze dropped to his lap, he breathed in through his nose, chest swelling slowly and you instantly knew that your best friend was hurting inside.

"Oh, Hannie," you sighed again, feeling his pain, knowing what he was going through perfectly.

"I'm alright," he insisted, but his pointed finger was scratching at an invisible spot on the table now. "I'll be fine. They'll be fine. Someday I'll be at their wedding and this will all be a thing to fucking laugh at."

You heard the hollow tone in his voice, the way his gaze darkened when it got lost in the void at his lap.

Your heart sank.

You were well aware of how that felt like. For many nights you wondered about Seungcheol when you were far away. With a tight pain in your heart you wondered if he had moved on. You wondered if he had fallen in love with someone else.

You wondered if he loved you still.

"Hey," you whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It'll get better for you, Hannie. You'll be okay."

Jeonghan smiled, his knuckles still pushing his cheek in, making his smile twist. "I know," he muttered, meeting your hand with his own. "At least I have you back."

"And I have you," you smiled at him, and that made his gaze soften.

"Is it weird to be back with Seungcheol?" he asked, setting an elbow on the table to prop his head on his hand. "I mean, after all this time, you surely are not the same people. He's changed, and my guess is that you have changed too."

Jeonghan was right about that. Seungcheol had changed so much that sometimes you missed the spark you used to see in his eyes two years ago. The spark was there still, but it was rare to see now,

"It's weird, yeah. We are definitely not the same, and I think that the breakup made me more guarded, in a way. And as for Seungcheol..." you sighed, driving your gaze away from Jeonghan's face. "I think he is trying hard to get back to what he had before... but I don't know why I can't."

"Do you think that being away changed you?" he pouted slightly, his lower lip protruding out. "I mean, you two were very dependent on each other. And then you just weren't. That changes people."

You nodded in agreement. "It broke me to leave him behind," you whispered, taking your time to breathe in slowly to not break into tears. "You're right, I was really dependent on him, for years. And then I was single and in a totally different place. I had to relearn things about myself and I changed. I don't know if I can be the same as I was before."

"You don't have to," he shrugged, cocking his head further, still propped in one hand. "Seungcheol loves you. And yeah, he has changed a lot too, but I don't think that matters for you two."

"What do you mean?" you asked dumbly.

"I mean, you two are weird," he smiled shyly, showing his beautiful set of white teeth. "The kind that just clicks together, you know?"

"He wants me to move in with him," you blurted after some seconds of silence between you, only interrupted by the busy buzzing of the restaurant on a monday night.

"What do you want to do?" he asked with genuine curiosity, identifying that this was the thing troubling your mind the most.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I don't want to move too fast but. I like living alone, but I also want to be with him. I want to rebuild my life back with him but... I don't want to make a mistake again."

"Look," Jeonghan straightened up, setting his hands on the table again and leaned towards you looking at you straight in your eyes. "Fuck what anyone thinks, don't even listen to what I think if that's what you want. But, Seungcheol still loves you, even after all of the shit you put him through, he loves you. And wants to be with you. What more could you want?"

You remained silent, as you did not have any answers for that.

So he continued. "If I had an opportunity like that, I would take it. In a heartbeat."

"Jeonghan..." your chest deflated, but you instantly understood that this was painful to him, and he was dead serious about it.

"Sorry," he shook his head slightly and then smiled awkwardly at you. "Don't take my advice if you don't want to, again. I just think that you are thinking way too much about something that you want."

"Yeah, I might be," you sighed.

Jeonghan sighed, but you could see that he was gearing up to change the subject, leaning back on the seat to reach inside the pocket of his jeans, drawing out his wallet.

"Next time is on you," he nodded his head at you before calling for the bill.

"This is fancy," you giggled as you slided on the creamy colored seats of his BMW. "I like it."

"You know what," he huffed, tip of his tongue gliding between his lips. "I thought you would, when I bought it."

"You're lying," you gasped. "Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "I remembered you told me you liked this model. I got it a year ago."

"It's really nice," you smiled, looking around the leather seats. It smelled new.

Jeonghan winked at you, giving you a smile right before he ignited the engine, the soft purr of it making the features of your face change into awe.

"Nice," you repeated.

"Hehe."

He grabbed his vape pen from the cup holder, drawing a big gulp of smoke which he slowly exhaled from his nose.

"Oh, I see you quit alright," you chastised, enjoying the way a pang of guilt crossed his face, making him smile and chuckle goofily.

"Ah, but I did quit. For a time," he said as he turned the wheel, you noticed he quickly took the route to Seungcheol's, no questions asked. "But then you left, Cheol stopped speaking to me and it was either gambling or smoking. So I decided to quit gambling for good."

"That is a terrible excuse, Jeonghan," you giggled, negating with your head in disapproval. "But I'm glad you're not gambling anymore. I suppose that's progress."

"Yeah, but I run a gambling house, with your boyfriend," he tilted his head to one side, leaning his elbow on the middle console so he could rub the tips of his fingers on his chin. "Is he your ex, still? Or are you guys like, calling each other girlfriend and boyfriend again?"

"Huh," you huffed and tilted your head to. "I actually don't know. We haven't talked about it yet."

"Well, what do you two do, then?" he asked, shooting you a look and then quickly put: "No, no, you know what, don't answer that."

"What?" you blurted.

"I know you two only fucked once and decided to get back together, so don't even attempt to tell me that you aired out all of the shit you went through."

"We do talk, Jeonghan!" you squealed, trying to sound as outraged as you could. "We had a serious talk when we saw each other again."

The car came to a stop slowly before the red lights, which illuminated Jeonghan's face as he stared you down for a long second.

"Ok, we did fuck," you conceded after he narrowed his eyes at you. "But we also talked, Hannie."

"Oh, right," he giggled briefly. "So I'm taking you to your ex's place, then."

"Yeah, we're a mess," you nodded with a flat tone.

In the back of your mind, the memories of a healthy relationship floated in the vague background. Seungcheol and you just clicked, like Jeonghan said. Yes, you were codependent on each other, but at that time, neither of you cared.

It was a great relationship, with more highs than lows. More promises than deceptions. Seungcheol was your first love, and he was very much determined to be your last. And as soon as you saw how sure he was about you, you started to reciprocate. You missed that.

Now that you were changed, you wondered if you would handle everything differently. Because it was a very loving relationship. But the big fallacy was that he turned into your whole world.

Until the day that he was not.

"Hey," Jeonghan noticed your silent divagation, sending you looks in quick succession. "You'll work it out. Don't worry about it," he offered you a smile, pressing his lips together. "At least you didn't sleep with your best friend's girlfriend, right?"

"Jeonghan," you immediately gave him a look. "Self-deprecation is not your best look."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed with some hurt pride. "But you can't deny that it helps."

Seungcheol gave you a copy of his fob key, which you used right before stepping inside the elevator, where as soon as you were confined in its walls, started to think of the pleasant encounter with your former best friend.

You were sure that you could pick up your friendship with Jeonghan straight away, and now after being with him and catching up, you felt stupid for ever thinking that he would turn his back on you.

Thank you for today, Hannie. Felt nice to catch up. You wrote him before the elevator reached the second to last floor of the building with a soft ding.

You pay for next time! He replied as you walked out and into the hallway, making you smile at the phone screen when he added. Joking. But I also enjoyed it. Missed you.

You reached the door and stopped for a second to remember the passcode. Typing the numbers of your anniversary date felt somehow mind-splitting, much as if going back to the days when that date was the best day of every year for four years of your life.

"Babe?" you called as you crossed the door, catching some noise in the distance.

Seungcheol was walking down the hall as you peeked inside. "Hey, baby," he sighed with a pleased smile, bending down on his knees a little as he spread his arms wide.

You squealed briefly when he lifted you up from the floor, wrapping your body with his strong and beefy arms. "Hi there," you cooed, cupping his face with your hands.

"How did it go?" he asked, his eyes outlining the features of your face and then he showed you a broad smile. "Did you drink beer?"

"Oh, do I smell?" you tried to recoil, but Seungcheol leaned his face to press a kiss on your lips.

"Yeah," he giggled goofily, lowering your body back to the floor. But his hands quickly moved to grab your face. "Give me more of that," he muttered when you hummed against his kisses. "Kiss me."

"Let me go rinse first," you used your hands on his chest to push him, but unsurprisingly, he did not even budge.

"I don't care about that," you felt his lips stretch against yours in a smile. "Kiss me more."

"Seungcheol," you whined, but his hands were already helping his lips to bring you to submission. One hand gently placed beneath your chin and the other one circling to your lower back, pulling you closer to his warm body. "Mmn."

"How did it go?" he asked with a honeyed tone, pressing his lips repeatedly against yours capturing your lower lip between his, humming as he appeared to become more and more addicted to kissing you

"It was fine," you replied dryly, focused on getting more of his lips, his hands were sliding to your waist, fingers pinching the fabric of your pretty blouse to hike it up, so his hands could touch your skin now. "Cheol," you muttered between his lips.

"Yes," he replied, his hands gripping the sides of your waist, fingertips digging gently on your skin, using his grip to bring you close to him, his front pressed to your own.

"Can we–," a shaky sigh left your mouth when in a sudden move he bent down on his knees again, lifting your feet up and set you down on the nearest countertop of the kitchen.

"Yes, angel?" he egged you on, lifting his gaze to find your face, and he took a second to outline the features of your face with his starry eyes.

"Can we talk?" you muttered meekly, being eye to eye with him now you could return the gesture and trace the beautiful line of his cupid's bow with your eyes.

"Of course," he blinked, and in a second his entire demeanor switched to a more serious one. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," you sighed with a smile, biting your lower lip as you searched in your head for the right words to say.

Seungcheol pushed his thick eyebrows up. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

You decided that there was no perfect way to speak your mind. Besides that, you trusted Seungcheol and you did not need to say things lightly with him.

"Did you date someone recently?" you asked, and wished your tone had sounded more certain. Instead, it sounded shaky, and tiny.

Seungcheol bristled initially, his eyes dimming and going over the features of your face swiftly. His lower lip trembled and you knew instantly that he was about to say something but stopped himself. He nodded. "Yes, I did. Three months ago," he choked out, but you knew he was being honest.

"I just wanted to know. You know, he haven't caught up with our lives recently," you explained and saw his features change and soften when he also noticed your tone quiver.

Your ex boyfriend leaned his head to one side, but did not deter his gaze from your face. "I didn't mention it because it was a brief thing. I didn't think that it would matter."

"You sure?" you mumbled, bringing up a hand to pinch his chin and his eyelids fluttered at your touch. "You know, I don't want us to jump into something if you still have some things to heal."

Seungcheol grabbed the hand that was still on his chin and pressed his lips on your fingers. "No, I know, baby. It just didn't work."

"Can I ask why?" you whispered, heart thumping wildly against your chest.

Seungcheol shrugged. "She wanted more," he closed his eyes for a second. "And I couldn't give it to her."

Your mouth parted but then you stopped yourself before you could prod more.

He noticed and decided to answer your unspoken question. "I just didn't feel it," he whispered. "I tried, but it wasn't honest. So I broke it off."

"Oh, Seungcheol," you breathed, heart deflating painfully and your eyes watered. "I'm sorry," you said solemnly.

"No, baby, this isn't your fault," he replied, his eyes had started to glisten slightly, but he kept them zeroed on your face. "I tried to move on from what you and I had, I healed and forgave you. This is different, the reason why it didn't work out with her has nothing to do with us."

"Really?" you asked but quickly put: "I just want to know that we're doing this right this time."

"We are, baby," he muttered warmly, head tilting to catch your gaze. "Is there something else you need to know?"

"No, I don't think so," you gathered your tears with the pads of your finger as you sniffled quietly. "I dated other people too. Didn't work either. I couldn't do it."

Seungcheol smiled, wrinkles appearing on the corners of his eyes. "Baby, you don't need to tell me any details, it's okay," he whispered, pressing his hands on your thighs, rubbing small circles to soothe you. "I assumed as much, and I'm glad that you did."

"Why?" you whispered.

"Because it tells me that you also tried to move on," he shrugged slightly, gulping hard and that told you that this was as difficult for him as it was for you. "Besides, you were in a different country, completely alone. I'm glad that you tried to seek company."

You nodded slowly, coming to terms with the fact that even though you and Seungcheol have changed, there was still something so strong pulling you together. It was not a love fueled by memories alone.

"Is there something you want to know?" you reverted the question back to him.

He shook his head briefly. "No, baby. Not right now," he paused and then, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you pressed your lips in a small smile. "I'm just feeling a little emotional, that's all," you whispered.

"Did Jeonghan say something?" he asked, but the light frown on his face told you that he thought this to be highly unlikely.

You shook your head no. "Wonwoo told me," you sniffled and tried to hide a guilty smile. "I might've prodded a little bit more and found out something I wasn't ready to hear," you confessed, batting a shameful look at him.

Seungcheol leaned his head to the side even further. "Baby," he started in a reproachful manner. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

"There are some things I'm scared to ask you," you replied meekly.

"Is my dating life something you were scared to know more of?" he pushed his eyebrows, his lips pouting: "Why?"

"It may sound silly to you, but it feels weird to know that you were with someone else not long ago," you shrugged.

"It doesn't," he corrected, straightening up slightly, but his hands were planted still at the sides of your thighs, on the kitchen countertop. "If the tables were flipped, I too would feel something," he said with full certainty. "That's why I'm not asking about your past partners. I don't want to know more. I'm content with knowing that you weren't completely alone."

"I wasn't," you whispered, gaze losing focus over his shoulder, in your mind you recalled the times you felt utterly alone and lost. "Sometimes I felt like I was, but I made some friendships. Short-lived."

"I'm sorry," he whispered too, calling your eyes to his.

"Don't worry about it," you blurted, lip quivering uncontrollably when in a flashing thought, the weight of your guilt and regret crashed down on you.

"Come on, let's get to bed, okay?" he muttered softly, grabbing your hands after you nodded at him. "Here," he helped you down from the counter and kept one of your hands in his own as you made your way to his bedroom.

A somber feeling had fallen between you and Seungcheol. You did not need to ask, you knew that his mind was reeling, you knew that being deep in thought also meant that he had started to plan ahead.

So you waited. In silence, you changed into pyjamas, and did your bedtime routine as normal, keeping an eye on him randomly, trying not to make it obvious that you were aware that he was overthinking.

But maybe, you thought, he knew that too.

When you slid beneath the bed-sheets, he had already made it to his side of the bed, sheets and covers up to his waist, chest exposed and bare.

Immediately, as you laid your body down on the mattress, he outstretched an arm sliding it under you and curled it, so he was now wrapping you into a side hug, egging you to rest your head on his chest.

"You're okay, babe?" you asked timidly, eyeing him up and down to get anything that might tell you about his mood.

"I'm just thinking," Seungcheol replied gently.

"Oh," you paused. "What about?"

"About us," he sighed and took a hand to run his fingers through his blond hair. "I want to put your mind at ease. I don't want this to overwhelm you."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at his face fully. Seungcheol sent you a glance, waiting for your answer.

"I–," gulping hard, you stammered: "I j-just, this is happening fast but I want this, Cheol."

However, your response seemed to do the contrary for him. He looked conflicted for a split second, his frown deepening slightly, making a couple of lines show between his eyebrows. But then, he lifted one hand and pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, making his gaze soften.

"Is there something else you're thinking?" you whispered, knowing that look on his face.

Seungcheol never spoke his deeper thoughts unless prompted. He was a man that kept his emotions safe, only voicing them out when the moment was appropriate.

He removed his fingers from your chin to push your hair and tucked it on one of your ears, the pressure of his fingers on the crook behind your ear making your skin tingle.

"Sometimes I wished that you found someone," he mumbled with a sleepy sigh. "Even if it hurt me to think that I'd never see you again, I never wanted you to be lonely."

Your heart contracted so painfully that you instinctively had to blink your pain away. "I wished that for you too," you replied through a shaky sob. "I wished for someone to treat you well, to love you."

"I had that, baby," he whispered, seemingly unable to speak any louder. "Probably not with a partner, but I kept close to my family."

"Did you ever try to find someone?" you prodded with more confidence now, but you still held your breath.

"No," he breathed, blinking pausedly. "I wanted to heal, to focus on my goals, so I put a pause on that."

You nodded slowly, but you could not yank your gaze from his big and dark eyes.

"You?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Yeah, I did," you replied with a shrinking feeling in your heart, making your voice sound tiny.

Seungcheol only stared at you for a long second, and you could almost hear the gears of his brain turning. You prepared for him to ask more, you thought of all the possible questions, and all the possible answers, lies and truths that you could give him.

After all, you did not want him to know how much you actually hurt while you were away. Even if you were buried with school work, there was an unbearable ache gripping your heart tightly every day, for months.

You tried everything to yank him out of your life like a thorn in your chest. From burying yourself with school-work, to partying every weekend, to seeking comfort in other partners.

"And did... you meet someone?" he finally asked, his tone sounded steady, but his rapid breathing betrayed him.

"I–," you choked out, clearing your voice you tried again: "I didn't," you replied with honesty. "They were all good people but I was the one that didn't make it work. After some time, I stopped dating."

The truth was, you were hurting. And you took that hurt everywhere you went, and sadly, you turned into something you never thought you would become and started hurting people.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, shifting his face on his pillow, as if nuzzling it slightly to remove the discomfort you knew he felt inside. Because you felt it too.

"Me too," you pressed your lips in a smile. "I was dumb, burdened with pain and guilt. I know that now."

"We both did things in the past," he said with some languor from his long day. "What matters is what we do from now on, right?"

"Right," you nodded once.

"I want to do right by you," he said, mustering some energy to look straight into your eyes. "I want us to grow together."

"That sounds good, Seungcheol," you whispered, tone quivering slightly. "I want that too."

"Are you sure?" he uttered, sounding so small that your heart faltered painfully. "

"I'm sure," you decided. "This is just a little hard for me," you confessed, ignoring the wild vibration in your chest.

"I know," he blinked slowly, his tone soft and breathy as he took in a deep breath, saying: "You have been hiding inside a shell for two years. I get it because I feel it too."

"I'm scared, Seungcheol," you conceded, and he nodded with his head.

"I'm scared too," he whispered. "But I want to help you, I want to be with you. I'm all in for you."

With a sigh, you closed the space between you on the bed, and Seungcheol was already wrapping you with both of his arms.

"We could take this step by step," he whispered after a long second of silence. The tips of his fingers had begun to trace shapeless lines on your arm. "Whatever you want to do, if you want to go fast or slow, I can do it. Just say the word, and I'm in."

"I just want to be with you right now. I don't want to think," you replied with a whisper, realizing that it had been some days since your last dive into searching for an apartment, or a room where you could move your stuff into.

You have grown comfortable with this for the past few days. Even though there was an anxiety about living with Seungcheol after everything that went down with you. You realized that you wanted more nights like this, sleeping soundly in his arms.

"I know, baby. But at some point, we need to come to a solution. I can wait but I also want reassurance."

You shifted once again to take a look at his face, beneath all the tiredness and conflict, he looked sincere.

"I'll give you time, baby."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you, babe."

Maybe Jeonghan was right. Your thoughts were getting in your way.

"Move aside," you whined holding a heavy tray loaded with clean jars.

"Na-ah, you know the conditions," Jeon Wonwoo shook his head slowly, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Fuck your conditions, Wonwoo. This is heavy!" you squealed dramatically.

"I've seen you carry twice the weight of that," he pointed a finger to the tray in your arms.

"Ah, it's slipping off, come on!" you gasped, your arms about to give out.

"Tsk, you–," Wonwoo chuckled briefly but came to your aid quickly, grabbing the tray from your arms before you dropped it to the ground.

"You know what," Seungcheol announced, breaking the stare down contest between you and Wonwoo. "I'll handle the bar, since you two can't seem to stop fighting."

You turned on your feet to find Seungcheol going under the bartop, his hair ruffling slightly before he pushed it back with a large hand. "You'll have the tables tonight, okay?" he told Wonwoo.

"Me?" the recused arched his eyebrows, a finger pointing at his chest.

"Yes, you, Jeon Wonwoo," he snapped, nodding his head once sharply at the tables. "And you, stop distracting him."

"S-sorry boss," you stammered awkwardly, raising your eyes to find his big dark ones. You knew that the scolding was not as heavy handed just by the way that he sounded, he tried to mask a smirk by running the tip of his tongue on his upper teeth.

"Go," he ordered impatiently. "We'll open when you're ready," Seungcheol informed him as he passed by.

"You didn't have to be an asshole," you whispered, eyes raised to find his.

"Why not, it's fun to be the asshole the guys paint me as sometimes," he shrugged, now smiling deviously as he lowered his gaze to your body. "Besides, you can't blame me for wanting to be beside you."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Y-you did that just so you could be close to me?" you shook your head swiftly, snapping into realization. "Really?"

"Like I said," he took a step back, squaring his shoulders when he noticed Wonwoo glancing towards you and Seungcheol. "It'll be fun," he mumbled, trying to be subtle but you did not miss the way that one of the corners of his mouth curved up slightly.

"Right," you muttered, feeling flustered already.

Working with Seungcheol must be difficult, you imagined that it must be difficult to stay away or to not look his way every time he passes by. He is incredibly attractive, every movement he performed was eye-catching.

Now, him being your ex only added to this level of frustration that you felt already.

Seungcheol smirked at you after you huffed loudly.

He had been teasing you at every chance he could get. Every time he passed behind you, his hand somehow found your ass, patting it slightly—or hard. Depending on the given chance.

He also sent you suggestive glances, when he had the chance to and knowing no one was looking his way, he would lean back against the countertop and check you out, crossing his arms and tilting his head to one side.

"Boss," you hissed, eyes flaring at him alarmingly. "Behave."

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound of his laughter traveling across the bar, drawing some curious eyes to him.

"Okay, okay," he muttered and turned to take one of the orders that the printer had just sent.

Seungcheol had decided to wear some tight black denim jeans that hugged his ass just right. And every time he walked off, you just had to sneak a discrete look.

That gave you some pause. At that moment, you concocted a small plan to retaliate. If he thought that he could tease you all he wanted in the workspace, then you could too.

So firing back, you took every single opportunity you had to brush shoulders with him, sparking his curiosity at first. He just arched one eyebrow at you, but did not catch your intentions to draw his attention to you.

That was, until you started to do some more suggestive things, such as shooting looks at him, placing a hand on his back every time you had to reach for something from his side of the bar. Sometimes you would let your hand fall languidly, bumping with his ass.

"Stop it now," he whispered the third time you did this.

"Stop what, boss?" you inquired, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Whatever it is you think you're doing," he huffed, but a smile appeared on his lips.

"I'm not doing anything," you replied, making him frown slightly at you.

"Right," he cocked his head sideways.

"Maybe you're imagining things, baby," you mumbled, smiling sweetly at him before leaning against the countertop of the bar, nearly bending over completely.

A sly smirk appeared on his face, crossing his arms once again to lean against the countertop to check you out freely and for a second you thought he was being way too obvious.

But no, it appeared that you were in your own world. Everyone else kept busy with their tasks, and the guests did not even pay a second look towards Seungcheol or you this time.

This was fun, you decided.

". . . and that, according to him, is a Freudian slip, but I think he is just making things up," you rambled aimlessly for minutes, now fully aware that Seungcheol was not completely in the conversation anymore, no matter how much you tried to drive his attention back to what you were talking about before.

"Mm-mmph," he nodded, pushing his eyebrows up ever so slightly. "Right."

"Boss?" you called with some caution, but a small smile curved your lips. "Focus."

You leaned back against the countertop, facing him as he enclosed the space between you in a disclosed manner, your thigh brushing his.

"You started this," he said, gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands, he ran his tongue on his front teeth, eyes set on the rest of the establishment behind you.

"Started what?" you crossed your arms by your tummy, hands on your elbows.

"The teasing, the name calling, I can go on and on," he replied with a tight jaw, still not looking at you.

"Please do," you challenged with a confident smirk. "To me it sounds like I didn't do much."

"Oh no, yeah, you're still doing it," one eyebrow cocked up and now his eyes zeroed on your face. "Bending over the counter, wearing those fucking shorts," he let out a huff and clicked his tongue.

"I didn't start anything, you did," you shrugged, a smile on your face, seeing how conflicted Seungcheol was.

"Mmn," he hummed in faux contempt, nodding his blond head slowly and finished pushing the tip of his tongue on the inside of his cheek with a smacking sound.

And then, with the stealth that you have known him to own, he fished out for one of your hands, guiding it to his crotch. Your eyes shot up, but you attempted to make absolutely no move. Limbs froze, all except the hand on the hardened bulge beneath his black denim jeans.

Seungcheol, it seemed, had frozen too after releasing his grip on your hand, knowing full well that you would take your chance and palm his growing erection over the fabric of his clothes.

His eyebrow jumped up slightly when your fingers found the outline of his cock, making an up and down motion, losing some discretion.

It had been a while since you had done something so daring as groping in public, and something told you that this was the case for Seungcheol too. His chest had begun to rise and fall agitatedly, eyes set on the surroundings in caution.

"Fuck it," he breathed, dropping his hands from the edge of the countertop, stepping back from it, and from you. Your hand fell off his crotch, and your gaze flew to find his flustered face. Seungcheol ruffled his blond hair with one hand, eyebrows pushed up. "See me in the storeroom," he muttered as he walked off from you.

You knew you were in trouble.

"Cover me?" you asked Wonwoo who was passing through the emptied tables and found you frozen behind the bartop.

"Sure," he nodded, a frown appearing on his face. "Everything alright?" he asked as he went around the bar and stood beside you swiftly.

"Yeah, I gotta–," you cut yourself off when you could not think of a good enough excuse. "I'll be back in five!"

Wonwoo pressed his lips in a line, looking bewildered. "Suuure."

You dashed through the backdoor, pushing it open with a force you were not sure where it came from. But you were certain that the exhilaration coursing through you made you stupid enough to stop considering that you were at your workspace.

But yet again, it seemed that Seungcheol did not care either.

As soon as you started turning the doorknob, it was yanked from the inside, a hand grabbing your wrist and thrusting you against his body. In one swift move, Seungcheol had closed the door behind you and pushed you back against it.

"What're you–," you were quickly shut with a hard kiss on your lips, that soon turned heated, desperate.

"We'll have to do this quick," he hissed against your lips, and just when you were about to ask, you felt his fingers searching the hem of your shorts, finding the button to undo it with a hard tug. "Turn around."

Facing the door now, your fingers hooked on the waistband of your shorts and panties, pushing them down for him to finish moving them down just below your ass.

"Good girl," Seungcheol whispered and you heard the metal clinking of his belt, the sound letting you know his following movements. So you instantly arched your back, angling yourself for him and planting your hands flat on the door in front of you for support.

"Seungcheol," your fingertips tried digging into the hard wood when you felt a hand on your hip, pad of his thumb pressing on the soft skin of your glute. "Hurry."

"Shh," he giggled quietly, and you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him.

Seungcheol noticed your eyes on him, and held your gaze for a second before grabbing his throbbing cock in one hand, first around the bulbous, dripping in precum cockhead, pointer finger lifted up to search for your wet folds so he could guide his cock right inside you.

You pressed your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes shut. "Fuck, daddy," you whined softly, ever so quietly you think for a second he wouldn't hear it over the loud music out in the bar. "Fuck, fuck," you grit your teeth when he started to ease himself inside you, the girth of his cock stretching your wet walls open, making you stifle a sigh at the delicious bite.

"God, baby, you take it so well," he praised in your ear, dragging his cock out, and then pushing in slowly at first. "So good for me."

You let out a puffy breath as his other hand encircled your waist right before he retracted his hips, and then pushed them with fast thrusts. The pace was now calculated, and fast, nearly brutal, you knew you had to make this good for him.

"Quiet," he rasped when you sighed a moan out, fingertips raking on the door in front of you now, trying to apply as much pressure to avoid bumping your head against it.

"It feels good," you replied with a whiny tone.

"Do you want me to make you come?" he asked and sighed a smile when you nodded with your head yes in frantic movements. "Arch your back for me, baby."

You instantly bent forward, angling your ass for him, his hand moved to the small of your back, applying pressure and gripping your hip with his other hand before he started plowing on you.

"Fuck," you gritted out, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you saw stars and colors. "Daddy, don't stop, please," you whined when his cock reached a very sensitive spot deep inside you with his hard and fast thrusts.

"That's it, baby," he sighed and let out a tiny groan. "Do you want me to pull out?"

His hand slid from your lower back, pushing your tank top up your back but stopped instantly when you shook your head no.

"I want you to come first," he whispered but with some urgency. The sound of him swallowing a raspy moan sent a frenzied shudder down your spine. "Come for me, baby."

One of your hands travelled down between your legs, finding your throbbing clit with your fingertips and immediately started rubbing fast swirls around it, crying out helplessly as pleasure bloomed from your pussy to your limbs.

"Good fucking girl," he growled when you succumbed to your fast orgasm. "F-fuck," he forced out using his hands on your hips to fuck you into him, sliding your throbbing walls on his cock slowly as he came with you.

He pushed his front flush against your ass with a long exhale. "Fuck," he groaned. "Don't move, baby. I'm pulling out."

You shuddered hard when you felt him slip out of you and your hand immediately slid between your legs to cup the warm cum dripping out of you.

"Here," he said, offering you a paper towel. "I should go out before the boys find us like this."

"Yeah," you laughed shamefully.

His eyes read your face swiftly. "Why are you laughing?"

"It would be funny," you muttered offhandedly, cleaning your hand.

"No. I'd never live that off with those two," he tilted his head to one side. "Besides, I thought you didn't want them to know."

"I'll take care of this in the washroom," you cocked your head to the door. "Go, boss."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't make it obvious, then," he smirked but left the storeroom shortly after when you were fixing your clothes.

After cleaning yourself up in the washroom, you were returning to the boys already closing up the place. Your heart sank, but as you crossed the space, Seungcheol sent you a quiet glance from the booth where he usually accounted for the day's profit.

"You took long enough," Wonwoo chastised but then gave you an inquisitive look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you sighed, placing your hands on your hips to show some certainty. "Sorry. Thank you for covering me though."

"I'm almost finished with this side," he said without studying your flushed face. "Just close up the tables with Mings, yeah?"

"Okay," you nodded, turning away from his gaze but swearing you could still feel it in the back of your head as you walked up to the tables to clean them up and put the chairs up.

Mingyu kept a speedy gait around you, seemingly focused on finishing the shift as soon as possible. He did not even hum to a tune as he regularly did, but you saw it in his face, he was in a good mood.

"You're alright there?" you asked, watching him move through the place like a man on a mission.

"Got a date," he muttered, and then shook his head when you pushed your eyebrows up in question. "It's not romantic—she's a friend."

"She?" you pushed, grinning. "A friend, huh?"

"And waiting for me," Mingyu nodded. "Come on, let's go early tonight, yeah?"

"O-okay," you giggled teasingly, lifting one chair up and putting it on the recently cleaned table, then you put the rest of the chairs up and moved to the next table to clean its surface.

"Let me," a low voice came from behind you when you bent down to grab one chair.

You sucked in a breath, and turned to see Seungcheol, whose face lit up in the tiniest of smiles that reached his eyes.

"I should stop doing that," he whispered at you, referring to surprising you often.

"Yeah, or maybe I should be more aware of my surroundings," you muttered, looking at his big dark eyes.

"Maybe," his smile grew, wrinkling the outer corners of his eyes. He grabbed one chair and put it up. "I got these, move to the next table."

"You got it, boss," you smiled at him cheekily.

A sharp, loud gasp came from behind the countertop, paired with a hard slam of Wonwoo's hand down on it.

You turned to see the man, standing aghast with his mouth hanging open.

"Hyung?" Mingyu asked with a worried tone.

The three of you looked at him, and it suddenly dawned on you: he had been watching your interaction with Seungcheol from the moment they exchanged tasks in the bar. And you had been too stupid to ignore his inquisitive eyes.

"You're her," he blurted out with a start then blinked, as if snapping himself to reality. "You're–,"

"Wonwoo–," Seungcheol warned immediately.

"No, it's okay," you interjected, from the look on his face, you knew that there was no way you could lie yourself out of this. He had found you out. "You're right."

His mouth fell open again, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"I'm so incredibly lost," Mingyu huffed, scratching the crown of his head, tilting it sideways. "What's happening?"

Neither Wonwoo or Seungcheol spoke, but you noticed the way they both exchanged a look. And that was something you could not deny, was that the three men had developed a partnership—a friendship so strong that they simply trusted one another.

"I'm his ex," you explained after some quick thinking, deciding that there was no better way to say it.

"Whose ex?" Mingyu exclaimed, looking at Seungcheol, then at Wonwoo.

"We didn't say anything because it was my decision to keep it private but," you shrugged then looked at Wonwoo, whose shocked expression had not left his face. "You found out before."

"What?" Mingyu asked, voice rising even higher and blinked. "You're boss's ex?! The ex?"

Seungcheol brought a hand to his own face with a smack. "Mingyu, please–,"

"Yes, that ex," you rolled your eyes awkwardly.

"Wow," Mingyu huffed, turning to his housemate. "How?"

"The questions, boss's mood swings, and now," Wonwoo pointed, shooting a knowing look at you both.

You pressed your lips in a hard line. "Yeah, I might've been a bit too obvious," you turned to Seungcheol, asking for some help in the situation.

"Guys, I know that this topic of conversation has been... quite the fuss in here, so let me just put you both on the same page," he exchanged one glance with you, and proceeded after you nodded your head. "We were in a relationship before, some years ago. And I'm no stranger to the speculation, but no, there is no resentment between us."

"Because you got back together," Mingyu read the situation as fast as his housemate. "That's why you've been happy lately, boss."

Seungcheol grew quiet, it seemed that he had not expected to be told that. But after some seconds passed, you were about to intervene when he nodded. "Yes. We got back together," he said firmly.

"This is the friend you were referring to?" Wonwoo exclaimed with a hollow laugh. "That's not a friend, that's–,"

"Wonwoo!" you exclaimed, feeling partly elated that Wonwoo shifted from his initial shock and was teasing you in a friendly way.

"What are you talking about?" Seungcheol asked.

"Nothing," Wonwoo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but the cheeky smile on his lips told you he knew the answer already.

"Mmph," Mingyu huffed once again, bobbing his head once and then turned to resume working. "Who would've thought?"

"Small world," Wonwoo conceded, palming the countertop gently now. "You were bad at hiding it. Both of you."

"What, no we weren't," Seungcheol countered but you knew that it was a lost cause.

"You were both in the back just now–," Mingyu realized and his mouth too, fell open with a very dramatic gasp: "On the clock, boss?! You two have no decorum!"

"Mingyu!" you squealed but he just chuckled, shaking his head in reproach but continued working nonetheless.

"And here I thought you were kinda haughty, newbs," Mingyu laughed harder at your aghast expression. "Tut, tut, tut, naughty-naughty, both of you."

"Mings, cut it off," Wonwoo advised, shooting a look at Seungcheol.

The tips of his ears were read, but that did not distract you from the hard and cold look he was giving to Mingyu. "Yah," he started, sizing him up.

"Hehe," Mingyu chuckled and then he turned to you. "Ah, so that is how you knew Jeonghan-hyung."

"He's my friend too," you nodded, staring at Wonwoo as you too, decided to keep cleaning up the tables.

"Oh, I see," Mingyu said knowingly. "Huh. Small world," he reaffirmed as well.

The ride back home was full of glances between you and Seungcheol, you could tell he was happy, keeping his hand parked on your thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel.

Your own hand was on his nape, fingers twisting in his blond hair affectionately. You remembered the times you did this routinely, so much so that it became something you did almost absentmindedly.

As you came back home, Seungcheol grabbed you by the hand, yanking you towards him and grabbing you by the chin to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Come here," he whispered, keeping his hand on your chin as he kissed you heatedly. The other hand finding the button of your shorts, undressing you as you both made your way to the shower.

In the shower, you were completely enthralled by the love in his starry eyes, he kept kissing you, nearly not letting you wash for two seconds without having a kiss either on your cheeks, forehead or anywhere he could reach.

"I'll be right there," he muttered with a pleased look on his face when you stepped out of the shower.

After putting up your sleepwear, you decided to go look for something to eat, only to find nothing but a fridge nearly vacant to the exception of some cans of beer.

So. You've been found out. Jeonghan's text message read on your screen. You smiled in shame, but decided to reply to him the following morning when you heard Seungcheol's steps approaching from the hallway.

"Fridge is empty," you reported with a croaky tone from the tiredness consuming your body slowly.

"Do you want to go get something at the mini-mart?" Seungcheol asked as he walked to the open kitchen and up to you, encircling you with his arms, snuggling you close to his body.

You knew Seungcheol was not the greatest cook, and the memory of the times when he tried to cook for you had you smiling fondly at him for a second.

"Yeah, I don't really get groceries anymore," he shrugged slightly, thinking your smile was an accusatory one. "Rather order something or eat in a restaurant. Or in the bar."

"Mmmn," you drew in a breath, mustering up some courage as you spoke out your decision: "Well, if I'm going to live here with you, we gotta fix that, babe," you muttered softly, drawing his big, dark eyes to you. "We could go buy some groceries tomorrow morning."

Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up, reading your face with his big eyes. "So you've made up your mind about this?" he inquired, his tone low and you could see how nerve inducing the topic of conversation was to him.

You nodded silently, biting your smile and grabbing with your hands his forearms that were parked on your tummy. "I think I'm going to give up the apartment search.," you whispered. "Is the offer of moving in with you still up?"

He blinked twice, as if he were jolting awake to reality. "Of course, love," he nodded, emitting a sigh through his parted red lips. "There's nothing I want more."

"Oh, yeah?" you replied. "Nothing else?"

"Well, there might be one other thing," he shrugged ever so slightly, small dimples showing on his cheeks when he showed you a joyful smile. "I don't want to be your ex anymore."

"Well, you just gotta fix that, don't you?" you grinned, looking up and down from his eyes to his smiling lips.

"Be my girlfriend," he muttered, using his fingers under your jaw to join his lips with yours. "Please."

"I'd be more than happy to," you whispered, finally giving yourself in, letting go of your fears.

✧ author's note: i want to apologize for making you wait for so looooong, i took my time and i am sorry

but thank you for everyone who waited for the update! and the ones who came to my askbox to ask about this fic, thank you for keeping it alive! 🩵

this fic is close to my heart, i literally poured my heart in chapter 3, writing about stuff that hit close to home i think that induced me into a writing slump because i couldn't find my way out and write? idk haha

✧ note 2: this is not proofread i'm sorry

✧ READ THE DRABBLE AND STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 5 ✧ JOIN MY TAGLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

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nsharks · 7 months

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nineteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The cool paste feels tingly on your skin as you rub it against your bruised stomach, wincing. Christ. Maybe Ghost was right to think he might break you. Beneath the mottled patchwork, another kind of pain stirs— your muscles are growing. Firm and tight. The only soft parts of you left are your breasts and your ass. Gently applying the paste to a nasty purple one on your left cheek, you curiously pinch the sore flesh between your fingers. Scratch that. Even your ass is firming up.

Arnica has healing properties. Yesterday, you found a patch of it with Blue and created a salve with some water. You already applied some last night before bed. Whether or not it’s helping probably doesn't mean much when new ones are about to be added; still, the placebo effect brings some comfort.

You're still massaging your backside when the bathroom door groans beneath a heavy fist.

"Hurry up. Grab your bow."

“Shit.” You startle, almost dropping the salve. "Uh, coming.”

Chucking on a clean shirt and your old pair of jeans, you pad out of the bathroom, ignoring the cry of your joints. Ghost is outside waiting for you. Wait— bow? Confusion delivers an uptick to your pulse; you never bring your bow to train.

“What’s going on?”

"The air," he replies in a flat tone.

The stale smell offers enough explanation. You cringe. "Should we split up?"

He shakes his head and nods towards the direction the gentle breeze is rolling in. "No need. It's coming from this way."

In the violet wash of morning, you trail beside him over tall grasses and scattered groundhog burrows as the air leads the way, luring you opposite the clearing where you train. There haven't been any Greys since the one you burned together. For the past few weeks, you'd almost forgotten about their existence— a pleasant naivety for once.

Neither of you bothers with much small talk. He asks if you're sore, probably noticing how stiff you are, and you answer honestly. That's it.

You keep your attention strictly on the wood bow molded into your palm and the slight rustling of leaves all around you, scanning for signs of anything astray. You don't look at Ghost, even when you feel his eyes flicker to the side of your head. Staring at him for even a second longer than necessary rouses something in your gut that was once easy to label as fear; now you don't know what to call it.

He is wearing thicker clothes today, the intimidating vest stocked with ammo glued to his chest. You'd gotten used to his more casual wardrobe of gym shorts and hoodies. They make him look... softer, almost. A little less like a death omen. Though, you sincerely doubt there are any soft parts of Ghost left under all that gear, given the rigid planes you felt beneath your hands when you—

"There."

You snap your gaze in the direction Ghost is pointing at.

At first, you don't see anything.

Then, squinting, you make out a red color far too metallic to naturally sprout among the conifers.

An arrow is urgently slotted on the bowstring as the two of you head towards it, your brows tightly knitted. You've been this way a few times and never saw a— is that a red car?— before. Closing in, your suspicions are confirmed when a stroke of sunlight bounces off the metal bumper. The patchy sedan is tucked within a bush, tail-end sticking out, with half-flat tires resting on corroded rims. Shadows of movement dance behind the tinted windows, too disjointed to be natural.

"What the fuck?" you mutter under your breath, boots scuffing over a long-faded gravel pathway that is now shrouded in weeds. The car must've been following it before winding up in the bush— the occupants no longer human enough to drive.

"They... they must have just turned while they were driving," you think aloud. "When did this even get here?"

"Maybe during the night," Ghost mutters.

He paces forward and swings open the passenger door. A string of moans is released as a Grey lurches within the confinements of the seatbelt, but he quickly silences it with a bullet to the forehead, causing it to flop sideways out of the car. Maybe just a day ago, it was a young man. His hair is fully intact and he's wearing a blue shirt with the Chelsea Football Club logo on the back.

"I wonder why they were driving this way to begin with," you say quietly, stomach rolling.

In the driver's seat is the slumped-over corpse of an older man, having died from so many bite wounds before the infection could take hold. The early stages of decomposition smell almost worse than the infection and you have to breathe through your mouth as you head for the back door.

"There's another here I think."

You're ready to shoot and put whoever it once was out of their misery when you pry open the door, but the sight of a small body wriggling around makes you freeze. Curled up against the faded leather is an infected boy, no older than eight or nine. His eyes are all white except for the outer rim where a few vessels are still filled with red blood. Your fingertips dig fiercely into the frame of the door as you stare down at him; his soft brown hair, his small hands, his Minecraft shirt. He whimpers and tries to claw at you, mouth hung open in mindless hunger.

The feeling that washes over you is hot and cold at the same time. It's not the first or last time you've seen an infected child, so you don't know why the sight traps you for a few heartbeats.

A voice emerges beside you. "It's not a kid anymore."

You almost forgot Ghost was there. Your teeth clench. "Yeah, I know."

You feel his eyes burning into you. Your fingers tighten and untighten around the arrow's stem as you aim.

"Hone it, Twix— the anger."

The tension in your jaw releases at the same time as your arrow snaps forward, cutting through the boy's skull and driving his limp body down to the car floor.

“You good?”

You forcefully swallow and look away, giving Ghost a short nod. "Guess that's all of them."

He slowly nods in agreement, studying you, but all he says is, "For now."

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Seen stranger things over the years,” he says. “It seems like they were headed somewhere, maybe needed a new place to settle, and one of them got bit. Infected the others.”

You nod, thinking it over. “What about the car?"

"No fuel left, so it's pretty useless." Rifle still in his grip, he moves around to the hood and props it open. "Might have some parts I can use, though."

While he scavenges for gears that aren't rusted beyond functionality, you take a look at their belongings. There is an empty bottle of whiskey in the cupholder. In the boy's lap is a stuffed tiger that you assume was once white, but now it's a worn of grey. You carefully shift his corpse and take it.

"I have a friend who might be able to care of this for you."

In the trunk, at least, you find some tripwire.

Dragging the two adult bodies back to the trench for burning is your 'strength' training for the day. Since they haven't decomposed much yet, they're heavy; you go back and forth, taking one at a time. Ghost carries the small one over his shoulder. After the flames snuff out the smell of rot, he relieves you, claiming he has other shit to take care of—more traps to set with the newfound tripwire.

"Hey. Would you like this?" you ask Blue when she's up, handing her the tiger.

"I'm kinda too old for dolls, Twix." She must see the expression on your face because she shakes her head and disappears into her room for a minute before coming out with a teddy bear. "My mom gave me this one when I was a baby and it just sits on my bed by itself, but now it can have a friend."

You smile and nod. "Yeah, okay."

The day is spent playing board games with her. When she notices how sore you are, she offers an exclusive massage from Grim, who hops over your back and legs as you relax face-down on the couch. However, even with the honorary treatment, the aching lingers.

"Auntie, I'm over here!"

In a violet-tinted field, you search for the voice.

It's barren and hazy, with no hard edges or places for a little boy to hide; so why is it so hard to find him? You call his name. You wander around, aimless, until you catch a familiar whiff of baked cinnamon and fresh laundry. This way. He's this way. You start running fervently. When a small hand tugs at yours, you whip around and try to grab him, but the soft touch dissolves through your fingers like ash.

When you wake up, there's a hand on your back and blood on your tongue, evidence that you'd bitten through it during your sleep. The taste is quickly replaced with bile as you launch up, grabbing the sleeve of someone's shirt.

"Oh no, you don't."

The hand moves to your hair, wrapping it around in a fistful before forcing your head to tilt down. A bucket is tucked beneath your chin. You vomit into it, the cool metal rim hissing against your fingertips. Again and again. When it's all out, your throat feels like sandpaper.

"Done?"

The dark room surrounds you; the perfect place to hide what you know must be a ghastly look on your face. Awareness creeps in, and you're not thrilled by the fact that you've thrown up in front of him twice now. Without looking up at the white skull you know is there, you nod.

Wordlessly, he takes out a cigarette and lighter. You hear a deep inhale. See the dull glow of the flame. Then, he passes it to you and leaves.

"You look like shit today."

You can't even be offended, fully aware of the purple painted beneath your eyes. One look at you quirks his brow up in that annoying mannerism of his.

You offer a tight-lipped simper, mumbling. "At least I can always count on you for brutal honesty."

"Good trait to look for in an ally." He throws the gauze at you and you begin wrapping up. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact you nearly ruined another shirt of mine last night."

You tie off the gauze and glance up. "Look, I'm s—" you stop yourself, "I mean, I'm not sorry, because you wanted my box open so now it's open. You already knew the potential consequences."

"Try opening it without emptying your stomach next time."

You flash him a look. "I think I miss when you pretended I didn't exist."

"And I miss getting a full night of sleep."

"Can we just get started? I'm ready."

Ghost keeps his eyes on you as he motions a fisted hand. "As you wish."

When the familiar dance begins, and adrenaline ripples up your spine, you realize that you missed this yesterday. The rest felt good, but this— the thrill of seeing Ghost start to get as worked up as you, the sweat stains on his shirt matching your own... it is something you itch for these days.

You get a few hits in that have your ego swelling. But then— the rough night catches up with you after half an hour of wordless sparring. Your breathing grows labored, while his is barely winded.

"Tired yet?" he asks.

"No," you say, but he calls you out immediately.

"You're a terrible liar," he reminds you. A few more swings have your lungs burning as you dodge until one finally catches up with you, and whatever healing your homemade salve has done is erased by a fresh layer of pain.

As you clutch your side, he changes the subject. "Are you going to tell me what it was about then?"

"What what was about?"

"Whatever was making you whimper in your sleep."

Your face twists. "I wasn't 'whimpering'."

"Fine, then. Crying," he corrects plainly.

You sigh through your nose, averting your gaze only for a moment, then focusing back on him before he can strike you again. His words hang in the air, ignored, as you jab an elbow toward his ribs. He grabs you by the knob of it and pulls you unnecessarily close to his chest. When you try to wriggle free by placing a hand on his chest, he fists your hair, which has slipped out of a bun into a haphazard ponytail, and tugs hard enough to force your eyes up to his.

His gaze is demanding but his voice is light— a mere breath over your forehead. "Tell me why someone who has seen plenty of infected kids by now seemed so bothered by the one she saw yesterday. He reminded you of someone, didn't he?"

The mention of it makes you snap. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to act like you know anything about me."

"I know enough. You are easy to read."

So that feeling you get when he looks at you isn't just in your head; he truly can see through. Your nails dig into your palm. "There's no need to read me. We're not friends. We're just... allies, or whatever."

"Or whatever," he repeats thoughtfully, tasting the words. "You talk like a teenager."

"Compared to you I might as well be," you retort.

"Jesus." He chuffs out an exhale, eyes flickering down for a moment before returning up to yours, narrowing. "Let's not change the subject here."

"Fine. Take this stupid Halloween mask off," you lift the hand on his chest up to the hem of his balaclava, feeling how weighted the fabric is with sweat. "And I will tell you all about it."

His jaw flexes before he gently guides your hand away. "Tempting offer, but I'll pass."

You refuse to acknowledge the tinge of embarrassment at his dismissal and inch back as far as the hand on your hair will allow. The close proximity, or harsh sun, is making it hard to breathe. "Well, it's not fair for you to ask me shit about my life when you don't even let me see your face."

"I never claimed to be fair."

"I promise I won't vomit no matter how ugly you are. I've seen worse things out here."

His hand tightens. "I think I miss when you were scared of me. Less mouthy back then."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"No?" He flips you around so your back is against him, one hand settling on the toned curve of your hip. His voice lowers to your ear. "Maybe I need to fix that."

An unwelcomed shiver courses through you. He lets go. A wristbone nudges against your spine, shoving you forward. Irritation simmers in your veins when his remark finally registers, and you whirl around, readying your stance.

"If you even think about threatening me after I explicitly asked you not to, then I would suggest sleeping with a knife tonight."

"Who's threatening who, Twix?" He gives a low chuckle. "Relax. I'm sure I could handle you in my sleep, anyway."

He's egging you on; you know it. And yet, you stubbornly take the bait. His knee— the right one. That's where you got him last time that made him falter. Maybe an old injury. But when you swing a boot at it, he expects your attempt, knocking you away by the ankle.

"Ah. Eager to get me beneath you again?"

Pink sears your cheeks as you wipe a trickle of sweat from your forehead. "I'm eager to humble you for once."

"Might need to keep your dinner down to do that."

You grit your teeth. So maybe he did allow it last time. The realization darts your eyes to his wide stance, searching for an idea. Without second-guessing yourself, you kick at the other knee. He must find your second attempt amusing because he easily predicts it, but before he can catch your leg, you snap it back and drop yourself to the ground.

The brief distraction allows the second of time needed to fit yourself between his legs. You're slim enough to push through, kicking at the inside of both knees once you're on the other side. His legs buckle, and you reach up to pull his arm, finishing the job.

Once he's down, you scramble to get on top, not caring if your boot kicks his face in the process. You grab both of his wrists and bring them above his head, but it's impossible to wrap your fingers all the way around them. Instead, you lace them through his fingers, breathing hard in his face as your breasts meld against the solid heat of him.

"Did you allow that?"

His voice is rougher than you've ever heard it. "No."

Your lips furl. "Good."

A dark gleam passes through his dilated pupils that makes your head fuzzy. You let go of his hands. Immediately, they gravitate to your hips again, thumbs fiercely pressing into the sliver of skin exposed from where your shirt rides up. You don't move even an inch, frozen in place as you stare down at where he grips you against him. That feeling in your gut deepens and spreads. It is hard to pinpoint—so insane and foreign yet familiar at the same time—but one thing is certain: it begins and ends where his rough skin touches yours.

Before you can figure anything else out, a scream shatters the air, and Ghost rips you off of him in one swift movement.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

kira-dofc · 2 months

Text

Gojo and Geto x Nerd! Male reader

Notes: Currently experiencing writers' block, so this is js a random hc I made for these two 😔 I live for possessive Gojo and Geto, so I gave you all what I wanted 💖 also ik I said no threesome, but this is an exemption I had nothing to post I'm desperate (Also I live for these two men) 😔

Word Count: I don't know

Warnings: Smut! Threesome, High-school au, double pen, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, double stimulation, overstimulation, smutty smut smut

It was mid-afternoon, with the golden hues of the setting sun beginning to paint the sky outside. Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was thick with the quiet concentration of students engrossed in their quizzes. You tapped your pencil rhythmically against the desk, your eyes flitting over the questions. Though your mind wandered, you effortlessly penned down the answers, the quiz more a formality than a challenge for someone of your intellect. The questions, simple as a child's puzzle, felt like an exercise in tedium rather than a true test of knowledge.

The soft orange rays filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow that danced across the rows of desks and illuminated the faces of your classmates. The air-conditioning, a gentle whisper against your skin, provided a cool contrast to the warmth of the sunlight. The chill of the conditioned air brushed over your skin, a subtle reminder of the modern comforts that cocooned you in this academic fortress.

You were well-known in the school, not just for your academic prowess, but also for the silent feud with your two sworn enemies, Gojo and Geto. These two were the epitome of what it meant to be popular and untouchable. Their presence was a constant irritant, a source of countless headaches. With their charm and seemingly effortless charisma, they could sway teachers and students alike, getting away with behavior that would land anyone else in detention. It was an infuriating dynamic, made worse by your desire to stand out in a different way, to impress the girl in your class who occupied your thoughts more often than you'd like to admit.

The room was silent, save for the faint scratching of pencils on paper, when suddenly the door swung open with a force that sent a shiver through the classroom. The abrupt interruption shattered the calm, drawing all eyes to the doorway. There stood Gojo, his white hair almost glowing in the afternoon light, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Excuse me, where is Y/n?" he called out, his voice carrying a casual authority that silenced the room.

Every head turned toward you, the air thick with curiosity and a touch of apprehension. You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, the attention unwelcome and uncomfortable. Trying to maintain your composure, you stood and made your way to the front of the room. The teacher gave a curt nod, granting permission for the interruption. You met Gojo's gaze, your eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Come with me," Gojo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and began to pull you toward the hallway. "H-hey, what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, stumbling slightly as you tried to keep pace with him. His grip was firm, and despite your protests, he continued to lead you through the corridors, his expression a mix of seriousness and something unreadable.

The hallway was cooler, the air-conditioning more pronounced here, as Gojo steered you toward the bathrooms. As you rounded the corner, you saw Geto leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed, a lazy smile on his face. The scene felt almost surreal, like stepping into a different world, far removed from the quiet confines of the classroom. The afternoon light, filtered through narrow windows, cast long shadows that added an edge of drama to the encounter.

"What do you want now?" you scoffed, planting your hands firmly on your hips in a defiant gesture. The air was thick with tension, the echoes of your classmates' hushed whispers still lingering in your mind. Gojo, ever the instigator, exchanged a knowing glance with Geto, who stood up straight, a smirk playing on his lips. "Gojo, do it," Geto commanded, his voice calm and almost bored.

Before you could react, Gojo's grip tightened around your wrist, and his other hand quickly muffled any protest you might have voiced. "Don't make this any harder for us and be a good boy for us two, yeah?" he whispered in your ear, his voice low and husky, sending an unsettling shiver down your spine. The vibration of his words seemed to resonate within you, leaving you no choice but to comply. You followed them into the bathroom, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh, cold glow over the tiled walls and floor.

Geto positioned himself in front of you, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam as he reached out, his fingers tracing the lines of your face before moving to your hair. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a softness that contrasted starkly with the firm grip Gojo still maintained on you. "Be a good boy, and we won't punish you as much," Geto murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his lips curving into a smirk that sent a jolt of anxiety through you. He then kissed your neck, the sensation both tender and electrifying, before biting down gently, marking you with a small bruise that felt like a brand.

The bathroom stall became a confined world of its own, filled with the sounds of labored breathing and the rustling of clothing. You found yourself straddling Geto, his body beneath you a solid, unyielding presence. Gojo stood before you, his hands deft and experienced as they explored your body, heightening your senses with each touch. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and arousal, creating a heady, intoxicating atmosphere. They were both thrusting in and out of you, leaving out grunts and whimpers with every thrust. Gojo panted as he played with your dick, twitching every time he touched the tip, slick in precum. He then stroked lazily, seemingly trying to focus on how your hole sucked both Geto's and his dick so good. You moaned, "Gojo...." your hands covering your mouth as you bent your back, resting your head in Geto's shoulders. Your skin rubbing against Geto's make you feel good, too. The way he moans and groans through your skin as it vibrates. The two cocks inside you kept pulsing, making you let out louder moans.

The rhythm of their movements became more intense, your senses flooded with the heat and pressure building within you. Time seemed to stretch, the moments blending together as you lost yourself in the raw physicality of the encounter. Your body trembled with each thrust, your voice rising in pitch as the pleasure mounted, the walls of the bathroom stall echoing your cries.

You three were there for almost 1 hour and 30 minutes, your hole now stretched and burning. Their precum now used as lub as it slid through your wet walls. Your muffled moans turned to echoed ones every time they hit your sweet spot. They soon came inside of you, wetting and knotting your walls as you screathed the back of Gojo. Endless streams of semen flowed through your tired hole as you hugged Gojo tightly. Gojo then let out his cock as it rested to your stomack, painting it white. Geto, on the other hand, stayed inside you after his organs, making your stomach flutter in pleasure. You then heard the two panting as you yourself came. Gojo placing his hand behind your back, and Geto kissing your neck and giving soft bites. Your body aches, everything aches, "You took us so well, baby." Gojo flirted as he huffed in front of you. The bell soon rang, and suddenly, you blacked out after your orgasm.

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marvelmusing · 2 years

Text

Sweet Treat

Pairing: Fae!Darklina x Human!Fem!Reader

Part of the Of Sunlight and Shadow AU

Summary: King Aleksander and Queen Alina of the Fae kingdom of Ravka have always had a soft spot for you after they found you lost in the woods with little knowledge of the Fae or their rules. From then onwards they have looked after you, welcoming you into their castle and, after some time, into their bed.

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, consensual drugging (willing consumption of fae food), oral (fem!receiving, male!receiving), creampie, s/d themes, sub!reader, soft dom!Aleksander, soft dom!Alina, spanking, praise kink, brief allusion to reader being their pet, little bit of corruption kink, pain kink, fae food turns pain into pleasure

My Masterlist

“Aleksander and I have a present each for you, my lovely.” Alina says as she reaches towards you from where she’s sitting at the end of the bed. Her thumb brushes over your lower lip, wiping away the icing left there by your breakfast of sugared pastries.

Birthdays weren’t particularly celebrated in the Fae kingdom of Ravka. Neither Aleksander nor Alina could even remember when their birthdays were. You weren’t expecting anything from them, and you’re certain your face shows it from the twinkle in Alina’s dark eyes.

Glancing over at Aleksander, you observe the tiny lift at the corner of his mouth as he does up the last of the buttons on his kefta. Even without his crown, he looks every inch a king.

“You didn’t have to.” You insist softly, looking down at the empty breakfast tray on the bed.

Aleksander steps closer, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back to meet his eyes as he towers over you.

“And yet we did.”

“Because we love you.” Alina adds in a reminder.

Two otherworldly beings looking at you with such unabashed adoration and desire makes your stomach flip, and warmth blooms over your skin. Your voice is soft, but wholly genuine as you say,

“Thank you.”

Alina grins, lifting the thin skirts of her nightdress as she clambers off the bed and heads towards her wardrobe.

“My turn first.” She insists, and Aleksander smiles as you scoot over in the bed, allowing him to perch beside you. From there he opens up his bedside table, and pulls out a flat black box and sets it down on the table.

You eye it curiously, but he only smiles and presses a kiss to your temple as encouragement to wait.

Alina sits down in front of you with a beautifully painted wooden box in her hands. She presses a kiss to your cheek, before she retreats to watch you admire her paintwork. There’s intricate flowers and leaves adorning the sides and lid, as well as golden embellishments along the edges.

“Alina,” you breathe out in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

A gorgeous blush ghosts over her cheeks, a startling flash of colour amongst the ethereal glow of her white hair and pale skin.

“You haven’t even opened it.” She remarks with a teasing smile.

You slide the lid open and instantly the rich scent of chocolate, accompanied by the tingle of Fae magic, fills your senses. Each sweet treat is wrapped in delicate foil of gold, silver, and black.

“You must never eat one without mine or Aleksander’s permission.” She states firmly, and you look up at her.

The two of them have always protected you from the trickery of the other Fae, and as a result, you had never eaten Fae food. You know that some Fae like to feed it to their human pets, and lots of humans enjoy the flavour and the sensations that are synonymous with such indulgence.

But of course, you know it’s dangerous to eat too much. To become addicted to the magic. It would be far too easy for you to lose your mind in the bliss.

Tracing the edge of the box, you eye the chocolates with curiosity and can already feel the pull towards them, your mouth watering at the thought of eating just one.

“Can I try one now?”

Alina’s black eyes sparkle, sharing a glance with her husband.

“After Aleksander’s present perhaps.” You turn quickly to Aleksander, your cheeks warming.

“Sasha, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m glad you like the idea.” He picks up the box from his bedside table, kissing your cheek as he presses it into your hands. “Happy Nameday, my dearest.”

“They don’t call it Nameday anymore, Sasha.” Alina mumbles quietly, and he leans over to squat at her thigh - to which she giggles.

Opening up the box, your breath catches in your throat. Nestled on a soft silk cushion is a beautiful necklace. It’s a simple circlet of velvet with a charm hanging down at the centre. A gold circle with a little sun inside it - Alina and Aleksander’s symbols. Together. To be placed around your neck.

“Do you like it?” He asks softly. You nod immediately, too overwhelmed to tell him how much this means to you.

“Are you sure?” You ask them both, knowing what stating such a public claim on you means. That everyone would know you are theirs.

“We want you.” Aleksander assures you as Alina takes the necklace from you. “To be ours. Permanently, and completely.”

“Do you want that?” Alina asks you.

“Yes.”

She smiles, holding the necklace gently against your throat, allowing Aleksander to slot the clasp into place. Once it’s done, he presses a kiss to the space between the velvet and your ear. You shiver.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap and let us pick out a treat for you?” He murmurs against your ear, and you nod, arousal warming the space between your thighs.

You settle yourself on Aleksander’s thighs, side pressed against his chest as you face Alina who has moved to sit next to her husband. She has the box of chocolates nestled in her lap, and her brows are lightly furrowed as she rifles through them all. After several instances of Alina changing her mind, she sets three pieces down on the open lid. Then she turns to Aleksander.

“Which one?”

His head tilts aside as he eyes the options she’s selected. Nimble fingers skimming over each one, before he rounds back to the first one.

“This one.”

Alina slides the other two back into the box and you frown at their interaction. She soon offers you an explanation.

“They’re all different strengths and flavours.”

With their heightened senses, and how well attuned they are to magic, it’s no surprise that they can know the strength and flavour of a wrapped sweet. Aleksander rests his chin on the top of your head.

“I thought we’d start with something softer today, considering it’s your first.”

“What will it do?”

“It’ll put you in a pleasurable haze, increasing arousal and pain tolerance. I’m sure you understand the appeal of those things.”

You do. The Fae are lovers of violence, there’s nothing more beautiful to them. If true beauty was frightening, shouldn’t all things frightening be considered beautiful?

Take Aleksander for example. His graceful hands have killed a countless number of people. The delicate fingers that now take hold of your chin can plunge an entire room into darkness, and summon a blade of shadow that can slice through flesh and bone.

Or Alina. Her soft, warm body that holds you safe in her arms. Eyes that watch you with care, whilst any other would see only the heat of the sun in her gaze, the burning fury when she wields her sunlight in a bright scythe.

They are both so beautiful - so dangerous. Yet you couldn’t love them any more. Despite being human, in this manner you were like the Fae. You loved the violence of them both. They weren’t afraid to harm, and you weren’t afraid to hurt.

“We would never hurt you more than you could handle.” Alina tells you, and you nod. You know that.

“I trust you both.”

Alina grins, and you know Aleksander is mirroring her expression.

Despite the fact that they would never want to truly harm you, something dark always twists inside them both at your blind faith in them. Deep down the three of you all know that they would need very little to break you completely. A very small part of you thinks that one day you might even ask them to.

Aleksander strokes his thumb over your jawline.

“Open wide, milaya.” He prompts, as Alina holds the unwrapped chocolate to your lips. The scent of it alone has your body tingling with anticipation. Parting your lips as he says, Alina places the chocolate in your mouth.

“Let it melt on your tongue, my lovely.” She says and you nod, your eyes fluttering closed as you slump against Aleksander’s firm chest. “Eyes on me.” Alina adds, and you obey her instantly.

The world is slowly shrinking. Before, you could hear the birds outside or sounds from the corridors in the distance. But with the delicious sweetness warming on your tongue, filling your mouth and sliding down your throat, all you can focus on is how wonderful you feel.

You keep your eyes on Alina, but as your mind grows heavier you can’t stop your gaze from sliding from her pitch black eyes, down the elegant slope of her neck, to stare at her breasts. The nightgown she’s wearing is one of your favourites, white lace with pink ribbons, and it’s low cut. Low enough for you to imagine nuzzling your face between her breasts, pulling the fabric aside with your teeth and sucking on her pert nipple.

Pleasure clouds your thoughts, as Aleksander’s hand runs over your bare thigh and you smile giddily at the feeling of his palm on your skin. It makes you wish he would touch you elsewhere. The gusset of your panties is already heavy with slick, and you shift in a subconscious attempt at easing the ache there.

Alina strokes your cheek as she observes your unfocused gaze, and she laughs softly.

“I think our little human is melting faster than her chocolate.” She squeezes your chin between her fingers, and you moan softly. “Show me, milaya.”

You part your lips, sticking out your tongue to show her the mess of chocolate sitting there, made sticky by the warmth of your mouth.

“Good girl.” She praises. “Now swallow it.”

A shudder wracks through your body as you swallow the last of the softening treat. She smoothes a hand soothingly over your thigh, and you relax further into the haze. Then she drags her nails along your skin, ripping a startled moan from your lips.

“Did that hurt, my lovely?”

You shake your head, burying yourself further into Aleksander’s chest. He chuckles darkly.

“What about this, milaya?”

His palm lands hard onto the soft plush of your thigh and you gasp, squirming with pleasure. It doesn’t hurt, and your eyes roll back into your head as you come to that realisation. That they could do anything to you, and it wouldn’t hurt.

Alina leans closer, her lips meeting yours in an all-consuming kiss, as if she were attempting to lick out every drop of magic from your mouth. You whine at the thought of losing this wonderful feeling.

She pulls at the ribbons on the her nightgown, and the fabric soon falls to reveal her naked body. With one tug from Aleksander, your own nightgown is torn from your body.

Alina pulls your body underneath hers as Aleksander stands. A whine leaves your lips once the warmth of his body leaves you, but a startling flush floods through you when Alina grips your hips, sliding her thigh between yours.

Mindlessly, you grind your soaked cunt against her thigh and she tightens her hold on you, pressing bruises into your skin. Alina kisses you messily, all teeth and tongue, and your body can only hold onto her for dear life.

Aleksander watches the two of you as he undresses. He watches the print of Alina’s nails leave a trail of crescent moons into your soft skin as she grasps at whatever part of you she can get her hands on - meaning all of you. He watches your creamy wetness coat Alina’s slim thigh as you rock your hips against her.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back and pulling a loud moan from your lips. Alina pushes your hips and with a few more tugs from Aleksander, your head is resting on the edge of the bed. Right in front of his cock.

On instinct you part your lips, and the two of them laugh, but you’re too eager to please him to notice.

He fucks your mouth slowly, groaning every time you gag around him. With the magic running through your system you find you can take him much deeper than usual. Alina continues to kiss all over your body, sucking on your nipples, teeth scraping over your hips and down your thighs. Every moan has your throat trembling around Aleksander’s cock, and it isn’t long before he’s spilling into your mouth.

You swallow every drop, licking over him once you’ve finished. Alina rewards you by tracing her tongue over your clit. The sensitive little bud has been burning ever since she placed the chocolate in your mouth, but now it was raging into an inferno. Once he’s caught his breath, Aleksander pins your legs wide open, giving Alina more space to work with.

She sucks a bruising line of hickies along your inner thigh, all while circling your clit lightly with her thumb. Tears of desperation flood down your cheeks as you fear you’re reaching the threshold of pleasure. There can’t be any more. Then Alina presses down hard on your clit, flicking rapidly over the swollen bud. You scream, thrashing as you climax suddenly.

By the time Aleksander turns you over as Alina pulls on your hair to guide lips to her glistening cunt, you’re incoherent. Tear stained, sweat soaked with a mess between your thighs.

Yet you still know what to do. You still lap eagerly between her folds, suckling on her clit as she writhes beneath you. Aleksander’s hands wander over your body as your mouth works against Alina’s cunt. He tugs on your nipples as you plunge your tongue inside her, drunk on her essence mixing with the taste of Aleksander that still lingers on your tongue.

Alina gasps when your nose catches against her clit, and she tugs hard on your hair as she grinds your face against her cunt. You aren’t aware of Aleksander moving your body, spreading your legs wider and propping you up onto your knees.

Then his hand hits your backside. A shuddering moan tears through you, and Alina groans when she feels it against her cunt. She tightens around your tongue as Aleksander hits you again. Alina gushes over your face, and you do your best to drunkenly lick up every bit of her as Aleksander continues to spank you.

Once she’s come down from her high, Alina slides further underneath you, until you’re face to face. She’s practically glowing, cheeks flushed prettily. Her lips are rosy and reddened. White hair a wild halo around her head as she stares at you.

Aleksander pushes your ass cheeks apart, and you feel him slide the head of his cock against your cunt. It’s always hard for him to fit inside you. It had taken him and Alina months to train your body, but it was still always a slightly painful stretch.

With how wet you are, the first few inches slides into you easily. Alina holds onto your hips, keeping them in place as Aleksander feels your cunt tightening around him. She trails one hand along your body, pinching your nipples, which allows him to rock a little further into you.

Then she cups your face in her hand.

“Let go of it all, my lovely. Let Sasha have his fun.”

With a whimper, you fall over the last hurdle keeping you from total pleasure. Slumping against Alina, you distantly hear Aleksander groan as you relax and he slides all the way inside you. Alina pets your hair as your face presses against her collarbone.

Aleksander arches your back even further, sinking deep inside you and thrusting hard. He watches your thighs twitch and feels your cunt squeezing around his cock, but the rest of you is limp with pleasure, allowing him to do as he pleases.

The harsh smack of his skin against yours fills the room, and Alina kisses you slowly, keeping your focus away from how Aleksander is currently splitting you in two. His fingers dig into your hips and claw at your thighs as he grips onto you, his hands grasping at the bruises left there by Alina.

Despite your shaking body, you somehow manage to rock your hips against Aleksander’s, meeting his thrusts a soft roll of your hips that has him moaning.

You’re aware of Aleksander saying something that you can’t hear over the rushing of blood through your ears, his thrusts picking up in speed as he hits that sweet spot inside you.

“Sasha’s close, my lovely.” Alina warns you.

“Please Lina,” you whisper in her ear. “Please make him cum in me.” She groans lowly, mouthing kisses along your neck.

“Yes Sasha, cum inside her.”

She bites down on your shoulder, pinching your nipple again, and your cunt squeezes hard around Aleksander’s cock as you near the edge once again. He groans loudly, his cock pulsing as he spills inside you, triggering your own climax.

Lips parted to cry out, the only noise that escapes your throat is a soft gasp as more tears spill down you cheeks, pleasure numbing every thought in your head. A euphoric haze settles over your mind, as your body continues to shake with the aftershocks. Alina licks the tears from your face, humming at the salty taste as she watches you with wonder in his eyes.

They both place languid kisses over your body, voicing praises as your breathing slowly returns to normal, pressing their fingers over the bruises and scratches that have blossomed over your skin. Aleksander pulls out slowly, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the loss.

Alina helps you to lie on your side, a pillow tucked under your head as you float on a cloud of pure pleasure. Aleksander presses a kiss to your forehead, before he pushes a finger into you, guiding his leaking spend back into your warm cunt.

“Get some sleep, dearest one.”

He lies down beside you, and Alina settles over the top of him, her legs straddling his hips as she grasps his cock. Sleep tugs at you, as exhaustion begins to settle into your body, but you’re too surprised by the sight of his cock hardening again so quickly.

Alina sinks onto his length in one smooth motion that has them both moaning softly, their eyelashes fluttering delicately as they enjoy each other. She grinds her hips into Aleksander’s, her clit catching against his pelvis.

Even as you close your eyes, you can still see the two of them grinding lazily against one another, with Aleksander deep inside Alina, kissing whatever skin they can reach, lips moving messily.

With pleasure still singing in your veins, keeping your body feeling light even as you’re slumped heavily into the mattress, their moans and sharp inhales are an erotic lullaby that allows you to drift off into a blissful sleep.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I think she’s waking up.”

Alina’s voice is a gentle murmur from somewhere to your left, and on the other side of the bed you can feel Aleksander shift. You don’t move, too aching and sore to want to bother with it. You don’t open your eyes either.

“Let me see.”

From under the cover, Aleksander’s hand curls around your thigh, his thumb digging into a sore spot, and you whine loudly in protest. He chuckles.

“There she is. Hello little one.”

“Mean.” You mumble with a pout, cracking your eyes open to pout at Aleksander. He kisses your forehead as he whispers,

“You love it.”

“Welcome back, my lovely.” Alina threads a hand through your hair, careful not to tug on any more sensitive areas, as your eyes flutter open.

“How long have I been asleep?” The curtains have been drawn, and a few candles lit. Aleksander leans towards his bedside table, eyes skimming over the hands on his miniature clock.

“Around six hours. We thought it best to let you sleep.”

“How are you feeling?” Alina asks with sympathy in her tone, as if she already knows the answer.

One of them had cleaned you up, and dressed you in a silk chemise that felt cool and soothing against your skin. There’s a collection of finger shaped bruises forming, thin scratches, and nail prints all over your body. From how sore you are, you also assume there will be handprints on your buttocks as well.

“I’m certainly feeling.” You remark wryly, and Aleksander breathes out a laugh.

“We’ll be more gentle next time.” Alina suggests.

“No.” You say quickly, your cheeks warming as they both keep their focus on you. “I liked it.”

Aleksander brushes his knuckles over your cheek with a tender expression.

“That’s all we want for you, milaya.” Alina laces her fingers with yours, pulling your hand towards her lips for a chaste kiss.

“Thank you both. For a wonderful birthday - even if I have been asleep for most of it.”

“There’s still time for cake.” Alina says casually with a raised brow. Tilting your head aside you glance over at her.

“Cake for humans?” You don’t think you would survive anymore Fae food in this state. She laughs softly.

“Yes lovely, cake for humans.”

“That sounds good.”

Aleksander nods, moving to stand so that he can ring for one of the servants.

“Cake it is then.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity

#of sunlight and shadow #darklina x reader #aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #alina starkov x reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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hitandrunduorp · 1 year

Note

ooo Mattie's in trouble~

"I am too hung over and in pain for this shit-"

#||mattie archer|| ic||#||sunlight and shadows|| mha mattie au||#||faceless employers|| anon||#im assuming this is for mha thread #lol

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ceilidho · 3 months

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe.

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps.

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is.

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss.

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual.

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath.

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat.

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing.

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs.

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.”

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed.

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust.

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow.

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week.

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side.

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile.

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you.

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass.

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water.

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off.

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time.

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well.

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you.

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house.

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change.

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face.

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full.

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob.

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb.

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?”

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop.

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek.

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew.

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress.

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances.

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house.

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in.

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them.

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered.

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear.

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek.

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart.

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep.

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more.

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck.

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed.

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine.

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time.

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth.

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado.

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress.

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue.

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire.

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh.

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit.

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over.

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed.

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you.

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock.

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his.

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.”

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust.

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat.

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine.

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words.

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours.

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in.

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you.

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire.

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead.

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs.

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go.

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes.

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please.

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud.

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means.

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn.

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind.

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day.

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head.

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back.

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price

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butteronabun · 3 months

Text

i just want you to take me where your heart is

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader highschool au.

overview: and who could possibly be the golden boy’s type?

wc: 2k

notes: imagine diluc with his hair down in this one. and also. diluc’s father hasn’t d-worded in this au so he’s the happy diluc we all know and love before shit hit the fan ( we still love him even after shit hit the fan tho )

Diluc Ragnvindr is prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker.

And of course, he’s every girl’s dream guy.

“. . . And yet, he’s still single,” Kaeya remarks with a smirk, and his friends around him laugh in unison.

Currently, he’s eating lunch with them in the campus’ outdoor park — a place of tranquility where some students prefer to hang. Instead of being involved in the hustle and bustle of what goes on in their cafeteria, be it your average food fights or impromptu musicals incited by a certain twin–braided man, said outdoor park was a better option for these lads to unwind.

“You know, I used to think that he and Jean would look good together,” a friend of Kaeya says, and they all turn to him. “She’s just like him: elegant and grades conscious. Takes part in student governments and volunteers to school events. Plus, she’s drop dead gorgeous! With her brilliant blue eyes and smooth blond hair, oh, if I was Diluc - I would not hesitate to date her!”

“Nah, I think Lumine is better,” They all glance next to their right. “She’s sporty, and she can definitely keep up with Diluc. She aces her tests without any difficulty, despite doing a part–time job every night with her brother in a nearby coffee shop, and it’s rumored that she makes the best drinks! Moreover, she’s a beauty. That’s why she keeps on receiving loads of love letters during the Windblume Festival every year, so it will not be surprising if she’ll be getting them again!”

Ah, yes. The Windblume Festival is fast approaching—now that January is about to end, in the next two weeks, Brightcrown High School’s air will surely be filled with nothing but endless romance.

Kaeya gazes up above, where a giant tree shadows their figures with its bright green leaves. The sunlight filters through the gaps and he basks into this moment of peace. He then adds playfully, “And Diluc will be busy tidying up his locker once more, because it will be filled with chocolates and letters.”

“What?! Does he even eat them? Tell him that he can donate, you know!”

Kaeya huffs, “My brother won’t even give me a piece, what makes you think he’ll hand you one?”

He remembers the time that Diluc had been so overwhelmed by the plethora of sweets, and yet seemed so appreciative about it. Father was just proud of the older son’s popularity. Kaeya offered to help him consume them all as a joke, but Diluc shook his head vigorously, saying that he shouldn’t, and that “they all worked hard for this”, and it was right that he only eat them.

How adorable of him, really.

Plus, Diluc even read the letters one by one. No matter how cringe or sickeningly sweet they were, Diluc read them all. And Kaeya wasn’t even shocked that there was no judgment in his face.

Diluc was just grateful for the gifts. Bashful, indeed, and sometimes he was not sure what to feel, but he was grateful.

“So, Diluc. Who will it be? Jean or Lumine?” Kaeya questions with a grin that afternoon, when the Windblume Festival is finally in full swing.

Diluc raises his head from the paper he’s answering — it’s a survey given to him by one of the juniors for their research subject — and frowns. “What brought this on? Why am I suddenly choosing between two friends?”

“Oh come on, you weren’t even listening!” Kaeya pouts, before sitting on a nearby desk.

After exploring the premises for some snacks and attractions, the brothers decided to stay inside an empty classroom for a while. They can hear some cheers from the outside, loud declarations of love and squeals from the majority, that surely Diluc thinks would be a delight for Kaeya, but has opted to accompany him instead.

“I was.” Diluc purses his lips, and hears laughter echoing through the halls as students run and get chased by disciplinary officers. “You and your friends were talking about the girls and I. I just don’t understand why you want me to choose. And be careful, you might fall. Don’t move so much.”

“Cooome on, Diluc,” Kaeya groans as he leans, “We’re sixteen, aren’t we? Father says we’re at that age, after all. By that, I meant, where we’re all supposed to be dating and courting?”

Diluc feels his cheeks slightly heat up from the words that escaped from Kaeya’s mouth. He returns to his duty of answering the survey. ( As if he needed to, when he was already done. ) “And I told you countless times that I’m not interested. Need I remind you that I don’t have the time for it. You know I still have to prepare for college, and that I have to keep an eye on my varsity scholarship, and—“

“Yadda, yadda, yadda——“

“Don’t yadda me, Kaeya. That’s just how it is.”

“You seriously aren’t interested?” Kaeya prods.

Diluc shoots him a firm stare. “Absolutely positive.”

And Kaeya sticks his tongue before hopping from the desk and making his way to the door. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.” Diluc watches his retreating back. “I’ll make sure to find you a lady, and it’ll be your type, and you’ll fall in love.”

Kaeya pulls the door open. He confidently says, “It’ll be inevitable, Diluc. Inevitable!”

A small smile creeps its way to Diluc’s lips, finding this all amusing. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Kaeya huffs, not liking that Diluc seems so smug and unbothered by it, then leaves.

Diluc waits for a while. And waits.

And waits, until he blinks, checks his survey, before sighing heavily.

A brilliant shade of red coats his pale cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Dating. Courting. The type of lady Diluc likes? Yeah. Diluc already has found his type.

( Kaeya doesn’t have to know yet. He hates lying, but it’s too soon. Maybe someday. If Diluc can face his feelings first. )

So, hear, hear! He’s not missing out, in spite of what his friends say.

This person is not what everyone expects; it’s not the formal and polite Jean who can deliver a speech eloquently, nor the radiant and loyal Lumine that they want to push toward his direction.

Instead. . .it’s someone else.

And that someone else dropped a bowl of soup to Principal Varka’s white slacks. That someone else triggered the anger of a certain math teacher because she climbed the roof so carelessly during class to fly a kite. That someone else got into detention and instead of writing I’ll be good from now on one hundred times, spent the day with the others in that session to tell ghost stories.

That someone else was you, who wasn’t like Jean or Lumine. That someone else was you—the you, who was his exact opposite, and yet managed to capture his heart.

You are one of Mond High’s known troublemakers, and apparently, he has fallen victim to your charms.

Maybe it began when you were just snickering with your buddies in the library despite the librarian‘s persistent shushing. He was solving his quadratic formula worksheets back then, and he was impressed that even if you were fooling around, you were in the library to actually learn more about the cardiovascular system, with the help of a fellow friend.

(“I will be proud to say that the one that carries the blood away from the heart is. . . arteries!”

“You’re right!”

“Yay!!”

“Shh!”)

Or maybe it began when you witnessed that one student who humiliated himself by accidentally slipping on the wet floor in the cafeteria, and everyone sans Diluc laughed. Then you came to his rescue, marching in the middle with all the attention on you.

You didn’t offer your hand.

But you purposefully slipped instead, and even had the most embarrassing fall. The cafeteria became noisier because of you, and Diluc, baffled at first, found himself chuckling soon after.

Actually, no.

He didn’t fall in love with you during those times. These were the times in his life that led to this one very moment—

When the Favonious Birds lost the tournament, Diluc was sulking in the playground, all by himself. He took the blame despite Kaeya and his friends denying it, but he knew better. If Diluc had just made it quickly to the ring, their team could’ve been victorious and brought the trophy home.

But alas, it was just an if. It didn’t happen.

Then, something wet drops in his hair. Then his arm. And nose. It was about to rain, and Diluc just grunted, not caring one bit. He was sure Adelinde would make a fuss about it, or his father would pester him for his carelessness, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave his spot just yet.

Let the rain wash away his sorrows.

Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter.

“Don’t match with the gloomy weather now.”

Diluc slowly lifted his head, wondering who spoke and what covered his pathetic and hunched form that was wallowing in despair. And his eyes grew wide when he saw you, almost bending with an umbrella in hand, sheltering you and him from the incoming downpour.

You smiled down at him, “There it is. Keep your head up, King! Your crown is falling.”

And Diluc’s heart skipped a beat the same time a thunder rumbled from the distance. “W–what. . . ?”

You continued, “I don’t know what got you all so sad, but everything will be fine soon! I’m sure of it! After all, once the rain passes, there will be a rainbow!” Then, you grabbed his cold and even bigger hand, and Diluc, at that split second, felt the static. You didn’t even react. But your hand was warm, and Diluc’s chest was, too.

Dumbfounded, he let you guide his fingers. It only came to him long after that he was gripping a metal handle. “Have my umbrella! I hope this will make your day a little better, and if it doesn’t. . . well, at least I tried. But I have to go now!”

You quickly put the hood over your head when the rain grew stronger. Diluc, concerned over your well–being, finally regained his composure to protest. “But what about you— hey. . . !”

He watched you run and wave, bidding farewell. “You don’t have to return it to me! It’s all yours! I really have to go, so see you, maybe? Bye!”

“But. . . !”

And Diluc. . . Diluc could catch you if he wanted. He could sprint and return the umbrella to its rightful owner, but he didn’t.

Instead, he remained in his position.

And his heart— oh, his heart. His heart couldn’t stop pounding that day.

You are Diluc’s first love.

That is established.

The thing is, this is a secret. No one knows yet. Just him.

He’s never felt this towards anyone before. You are his first.

( And hopefully the last. )

You’re different from everyone else. You’re different from him. You have your own unique methods of doing things. You have your own way of paving your path. You are the artist to your own canvas; the director of your own film.

You are like the sun. You brighten everyone’s day with your presence, and you also shine, because Diluc can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the vicinity.

He knows that this is really an unexpected outcome – him, who was definitely out of your league and vice versa, catching feelings for someone like you.

( Someone like you who is free in life, and Diluc wants to feel that, even just for a bit, with you. )

But like before, all he can do is merely daydream and wonder about the what–ifs. What will it be like to be your friend? Will he experience all the shenanigans that you ensue? Will he also fly a kite with you? Will he get into detention?

Yet this is unbecoming. Improper. Inappropriate for someone like him—for the eldest son of the Ragnvindrs and for the next heir of the winery. He can’t indulge into lighthearted affairs or mischief. He’s supposed to be responsible and disciplined. A man of propriety.

So all he can ever do is have these thoughts. Just thoughts. He has more important matters to attend to, like college applications, training, lessons in handling the in winery business. . .

And . . . there’s no way that you’ll approach him again, right?

Diluc knows to himself that can do it instead, you know. He can approach you if he must, but . . . he’s just so shy.

And a lot of people are always around you. So who is he to burst your bubble, when you seem so finally content with your life?

Diluc peeks from the open windows and sees couples holding hands and sharing kisses. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like to experience romantic love during Windblume.

He feels his cheeks steam again.

Kaeya will surely have a field day once he sees his older brother being lovesick like this.

You really are one of Mond High’s troublemakers. And it’s not only because you prank your friends or piss off the teachers, but you make it hard for him to focus.

Just thinking of you never fails to make his heart perform somersaults.

He is Diluc Ragnvindr. Prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker.

He is not every girl’s dream guy.

Because unfortunately, the girl he likes doesn’t even see him in a romantic light.

#diluc x reader #melted.butter #WRITING DEBUT!!!#listened to take me where your heart is while revising this #agjdjd i just love diluc so much #i would like to write more of this concept since i can’t draw it LOL #many thanks to all my friends who supported me for my cringe ahh diluc simping #and now i’m gonna write fics abt him #diluc writers and lovers feel free to interact with me <3

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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

Text

Strangers

john price x fem!reader | masterlist | ao3

interwoven; maledicted

John Price remembers every life he's ever lived. When death takes him in one universe, he's born into the next with all his memories and past experiences still intact. Throughout the lives he's lived, you're the only thing that ever seems to quell the ache in his chest, and he spends every life searching for your comfort. Except, in this life, he's too late

cw: soulmate!au, murder, suicide, feticide, kidnapping, drugging, possessive john price, non-con elements, one shot, dead dove: do not eat!!!

In every life you’ve ever lived, John Price finds you.

He’s drawn to you like an animal is drawn to its cage. The glint of the metal bars look like stars if he squints hard enough, and the smell of blood and iron is the fairest perfume in the world. There is no life that he wishes to live without you in it. Tucked close to his chest in bed at night. Curled up underneath his thumb. Where you go, he follows you, hidden in the shadows until he’s ready to reveal himself as the soulmate who’s been tracking you across eons worth of lives.

It’s a simple curse. One that’s haunted him since he first poofed into existence so long ago he can’t recall how much time has passed. Forever bound to remember every life he’s ever lived while everyone else debates the possibility of a god or heaven, forgetting their reincarnated selves in other universes. It’s a particularly lonely ailment. He had been locked in chains in one life for attempting to convince the world that there was life after death, not through a god, but through sheer human will. Had to sever the artery in his tongue with his teeth and drink down his blood to escape a life of imprisonment, and just like he knew he would, he woke up in his next life a free man.

These days, he spends his lives on something more worthwhile: you. Just as he does, you look the same in every universe with a smile he knows by touch alone and a laugh that is the only melody that can soothe the immortal ache in his chest. He’s fried his brain with drugs and killed his liver with drink, forever carrying the burden of memory, and yet throughout his travels, you remain the only thing capable of soothing that terrible ache that haunts him. If death has already taken you in one life, he kills himself and moves onto the next, a wild man forever on the hunt for you.

The only other thing that stays consistent throughout his many lives besides the desire to be yours, is the taste of fresh tea. He prefers Yorkshire tea, but the Earl Grey they substitute at the shop is fine enough. Quiet muttering fills the air around him as he sits in the corner of the shop, alone with his thoughts. He takes a sip of the tea, allowing the hint of lavender to wash over his tongue as if cleansing him. It’s the only thing that tastes and smells like home. Besides you, of course; but he hasn’t found you yet, and it’s getting late.

Usually, he’s lucky enough to find you by the time both of you are in your twenties. It’s easy to win you over at that age. He holds a maturity well beyond his years, and you hold a wide-eyed innocence that has you in his grasp before you even realize it. But he’s in his thirties, and that has him anxious. Too much time has passed — a decade more than usual — which leaves him with a variety of possibilities. Ones he doesn’t like entertaining.

No matter. He’s learned to be somewhat patient over the countless lifetimes spent searching for you, because it always pays off in the end. All the marriages, the children you have, the love you make. John Price is the luckiest man in the world, being able to replay his favorite memories with you for all eternity. He could never tire of you, would never dream of such a terror.

So when the bell attached to the shop door rings with the entrance of another customer, it quickly turns to music to his ears when he sees you. Afternoon sunlight illuminates the world behind you, blinding him with the beauty you carry across universes and worlds. Your familiar eyes scan the area briefly, hardly paying him any mind before you approach the counter with a grace and poise that has his heart thudding in his throat. He can never get used to the first time. The first time his eyes land on you, he hears your voice, or skin touches yours; it’s the only thing that can tear him apart as well as you do.

He tries not to stare at your ass when you order your drink. It’s always been his favorite physical feature of yours. There’s something different about this version of you, yet still familiar. Nothing is ever entirely unknown to him, not when it concerns you, but you’re glowing more than usual. It’s captivating in a way that makes him feel like a dog, looking at a woman in such a perverse way, but he knows you like it when he stares. You always have in every other life.

When the barista hands you a to-go cup, John knows he doesn’t have long before you slip away. Such a sharp girl, quick on her feet. Always buzzing around, never staying in one place for too long, as if the imprint of your soul enjoyed the chase of him following after you. It’s a game he enjoys very much; one he doesn’t mind entertaining at all.

John rises from his seat, cup still half full, where he slips to the door just as you turn around to leave. His pace is leisurely, certainly in no rush as his hands reach out for the exit, only for him to pause. How silly of him to have left his drink behind, the only reason he even came to that shop in the first place. When he turns around, it’s quick and violent, and catches you so off guard you run right into him.

Piping hot tea splashes around in your to-go cup, and if it wasn’t for John’s quick reflexes and a firm grip on your wrist, you would’ve gotten yourself hurt. Your gasp is sweet and melodic on his ears, and he nearly melts under your gaze as your wide eyes stare at him. Your surprise is cute. As if you couldn’t remember meeting him in countless different universes like this.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” he says as if surprised. His grip loosens on your wrist just as his other hand comes up to rest on your waist. It’s quick, he knows; but in some way, you’re already used to it. “You alright?”

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and once you do, John feels you slip out of his grasp as you take a step back. Both of your hands come up to hold the cup, afraid of dropping it, and you give him a polite smile and nod.

“Yes, thank you, I… good save,” is all you can manage as you chuckle and gesture to your drink.

John’s hands mourn the absence of your warmth, yet he allows them to politely fall back against his side. His lips yearn to be on yours. For him, this isn’t a first time greeting, but a long awaited reunion. Still, he calms his nerves and hardens them to steel as he chuckles with you.

“Would’ve hated for you to have gotten hurt,” he comments as his eyes glance down at your legs. The brief thought of that searing hot liquid broiling the supple skin of your thighs invades his mind before he can push it away. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

Whatever your response is, he can’t hear it. The dazzling bling of your betrayal drowns out the sound of your voice and everything around him. It’s beautiful; your ring. Its gemstone glints in the sunlight streaming through the windows as if attempting to blind him. No, not blind him. Something worse. It screams at him the very thing he had feared for the last few years; he was too late. Bound to another man in matrimony, a silly mistake you had made before ever seeing the light.

The aftertaste of tea suddenly tastes putrid on his tongue. His sweet mate, too impatient to wait for him in that lifetime. You’d fucked other men in other lives, and though it had always made his stomach turn, John could understand. But marriage?

His teeth threaten to shatter under the pressure of his clenching jaw.

When the sound comes back to him, his eyes comprehend the expression on your face. Discomfort — near disdain. In this universe, John Price is not your lover. He is a man, and only that. One who just so happens to be barring you from the exit.

He remembers himself, and smiles at you kindly as he quickly steps to the side, muttering an apology with a jaw that’s much too stiff. And still, he reaches behind him to hold the door open for you, and despite your apprehension you thank him quietly and say goodbye before you vanish into the streets. Your smell lingers in the air next to him for only a moment before it dissipates and drowns in the aroma of herbs and teas. His face goes cold as he glares at the corner where his now cold tea sits.

This was the first life he ever lived where you married a man that wasn’t him. Something broke. Shattered in his chest where the shards cut him apart from the inside out. When he breathes in, he can smell the blood pooling inside of him and it wakes him up to the terrible realization that — for once in his many, many lifetimes — he’s late. He’s late, and he doesn’t know what to do.

As the sweet smell of tea fades and is replaced by the putrid aroma of London, John tells himself to let it go. So what he wasted thirty plus years just for your heart to already be stolen away from him? There’s a millennia behind him, and a millennia ahead of him. When one life doesn’t go right for him, there’s always the next. Yet as pavement turns to brick and The Thames sprawls out in front of him beyond metal bars, he finds himself hesitating. The idea of letting go can’t quite sink its tendrils into his mind, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the barrier in front of him.

Bitter wind bites at his face as he looks at the water below him. Hesitation. He doesn’t know why it paralyzes him. There’s never been any need or use for second guesses, because he’s always known what’s waiting for him on the other side. All he needs to do is lift his leg, hoist himself up, and then let gravity do the rest. He’s done it before, in some other life. He’s felt his body hit the frigid water with needle-like pain blossoming across his skin just before it swallows him whole. It’s not an easy way to die, but it’s the only thing violent enough that has the capability of smothering the bitterness growing in his heart.

The answer to his confusion comes as a whisper on the back of his neck, where it tingles until it reaches the base of his spine and flutters throughout every cell of his body. Principle. It’s the principle of it all. In every single life, you’ve been his lover, his wife, the mother of his children, and if you are not, then you are dead. Rotten. Decaying in some grave by the time he finally finds you. You’re not just his desire, the love of his life, his reason for being; you are his right.

How long can someone love a soul before it becomes theirs? Before it’s ripped out of their lover and tucked safely away into a cage?

John chuckles as his hand slips from the railing, and he slides them into his pockets as if he had been enjoying the view of grey water and even more grey skies this entire time. Kill himself? No; you’ve been his this entire time. You just don’t know it yet.

He’s only ever done this a few times before; kidnap someone. In a few of his past lives, he’s been a soldier. A stone-hardened man who’s stolen families as bartering tools to make terrorists talk when their mouths were otherwise sealed shut. Killing is a good way for him to let out the anger that builds in a man’s soul after so long, and though he prefers to keep it to people who deserve it, his fingers can’t help but twitch as he watches your husband drop you off at the yoga studio.

Doesn’t he — your husband — deserve it? Death? Shouldn’t he pay the ultimate price for stealing you away from your true lover? The man who’s looked after you for eons? John wants to do it. Kill him. Smell the sanguine aroma that mixes with the harsh gunpowder that expels after a bullet is shot. He wants to, and he could do it, but murder muddles things up more than he would like, and though he’s good at covering his trail, he’d rather steal you away without incident. He’s been carefully plotting this ever since he saw you in that tea shop all those days ago; he can’t ruin it.

A smile pulls at his lips as he thinks about the look on your husband's face, when his pretty little pretend wife doesn’t return home. When he realizes how he’s failed you.

John’s hands tap at the steering wheel as he waits, patient as ever, for your session to end. Silly of you to go to a night class, really. Even sillier of your husband to allow such a terrible thing. If anything, it's greater proof that this new man in this new life isn’t good for you. It could have been anyone sitting in that car park, waiting for you to leave. Waiting to take you home.

Good thing it’s only him.

John exits the car just before eight. Cool air does its best to calm the electricity sizzling in his veins, but ultimately it’s his own mind that stills his nerves. Everything is planned out in his mind with moves expertly rehearsed in a past now forgotten, yet still ingrained in his memory; he knows he’ll get exactly what he wants. You. It’s all he craves. All he ever does.

You exit the studio with a laugh and a wave goodbye to the other women in your yoga class. That pathetic husband of yours is late, which only proves to be good fortune for John as he slips by your side. His feet are dangerously silent on the pavement and his arm is just as warm as ever as he wraps it around your waist, blade in hand. Even through the fabric of your shirt its point is noticeably sharp, and your feet stumble as he presses it against you in warning.

“Not a word, darling,” he whispers, too saccharine to be a stranger.

You listen, just like he knew you would, and he steers you away from the pavement and into the car park. It’s difficult for him not to chuckle as he recalls you in another life. How you once batted your pretty lashes at him, all but begging him to use a knife in bed with you. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel the cold sting of it against your skin. He wonders if some part of you feels that way in this life.

Once you reach the car, he slips the zip ties over your wrists in a single fluid motion before opening the door for you. Any onlookers would just think he’s being a gentleman helping you into the car like that, but there’s a method to his madness. As soon as you’re seated into the passengers side, your eyes meet his and they widen with terrified recognition. Not quite the look he hoped for from you, but your expression quickly melts away the moment a needle pierces through your pants and into your thigh. All that’s left to do is buckle you in and drive off.

He likes to pretend he’s carrying you to your honeymoon room as he curls you up into his arms. A sweet bride, passed out against his chest as he carries you to bed, safe in the confines of the cage he’s spent that entire lifetime preparing for you. You don’t stir when he places you in bed, but he lays down next to you as if both of you are resting. He lays in front of you so he can see your face while it’s peaceful; not while it’s twisted with confusion and disgust like it was in the tea shop a few days ago. No, he likes you much better like this. Quiet and pliant.

The tips of his fingers trace the features of your face, and it’s a dance he’s grown to have well memorized. They brush your lips and the tip of your nose before dipping underneath your jaw where they continue to wander. It doesn’t feel wrong, even though he knows you’d beg to differ. He’s done this before, in a life you don’t remember. Touch you like this. Feeling the dip between your breasts and the skin of your stomach. He pats your hands, still bound together with a zip tie — he tells himself he’ll remove them once you start behaving — before caressing your thighs. He wants to slip upwards, to brush his thumb against your clit just like how he knows you like it, but he refrains. He’ll wait until you wake up to do that. Your gasps are always sweeter when you’re aware.

The sweet bliss of numb eternity melts away as the drugs begin to wear off, and when your eyes flutter open you’re met with the face of a stranger. Truly, he’s not a stranger at all. Or, at least that’s what John would have you believe with the knowing smile he gives you. Your bound hands move up and press against his chest, desperately attempting to earn some space between the two of you. This only makes him laugh, and his hand rests on top of yours.

“Easy, darling,” he soothes.

An incoherent response stumbles out from your lips just as fearful tears swell in your eyes. His hand pants yours against his chest before he frowns. The gemstone on your wedding ring stands out like a sore thumb against his palm, and it serves as a stark reminder as to why he had to do all this in the first place. You don’t — or can’t — fight against him as he slips the ring off your finger and places it on the nightstand next to him. He’ll dispose of it properly another time, but for now he just can’t stand to see that proof of ownership on you.

“Please.” It’s the first word you’re able to slur out, and John hangs onto the syllable like it’s dessert. “W-Whatever you want… please… my husband, h-he’ll give it to you just… let me go, please.”

Husband. He hates that word on your lips when it’s not in reference to him.

“I’ve already gotten what I want, love,” he whispers.

Your eyes wrench shut and tears fall free at the realization that there’s nothing you can do to get away from this crazed man. He shushes you as he holds your face in his hands and presses his lips against your forehead. It’s not enjoyable, the way you recoil from him, but giving you the same love he’s given you in every other life feels right. It feels more wrong to withhold it from you.

Because this is his right, isn’t it? Of course it is, and in some sort of way, you seem to know this too. Your hands no longer press against his chest in disdain, and it’s all too easy to prop himself up on his elbow and press his lips against yours. The pressure is firm, as if he’s holding himself back from taking more from you. He groans at the taste of salt on your lips, and nearly chuckles at the way you tremble. It’s a one-sided embrace that you refuse to return, but he tells himself you’ll learn otherwise soon enough.

When John pulls away, your eyes refuse to focus on him as the shame eats you from the inside out. Your entire body is limp, bound hands resting against your stomach as he sits up. Deciding you’ve been behaving well enough, he reaches for the knife on the nightstand and he turns back to you, ready to cut the ties from your wrists.

The very moment the glint of the knife catches your eye is the moment you begin to squirm. Legs thrash and mess up the sheets as you scramble away from him until your head and back is pressed against the headboard. Your chest heaves violently as your terror overtakes you, and John pauses as you retreat. He’s never seen you look at him like that; not in any life he’s ever lived.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises.

“Please don’t,” you beg, his assurance falling on deaf ears. Your pleas turn into mindless stuttering for a moment before something visibly breaks in you, forcing you to share a secret that feels like sealing your death: “Please, you can’t just- I- I’m pregnant! Please!”

Everything stops. The world. His heart. It all falls quiet except for the sound of your hyperventilating which is almost as deafening as the ringing in his ears. Pregnant. Anything kind in John’s eyes dies quietly as he clenches the knife in his hand.

Pregnant. Not with his child. It must be a lie — it has to be a lie. You don’t look pregnant. There is no swelling of your stomach. Yet your hands lie on your lower abdomen as if you’re cradling something. Cradling someone. You have never been good at lying in any of your lives, and the candor sheen in your eyes tells him you’re not good at lying in this one, either.

John tells himself he only wants to embrace you. To mourn the life the two of you could have had if you only behaved. He doesn’t register why you’re screaming until the blood covers his hands, and then you fall quiet. His knife sinks into your stomach like it’s butter, and it pulls free from you even easier. You stare up at him, confused. As if you can’t comprehend why he would do this to you.

Ichor flows free from you like a river, and all you can do is gasp and paw at your wound. Your legs flail as John pulls you against his chest, chin resting on top of your head as if this is something he can soothe away with a hug. It’s not. He can’t soothe away your betrayal. Can’t come to terms with the fact you carry another man’s child when you should be carrying his.

“I know,” he shushes with a strained voice. “I know. It’ll be over soon.”

Your death is not kind, and he mourns every minute you bleed in his arms until you eventually still. It’s only when your blood goes cold that he allows himself to cry. Angry, hot tears that sear his skin as they soak into your hair. Damn this ruined life. Damn the years he wasted trying to find you only for you to be soiled by the time you were in his grasp. He hates the gore that stains your being, but he assures himself it was necessary.

In every life, you belong to him. In the lives that you don’t, you’re already dead.

John carefully places your body back on the mattress where he takes in the sight of you. There’s no more glow to your skin, not like there was while you were alive. But you’re dead, and he knows the life inside of you is dead, too. He tries to take comfort in that fact before angling the knife towards himself.

Killing himself is easier than killing you, as driving the knife into his throat is a well practiced motion. It’s something he’s done before, and he’s so used to it he doesn’t even groan at the sting as the blade slices his artery. Darkness is quick to cloud his vision as the blood loss overwhelms him, and he sputters and stares down at your cold body below. There is little comfort he feels when his blood meets yours on the stained sheets of the bed he wished to love you on. The mixing of blood is the only bond the two of you will ever have in that life.

He coughs as he falls forward. Soon, he has no use for any sort of comfort at all.

There is no blood in your next life. No iron taste in your mouth, or rotten flesh haunting your nose. No, there is only ink, paper, and well loved books.

You love your job. Books are your livelihood; the tool you use to escape reality on rainy days, so it only makes sense that in this life you work as a librarian. The building is dated with poorly insulated windows, and a bell that chimes as another patron enters, but that’s what makes it charming. Millions of words have been consumed in that library, and they linger in a way that never leaves you feeling alone.

Several books sit tucked safely in your arms as you wander aisles, on the hunt to return them home. Every shelf is well memorized. You could find any book in that building blind folded, and you hum to yourself as you go to return Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself to its rightful home on the top shelf of the WXYZ aisle.

Your feet are nimble as you climb the step stool to reach the shelf. It nearly reaches the ceiling, which is no small feat for a building of that size. Your arm stretches over your head and you breathe in the scent of stale paper and well loved books. Just as your fingers slide the item into place, the stool below you jerks, and your stomach drops as you fall to the side.

The books in your arms tumble onto the ground, but you’re saved from that same fate as a pair of arms swoop around you. You squeak as your hands grip the shirt of your savior, and you look up with wild eyes at the man. John Price is younger in this life when he finds you. In his twenties this go around. His face is clean shaven, but his eyes still hold the wisdom of forgotten ages and dead worlds.

“Terribly sorry, darling,” he apologizes. His grip on you loosens, but he doesn’t quite cut you free just yet. “You alright?”

“Yes, thank you, I… good save,” is all you can manage through a breathless chuckle.

There’s an innocence in your eyes that has John smiling at you. His hands are kinder in this life. The angry claws that ended your previous life don’t exist anymore. They do not wield a knife in anger; they only hold you with unbridled adoration. It’s the way things are supposed to be, with you in his arms and looking up at him with that innocent gaze, just the way he likes you. For a moment, John worries that you somehow recognize him when you tilt your head, yet as you bashfully return his smile, he takes comfort in knowing that you don’t remember anything.

You don’t remember anything at all.

#core writes #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #fucked up soulmate au #f!reader

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