#wine that I should have checked the alcohol content on

[rinhaler]

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[bahablastplz]

Cosmic Love: Chan x Reader x Felix

A night at the club turns into a lot more than you anticipated, all thanks to a stupid text that you don't even remember sending. The next day, Chan and Felix invite you over for dinner. That's all it is, right? Content: Smut, minor angst, fluff Warnings: Use of petnames 'love,' and 'babygirl,' threesome, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v sex, lots of praise, spanking (barely), humiliation/second hand embarrassment WC: 4700

It starts like this: 

Chan texts you the morning after you go to the club. Of course, you’re hungover out of your mind, but that’s to be expected. On Saturday morning, or afternoon you suppose, you roll out of bed with a loud groan, a pulsing headache making its way behind your eyes. 

You notice that your makeup has been removed and you’re now sporting clothes much comfier than your dress and heels that were suffocating you last night at the club. Your phone is also plugged in, and you have been notorious for waking up with a dead phone the morning after waking up from a night out. 

You have half the mind to wonder, how the hell were you cognizant enough last night to do all of this? You certainly don’t remember it. It all makes sense when you check your notifications, screen a little too bright for your liking, and see that Chan had texted you an hour ago. 

Channie: Hey babygirl  I don’t know if you remember, but Felix and I brought you home last night~  You were pretty fucked up haha  If you’re feeling up to it, you want to join us for dinner tonight at my place?  Me you and Lix  Hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Let us know if you need anything, yeah? 

You groan. Of course Chan and Felix brought you home last night, that makes so much more sense. Chan has always been a natural caretaker, and if he was at the club last night and you tried to go home with some random guy or even take an Uber, he surely would have become overprotective and offered to take you home himself. 

Your heart pangs when you read the text again. Babygirl. The pet name makes it easy to remember the major crush you’ve been harboring for him for forever. Him and Felix both, honestly. You really really hope you didn’t say anything embarrassing last night that you can’t remember. That would be just your luck, honestly. Taking a deep breath, you make a note to take some Advil as you text him back. 

Y/N: Thanks so much  I’ll be there! Can’t wait 

He texts you back almost instantly: 

Channie:  Sick  We’re super excited 

A red flag should have raised over the fact that, though him and Felix were your closest friends, they almost never invited you over to their place. They almost always come over to yours when you hang out, and hangouts usually happen more organically. You brush the thought aside, chalking it up to Chan’s protective nature and need to make sure you’re okay after what was likely a rough night out. 

That’s all it is, right? 

You’re only giddy because of this stupid crush on your friends you can’t quite push away. There’s not anything more going on and there’s no lines to read between. You repeat this like a mantra as you get ready tonight, putting on just a little bit of makeup (for no reason in particular!!!), and repeat it once more as you knock on Chan’s door, bottle of wine in hand. 

He opens the door with a large smile, all teeth, that makes your heart beat a little faster. When you hand him the bottle of wine you’re met with a hearty laugh. “You sure you didn’t have enough of this last night?” he teases. You shove his chest lightly, giving him a devilish grin.

“What if I brought it for you?” You quip back. 

“I think we were imagining a type of fun that didn’t involve alcohol.” You give him a smile at his words, brows furrowing for a second before brushing off his words. He probably just means they intend to stay sober tonight. You’ve had plenty of nights that were fun that didn’t involve alcohol, so that’s all he meant by his words! Shrugging, you put the wine in the fridge instead of cracking it open, taking his advice to save the drink for another day. 

Dinner is amazing. Chan made it with Felix’s observation, as according to Chan the other shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen ever again. You laugh as he dives into several stories of baking incidents gone wrong, including a time that Felix and Seungmin ended up burning everything they made. You defend your friend, telling Chan that Felix ‘does make killer brownies,’ which the other can’t argue with. It’s decided that Felix should do most of his cooking alone, as anytime he cooks with anybody else it ends up in a minor disaster. Felix looks thoroughly flushed and embarrassed by the end of your conversation so the two of you relent on your teasing. 

You decide on a movie. It’s not even really that entertaining and you’re barely paying attention if you’re being honest. It’s some movie you’d seen a hundred times before. You find your place between Chan and Felix, your body squished between your two friends. You nuzzle your head into Chan’s shoulder and prop your legs up onto Felix. You’re comfortable, very much so, though you tense for a second when you feel Felix’s hand rest on your thigh. You can also feel Chan’s breath on your neck, and you suddenly feel hot. Very hot. 

You hope they can’t feel how warm to the touch you’ve become, and at such a simple action at that. Are you really that pathetic? God, your crush on them has gotten out of hand, you think, but when Felix’s hand raises further up your thigh and starts rubbing teasing circles you’re not so sure this is all in your head anymore. Chan has always been touchy with you and Felix moreso, but this is just a little bit out of character for them. You’re worried to speak up for a second, scared that your words would make Felix retract his hand. When he looks up at you with an inquisitorial gaze, however, you can’t help the words that spill from your mouth. “Lix–” 

You’re not prepared for the words that come from the man behind you. 

“Tell me, Y/N,” Chan says lowly. “Do you want me to fuck you nice and hard?” He punctuates his words and your body physically tenses. Your world has come to a full stop. 

“What?” 

“Do you want me to–” 

“I… I heard you,” you interrupt. “I’m just… I’m not quite sure what you mean.” You feel afraid to look up at Chan from behind you, and you certainly don’t look at Felix; though his hand has stilled, it still rests firmly on your thigh. 

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Chan says. His demeanor has changed, and you’re met with a chuckle and a deep breath. He seems very shy compared to the man just seconds ago speaking into your ear. “Last night when you were at the club, you texted me and Lix in a group chat.” 

Fuck. 

That makes so much more sense, you think. No way would you have gotten that fucked up without doing something you would regret. You reach for your phone but a hand rests on top of yours, stilling your movement. 

“No, it’s okay,” he says in response to your panic. “I already have it pulled up. I was thinking I could read it to you.” 

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t–” 

He shushes you. For some reason sparks shoot up your spine at the action. You purse your lips shut, an action that implies your silence and you wait for him to continue. 

“Last night you were dancing with us,” he starts. “You were drunk out of your mind. I think you knew that already. But you texted Lix and I, and we could just tell you had enough to drink so we offered to take you home. But while we were in the car,” he laughs lightly. You don’t feel like laughing back, “While we were in the car, you texted us. It wasn’t meant for us, but you told us some things that you wanted us to, um, do to you.” 

“That’s not the worst part,” Felix provides unhelpfully. You glare at the man and he smiles sweetly. “Chris’ phone was connected to bluetooth and it read your texts out loud in the car.” 

You groan. Thank God you were drunk enough last night to not remember that because you’re not sure you can even relive the memory. In fact, even now you wish for the world to split open and swallow you whole. 

“Emmaaaaa,” Chan starts, reading your texts out loud in a voice that is obviously meant to resemble your own. You realize now that the text was meant for your best friend, the one that you use to hopelessly rant to about your strong unrequited crush for the two boys in question. 

“God they’re so finee  I want Channie and Lixie so bad fr  I just want them to ruin me  You know I’ve never been fucked right but I want Chan to just fuck me nice and hard ughhshh  I know you’re so tired of hearing me talk about this  But he’s so perfect I just know he could fuck me up sooo good  And Felix? I just want him to whisper filthy things in my ears With his perfect voice  He looks like such an angel I just want to see what he’s really like, if he’ll fuck me soft or nice and hard like Channie  I need them both to ruin me!!!! You don’t understand If I don’t get someone’s cock in my mouth–” 

“Oh my god that’s enough,” you interrupt. You’re not sure you can listen to another second of past-you embarrassing yourself, and you tell him as much when you shoot out of his grasp and turn around to look at him. He has a sly fucking grin on his mouth and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke you didn’t ask to be a part of. “I… I can’t listen to you embarrass me anymore. I’m so sorry about what I said and I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Hell, you know I don’t even remember it, and I know that really doesn’t excuse it but I hope you know I never wanted to ruin our friendship. I know you guys don’t feel the same way so if you want, I can go and–” 

Chan puts his hands around your shoulders, halting your movements when you try to stand. 

“Woah woah woah, babygirl,” he says, trying to interrupt your sad attempt at salvaging your relationship. “It’s not what you think, actually. You could never ruin your friendship with us, okay?” You feel tears prick at your eyes, truly humiliated with how the night has progressed. Even now, Chan is here trying to be nice to you so you won’t feel bad about what happened which is somehow even more humiliating. 

“Did you really mean what you said?” Felix says, finally. 

“Can I even take it back now?” you say, laughing sardonically. “You know, drunk actions are sober thoughts, or whatever they say? I’m so sorry, again. Like I said, if you want me to leave I can.” Your eyes flit between Felix and Chan, gauging for a reaction, any sense that they may be uncomfortable with your actions. You’re surprised to find none. 

“If you really meant it,” Chan says, inhaling through his teeth and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Then we kind of had a proposal for you.” 

“What kind of proposal?” you ask suspiciously. 

“The kind where maybe we have sex? All three of us,” he suggests. 

What. 

What?

“What!?” Your brain supplies the only word it can think of. This is a joke, right? Your feelings that have been unrequited for so long are being reciprocated this casually? You stare blankly at the two men who are waiting for some sort of response. 

“I… I’m not sure if I can,” you answer finally. Though everything in your body is telling you yes yes yes, the arousal already pooling in between your legs, your brain finally seems to be the one in the forefront making the decisions. “I can’t do that, have ‘just sex’ with you. Either of you. And maybe I’m about to make a fool of myself even more tonight, but I have to admit that my feelings for you both run a lot deeper than just… sexual.” You let out a heavy sigh when you finally admit the truth. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to detach my emotions from it all, and I really don’t want to ruin what we have going on.” 

You’re met with silence and you open your eyes but don’t look at either of them, instead opting to look at the floor. Did Chan get a new carpet? It looks really nice–

“I don’t think it would be ‘just sex,’ babygirl.” Chan and that goddamned pet name that makes your heart flutter. “We’ve, uh, both liked you for a very long time. And we want this to go further, if you’re interested of course.” 

For the second time in one night, you feel as if the world has tilted on its axis. Maybe it has, because you feel a little bit dizzier now and your heart beats a little bit faster than it did just seconds ago. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. Felix takes his thumb and pulls your lip out from between your teeth, his thumb lingering for a second before pushing into your mouth. Your eyes close and your tongue swirls around the appendage. 

“Do you want this, love?” The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine and your eyes open, meeting his gaze. For a second, it feels as if nothing but you and Felix exist in this entire world, and you ponder his words for a second. If they really mean it and they have both liked you for a while now, you don’t have to worry about separating feelings from sex. You ponder what this means for your relationships going forward for a second but the pulsing need between your legs and the way your breath hitches when his thumb pushes further into your mouth tells you all you need to know. You want this. You nod your head and know it’s the right choice when you’re met with a reassuring smile. 

“If you’re sure, then we’re sure,” Chan says from beside you. You feel his fingers on your leg, veiny hands rubbing small circles on the expanse of your thigh. When he grips the plush of your thigh hard you can’t help the gasp that comes from your mouth, and Felix’s thumb releases from your mouth, wet with your saliva. You feel his hand come to rest on your face as he caresses you softly, brushing a stray hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you. 

You breathe into the kiss but let him take the lead, soft and plush lips delicate against your own. When his tongue barely brushes your bottom lip you’re already opening your mouth for him eagerly, letting his tongue come into contact with yours. The kiss is passionate but almost too romantic for what you’re about to let him do to you. When you moan into the kiss he deepens it, hands pulling your face even closer to his own. 

You note the movement on the couch next to you and Chan taps your shoulder. When you turn your head to look at him he’s crashing his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, messy and desperate and it catches you off guard but you return his advances eagerly, lips and tongue moving expertly against one anothers. 

Felix’s hand comes and snakes around your waist, stopping your kiss just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. His warm breath hits your neck and it’s all you can focus on besides Chan’s wet tongue against yours, but then Felix’s fingers rub your nipples over the fabric of your bra and you’re keening backwards into his touch, running away while simultaneously trying to get more at the same time. 

When Chan finally breaks the kiss it’s with a groan and a long string of saliva connects you, wet and dirty. He sits back and admires the work that Felix is doing, having you come completely undone for him with just his fingers against your still clothed breasts. It’s Chan that reaches and unclasps your bra, leaving you utterly exposed in front of the two men in front of you and he wastes no time before joining Felix in his ministrations. 

The teasing becomes too much, tongue and teeth and pinching over your abused breasts, and at this point you’re not sure how much more squeezing of your thighs together you can do before it comes to much. 

“Please,” you breathe, and you’re not even quite sure what you’re asking for. 

“Please what, babygirl?” Chan coos at you, words laced with a teasing lilt. You reach forward and grab his hand and it’s like your breath stops when you place his hand right between your legs where you need him the most. “Want me to touch you?” He asks. His breathing is heavy and you admire his attempt at trying to keep his composure. 

“Yes, please,” you nod, eyes never leaving his. Not even when his hand cups your clothed pussy and you buck up into him with a cry. Felix shifts from behind you and pulls your back into his chest as Chan reaches down to pull down your shorts with one swift motion. 

You’re completely bare for them now, and you have little time to dwell on this fact before Felix grabs your legs and spreads them open, hooking them over his own. His hands rest on your thighs, holding you into place and giving Chan access to your sopping core. 

“God, babygirl you’re soaked,” Chan notes, two fingers swiping in between your folds. You can hear it, the wetness pooled between your legs, but when he leans his face forward and meets his tongue with your clit you can’t help the surprise that creeps from your throat. 

He’s relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit mercilessly. Your legs shake and try to close but are held open by Felix’s own. 

You look up at the man behind you with teary eyes and open mouth, thinking about asking him to give you mercy but the expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying this just as much as Chan is. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks into your ear. 

“Yes, oh my god,” you tell him as his lips come down to meet yours in a short peck. They ultimately land on your neck, nipping at the junction between your neck and ear. 

“Tell me how good,” he instructs. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel.” 

“So good, Felix, oh,” you moan. Two of Chan’s fingers thrust into you, in motion with the way that his tongue abuses your clit and it’s already too much. “God, Felix, he’s making me feel so good. He’s… He’s eating me out so good, his tongue feels…oh my–” you know you’re babbling but you can’t help the moan that interrupts your words. Felix shushes you, and you think his hands are going to find place in your hair to soothe you but instead they make way to your breasts, still sensitive from just minutes prior. 

His thumb and pointer finger pinch your nipples between his fingers, tugging and twisting them. Your back arches at his touch and your skin prickles at his low voice in your ear. 

“You’re doing so, so good for us, love. Fuck, you’re being so good letting Channie eat your pussy like that,” he says. One hand comes to grab the flesh at your hip, kneading it as he continues to tease your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Do you like being good for us?” 

“Yes, fuck, fuck, I like being good for you,” you cry out. “Love it so much, oh my god–” and as Chan’s fingers curl up inside of you, you find your orgasm being ripped out of you with no warning. You’re cumming hard around his fingers, pulsing tightly as he lets you ride out your high on his face. Behind you Felix takes to setting a slow pace in rubbing his hands up and down your body, grounding you with his touch as he whispers praises in your ears. 

When you finally open your eyes again, you truly feel like you have woken up in a different dimension. 

“Holy fuck–” you rasp, noting when Felix wipes a tear from your eyes you hadn’t realized you had shed. 

“Do you think you can take us, babygirl?” Chan asks as he pulls his fingers from your center. He reaches across your body to offer his soaking fingers to Felix, who eagerly takes them in his mouth for the chance to taste you. You don’t miss the way he moans around Chan’s fingers. 

“Yes,” you say softly. “Want you both.” 

Felix reaches down and kisses you, much more comfortable this time with the way that he allows himself to be rougher with you, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a boldness that was lacking earlier. When you pull apart you notice the large hands on your waist that aren’t his and you’re being flipped around by Chan before you can process it. Your ass is up in the air and you’re on all fours now, squeaking when Chan lands a quick hit to your ass and kneads the flesh. 

When you tilt your head up to look at Felix you notice him pulling his pants and boxers down past his thighs, letting his cock spring free and resting at your face. He taps it against your cheek and he looks down at you, silently checking to make sure  you’re okay. Looking up at him with bright wide eyes you blink, asking him for permission as you open your mouth wide for him. 

He pushes in with a groan, letting his cock rest on your tongue for a second. You suckle on his tip and let your tongue swirl around his head, watching how reactive he is with amusement. Even though you haven’t fully started sucking him off yet he is breathy, eyes dark in the way he looks at you and strokes your hair. 

He pushes his length further into your mouth and you groan, taking him fully. He sets the pace, slow and languid, pulling his cock fully out of your mouth before shoving it back in with expertise. 

You barely register the hands behind you that grab your ass until you feel Chan’s tip prodding at your entrance, barely pushing inside you. You let out a shaky breath around Felix and Chan takes that as a sign to push into you fully. 

The stretch is welcoming. Your jaw goes slack as you take a moment to process the protrusion, clenching tightly around him as he stills. Felix uses your mouth now, setting the rhythm for the man behind you as well. Relaxing, you let yourself be used by both of the men. You feel Chan’s thighs smack the back of yours, wet and messy and relentless. This causes you to jerk forward, pushing you back and forth onto Felix’s cock. Chan’s hands press into your hips, desperate and harsh and sure to leave bruises in its wake.

“God, love, your mouth,” Felix moans. His hand in your hair is soft in its caresses, contradictory from the way his hips snap into your face ruthlessly. “You’re doing so fucking good for us, baby. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For Chan to fuck you nice and hard, yeah? For me to whisper filthy things in your ear?” 

You do what you can to nod your head, though it’s pathetic with the way your mouth is full of him. You know you look utterly debauched, absolutely used from the two men you’ve found yourself in between. The mascara you applied before is running down your face along with tears of pleasure, and you find yourself continuously blinking them away to look up at Felix. Your hands find place on the bed beside you, fingers curling into the sheets. You’re close, incredibly so, and you know it’s not much longer until you come over the edge. 

Felix lets out a low groan and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. With a sharp grasp on your hair he spills into your mouth, right down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow around him thickly and he pulls out, wiping a bit of spit off of your mouth with his thumb. 

You fall forward into Felix’s lap, arching your back in order to give Chan full access to your dripping hole. He takes full advantage of it, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Now that your mouth is free, you have full opportunity to speak–though, the only thing that comes out of your mouth now are loud moans and broken, choked sobs. 

“Chan, fuck, oh my, I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna come–” you babble. 

“Sweet girl, is he fucking you stupid?” Felix asks, wrapping his arms around you and making you look into his eyes. When you meet his gaze you nod your head sporadically. 

Chan grunts from behind you, his hips starting to stutter. “Fuck, Lix. I’m close,” he warns. “Touch her pretty clit for me, make her cum for us.” Felix does as instructed, snaking his hand down to where Chan pushes in and out between your bodies. “So good, love. Cum for us,” he says into your ear. 

His fingers barely brush your clit when you’re cumming hard around Chan’s cock, squeezing around his length hard. He rocks his hips into yours, helping you ride out your release before he pulls out and cums all over your ass. You’re whining and clutching onto Felix, though you don’t realize it; his hand runs small circles onto your back. When he looks down at you it’s as if you hung the stars, gaze so full of adoration that your heart batters against your chest in response loud enough that he very well might hear it. 

Somewhere behind you, Chan leaves and then returns with something to clean you up. You only know this when you feel the soft material on your back and you let out a grunt of appreciation. Chan sits next to you now, spooning you from the side where you lay across Felix’s body. 

“Are you okay?” Chan speaks softly. 

You scoff. “I just fucked the two people I’ve been in love with for years. You think I’m not okay?” 

“Love. You love us?” Felix asks. 

You laugh. You can’t help it, because how the fuck do you keep on embarrasing yourself like this? It’s as if they can read your mind, because before you can backtrack or word-vomit they’re already speaking. 

“I don’t know if I made this clear,” Chan starts. “But my feelings for you, they’re strong. I love you too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Same here, love. We’ve wanted this for forever. If you’ll let us have you, we want you to be ours.” He whispers a soft ‘I love you’ into your hair and you find yourself overcome with emotion. 

The movie is still playing on the TV. It makes you laugh when you realize something. 

“Did you both seriously invite me over for dinner just so you could seduce me?” 

“Hey hey!” Chan laughs, tickling your side for a moment. “You’re the one that begged for us to ruin you, babygirl. Did you get what you wanted?” 

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to be in thought. “I’m not feeling super ruined at the moment.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

*** Last installment of the threesome series <3 Thank you everyone for reading. If you want to check out the other three chapters, you can find them in my masterlist.

Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3 @chvn-max

[nevernonline]

✧.* what’s your number?; kmg

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

paring/s: model! mingyu x afab! reader, ft. little brother! chan.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), neighbors2lvrs vibes, fuckboy&girl reader and gyu.

warning/s: alcohol consumption, sexual content (minors - dni), talks of broken bones, oc has female genitalia

word count: 3.8k

content: seggsy times, idiots being besties, reader loses her job, all the vibes.

note/s: loosely based on one of my fav movies, what's your number with anna ferris. lmao enjoy. also def unedited so srry. xo.

“Miss. Y/L/N. I’m very sorry but we have decided to let you go.” 

Your boss put down a brown cardboard box that once held wine from a staff party about a week ago. You stood in silence, why were you being fired? You’re one of the only executives who does their job. All of the other employees sit around and drink whiskey and flirt with the other women on your floor on company time, go home to their wives, and make six figures. 

“Sir, can I ask why?” 

“Budget cuts, sorry honey.” 

Honey of course. Not only is he himulating you, he’s also being condescending. 

“Why not fire Ted? He does nothing but use his company card for ‘business expenses’ like taking his different fucks to exotic vacations and restaurants.” 

“Our female clients like Theodore. Sorry it has to be this way. Here’s a check to keep your rent underway and for any troubles. Good luck.” 

You picked up the brown cardboard he handed it to you and dumped the white envelope into your bag as you stormed out of his glass chamber. 

Perfect timing, your brothers getting married and you’re getting fired. Your mother will surely love to hear about this. 

After gathering the contents of your desk you found your way back to your white and gray covered apartment, sinking down into the perfect couch you bought yourself as a reward for your first month in the job. 

Pulling your laptop from the pocket of your work bag, you scrolled through the news on your side widget . Coming across an article written in some stupid lifestyle magazine about ‘the appropriate number of sexual partners for women.’ 

“Okay, so society is regressing.” 

Curious enough you scrolled through to a small section with a quiz, childish, but probably suitable for women over 50 or under 21. 

Following your finger down the various categories that pertained to you until it came to the bottom of the page pointing out your result. 

“15 and over, women with this number often have difficulty finding a spouse and are unlikely to ever settle down. Are they fucking serious? Men can fuck 50 women and still are fine.” 

A vibration came from your phone, a text from your neighbor. 

[3:44pm]. 

Mingyu: Mind helping me out? New girl won’t take the bait about my “emergency” 

Y/N: what’s the issue with her this time? 

Mingyu: nothing, just too clingy. I’m expecting you in five, say our dad fell in the shower. Thank you, owe you. 

Y/n: got it see you in five. 

Mingyu and you met often when you were ushering out hook ups or crazy exes show up to your door. You didn’t know much about his life, other than he’s a model, and obviously has bad luck with women. 

Pulling yourself up off your couch and throwing a blazer back over your shoulders you strode off down to the other end of the hallway. 

“Mingyu? Mingyu seriously answer your phone? Hello!” 

The door opened revealing a semi-naked girl, she was pretty sure, blonde, tall, nice eyes, but boring. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Mingyu’s sister, who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh my god! So sorry, hi so nice to meet you, I’m Ailee his gir-“ 

“My friend, y/n. What’s wrong?” 

Letting yourself passes the bra sporting blonde you looked Mingyu straight in the face and pulled out your best crying face, it was easy today being that you’re pissed about work and that stupid fucking quiz. 

“It’s dad, he fell. I don’t think it’s good, we have to go.” 

“Oh. Okay, let me change.” 

Mingyu pulled in his jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed his fancy leather wallet from the counter and pulled you through the front door of his condo. 

“Ailee, let yourself out okay?” 

“Call me?”

“Uh, maybe it sounds like this is bad, maybe we should stop seeing each other? I’ll call you.” 

The truth is Mingyu was never going to call her, he said that to all the others. Yet, you never saw them again. 

Silently you open the door to your place and shut it behind you. 

“She seems nice.” 

“Yeah trust me, she’s not.” 

“Noted. But, better than that crazy red headed girl, Cass was it?” 

“We don’t have to talk about her.” 

“Missing that jacket still?”

“Yes.” 

Mingyu took his place on your leather armchair and sipped the coffee you had initially made for yourself. 

“What is this? What’s your number?”

“Oh my god. Stop looking at my shit.” 

You whipped the lid of your laptop close and stole it out of his hands

“Do you really think anyone cares how many people you sleep with? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?” 

“You can only say that because well, one your a man and two you’ve fucked basically half the women in this city.” 

“Not true, we haven’t fucked.” 

“Right and we will not.” 

“Sure, sure keep telling yourself that. So what is it? 12?” 

“Do you really need that answer?” 

“Yes. And I will bother you until you tell me.” 

“17.” 

Mingyu laughed, not because he felt bad for you or that you were going to hell for fucking 17 people, but because he didn’t see the big deal. 

“Oh come on, that is not that bad.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“Maybe 20?” 

“We are way too close in number for me to not feel weird about it now.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter, why do you think you couldn’t get a husband or boyfriend or whatever the fuck you want because of that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t until today I guess.” 

“Bad day?” 

The dark haired man’s head nodded towards the unpacked cardboard box sitting on your dining table. 

“Weird day. And now I have to go see my family at an overly fancy party and sit around clutching cocktails and lie that I didn’t lose my job, just until their precious boy is married off.” 

“Ah, the black sheep of a rich family huh?” 

“Shut up, no. They’re just judgmental is all. Well, my mom is anyway.” 

“I see. What are you wearing?” 

“I don’t know? What’s wrong with what I have on now?” 

Mingyu looked you over in your semi unbuttoned dress shirt and oversized trousers, sexy and sophisticated, but a little boring for a party. 

“Actually you look good. But, it’s not exactly giving a cocktail party for the sister of the groom. Especially if your mom is as judgmental as you say.” 

“Okay, go in my closet then. Work your weird model magic or whatever, Mr. Jeans and white tee.” 

“Anything for you, rich girl.” 

You walked Mingyu through your bedroom into the oversized walk in closet, filled to the brim of clothes, half of them with tags still on. Gifts from boyfriends, friends, your mother. 

“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” 

“And what did you expect?” 

“A closet turned into an office and like five pairs of the same pants, maybe matching pajama sets. But not this.” 

Sitting down on the small stool you let the man rifle his way through the various colors of fabric. 

“Okay, so this black dress. It’s tight but not overwhelmingly, it’ll show your figure and still make you appropriate. These tall black boots, sexy to show off your long legs and make you look even taller, a nice bag, maybe.. this red one? Or the green, just for a pop of color. Put it on.” 

“You finish quickly .” 

“Never had a woman say that to me before. Hurry up.” 

Smirking, you run back into your bedroom, out of sight from the man tapping his fingers on the marble countertop of your dressing room, sliding into the outfit he picked out. 

“Okay, I look-“

“Beautiful.” 

“Really? Don’t you think this is a little much? I mean, for this?” 

“Not at all, it’s actually really simple. May I?” 

He held up a silver chain necklace in his hands and waited until you nodded as he strung it around your neck. 

“Perfect. Now, leave your hair up. Maybe a nice bun and curl the front pieces? You look nice without makeup on, but do that cute winged liner look you do with a nude lip.” 

“Okay, since when did you become a stylist?” 

“I’m a model, I know what I’m talking about. Come on, chop chop.” 

“Okay, mom. Jesus.” 

“Dad. Daddy, actually.” 

“That's never happening.” 

Doing his instructions as he asked, you curled the front pieces of your hair letting it softly dangle in front of your face and placed the rest up on the crown of your head in a loosely tied knot. 

“Okay. So maybe you’re good at this.” 

“I know. If you need my help further, you know where to find me.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Holding up your phone you realized how much time has passed and grabbed your keys. 

“Right. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. See you soon, y/n.” 

“Bye, Gyu.” 

Walking up to the front steps of your parents luxurious brown stone, you felt the cold sweat under your armpits before walking in the front door. 

“Y/N holy shit, where have you been? Mom is going to kick your ass.” 

“Sorry, Chanie. I had something going on. Where is she?” 

“In the dining room with Marnie and Seungcheol. Talking about wedding stuff, please save us.” 

Coming to your brother's rescue was part of the job of being an older sister. Seeing him settle down and get engaged to a girl like Marnie was amazing for you, she was everything he needed, and it was nice to have another girl in your family. 

Grabbing  a glass of champagne from the silver tray of a waiter, you strode up to your mother in your childhood home, still as nervous as you would have been as a little girl to be under her gaze. 

“Aw, my baby. Finally arrived. Hello.” 

“Hi, Mom. Hello, guys.” 

You mom hugged you giving a kiss on both of your blushing cheeks passing you along to greet your brother's future wife and his friend Seungcheol. 

“Y/N, you look amazing. Where did you get this beautiful dress?” 

“Thank you. My friend helped me pick this out actually, I don’t remember where it’s from.” 

“Friend? Which friend is this, darling?” 

“His name is Mingyu, he’s my neighbor.” 

“Gay? He has wonderful taste.” 

“No, not gay mom. He’s a model.” 

“Oh wow, can I see a photo? Why didn’t you bring him?” 

“Maybe next time.” 

After downing the first glass of alcohol you quickly look for another, Seungcheol already holding a glass in his hand for you with a wink. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Y/N, can you go find your father? Now that you're here we can start dinner.” 

“Yep.” 

Strolling throw the various rooms full of priceless knickknacks and photos of your youth, you stop at the open oak doors of your fathers study, looking at him for a moment, behind his desk, glasses on, reading his book. 

“Hello, Dad. May I come in?” 

“Y/N, yes of course. Just hiding out here until I can eat some dinner. How are you?” 

“I’m okay, mom sent me to get you to come eat. What are you reading?” 

“Oh, just some Orwell. Relaxes me.” 

“Shall we, sir?” 

“Yes, my girl.” 

You held your arm out for your father, he was always your best friend, someone who no matter what supported everything you wanted to do. He was stern, but even after parenting you he would end it with a hug and a piece of candy, seeing him grow older had your heart in pain. 

Searching the table for your placecard, it sat you right in between your brother and Seungcheol, his best man and best friend for longer than you could ever remember. 

“Are you coming to his bachelor mixer?” 

Seungcheol’s long eyelashes fluttered in front of your face and you noticed how much more mature he looked, he was always cute, but it’s grown on you now. 

“Are you going to embarrass me?” 

“I’m not the one who got drunk in college and broke her arm trying to dive into the fountain.” 

“Ouch. At least I haven’t shit myself drunk as an adult and embarrassed myself in front of the girl I liked.” 

“I did not shit myself. It was a fart.” 

“A fart with a little poop, a shart if you will. What did they call you? Shart Seungcheol?” 

Your mother interrupted the light flirting you two were enjoying and gave a speech about how lovely it is to see her baby marrying a second daughter and so on and so on. 

After everyone downed their salmon and fancy finger food, you got into the silly party bus along side the rest of the bridal party, moving on to the night of drinking ahead of you. 

“Guys let’s play a game on the way to the bar.” 

Your brother's fiancé spoke, turning down the music and passing around multiple bottles of tequila and glasses. 

“Everyone right down a confession on your paper. If we guess whose it is, they have to drink, but if you get it wrong you drink.” 

Looking down at the small pink sheet of paper you wrote about your day, your sex number, and you losing your job. Maybe nobody will get it, maybe nobody will care because they’ll be equally as drunk. 

The game went on as your anxiety grew and nobody had chosen your confession yet, that was until your brother pulled one of the last sheets of paper out from the bowl. 

“Today I lost my job, I let a stupid magazine article tell me how women who have sex with more than 15 men means they’re unloveable and unwanted. I can’t wait to get fucked up. Congratulations! Well that’s my sister.” 

“What? How did you guess that?” 

“I know your handwriting dumbass, drink, everyone drink.” 

Your night continued, nobody mentioned your failure as a person, they just celebrated the happy couple. 

More and more drinks in, maybe the same amount of people you’ve had sex with. You took it upon yourself to get people on the dance floor, when you felt a pair of hands coming up on your hips, turning around to curse them out, you recognized the eyes staring back at you. 

Mingyu. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” 

“Birthday party, we always come here. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Mixed sexes bachelor party.” 

Mingyu's hands were still resting on your hips, on top of the very dress he helped you pick out hours before. 

“Exciting. Want to get a drink with me?” 

“I have one.” 

You held up the half empty glass of your Negroni and Mingyu snatched it from your grip, downing it for you. 

“You’re paying.” 

“Yes. That was the plan.” 

His hand pulled out off the dance floor and back over to a pair black leather bar stools, waving the bartender over. 

“Two whiskey sours please.” 

“No, one whiskey sour. I’ll have a whiskey neat.” 

The bartender nodded working his magic for the two rocks glasses. 

“Here you go, tab Mingyu?” 

“Yes, thanks John.” 

“Wow first name bases?” 

“I told you we like to come here. Who’s the pale dude staring at us?” 

You turned around to look at your brother, cheering you from across the bar. 

“My brother, Chan. His wedding party.” 

“Yes, I remember. I meant the one next to him?” 

“Ah, Seungcheol. Best man.” 

“He wants to fuck you, maybe he’s lucky number eighteen.” 

“Maybe he was lucky number ten back in the day.” 

“Do you remember his number?” 

“No, but I’ve already fucked him. In college.” 

“Ah, I see. Still on the hunt?” 

“Not at all actually, I’m celabte now.” 

“No way, I bet you could find many dudes who’d want to fuck you here.” 

“It’s a matter of if I want to fuck them no?” 

“Touchè” 

“What about him?” 

Mingyu pointed to a tall blonde, long hair, and pretty lips. 

“Gorgeous. But not my style. I’m not really in the mood to get laid.” 

“And let my work go to waste?” 

You smiled, sipping your drink and feeling the warm liquid enter your body. 

“You didn’t give me my beautiful face and fat ass, you just put it in a dress. And as my dad says, leave them wanting more.” 

“You’re a very funny drunk, she shocks me even more.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you ever get tired of having me save your ass from all those girls? Don’t you want to settle down and not have your neighbor coming over to rescue you all the time?” 

“Maybe the reason I do it is so you’ll save me.” 

“Shut up.” 

“No. I’m serious. I like hanging out with you, I enjoy seeing you, and you’re very entertaining. I like role play.” 

“I see, you have a kink.” 

“All jokes aside, I like seeing you.” 

You were surprised by his gentle voice and nature, you always knew him from the outside, a beautiful guy who has bad luck getting girls out of his apartment for whatever reason. 

“I like seeing you too.” 

Mingyu's hand rested on your thigh as he looked towards the same dance floor he pulled you from before, basically begging you with his eyes to come back out with him. 

You agreed, holding his hands through various sweaty bodies, some you knew and some you didn’t. Dancing along with them to the rhythm of the song, holding yourself up on Mingyu's large frame 

“Surprised to see you in something other than jeans and a tee.”

“You like?” 

“If I say yes are you going to fuck with me over it?” 

“Maybe. Are you going to let me be your lucky number eighteen?” 

“If you promise you don’t have some random girl barge in your door tomorrow to get me to leave?” 

“She’ll be tied up.” 

“Let’s go. I have to say bye to my brother first. Come on.” 

Walking towards the door you spot Chan playing darts with Marnie, who was obviously kicking his ass. 

“Hey! I’m going to head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Is this Mingyu?” 

“Oh shit, yes Marnie, Chan, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is my brother Chan and his fiancé Marnie.” 

Mingyu outstretched his hand to the couple, shaking it kindly. 

“Nice to meet you man, my sister talks about you a lot. Be good to her.” 

“Chan, shut the hell up. Love you both, mwah mwah.” 

“Mingyu if you’re free tomorrow, y/n has a plus one. We’d love to have you.” 

Smiling and whisking Mingyu out of the front door, you began to run together through the light rain falling, two blocks to your apartment. 

“Sorry, my brothers, an idiot.” 

“He seems nice, his wife to be too.” 

You felt your hands shaking in nervousness riding up the elevator to your shared floor. Stepping off and standing in the hallway between your two front doors. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Well, I picked you up didn't I? Come to mine.” 

Mingyu led you through his familiar front door and helped you out of your wet clothes, throwing them in his washing machine. 

Now standing in his living room, just in your black lace bra and panties, feeling like all those other girls before. Almost in fear of someone knocking to kick you out of his dimmed apartment. 

“Come on.” 

You giggled as he picked up your half naked frame and carried you into his bedroom. 

“Lay down. Off the edge of the bed, trust me.” 

You didn’t say anything just followed his instructions as his fingers came and wrapped themselves around your lace underwear, blowing on your clit with his soft breath as he pulled them down your freshly shaved legs. 

“Fuck.” 

His lips came in contact between your heated center, splitting his kisses between your aching parts and your thighs. 

Your hands working their way through his hair as he used his tongue to work his way around your clit and between your folds, pushing you closer and closer into your own euphoria. 

Maybe you understood why girls didn’t want to let him go, if this was his head game, you can’t even imagine what could come next. 

“You taste so sweet, I should’ve known better to be careful, I might get addicted to you.” 

“Stop with the niceties, Gyu. Can you please fuck me?” 

“Eager are we?” 

“Yes.” 

Mingyu pulled you up by the back of your neck, forcing your head near the top of his dick, waiting for you to wrap your mouth around it and get it sopping wet so he could enter in between your legs. 

“Oh, baby, that feels so good. I love watching you on my dick, but we have to stop before you get me going too much.” 

Your head turned up at him, mascara slightly spilling under your eyes, as you opened your mouth searching for the feeling of his lips on yours, before he planted in on you he spit into your mouth, and inserted himself between the same thighs he was kissing before, slowly entering inch by inch, making you wait to feel him fully inside of you even more. 

“Comfortable, baby?” 

“Yes, faster please.” 

“So polite, but as you said before, leave them wanting more and more. I want you to get riled up.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” 

His thrusting became more rapid with your soft moaning, kissing your neck in the process, riding out your high with you, you felt him begging to slow down as his teeth wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking softly at them. 

“You’re so delicious, I don’t think I can last much longer.” 

“Me either, but it’s only round one.” 

“Do you want to do this again?” 

“Eighteen has always been my lucky number, now fill me up.” 

With your final words, Mingyu rode the rest of his high before finishing inside of you, placing a soft kiss on your perfectly pink lips, and dipping his head back down to your center to clean you up with his mouth. 

“Want to stay?” 

“Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, come on. Let’s shower.” 

The tall man led you into his beautiful marble bathroom and turned the water on in his shower built for two. 

“I meant what I said at the bar, you know. I like being with you.”  

Your long arms reached up to his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo. 

“I meant what I said too, lucky eighteen.” 

“So I’m your lucky number?” 

“Yes, don’t tell my mom tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her that you called me sir and the ass she gave you is indeed perfect.” 

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, before pushing him back under the warm water of the shower head. 

“I dare you.” 

[lilgoblinbitch]

Gossip 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

part two here

a/n: i based this fic on this post here! i might make a part 2 because i have some ideas in the back of my head of how i think this story could end up going eventually, but idk if i will write it yet. we'll see! also i made up the two random alexandrians in this story :)

summary: rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.

warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk).

wc: 1.5k

MDNI

“Spencer does not like me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You scoffed, taking another sip of the pinot. This was your second glass, and your head was starting to buzz.

Two Alexandrian women became well acquainted with you, offering you a bottle of wine and some dinner after your first week in Alexandria. You decided “why the hell not.” You never really had great friends before the apocalypse and the only ones you had were the group you came in with, so it wouldn’t harm you to make more.

“Oh honey, did you not notice the way he was ogling you at Deanna’s party?” One of them asked — her name was Shannon. The other woman, Vivian, slightly chuckled, taking one last swig from her glass. She nodded, muttering something in agreement.

You sighed. “Even if he was checking me out, it’s not like I care anyway...”

The two women paused simultaneously, looking up at you with ‘bitch, HUH?’ written on their faces. “Y/n, Spencer is a beautiful man! He’s tall, handsome, and he’s around your age I believe,” Vivian gushed. You scowled, displeased at the comment.

You took another gulp from your glass, emptying the contents down your gullet and then setting it on the kitchen island. After licking your lips clean, you said, “Well, frankly, I don't really care if I’m being quite honest.” Your mind swirled with inebriated thoughts; you sort of had a love-hate relationship when it came to alcohol — it either made you perfectly giddy and sociable or very angsty and erratic. But that’s what it did to most people, anyway. Right now, it was making you angsty. “I have someone else on my mind.”

“Oh, my! Okay, who is it?” Shannon asked, her and Vivian both on the edge of their chairs anticipating what you were about to say — well, what they expected you to tell them, that is.

You thought for a moment; should you tell them? It seemed like they lived for that kind of gossip. But that could mean that they might spill your secret, and you weren't exactly ready for that. “I’ll tell you another time. I’m tired, gonna head to bed,” you stated, yawning as you got up from the stool you were seated on. The two women groaned in disappointment, like children who failed to convince their parents to take them to disney world.

After your friends left you strutted out of the kitchen, about to head upstairs when you heard a door open and shut. Instinctively you ran back to the kitchen to grab a knife to defend yourself from a possible intruder or walker, but before you could your body collided with something, or rather someone.

You cursed and looked up at the culprit; it was none other than Rick Grimes. “Rick, what the fuck! I could have stabbed you!” You scolded him, picking up the knife that clattered on the ground. 

“You forget we live together?” He teased, taking a step back to get a good look at you. Your eyes were glassy and eyelids heavy — a telltale sign that you were drunk. Rick had experience pulling over a few drunkards back in his day as a cop, so he knew immediately without even having to smell the alcohol oozing from your breath that you weren’t sober.

You pushed a strand of hair out of your face, swallowing the excess saliva forming in your mouth. You mentally scolded yourself for drooling over a man, but this one was just too beautiful to not gawk at. The sound of Rick clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and brought you back to reality. “No, no. I didn’t forget. I just…”

“You’re just drunk, right?” He chuckled, turning his head to look at the empty bottle of wine sitting on the dining room table. You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your lip while trying to think of a plausible excuse. 

“Look, I only had two glasses. Shannon and Vivian from a few houses down brought us a casserole and some pinot. Girls’ night. Sue me, Rick.” You slipped past him and headed to the kitchen, Rick hot on your tail. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you or Carl want any,” You said without turning around. When you got to the kitchen sink you started washing the dishes, but you frowned slightly, looking back up at Rick with worrying eyes. 

“Shit. Did I wake the kids? Is that why you’re down here?” You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands hastily on a dry towel. 

Rick shook his head. “No. Only I heard you. But you weren’t very quiet, and when I heard them leave that’s when I came down here,” he explained, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Your heart picked up its pace. ‘How much did he hear?’ You wondered. You pursed your lips and your eyes floated around the room, quite obviously avoiding his intense stare. He made you nervous. That sheriff always made you nervous, and part of the reason was because you were so utterly attracted to him. 

Finally you brought your eyes back to his icy ones, which were studying your body. You blushed and bit your lip again — it was a nervous habit you could never seem to break. “You got a stain–” Rick pointed to the red stain on your shirt, just below your breasts, “Right there.”

You looked down at the stain, it was wine — dark red wine, at that. And you were wearing a white tank top. How convenient.

You looked back up at him, snorting in slight amusement. “Guess I shouldn’t have worn white, huh?”

He let out a low chuckle, showcasing his pearly smile. God, he was pretty. “Thought you knew better than that, Y/n,” he joked, standing back up fully to make his way over to you. Okay, now your heart was really beating fast. 

When he was finally in front of you, face to face, you gulped. He smelled like the forest after a rainshower, and somehow he always did; it engulfed you like a tsunami. You berated yourself for getting so worked up over the smell of him, and just him in general. He was your leader, your friend. And he asked you to live with him and his children because he trusted you. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? ‘It’s the alcohol’, you convinced your mind, it had to be…

The silence was too loud. You had no idea what Rick was thinking right now; frankly, you never did. His poker face was always unreadable. But your tipsy brain gained a few confidence points, letting smugness wash over you.

“Whatcha thinking about, Grimes?” You shifted your weight to one leg and batted your lashes at the man in front of you. He only grinned, then glanced away momentarily only to stare back into your eyes. 

“Y’know, I overheard the conversation,” Rick started, his chest steadily moving up and down as he breathed. One of his hands gripped the counter while the other was glued to his hip. Your eyes trailed up and down his tanned veiny arms, taking in his manliness.

“Mhm. And?” You kept your composure, not wanting to let Rick taunt you; you knew you talked pretty loud when you were tipsy or drunk but it’s not like you said anything negative about him or anyone.

“You girls like to gossip, huh?”

“Well, yeah. We’re women,” you joked, cracking a smile and trying to ease the tension a bit. “What are you trying to get at?” Rick never bothered to indulge in any girl gossip you, Rosita, and Maggie used to partake in, so why was he so invested now?

Little did you know, he was always invested in literally anything you had to say.

Rick licked his lips and exhaled through his nose. “Heard you talking about liking someone. Is it anyone I know?”

He smirked when he noticed how red you turned. Your face would have matched the stain on your shirt if it was a few shades darker. “I– I don’t…” Of course now was the time to choke on your words, right when you were using every fiber of your being to keep your poise in check. But goddamnit, Rick just had to be a sly and cocky bastard.

“I don’t remember even saying anything about that, Rick.”

His smirk never faded. You wanted to slap it off his face, then kiss the hell out of him. 

He tilted his head to the side a bit, furrowing his brows as if to challenge your statement. “Really?”

You nodded and crossed your arms right over the stain. ‘Deny, deny, deny,’ You repeated in your head.

But he didn’t buy your bullshit. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingers barely grazing your skin as if he was afraid he’d scare you away. Your breath hitched in your throat and subsequently dropped your arms to your sides, separating your lips to say something. However, nothing came out.

“Well, I think I know your secret, Y/n. Answer seems pretty clear to me.” His voice almost came out as a growl from how low and raspy it was. Goosebumps awakened all across the surface of your body. You were tongue tied. 

“I’m the one on your mind, aren’t I?”

[carakook]

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘4. Spring Is Gone

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: After being granted with “closure”, you try to enjoy your last night with Jungkook. It’s an emotional and fucking steamy mess.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 13K+ 🥴

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, active cheating, HEAVY smut, mouth spitting, wine kissing (idk if it’s actually called this but it’s what I have always called it LMAO), crying during sex, emotional sex, EMOTIONAL EVERYTHING YOU WILL CRY I AM WARNING YOU, grief, breaking up (sort of?), panic/anxiety attacks, alcohol, stealing (lol it’s kinda cute you’ll see,) making love (different from fucking), sort of rough, unprotected sex (always be careful, Y/N is on BC!), SAD JUNGKOOK I REPEAT SAD JUNGKOOK!!!! let me know if I miss anything there is a lot in this chapter.

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: The long awaited chapter. This is a long one. I cried. A lot. Holy shit? It’s actually so sad lol but also has some good smut. This isn’t the last chapter, as I said before this is a full on fanfic, I also have it on Wattpad but it gets barely any reads so if you are interested in that let me know. After this chapter, things get very… drama filled? Idk a good word for it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry in advance if you cry. I highly recommend listening to the songs, each of them have a place in every chapter which is why I list them lol. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy. Love you.❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Merry Go - DPR Ian

♪Gimmie Love - Joji

♪The Astronaut - JIN

♪Dope Lovers - DPR Ian

♪sex money feelings die - Lykke Lie

♪Angel - The Weeknd

♪Nerves - DPR Ian

♪505 - Arctic Monkeys

♪I Love You So - The Walters

♪Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

♪Cry - Cigarettes After Sex

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Since you both agreed on enough of the heavy shit, you spend time together. The mood is heavy for some time, almost awkward, which is why you break out the several bottles of wine you bought this week in an attempt to cope with the end of you and your flower. You’d much rather drink it with him anyway.

You can always buy more.

The wine helps. After you’ve both had a glass, it feels less strained. You continue eating pizza and watching whatever sappy drama is on TV. He picks up on his rant, starts explaining how sex is definitely comparable to pizza; sex creates life, and without sex, we wouldn’t have discovered pizza. Makes total sense. It’s stupid, but he has a point—a very Jungkook thing to think up.

By the time you’re both three glasses deep, you’re a bit wine-drunk. He holds his liquor much better than you do, but you can tell he’s feeling all fuzzy inside. You check your phone as he sits sprawled out on your couch, taking up almost the entire damn thing with his bulky ass. It’s nearly 11:30 pm… around the time he should probably go home.

You glance at him, debating whether to subtly kick him out or not. You don’t want to, god no. It literally makes you sick thinking about it. But you shouldn’t let him stay either, should you? You’re supposed to end this. This was the last night.

But you see how content he looks—like a big, overgrown spoiled dog with a belly full of treats, relaxing next to his favorite person.

You did say one last night… technically the night isn’t over. And he shouldn’t drive in this state, really, if anything, it’s just for his safety…

So you nudge his leg with your foot, and he turns his head lazily towards you, arches a brow, “Hm?”

“Sleep over?”

Oh, he fucking grins. His dimples on show, his eyes crinkling up adorably, and his big bunny like teeth saying hi.

Because what you don’t realize is he wasn’t going to leave. Fuck no. You said one last night, and he was going to milk that for everything it was. No way in hell was he going to go home tonight. If he’s being frank, that’s why he drank three glasses of wine. He didn’t need it. But he knew he could use it as a loophole to staying the night. You wouldn’t let him drive drunk.

He knows damn well what he’s doing, and he’s elated that you offered to let him stay. It means you want him here.

Even after all the bullshit, you still want him here. You want to prolong it, too.

“Hell yeah.”

He winks and then leans up a bit to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and give you the most indulgent peak of his stomach. You shamelessly stare, and he absolutely notices, lifting his arms a bit higher just to give you a better look.

He loves it when you look at him like that.

But then he stands up, casually grabs his car keys from the coffee table, as if he isn’t fucking teasing you.

Fuck. The wine is definitely kicking in. The warm fuzzies in your tummy are spreading elsewhere.

“Gonna go grab some stuff from my car then, make sure it’s locked, I’ll be right back.”

You hum in response and lean back into the couch. Watch him as he walks out the door, and find comfort in the fact that you know he’s coming back… even if it’s the last time.

Jungkook is doing his best not to let his mind wander to the more damning thoughts as he walks out of your complex and into the parking lot. Because he feels the opposite, no comfort at all. His anxiety is spiked now that you’re out of sight. What if you don’t let him in when he makes his way back to you? What if you change your mind about the sleepover? What if you decide you hate him?

Not only that, but he feels like he’s wasting precious time. As if the five minutes he will be away from you (barely) are irreplaceable and he’s just wasting them. It’s literally the end of the world… he shouldn’t be wasting time.

But that’s just his anxiety speaking. In truth, he doesn’t actually need the things in his car… but he packed a few things before showing up unannounced—things he wanted to leave you with.

Such as the little Polaroid camera you bought for him months ago, one that you yourself have used every single time you’re together. You always snap little candid pictures of him, sometimes yourself. He finds your fascination with the thing so fucking cute. He uses it, too, of course. He often takes pictures of you without you even knowing it… and you’ve both definitely taken some more raunchy pictures, pictures that he keeps hidden away in a box for when he misses your touch. For his eyes only. They’re priceless to him, probably some of his most prized possessions.

Speaking of those photos, he also packed a box full of them just for you. Pictures you’ve taken of him, of both of you, of anything and everything. He wants you to have them, wants you to be able to look at them when you miss him a little too much. He went through the photos over the last few days of no contact, greedily picked out his favorites, and put them into his own box for the same purpose. But he picked a generous amount out for you, too.

And as corny as it may sound, he packed a few pieces of his clothing. He knows how much you love stealing his shit, especially his shirts. Several are still missing, but he won’t ask for them back. He’Ll gift you with more, made sure to spray his cologne on them too, so that you can smell him on them. He packed his favorite shirt, hoodie, and something he will reluctantly, but willingly, part with. His denim jacket.

All of them are Calvin Klein branded. The shirt is basic, just a black shirt that’s fitted on him but swallows you whole. It’s the one you often steal when you sleep over at his second apartment, but he never let you take it home because it was his favorite. It’s worn in and soft, that’s why he likes it. But it’s yours now, just like him.

The hoodie is the same, basic black, one that you always tried to steal but never succeeded in doing so. It’ll be like a warm hug when you miss him, he thinks. You’ll love it more than he will. You’ll need it more than him on nights that you feel lonely.

The jean jacket isn’t anything special in appearance. It’s dark denim but is lined in that soft wool that keeps you warm and cozy. He wore it often in the cold months, thought it made him look handsome, but also kept him comfy. He’d rather you have it. He wants to keep you warm forever, hold you in his arms and never let go, make sure you never feel cold again… but he can’t exactly do that. So instead, he’ll give you his jacket.

The last thing is one of his chains. God, he knows you love those damn chains. He almost always wears one, silver or gold, depending on the day. And you always make sure to tell him how much you like them. He never really understood it; it’s something so simple. But you swooned for it. After you guys fuck, you’re always touching it, playing with it. Even when you guys aren’t fucking, you seem to have the impulse to touch it. Maybe it’s a girl thing, he doesn’t know. But he’s giving you one since you liked it so much.

Definitely a girl thing.

He also brought the bottle of perfume you dropped on his floor that night you stormed off… he was going to give it back. Return it to its rightful owner. But as he’s grabbing the bag full of goods out of his car… he impulsively takes it out. Wants to keep it. Wants to be able to smell you, too. He’s sure you won’t miss it.

You won’t miss that perfume as much as he’s going to miss you.

He quickly grabs the bag of stuff, nearly dropping it as he grows more restless because he’s not with you right now. You’re too far away, and every single second counts tonight.

So he rushes back into your complex building, nearly full-on sprinting back to your door.

As he lets himself back in, you’re in the exact same position. Sitting comfy on the couch, eyes on the TV, your wine glass a bit more empty now. Thank fuck.

He wasn’t even gone for more than four minutes. And yes, you did notice, you didn’t like it. But you knew he’d come back. So you waited. Wasn’t a big deal.

He’s just dramatic, for good reason of course. You can see the unease written all over his face as he pads his way back towards you, sets the bag next to your couch. He doesn’t disclose what’s in it and you don’t ask, you just assume it’s the bag he usually keeps in his car for impromptu nights like this.

He doesn’t want to present these little gifts to you yet… because he feels like that’s what’s going to really finalize it. So he’ll wait a little longer.

Would put it off forever if he could.

He takes a seat next to you, obnoxiously close. Your couch isn’t big, but there’s enough for two people to have a comfortable distance from each other. He doesn’t care. He wants to make sure he’s touching you in some way, so he nearly squishes you as he sits down as casually as ever and slings one of his arms on the back of your couch so that his fingertips rest on your shoulder.

He has an almost jittery energy about him right now. Obviously, emotions are heavy; it’s your last night together. It’s kind of hard to act totally ok and normal when you’re both well aware that this is the last night. But even then, somethings a bit off.

You study him for a moment, notice how he’s running his teeth over his lip ring again, how his leg is bouncing up and down a bit even as he tries to mimic a relaxed position on the couch. Maybe he’s anxious?

He is. However, that’s not what this is all about. He wants to kiss and touch you so badly it hurts. But now he’s unsure if he’s allowed. He doesn’t know what’s on and off limits tonight, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize your time together by fucking it up and making unwanted advances.

Overthinking. He wishes he didn’t do that. But he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until after things are said and done, doesn’t know how to stop it.

You assume maybe it’s just nervous energy thanks to the impending sense of doom you both feel. You feel similarly… but you hide it better.

More wine would help, you think.

So you lean forward and grab the bottle which is half empty, this is the second bottle of tonight. You top off each of your glasses as Jungkook watches, and you take a sip.

His eyes stay glued to your lips. He loves your lips. Loves all of you, but especially your lips. He thinks that will be one of the things he misses the most. How soft and pillowy they are, how they’re a bit rosey in color, how they taste, how they pout out a bit when you drink wine, how wine stains your lips so prettily, how they feel wrapped around his—

Yeah. Fuck it. One last night.

“Gimmie some.”

You glance at him and arch a brow, wonder if he’s referring to the wine… or maybe pizza? You literally just topped his wine glass off. He’s being weird.

“I just topped you off?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I want yours.”

You scoff at him because now he’s just being childish. But he’s looking at you so expectantly, almost stubbornly, as if he’s asking for something more than the wine he’s demanding.

And he is. He doesn’t even really know what though. He’s being greedy, wants your wine because your lips touched the glass, because remnants of your spit might have melted into the wine after taking sips. He doesn’t want his own damn wine.

He wants to be greedy tonight. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s already lost it all.

So he reaches over and takes the wine glass from you, gets a bit impatient when he sees you aren’t gonna give it to him right away. He takes a slow sip, places his lips in the same exact spot yours have been every time you’ve taken a drink. It’s ridiculous, really… but he swears he tastes the faintest essence of you on the glass. Closes his eyes, swishes the wine around in his mouth, trying to see if he can taste more of you…

Ok, so, he’s definitely being a bit ridiculous. But fuck, he already feels like he’s going crazy. Can’t really help himself when he is desperately craving any little crumb of you.

You don’t know what to make of this. Part of you is amused, part of you is irritated, because he just stole your damn wine. But you also know there must be more to it, there has to be.

He cracks an eye open, sees you staring at him like he’s crazy, because he kinda is. Only for you, of course. He just swallows the wine and shrugs innocently.

“Yours is better, mine tastes weird.”

You roll your eyes at him because he has the same wine as you do. You can’t figure out what his game is here. So you reach over and take his wine and say, “Yours is literally the same as mine.”

To prove a point you take a sip of his. Just as expected, tastes the exact same as yours. He watches you carefully… gets an idea. An incredibly impulsive,almost intrusive idea.

But again… it’s the last night. And he’s greedy.

You huff at him and point his wine glass (which is now yours apparently) at him as you watch him take a huge gulp out of your glass again.

“Yeah, see, tastes the exact-“

He abruptly grabs the nape of your neck and cups your jaw with his free hand, his thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip and lowering it. He places his lips on yours, waits until your mouth instinctively opens just as it always does for him, and then funnels the wine into your mouth.

Fucking feeding you the wine like a baby bird.

It catches you by surprise at first, causing you to cough a bit and causing the wine to dribble down your chin, but you quickly gulp it down just like he gulps down the little gasp and cough you let out. He kisses you greedily, doesn’t even build up to it before he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it against yours, tasting the heady mixture of wine and you. Fuck, you’re his favorite taste.

You don’t protest; of course you don’t. Was definitely a bit bizarre, but also… fuck, that was hot. Was a bit weird but in a super sexy way. You kiss him back, letting out little huffs of air into his mouth as one of your hands also finds the nape of his neck. The other hand automatically rests against his chest, clings to the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You both stay like this as long as possible. The kiss only grows more desperate and aggressive, teeth and tongue clashing beautifully together like thunder and rain. Your soft pants turn into eager breathes at some point, and he knows you need to breathe. But fuck, he wants to stay lip locked with you until he passes out.

This is when you start to second-guess things. Yes, this is the last night together… but knowing it’s ending makes the guilt a bit more prominent. This wouldn’t be ending if it wasn’t wrong, but it is wrong; sleeping with him again just seems so contradictory or maybe even hypocritical.

So you push at his chest lightly, a silent signal for him to slow down. God, he hates the way his stomach lurches. Can’t fathom the idea that you might kick him out right now. Please, god, don’t do this. I’m not a weed, I swear, I’m her fucking flower. I need her one more time, he silently prays even though he’s never been religious or prayed before.

When he pulls back with heavily lidded eyes, you speak up hesitantly, even though you don’t wanna stop, god not at all.

“Kook, we shouldn’t…”

That’s all you say. Because it’s really that simple. You shouldn’t be doing this; you should never have done it at all. But even then, you lack the ability to convince him. Because you want him, one last time. You’re just having a hard time willingly giving in again.

Jungkook knows you well. Knows your body language. He knows that if you truly wanted him to stop, you would’ve been more self assured when speaking. You wouldn’t sound like a meek little mouse, you’d be firm in telling him know. He can see the same thing in your eyes, it’s pure unadulterated want. But maybe you need reassurance, reassurance that one last time is ok, is needed.

You’ve both sinned so much already, one more time won’t change shit.

So his grasp on your jaw firms up a bit, he starts feeling a little too passionate about this. He coaxes your mouth open by smooshing your cheeks a bit before saying,

“Y/N, fucking don’t. Just let us have this, please.”

“But Kook-“

He grunts in frustration. Just as impulsively as he fed you wine kisses, he spits in your mouth. It makes you flinch, makes your pussy clench because fuck it’s so filthy but so hot. So intimate in a sort of fucked up way.

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

He leans back down and starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth and adding more to the spit he put there moments ago. Doesn’t even give you a chance to protest. He kisses you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. He’s sure he will. He’ll die a miserable death if he doesn’t love you one more time.

It's a bit harsh, but you know each other enough to know he isn’t trying to be forceful or rude; he’s just desperate. You are too, honestly. You know damn well if you said no and meant it, he would pull away and stop immediately. Your body has always been safest with him. You don’t want to stop, not really. You’re thankful he’s being like this. It’s the push you need to ignore the guilt for a while longer and share your body with him one last time.

When he feels that you’ve melted into him, with no more tension or hesitancy in your body, he pulls away, nipping at your lower lip once and then sucking on it. Then his lips travel down, and he licks the wine staining your chin off before placing sloppy kisses down your neck.

He doesn’t even ask before he starts sucking and licking on your sensitive skin. Not kitten licks, not gentle sucks, no, he’s full-on giving you hickeys, and you know it. You know it’s intentional when you feel him pull back a bit to take a peak, only to lean back in a second later and bite.

The hand on his nape fists into his hair, and your back arches a bit, causing your chest to push against his chest, “Fuck, Kook…”

You should tell him to stop marking you up like this. You don’t like showing up to work or visiting friends with visible hickeys because questions get asked. And as much as you wish you could admit who they’re from, you can’t. No one knows about Jungkook. No one even knows you’re seeing someone right now, and you don’t want to have to come up with some story to cover your ass.

It’s a secret for you too.

But it’s the last night together… and the idea of having his hickeys on your neck, just to remind you a little longer that this was real, he was real, it’s an idea you quite like. Fucking love, actually.

He grunts at you, bites down a little harder, “What? Told you your wine was better…”

You let out a little breathy laugh when he says this, because of course he would play it coy, as if he didn’t just randomly start devouring you. Of course he’d blame it on the damn wine.

That breathy laugh quickly turns into a moan when one of his hands finds your tit, he starts squeezing and groping it through your shirt shamelessly, tweaking your nipple in the way he knows you love. God, he loves your tits. They’re the perfect size for him, he swears. They fit into his palm perfectly, feel like pillows, just like your lips. All of you is just so soft.

He kisses his way down your neck now that it’s all marked up in pretty purple and pink bruises blossoming, much like you do every single time he touches you like this. When he gets to your chest, he looks up at you through his lashes, and then he nearly rips your shirt off of you when he pulls it down.

His eyes leave yours as he looks down at the beautiful pillows on your chest. He just admires them for a moment, as if he’s at an art gallery studying each piece of art. That’s what you are, art. Everything about you inside out is otherworldly beautiful to him, tits included.

At this point, you’re lying down on your couch, legs parted for him. It’s a bit awkward because of how small the couch is, but that doesn’t stop either of you. He doesn’t give a fuck that he barely fits. He’ll make himself fit… just like he’s made himself fit into your life for months.

He wants to fit into your life just one more time, one more night, wants to meld together and tangle your roots so that it’s impossible to untangle them. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but that’s where this is all coming from. He’s not being aggressive and eager and greedy just because he’s horny, no, he’s doing this because maybe, just maybe, if he shows you with his body how much he loves you… how much he needs you… you’ll change your mind one day.

His mouth descends on your left breast, and he starts licking and sucking on your nipple. Your eyes roll back, and your entire body shudders at the sensations, fuck, it always feels like the first time. Before him, men didn’t pay such close attention to your body. Never even had a guy play with your tits before, Jungkook was the first. It was so odd at first, but it quickly became one of your favorite things. Makes you get so wet so fast.

You love how he looks up at you when he does it, his eyes full of asters and stars alike, hearts and moons, lust mixed with love and it’s a dizzying sight. You wonder if this is how you look when you go down on him, if that’s why it unravels him so quickly. You’d understand if so, you wish so badly you could snap a picture of him like this and preserve it.

It’s funny because he’s thinking the same thing. How beautiful you look when he goes down on you, how your eyes mimic his own, and how you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions when the pleasure is too intense. His favorite thing is when you start furrowing your brows and almost pouting at him without realizing it; the little pants and mewls you let out without meaning to, it drives him absolutely insane.

He wants to capture it, too. Fuck, tonight is a night to remember, he wants everything solidified in film. Every single kiss and touch and whisper spoken tonight, he needs to preserve it.

He sucks on your nipple for a few more seconds, his other hand flicking the nipple on your right breast. Wants to get you all worked up for him. he then pulls back, letting go of your tit with a wet pop sound. Lets his hands rest on your thighs and rubs his palms up and down them as he takes you in.

You let out a little whine when he pulls away, but you don’t protest. His pupils dilate heavily as he looks down at you because, holy fuck, you’ve never let him mark you up like this. He doesn’t even like giving hickeys, thinks it’s a bit immature, something meant for college. But seeing you blooming pink and purple from your neck down to your pretty tits? It makes his cock twitch hard in his sweats.

He removes one hand from your thigh, and reaches down to palm himself through his sweats. He squeezes his cock as he takes in your already debauched look. Marked up, tits out, lips swollen, eyes heavy… fuck. You may be what kills him, not heart break.

One last squeeze to his cock to relieve a bit of the pressure, and he lets go of it. He knows you’re getting a bit impatient by how you’re shifting in your spot, but you know he wants to take his time tonight. So you don’t say anything, no matter how much you wanna beg for his dick or his mouth.

He leans over the couch to unzip the bag he brought, grabs the Polaroid, and then readjusts himself between your legs. He sets the camera down on your stomach and brings his hands back to where your thighs are spread prettily for him.

You arch a brow, and he gives you a little smile. He still looks a bit fucked, his eyes black with want and his cock literally tenting his sweats. The smile is much too sweet for what you’re both doing.

“Take as many pictures as you want, there’s a full roll of film in there. Can keep ‘em for when you miss me.”

Now is not the time to cry. Fuck.

You nod at him, grab the camera and keep it close. You wonder if he planned this or if it was a coincidence that it was in his bag. Regardless, you’re thankful. Elated even, that he’s going to let you capture this and preserve it for those nights you doubt he was ever even real. There's no time to be sad now; you can grieve him when he’s gone.

He flicks his tongue over his lip ring as he looks down at you again, there’s so much that he wants to do tonight, but he knows damn well the moment his cock so as much touches you, he’s going to lose control. He needs to lavish you with love and attention first before even thinking of himself.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, gently pulls it over your head. You lay pliant, let him take the lead and do whatever he wants. God, anything for him as long as he keeps looking at you like that, like you’re the reason he breathes.

Next he takes off the pajama shorts you had on, slowly fumbling with them because of the awkward position on the couch. It makes you giggle at him, which makes him giggle at you. Now that you’re both a bit calmed down, not quite as worked up, you realize maybe the couch isn’t the most practical place.

Even then, you take the Polaroid and snap a picture, capturing his bashful smile on camera as he tosses your shorts away. He doesn’t protest; he lets you. Watches as you take the photo it spits out and stare at it lovingly before setting it on the coffee table.

His hands are on your thighs again, and despite the fact you’re nearly butt naked now, his eyes stay steady on your face. He reaches forward, grabs the camera from you, and snaps his photo of you. He focuses the Polaroid specifically on your neck to capture the hickies he left, wants to remember you marked as his. He retrieves the photo after the camera spits it out. He doesn’t look at it yet; just tosses it inside of his bag next to the couch.

At your huff and shy little glare you send him, he chuckles, hands you back the camera, and before you can scold him, he lightly swats your thigh. Then he gets off the couch and picks you up bridal style.

It’s hard to be mad at him when he makes you feel like a princess. You don’t actually mind that he took the picture, as embarrassing as it feels. You know it’ll be for his eyes only.

He easily carries you into your bedroom, kicks the door open, and deposits you on your bed. Wasted no time before he’s taking off his shirt and sweats, and fuck, you swear he’s a Greek god. Perfect, in every way. You could drool every damn time you see any bit of his skin. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist, his subtle and toned thighs, it’s a lethal combination. Any woman who sees him like this surely could keel over at how beautiful he is, how sexy he is.

He gets on the bed with you, and you set the camera on the pillow next to your head. He settles between your thighs once more. He can feel himself starting to get impatient now that you’re both in only your underwear; his cock is still hard. Only getting harder as he stares down at you, looking at how pretty you look with your hard nipples glistening with his spit and your soft thighs spread just for him.

He descends, placing open-mouthed kisses on your tummy. Your hands come to rest in his hair as they’ve done many times because you know you’ll need to hang on. You know where this leads, and anytime he eats you out, it’s an out-of-body experience. The things this man’s mouth can do are unholy, but still feel like heaven.

His eyes stay on you as he kisses his way down to your thighs. He nips at them lightly, causing you to whine. He covers your lower half in kisses, not missing a single ounce of your skin as he lavishes your inner thighs with sweet little declarations of love that just aren’t enough.

You lift your hips ever so slightly, tug on his hair a bit, send him a silent message that says please fucking put your mouth on me before I explode.

He smirks against your skin, looks up at you as he trails his lips upward, “Just feel it, baby, let me love on you.”

You want to roll your eyes at this, but don’t say anything. Just try to regulate your breathing. You know he’s wanting to savor it, savor you. He has every right to.

But he knows what you need; can tell by the way you’re scratching his scalp that you’re itching to feel his mouth on you. And if he’s being honest, he’s growing a bit impatient, too.

So he finally trails his lips past your thighs, onto the mound of your cunt which is still covered by your panties. The moment he sees the wet spot seeping through, smells your arousal, his patience disappears. Suddenly, he’s fucking starving.

He doesn’t even take your panties off before he starts kissing your cunt, sucking on your clit through the fabric. The feeling makes your body nearly jolt, your hips bucking into his face as you tug on his hair and let out an incredibly strained moan. Fuck. So much for taking it slow and dragging it out.

He becomes a man possessed once he tastes you. He’s letting out grunts as he borderline makes out with your panties, suckling the fabric to get every drop of your essence off of them and onto his tongue. It’s genuinely filthy, debauched, but god, it’s hot.

He leans back with flared nostrils and glistening lips, looking like he’s wearing lipgloss. Made specially by you, of course. He nearly rips your panties off and throws them into the pile containing his clothes at the end of the bed.

A coincidence, he tells himself. He’s totally not planning on ‘accidentally’ taking them home with him… not at all.

He leans back down, grabs your thighs, and props them over his shoulders as he maneuvers himself to lay flat on his stomach on the bed, his knees keeping him steady as he presses his face into your pussy.

He inhales you, takes in your scent. So musky and pretty, so uniquely you. He wishes he could bottle it up and wear it as a fucking cologne. He rubs his nose around in it, nudging your clit back and forth, almost as if he’s motor-boating you but instead of your tits, it’s your cunt.

God, it’s lewd. But he can’t get enough.

You already feel yourself becoming a little too turned on but wanna capture this moment. Wanna preserve how fucked he looks when he does shit like this, only ever for you. So you grab the Polaroid with one shakey hand that leaves his hair, and you snap a quick photo. It comes out a bit blurry, but you don’t mind. You place the camera back on the pillow alongside the fresh photo and have to double down on gripping his hair because, holy fuck, this feels so good.

His tongue finds your entrance and starts licking inside, trying to get every last drop of your cream greedily into his mouth. He uses his nose to stimulate your clit, one of the perks of having a big nose. He’s grunting as he licks into your cunt, almost sounds feral doing so. He doesn't even recognize his own voice with the damn noises he's making.

As much as you don’t want to admit it, watching this all unfold has you dangerously close already. Your thighs are quivering on his shoulders, and your toes are curling along his back. The way he’s breathing into your pussy, sucking and licking and nudging it with his nose, fuck, it has you a mess. The noises you’re making you can’t control; you’re starting to sound just as feral as him.

“Mmmph… Koo… gonna cum soon, slow down…”

You babble at him. You wanna cum so bad, but you also don’t want it to stop so soon. If you had one wish at this very moment, it would be that he does this forever. He looks so lovely in between your thighs, licking and sucking you up as if it’s his last meal.

Because it is his last meal. After this night, he’s gonna be starving for eternity without you.

He huffs out a little laugh against your clit, the hot air causing your back to arch and fingers to tighten in his hair; if he doesn’t ease up, your thighs are surely going to crush his damn head.

“Cum then. Fucking give it to me, Y/N. Let me earn it.”

He nearly growls at you before he dives back in with renewed vigor. He replaces his tongue, which was deep in your cunt, with his fingers. He uses his mouth now to suck on your clit. As you look down at him, you’d swear he was kissing it, making out with it, making love with his fucking mouth. The added pressure of two of his long fingers crooking inside of you is quickly bringing you to your end.

But what nearly makes you cum on the spot is the way he starts fucking humping the bed. Acting like a virgin humping a pillow, he moves his hips back and forth on the mattress just for some sort of stimulation to his cock because it started getting so hard it was damn near painful.

He knows how desperate he looks but doesn’t care. Clearly, you enjoy it, judging by the way you start panting, and your pussy starts pulsating and tightening around his fingers. They fuck into you harder, rubbing up against the spongy flesh inside, all while he makes out with your clit.

His eyes open to meet yours, and you’re done for. Seeing that desperation and love in his eyes mixed with the fact he’s fucking humping your bed makes your pussy throb. You begin cumming hard, tugging on his hair as your thighs clasp around his head. He damn near whines into your cunt, the noise only causing vibrations to make it so much more intense for you.

“Nnngh oh shit! Fuck, oh fuck Koo… oh my god, shiiit…”

Your hips buck up into his mouth eagerly; you can’t even control it. Your feet planted on his back, toes curling, thighs trembling around his face, and your face scrunched up in pleasure. You see stars- no- you see an entire fucking galaxy as you cum all over his face. Full of stars, moons, planets, gardens, all of which are full of him and every single fiber of his being.

All for him, just as he is all for you.

He fucks you through it, does his best to prolong it, but he knows he’ll make you cum again on his cock. He is aching to be buried inside of you. He wants to make love to you, not fuck you, he wants to meld your bodies together and become one tonight.

After what feels like forever, your body relaxes, and the spasming of your clit dies down, causing it to become sensitive. He can tell by the way your legs shake and your body jolts when he applies too much pressure with his tongue.

He reluctantly pulls back, licking your juices off of his lips before placing little kisses all over your thighs and pelvis. He looks fucked, his nose and his lips are glistening obscenely in the dim lighting, and his eyes don’t look brown anymore but black.

When your eyes travel downward, you whine at him. His cock is nearly tearing through his underwear, which you now realize he’s wearing your fav, the purple CK’s. There’s a little stain where the head of his cock presses, so much precum, all for you.

He looks down where your eyes are trained, and he snorts at himself. Jesus fuck, he really is acting like a desperate teenager, isn’t he? But he can’t find himself giving a shit. He wants you to know how desperate and unhinged you make him. He can’t say he’s ever been so horny he borderline fucked a mattress, not until now. And it’s all because of you.

He takes off his underwear with shaky hands and tosses them somewhere in your room. Then he settles between your legs again, rubbing up and down your thighs as he takes you in as if it’s the first time.

Your hands come up to his chest, scraping your nails down it slowly, which earns you the most beautiful groan from his lips. He bites down on them, and his cock jumps upward, begging to be touched. So you trail your hands lower until you find his aching length and take it into your hand, start stroking him lazily.

His breathing becomes labored, and his eyes flutter shut. Even just your hand feels so fucking good. His hips jerk forward, seeking more stimulation. Fuck, he can’t get enough.

One of his hands remains on your thigh while the other reaches for the camera. He boldly angles it directly at your cunt, snaps a photo of it, making sure to capture the way your slick folds glisten in the light, along with all of the purple flowers blossoming on your thighs. His tattooed hand is barely in the shot but is visible enough to make it clear it is him in this photo.

He tosses the photo in the same pile his clothes and your panties lay next to the bed, and then angles the camera towards your face and body to take another. He thinks you’re so pretty like this. Cheeks flushed, lips puffy because you always bite them right before you cum, eyes bright with afterglow. You look like an Angel, especially in this moment.

He’s sure you’re an Angel sent from the God he doesn't even believe in.

He snaps another photo and tries to steady his shaky hands because the way you’re stroking his cock feels borderline painful. Too slow; he needs more. Beads of precum drip down his cock as if it’s crying. It may as well be crying for you.

He quickly takes the photo, tosses it in the same pile, and then does the same with the camera without thinking. Is getting way too worked up with how you’re stroking his dick and looking at him like a Greek god.

Because he is one. You’ll say it time and time again.

He leans over your body and settles in between your legs. You remove your hand and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in his hair again. He grinds his cock onto your pussy, coating it in the remnants of your cum and juices, and starts kissing you slowly.

The kiss isn’t like the one with wine; this one is sweet, loving, still desperate, but more patient. His lips work with you in unison, your puzzle pieces coming together once more. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you moan into his mouth, which causes his cock to twitch against your pussy. God, he loves the sounds that you make. Music to his ears, he’d play it on repeat if he could.

He slowly drags the tip of his cock down to your entrance which is well prepared for him, and even more slowly starts thrusting inside of you. He wants to feel you deeply, feel every ripple and ridge of your pussy, every pulse and throb. He wants to catalog it and replay it over and over in his head for when he misses you.

Jungkook is definitely gifted when it comes to his manhood. It’s not too long, a good seven and a half inches, but fuck he’s so girthy. When you first fucked him, you could barely handle how thick he was. Nowadays, you can absolutely handle it, but that first push always gets you fucking squirming. The pressure and stretch are nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You let out a stuttered gasp into his mouth when he buries himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass, and he stays there for a moment so that you can adjust. You break the kiss, wincing a bit as you turn your face to try and hide the way it scrunches up as it always does the first few moments he’s inside of you.

He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

He pulls his face back from yours and steadies himself on his elbow as one of his hands comes up to grip your jaw. He turns your face towards him, doesn’t let you look away or try to hide.

“Uh-uh, you look at me when I fuck you. I wanna see every single detail of your pretty face if this is the last time I get you like this.”

You whine at him, your eyes fluttering shut and cheeks warming. For some reason, that’s embarrassing, like being called out for talking in class or some shit. But even then, your pussy clenches around his cock, because you love it when he takes control like that, when he makes it clear what he wants.

He shakes your jaw a bit when he notices you closing your eyes, causing them to open instinctively. He looks just as fucked as you do, his nostrils are flared, and he’s sweating slightly, clearly holding back.

“Eyes on me, Y/N. Don’t you fucking dare look away. Look me in my eyes while I make love to you.”

Fuck. It takes every single bit of strength you possess not to cry. There he goes, voicing the fact that tonight isn’t going to be some hard fuck. It’s making love.

That terrifies you.

Making love is something entirely different compared to fucking. Some people disagree, but you don’t. Fucking is mindless, meant for pleasure and pleasure alone. Sometimes, there's intimacy after, but it’s mostly just sex. Making love, of course, comes with pleasure, but that’s not its purpose. Its purpose is to come together with your partner, show each other how much you love them, let all of your emotions run wild and free while sharing the most intimate parts of your body together.

Fucking is like buying a bouquet of roses. You get to see them, water them, keep them on display, but the joy dies quickly because the roses die, too.

Making love is like growing a garden of roses. You can’t make love until you grow that love with someone; nurture it, watch it morph and evolve. And then the flowers bloom. The love bursts, the petals are vibrant in colors made up of you and your partner.

Both are lovely. Everyone loves buying a bouquet of roses, but few get to experience growing their own.

You’ve never made love. Tonight will be the first time.

And it will probably be the last.

You nod at Jungkook stupidly, keeping your eyes on his just as he asked you to. Once he sees your eyes remaining on him, he starts slowly moving his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, your arousal can clearly be heard by the noises your cream coating his cock every time he slides in and out makes. It’s beautiful.

This is beautiful… and so goddamn tragic.

He’s also fighting tears. Because, unlike you, he has made love before… or thought he did. He swore on his wedding night he made love to his wife, but it was nothing like this. You’ve barely even started, and he can feel the stark difference. God, it makes him question fucking everything. He never felt this way with his wife, with anyone, only ever with you.

But now isn’t the time to think of such things, to dissect the fact that maybe what he had with his wife was never actually love, but comfort. Now is the time to share your love together, one last time.

He starts moving his hips a bit faster. His arms reach under your body and wrap around you, trying to get as close as humanly possible. He rests his forehead on yours, keeps his eyes on yours, too. He starts panting, is fighting back tears. He is trying so hard not to cry right now.

“I love you.”

Fuck.

You let out another stuttered breath, and then your breathing picks up entirely as you fight back tears. Your arms are wrapped around him now, nails digging into his back like you’re afraid he will float away. Because you are, you’re so scared that if you let go, he will disappear. You don’t want him to disappear.

He starts pounding a bit deeper, grunting with each deep thrust as he grits out again,

“I love you.”

Fuck he needs to stop.

“Jungkook— nngh… don’t…”

He shakes his head, his breathing heavier, and his thrusts bordering on aggressive now. That’s not abnormal for him; sex with you both is regularly rough. But this is so different. It isn’t the dominating kind of aggressive but desperate, full of passion and love and grief.

“No, Y/N, look at me. I love you. I fucking love you so much, Y/N. I love you.”

And you break.

Crying for you also isn’t abnormal during sex with him specifically. It’s always intense, so sometimes you cry. Not out of sadness or pain; it just happens sometimes. He came to learn that quickly.

But just like how he’s making love to you, these tears are different. You’re weeping for the loss of your lover, but also because you are still so full of love for him. You’re crying because for the first time since this mess started between you, you believe him when he says he loves you. Deep down in your core, in every single crack and crevice of your being, you feel his love for you.

You see it in his eyes as he looks at you, you feel it in the way he touches and kisses you, you hear it in the way he speaks to you when he says it. He loves you so fucking much, and you regret refusing to see it until your last night together. You wish so badly you could have savored his love more seriously rather than deny yourself of it.

You wish things were different.

So you cry for him. The moment the first tear falls, you don’t hold back. You let out something between a moan and a sob as he fucks his cock into you, and his hips stutter when he realizes you’re crying. He didn’t want you to cry, fuck, he doesn’t think he can handle that right now without crying himself. He just wanted you to know, needed you to know that you are loved by him. So fucking loved.

He keeps his eyes on yours, watches the tears fall. He tilts his head slightly and starts kissing the tears away, even as they continue to fall. Greedily kisses them away because they are for him. This will be the last time you water his fully bloomed flower, so he will be greedy. Because he knows that after this, his flower will wilt away, maybe he will, too. So he lets you cry and he kisses and fucks you through it.

He feels himself getting close, his cock starting to twitch and his hips grinding harder into your pelvis. He feels you getting close, too, the way your cunt starts pulsing in rhythm with his cock. You’ve never come at the same time before. He hopes that tonight, he can make it happen.

“Fuck, you feel like home… I love you so much…”

A strangled sob escapes your throat at his words. It’s like he can’t stop saying it, can’t get the words out of his mouth enough. You’ve yet to say it back because you’re afraid his glittery eyes will water, too. But god, you need him to know.

“I love you too, Koo… more than anything…”

And you were right. Hearing you say it amidst your tears, combined with the way your pussy starts rippling around his cock, throbbing and clenching directly after you say it, it’s too much.

He cries. Tries to hide it with a moan, but it’s no use because his tears fall onto your cheeks. You both start crying harder, and he starts fucking you faster. His arms tighten around your waist, and he starts kissing you. Lets you taste your melded tears, his sorrow, his devotion, his love all poured out into this kiss and his tears.

You both water each others flower for the last time.

You feel the familiar pressure building as you kiss him back, your tears mixing with his, the taste addicting. You hate seeing him cry; you know it’s going to haunt you for weeks. But right now, you’re consumed with wanting to be as close to him as possible, and you want to share this moment with him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and your hips start matching his thrusts. The kiss turns a bit sloppy and uncoordinated because he’s very clearly about to cum; you can feel his cock start twitching and pulsing aggressively inside of you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I. Love. You.”

He groans loudly, his voice sounds strained and distraught. “Come with me.”

You assume he means he wants you to cum at the same time as him. He wants you to cum together, which is definitely going to happen; you feel the string about to snap on both sides.

But really, it had dual meaning. Cum with me, but also come with me. Anywhere, everywhere, please run away with me, please love me forever and ever, please save a piece of your heart for me, please don’t stay away from me forever.

One last thrust and his pelvis grinds into yours as his balls draw up taught. He whimpers into your mouth, and his pelvis grinding into you, mixed with how fucking deep his cock is inside of you, is enough stimulation to your clit to cause you to hurl over the edge a second time. You cream all over his dick, your hips writhing beneath him as you whine and moan into his mouth. His cock jerks hard inside of you, shooting hot ropes of cum that seem endless. Your souls meld together much like your tears do, and you both cum harder than you ever have.

It’s like, in this moment, you are one. You both share a garden, flowers at full bloom, no pesky cages or fences to hinder you from flourishing together. There’s sunlight, and bees, and soil, and plenty of water. It’s peaceful, it’s heaven, it’s home. It’s where you both swear you belong.

Both of your orgasms seem to last eternally. It’s endless, his cock jerking and spurting in rhythm to the way your pussy milks him and pulses around him. He stays buried to the hilt until his cock tires out and your pussy stops milking him.

Even after, he stays like this. You both say nothing as you silently cry together, still connected intimately as you share little kisses between tears.

You made love. He made love to you.

You know damn well you’re ruined for any other man going forward after that.

He exhales a shaky breath and starts peppering your face with little kisses. Despite the tears, he feels lighter than before. There’s still that impending sense of doom, but he knows in his heart that you know he loves you now. That’s all he wanted from tonight…

And despite the sex being pretty vanilla compared to what you usually do, Jesus fuck, that was the best sex he’s ever had.

As he attempts to kiss all of your tears away, he starts whispering the sweetest shit to you, even as he continues crying.

“My baby…”

Kiss.

“My love…”

Kiss.

“My pretty girl…”

Kiss.

“My angel…”

Kiss.

“My heart…”

Kiss.

“My soul…”

Kiss.

“My fucking everything…”

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Fuck, it makes you swoon hearing all of those sweet words. Not sweet nothings, but sweet declarations. Pure truth. You are and have been his everything despite how fucked up it all is.

You always will be. Fucking always.

You cry a bit harder, nearly blubbering now. He keeps crying, too, not quite as hard as you because he doesn’t want this to be harder for you than it already is… but he knows the moment he leaves you in the morning, he will cry twice as hard.

You realize you’re still clinging to him; there are definitely going to be red marks all over his back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried inside of you because that’s where you swear he belongs. He would agree with you.

But you remove your hands from his back and bring them to cup his face, and you feel so fucking drained from the intense sex and crying and the entire goddamn rollercoaster of today… but you don’t want it to end. Fuck, you’re so afraid for it to end.

You place a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you. I really do. Always have, always will, forever and ever…”

He smiles sadly down at you, nods. Because he knows. He never once doubted how much you loved him; every single time he was with you, he felt your love. Even when you were mad at him, you made him feel loved. He wishes so badly that he could’ve made you feel as secure as you made him feel.

You will never know how utterly thankful for you he is.

“I know baby, I know…”

You let out another choked sob and bury your face in his neck. He lifts himself off of you slightly, and he moves himself so that he’s lying beside you instead of on top of you. You cling to him again, refuse to let him go. Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to. Can’t fucking bear it.

He gently slips his cock out of you and then wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to cup the back of your head and stroke his fingers through your hair, the other rubbing your back soothingly.

You cry and cry and cry. It’s pitiful how hard you’re crying; if anyone saw you right now, they’d be certain someone had died. It really feels that way, as if he’s dying while holding you right now. He feels like he’s dying watching you crumble like this, but he doesn’t dare stop you.

He doesn’t even reassure you because all that would do is give you false hope for something that may not happen ever again. For all you know, after this, you will never cross paths. He may just become a ghost to you…

A flower that bloomed in the spring and died come winter.

There were so many things you wanted to do tonight. You wanted to shower together, wash his hair for him, show him how to bake those cookies you know he loves, stay up and talk about a bunch of pointless shit, rewatch your favorite movies together, fuck a few more times, choke on his dick one last time, kiss him and touch him all over all night. So so so much more.

You didn’t want to stop here. You wanted to stay awake and savor every last second together just as greedily as him. But god, as you sob in his arms, you feel yourself growing so heavy with exhaustion that you can’t keep your eyes open.

“Don’t let me fall asleep, Koo, make me stay awake…”

He buries his face in your hair, his tears making wet patches in your strands. He inhales deeply just to get another whiff of your shampoo, fuck, he needs to figure out which one it is before he leaves so he can buy it and use it. Doesn’t even care if it’s weird. Wants to smell like you. Wants to be surrounded by reminders of you forever.

Like you, he’s been crying this whole time but so quiet that you don’t even realize it. He made sure you wouldn’t realize it. This is your time to get comfort from him, he can’t offer you reassurance, but he damn sure can comfort you through the pain that is his fault.

“Rest, baby… I’m here…”

You shake your head at him, keep your face buried in his neck even as your eyes start to lull shut.

“No, slap me, keep me awake… don’t wanna… sleep… please…”

He can feel your body start to go limp, can feel your tears running down his neck. He knows you’ll be out cold soon. You were fighting a battle you just couldn’t win, and god he wishes he could keep you awake. But he knows you’re emotionally overloaded right now…

And maybe if you fall asleep in his arms, you’ll rest peacefully for tonight. You deserve that, he thinks. You deserve so much peace and happiness.

“It’s ok Y/N… I got you. Just sleep. My baby needs rest, hm?”

You try so fucking hard to respond. But he’s right; you’re fighting a losing battle. Your body can’t keep up with your brain to the point you’re slurring your words. Maybe it’s the after-effects of a fight or flight response because it really felt like you were fighting for your love when making love tonight… fighting to keep hold of his roots as they slowly became untwined from yours. And now, you’re simply too tired.

“I… I love you… so… much…”

He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Holds you a little tighter. Because, fuck, your last words before lulling into a deep sleep were that you loved him. It’s as it should be, but for some reason, it wrecks him, knowing that this is the last time he will hear them.

When your breathing evens out, he pulls back, stares at you. Your brows are furrowed even in sleep, clearly troubled. But you don’t stir and your grip on him loosens. You are so fucking beautiful. He wishes so badly he could just stay like this, watching you rest, in your arms while you’re in his.

Holding each other, as if you’re both one person instead of two.

He knows he won’t sleep tonight. He’s just as overwhelmed as you, but instead of his body shutting down, his adrenaline has spiked. He’s dreading leaving this bed, dreading leaving you.

He stares for an almost pathetic amount of time. Just lays beside you and takes in every soft detail of your face, traces his fingertips over your features. He finds himself wondering, what if he married you instead? What if you met sooner? What if you lived with him and had his babies one day?

What if… he left his wife?

He has to stop himself there. He makes a pained noise and buries his face in your hair again because he knows he can’t think like that. He could leave his wife; he probably should, but he feels like he owes her his life, his devotion. He married her, for fucks sake.

And even if he did leave, he doubts you’d ever be capable of having a healthy and stable relationship. People in these situations rarely do; it’s a form of karma, he thinks. Husbands who cheat and marry their mistresses often get cheated on, or they end up do it again.

He swears, fucking swears on his life that he would never do that to you. But he knows you probably wouldn’t trust him; any woman in your situation wouldn’t. You’d always be left wondering if he’d turn around and do the same to you one day.

Oh, Jungkook, how badly you’ve fucked up…

He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he checks the little alarm clock on your bedside table. He honestly can’t recall when he got here or what time ‘one more night’ started, but as of now, it’s 5 am.

He wants to stay. Wants to fall asleep holding you, wake up and make you breakfast, draw you a cozy bath and massage your back for you… wants to treat you as a lover would.

But he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon, he won’t leave at all. The moment you open your eyes, he will beg again. He will cry and beg and plead for you to change your mind.

Which is way too selfish, considering he’s still a coward, still unwilling to leave his wife both out of fear and knowing the reality of what happens once he does.

So he places one last kiss on your forehead, breathes you in one last time, and then quietly extracts himself from your hold. Standing up and getting off the bed, he looks down at you.

He swears he can see the exact place you keep his stolen heart inside of you. He doesn’t want it anymore, it’s yours. Always will be.

He slowly starts dressing himself again with robotic-like motions. He isn’t crying anymore; he feels kind of numb at this point, or maybe his tears have just run out.

Acceptance? Or the calm before the storm? He isn’t sure.

He doesn’t bother taking a shower; can’t be bothered right now even if he smells like sex… smells like your sex specifically. He can blame it on being lazy, but he knows it’s because he wants your smell to linger a bit longer. He will shower later.

Once fully dressed he pads his way into the living room, grabs the bag full of stuff he packed for you. He takes it back into your bedroom and sits it at the end of the bed.

He carefully collects each Polaroid he took of you for himself and stuffs them in his wallet for safekeeping. After nearly considering changing his mind and taking the camera greedily, he decides he’ll leave it for you, even though it was a gift you got him. He knows you love it, but also knows you’d never buy one for yourself. And if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think he could ever use it again without thinking of you. It would feel wrong to use it without you.

So he sets that on the end of the bed. He opens the bag, carefully takes out the clothing he packed for you, folds them, and arranges them in a neat pile. Next, he takes out the box of Polaroids; he made sure to put a label on it before coming that said ‘For Y/N.’ He sets the box next to the clothes and then carefully places the chain he packed on top of the pile of clothes.

He wants to arrange it almost as a surprise, hoping it’ll feel more like a gift and not so much like a goodbye this way.

Now that the bag is empty, his intrusive thoughts return. He wants so badly to turn into a little thief and take some of your stuff, too. You would have gladly offered it to him, anything he wanted, but you’re asleep. And he can’t stay much longer.

His intrusive thoughts win, and he can’t find himself feeling too guilty.

So he reaches down and grabs the panties you had on earlier, the same panties that he sucked on like a damn popsicle, and he puts them in the bag.

He quietly makes his way into your bathroom, looks around for a moment until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: the star pimple patches. He takes them, noticing that they’re in a cute little case with a face on it. He knows you love these things; they make pimples feel less like some kind of imperfection. He loves them, too. They remind him of a time when you showered him with love.

You won’t miss them, he thinks again. Not as much as he’ll miss you.

He greedily holds onto them, looks around to see if there’s anything else he can steal. He sees your scarf hanging on the back of your bathroom door; it was the scarf you wore one of the first times he took you to dinner. It’s honestly kind of ugly; it’s a dark and muted plaid, but you loved it because of how soft and warm it is.

It smells very strongly of you.

It’s his now.

He takes the scarf and decides that’s enough. He’s greedy, but he’s not an actual thief. Maybe more like a rat. As much as he wants to steal your shampoo, he decides just to make a mental note of the name because he knows you'll need it to shower when you wake up.

He stuffs the patches and scarf into the same bag and stands before you on the bed. Fuck. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave you.

But now is the perfect time; you’re sleeping soundly, dead to the world. If he leaves like this, there will be no hysterical begging or crying from either party.

Still, he finds himself procrastinating. He decides to open the box of Polaroid photos he packed just to make sure none of the ones he kept for himself snuck their way in. They didn’t. He knows they didn’t. But never hurts to double-check.

He comes across one photo in particular… it was a photo he took one night after you both had some very intense sex. He rented a motel that night because he was in Busan for business, and of course, he dragged you along with him. Busan is his hometown, and his wife has always hated it. She was born and raised in Seoul and always claims Busan is too boring, not lively enough. She always refused to go with him, even if it was to visit his parents.

You, on the other hand, you were so fucking excited to go. You talked his ear off the entire ride there, and once you arrived, you were so interested in everything around you. It was so fucking sweet because you told him the reason you were so excited was because it was a part of him. He was born here, which makes the place sacred. It was dramatic, but god, it was precious.

After you guys fucked that night, you both showered together. You got out of the shower before him, and you snapped a few pictures with the Polaroid; he made sure to put those in the box for you. At some point after, you were lying in the bed watching some cartoon on the motel TV, and he was smoking a cigarette. He noticed a vivid handprint from where he was slapping your ass while fucking you from behind. It was the first time he wasn’t really concerned about it, but proud. Because in some fucked up way, he marked you, even if it was temporary. You were his, and even if you doubted it, he was yours.

It was the same feeling he got tonight when giving you those hickeys. Just a little reassurance that you belong to him.

He took the photo to kind of solidify the feeling, preserve it. It was very aesthetically pleasing. One of his favorites, he’s realizing. He almost wants to take this one.

But instead, he decides to leave it with you, and before he does so he grabs a pin from your desk and writes:

I won’t let you forget us

-Kook

It’s cryptic, he knows. Maybe it’s selfish to leave a message like that… but perhaps it’ll keep you open for him. Not that he expects you to wait for him to get his shit together, god never. But maybe you’ll allow him to check on you now and then, maybe you won’t block his number, maybe, just maybe, you’ll save a piece of your heart for him…

He sets the photo down on top of the pile of folded clothes and steps back. He looks at the clock again, sees that it’s now 5:50 am. He has no idea how time passed that quickly because it only felt like maybe ten minutes had passed. He must have been moving slowly; his brain must have realized how much he was fighting this inevitable end.

As he stares down at your sleeping form, he genuinely considers staying. Considers refusing to leave.

And that’s exactly why he chooses this moment to leave. He has to get the fuck out of here before he does something stupid.

He walks over to you once more, leans down, and places a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your chin, and starts peppering your face with kisses all over again. His heart is pounding fast, and he has the urge to run. With one last kiss to your lips, he yanks himself away and grabs the bag now full of items that don’t belong to him.

He wants to take in your space one last time, wants to linger and look around because this has been his safe space for literal months. But he fucking can’t. He feels his resolve weakening quickly by the second and knows one more second here, and he won’t leave.

He quickly makes his way out of your apartment, is nearly panting as he walks out of your complex and down to his car. His hands are shaking, his heart is beating at a scary pace, and he starts to feel fucking sick.

He borderline throws the bag in his back seat, and then gets into his car quickly. His hands shake so severely that he fumbles with his keys as he starts the engine. The moment the car turns on, he’s peeling out of the parking lot.

It wasn’t acceptance. It was indeed the calm before the storm.

He’s never felt like this before. He feels nauseous and almost panicky as he drives robotically down the morning streets of Seoul. His breathing is coming in so fast he gets dizzy.

It all hits him at once. This is the end. FIN. Over.

He swears he feels his flower die at that very moment. It wasn’t uprooted and moved to another garden; someone fucking stepped on his fully bloomed Bearded Iris. One second he was thriving, flourishing, and now he’s fucking dead.

He doesn’t even recognize the sounds of his own choked sobs as he drives down the street. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking see. He feels like he’s dying, truly, he almost considers calling for help because he feels so full of despair and grief.

But who would he call? His wife? That's a fucking joke. You? He can't call you anymore. He can't call his friends either because none of them know. He's on his fucking own now.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it feels like to grieve the death of a love who is still alive.

He ends up pulling into a random parking lot once he’s a safe distance from your apartment. He slams his palms on his steering wheel and just fucking bawls. Tears fog his eyes, and he sounds almost childish because of the force in which he’s crying.

He knew the day he lost you would be the day that that he died. And right now, he is dying for you.

It isn’t until 10 am that you stir awake. You instinctively reach for him, but your hands only find cold sheets, meaning he left a while ago…

You didn’t expect him to leave so soon. You expected to be able to wake up to him one last time, so you’re disappointed when you realize his clothes aren’t on the floor anymore, and you don’t hear the sounds of him awake and making coffee in the kitchen.

But you suppose that was a smart move. If he had stayed, it would have just made it harder for you both, most likely.

You feel oddly… numb. As of now, no sadness. The only thing you feel is almost like a little zap in your chest; it’s subtle, to the point you aren’t even sure if it’s really there.

It’s off. Somethings not quite right.

You ignore the weird hollow feeling as you sit up and stretch; you realize you never showered, and you smell heavily of sex. So you get out of bed, and you make your way into your bathroom. You start the shower after using the bathroom, and as you wait to warm it up, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Fuck.

You are literally littered with marks. Your neck, all the way down to your chest, all the way down to your thighs. Purple and pink love bites all over you. He seriously fucked you up.

You feel that zap again.

You shake your head and tear your eyes away from the mirror, don’t notice how your star patches are missing from your skincare tub on your bathroom counter yet. You step inside the shower and spend a good while letting the hot water wash over your body, washing the remnants of sex and sweat off of your skin.

After about half an hour, you step out. Dry off. Get dressed. That’s when you walk back into your bedroom and notice the pile of clothing sitting on your bed. Clothing that isn’t yours.

You slowly approach it and quickly recognize the strong scent lingering on it: his cologne. You unhurriedly pick up each piece of clothing, see the shirt and hoodie you often attempted to steal from him, accompanied by one of his favorite jackets.

He left pieces of himself for you.

Zap.

You set them aside and pick up the chain and photo. Fuck, you love his chains. You always loved them because, one, they’re fucking hot, and two, you loved how they would dangle above you when he was fucking you. You doubt he realized it, but sometimes you’d bite it as he was fucking you, tug on it like a damn dog playing with their favorite chew toy just to see if it would break. It never did, and you never stopped being fascinated with his jewelry.

Zap.

You look at the photo and immediately recall the memory. Busan, now one of your favorite places, all because of him. It was such a good little trip. You tried a lot of street food you never had before, saw a lot of pretty things, and he fucked you beautifully that night. It was rough, passionate, and he left hand prints on your ass, and much like him, you loved it. This was one of your favorites, for sure.

But then you read the note.

I won’t let you forget us.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

You drop the photo and the chain on top of the clothes, let out a shaky breathe. Still, you aren’t really feeling much, maybe a bit of nostalgia accompanying the zaps… but no despair, no yearning or grieving…

Calm before the storm.

You decide you need some coffee and painkillers. You have a lingering migraine from all of the wine and crying last night, so you leave your bedroom and make your way into the kitchen.

You start making your coffee and swallow the painkillers dry. You lean against the counter as your coffee brews, then freeze when you look at the floor.

The purple wild flower lays there, stepped on by he-who-shall-not-be-named’s boot. Wilted and destroyed, the petals disconnected from the stem.

The flower is dead.

And now you break.

Those zaps you were feeling, you suddenly understand. It was your fight or flight kicking in again, and instead of your brain responding to it, it blocked it out.

Can’t fight it now.

You drop to your knees, start breathing heavily because you feel like someone placed bricks on your chest. Your heart aches, literally, it hurts, it feels like it’s going to explode and you feel like you can’t breathe at all.

You start crying again… no- you’re fucking wailing. You’re crying out for the loss of your flower, for the death of a lover who isn’t even dead, much like Jungkook had earlier.

It finally hits you that he isn't coming back. He's gone, and now, you're expected to move on. Your heart aches for him. Without him, do you even have a heart?

No, you really don’t, not right now anyway. The moment he stepped out that door, he took it with him. He fucking stole your heart just like he stole your pimple patches and perfume.

All you can do is cry for him, except right now, you don’t have him to cling to for empty comfort. Instead, you reach for the dead wildflower, hold it in your palm, bring it to your chest, and cradle it close as if you can somehow bring it back to life.

Bring him back to you.

Little do you know, he’s currently curled up in his bed at his second apartment. He hasn’t stopped crying since he left. He went back home, took the stolen perfume, and sprayed it all over his damn bed, and now he’s hugging a pillow as if it’s you. Imagining that it’s you, that this is all just a horrible dream, and he will wake up soon.

Both of you are lovers, stars who collided, planets who aligned, flowers who grew side by side.

But it was at the wrong time. And now you’re paying the consequences of your paths crossing when they shouldn't have.

So far away in the matter of hours when you were once so close, yet you’re both doing the exact same thing; clinging to shreds of each other and wishing so fucking badly that things could be different.

Both of you left each other without returning your hearts. Both of your flowers got stepped on instead of uprooted and re-planted somewhere safer.

Spring has passed, no longer bees buzzing and flowers blooming, but the cold harsh winter is coming.

It will be a while before either of you bloom again, if at all.

[loquaciousferret]

Saints and Sinners

Summary: The yearly Halloween rendezvous with your long-term no-strings lover Joel Miller is set to be shaken up when he invites a third- Javi Peña- to your hotel room.

No-outbreak AU | Joel Miller and Javi Peña existing in the same universe AU

Pairings: Javier Pe��a x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 5.7k (whoops)

Warnings below the cut | 18+ Only

Content Warnings: MATURE 18+ Disrespect of religion including the Cross. No real physical description of reader other than female anatomy and she can be lifted by or sit on top of both males. Alcohol consumption, sex whilst under the influence, oral both m and f receiving, facesitting, facefucking, unprotected sex with a stranger, consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism, facial, spitting, degradation, pet names, anal play, MMF threesome, a suggestion of but not actual infidelity, discussion of age gap between the sexual partners.

A/N: Hey homies, I’ve come out of retirement for one day only for halloween (It’s also my birthday) this started off just something hot but accidentally turned fluffy and deep towards the end. Consider that my birthday gift to myself. I hope you enjoy!

You analyse your appearance in the mirror for what might be the hundredth time, straightening the garish crystal-covered cross that hangs on a delicate chain from your neck. The base of it just slightly tucks into the cleavage that is spilling from the top of the satin black mini dress. A few strands of hair peak out from the matching black covering on your head, framing your face perfectly. Sexy nun. What a great Halloween costume. Offensive? Probably. But hot? Definitely.

Joel had texted you a few hours previously with the room number for your usual luxury downtown hotel. 308. Surprise inside. The message had read. A man of few words was Joel Miller, but you didn’t mind. Your annual meeting didn’t need much introduction.

You checked the time on your phone and realised you were in a rush. Your scheduled Uber, the chariot that would deliver you to Joel, would be there in half an hour. You quickly grabbed your bottle of wine, still only half finished, and poured yourself another large glass. After all this time, the nervous butterflies that gathered in your stomach prior to seeing him should have faded, but on the contrary, they seem more powerful each passing year.

By the time you had finished off the bottle you were rushing to cover yourself with a long black coat and put your heels on to head out the door. The nerves had barely subsided and the alcohol only served to hinder your balance as you hurried to the car.

You arrived at the hotel, which you hadn’t visited since this time last year. It was a looming black structure that stood out against the rest of the buildings on the street. Once inside the lobby, it was like you were in another dimension altogether. It was dimly lit and strongly scented with candles and diffusers. It was soundproofed well, to the extent that you would never know you had just stepped off of a busy city street. It was familiar and yet mysterious every time you visited. It certainly wasn’t the sleazy motel you would imagine to typically be used for you and Joel’s purposes. You didn’t know how often other people typically visited hotels. They are usually a place of passing. So, after visiting on the same weekend every year for five years, you felt like perhaps you were a regular.

You spoke to the man at the desk who welcomed you with warm eyes and a kind smile. It was the kind of place where the staff always made you feel important. He handed you a wallet made of thick black card with the hotels gold logo embossed on the front.

“The keycard is just inside. Take the elevator to the third floor and you’ll find 8 on your right.” He says. “And I’m here all night, should you need anything at all.”

“Thank you.” You say, and proceed nervously to the elevator. The hand holding the wallet is actually shaking. Pull it together.

The elevator ride to the third floor is over quicker than you would have liked, and suddenly you are stepping out into a dim corridor. The same thick scent that fills the lobby also lingers here. Deep and musky, like oud, and yet fresh at the same time. The whole thing is a sensory experience.

You turn to find 308 and take deep breaths with each stride. You’re about to see him again. With each year that passes, you always worry things will have changed, and yet they never do. He is always the same Joel, the same scent, the same strong frame, the same quirks in his speech. He is something entirely familiar to you, just as you are to him. Two halves of a pair entirely in tune with one another, able to predict each others every word, every movement. He is the one constant you can always rely on. You just know him.

But when you insert the keycard and let yourself into the room, you are staring into the face of someone entirely unfamiliar.

“Uhh- I-“ You began to stutter. There must have been some mistake, but you don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry, I think uh- I-”

“Don’t worry.” He said with a smooth Texan accent. “You’re in the right place. You’re Joel’s girl, right?”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion as you try to piece it together. The question, asked with such casualness as though he already knew it to be true, was so complicated that you could barely wrap your head round it. You weren’t Joel’s girl, not even close. Why did he think that? How does he know Joel?

Once you looked at him properly, you realised that whilst he was younger, this stranger, his resemblance to Joel other than that was striking. He looked more like him than his own brother. The same hooked nose and serious brow bone, but his hair was shorter and straighter, dark brown not yet peppered with grey like Joel’s. And unlike Joel’s scruff of stubble, this man was clean shaven except for a thick moustache.

So this was the surprise. You realised. Where the hell did he find this guy?

“What is this?” You ask. It came out harsher than you expected and you cringed at yourself for being so rude. But this was not part of the arrangement, and you hadn’t prepared yourself. The butterflies in your stomach swelled painfully.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He said. “Some kind of Halloween treat I guess.”

“Is it? Seems like more of a trick to me.”

The man chuckled, unphased by your comment. Whatever this was, well, you had a pretty good guess, and whilst you weren’t against it in theory, you were pissed Joel had pulled something like this. But he always had to change the rules and shock you. It was just part of his addictive game.

The man rose from the comfortable chair in which he had been slouched, thighs wide, manspreading and confidently exposing a bulging package inside his tight jeans. He reached for a bucket containing an expensive champagne, popped it open without any fuss and poured two large flutes full. He held one out for you and you took a tentative step towards him.

“I don’t bite.” He said, flashing a toothy grin that made you doubt his statement.

You took it from him anyway, your hand brushing against his large warm one as you clutched the stem. You took a sip and the warm bubbles floated down your chest and into your stomach, heat radiating where it mixed with the white wine from earlier.

Damn this whole situation, you think, and yet you can’t fool yourself into thinking you won’t do exactly what Joel intended you to do with this guy. When he calls, you answer. When he gives, you take. And when he tricks you into meeting a handsome stranger and screwing him, for whatever reason, you oblige just so.

“So, um…”

“Javi.”

“So, Javi.” You say. “What are you supposed to be dressed as?”

“Uhhh…” He hums as if he hadn’t really thought about it. “A cop.” He says eventually.

“Then where’s your uniform?” You challenge.

“Undercover cop I guess.” He shrugs, smirk plastered on his face. “You on the other hand. You went all out, huh?”

“Oh, this old thing?” You say, running your hand up your side from the hem of the dress to your cleavage, which you lean towards him for a better view.

His tongue flicks out across his lower lip. You giggle and lean back to where you had been sitting before, but he reaches an arm out to wrap around your waist and pull you a little closer towards him.

“How do you know him?” You ask. You don’t want to pry, but if you’re going to let him fuck you, you want at least a few details.

“Uhh…” His responses don’t come easily to any of your questions, as if he is consistently just thinking up answers before offering them. “We met at poker.”

“I didn’t know he gambled.” You say.

Javi looks at you with a quizzical expression, like it was obvious. Like Joel and gambling are synonymous and it wouldn’t make sense not to immediately associate them. It stings for some reason.

“Right.” He says, expression still twisted. “So not his girl then, I guess. Then how do you know him.”

But you hum too while you think of your answer, and so you give Javi some slack for his own hesitation.

“Old friends.” You say simply, giving nothing away. “How did this come about though?”

He laughs a little, ducking his head as if unsure whether to be honest. “A bet.”

“A bet?” Your eyes widen and you respond in shock. You’re rightfully offended by the insinuation, but it doesn’t make you angry. If anything, it sends another aching sensation between your legs. “He- He bet me? You won a bet for me?”

He laughs at that, a proper laugh, like the suggestion itself was downright ridiculous, although you are unsure why. You had considered it a pretty sound conclusion. “Actually, no.” He explains. “It was Joel who won the bet.”

Your eyebrows are drawn together in thought and he smirks as he watches you piece what you can together.

“So…” You say, unsure what to think of it all. “So he really wants us to do this?”

“I guess so.” He says, finishing off his champagne. Yours is empty too and he takes the glass from you, heading back to the desk to find the rest of the bottle. “You want another?” He asks.

You shake your head no and he comes and sits down next to you on the bed again.

“Is he… Is he coming? I mean are we supposed to wait or- or- do we have t-“

He cuts you off and puts a comforting hand on your thigh.  “Hey, there is no ‘have to’. Whatever you like. I’m a man of the law, darlin’. I won’t make you.” He pauses just for a beat. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You flush at the insinuation, looking away from him. Damn your bashful complexion. Damn Joel for this twisted trick. Damn this handsome dude for making it impossible not to throw yourself into his lap and kiss him.

He responds to you immediately, his hands wasting no time feigning respectfulness before attaching to your ass and groping you through the tightly stretched fabric.

You grind into him as he deepens the kiss, one hand leaving your ass to come round and grip your jaw. The thick denim of his jeans stimulates you through the thin barrier of your underwear.

“Dirty girl.” He says as you speed up your movements, grinding yourself against his growing bulge deliberately to pleasure yourself. “That outfit just pretend or somethin’? Where’d ya learn to do that?”

You don’t speak back and you focus on unbuttoning his shirt instead, not breaking the kiss as you work at the buttons. The alcohol has affected your dexterity and eventually he pulls back and starts undoing them himself. You reach for his belt instead, unclasping it and then pulling down the zip on his jeans.

By then his shirt is off, and you take in the wide expanse of honey skin. He is slimmer than Joel, but still built strong. Lean and toned muscle take the place of Joel’s, which are hardened by life but softened by age. It’s not just the resemblance that had you comparing the two. You compared every lover to Joel. Eventually you just had to stop sleeping with anyone else, because no one measured up. There was simply before Joel, and after Joel. And after Joel, well… nothing else would suffice. Apart from this handsome stranger nominated by Joel personally. That, you were willing to try.

You fumble clumsily with his jeans until he takes over that, too. He grinds his palm into the hard bulge as he does so. You smirk a little when the trail of hair that is peeking out is revealed further, showing he isn’t wearing underwear.

He pushes them down his legs, not bothering to remove them fully, lays backwards, and then his hands are grabbing at your sides and pulling you up further so you are sitting on his stomach.

“You’re just something else, ain’t ya?” He says, his voice thick with desire for you.

You flush and he starts to take apart your costume, removing the head piece and uncovering your hair which remains perfect underneath. Then, he reaches behind you and unzips the dress, his touch gentle but still urgent, fuelled by desire. You raise your arms to let him slide it over your head, exposing your bare chest, and his hands immediately move to cup your breasts, kneading gently and toying with your nipples with his thumbs.

“Look at you…” He coos.

You basked in his attention. He was softer than Joel. Sweeter. Then you scolded yourself for comparing them and tried to enjoy the moment, leaning down to kiss him.

He pushed you away. “Uhuh.”

You frown, but he is quickly grabbing your thighs and pulling you further up his chest towards his face. You let him guide you until you are hovering over him, his mouth kissing at you through your lace underwear.

You let out a desperate sigh and you feel him smirk under you. He presses another few kisses before opening his mouth and dragging his tongue up and down your underwear.

You feel yourself shaking a little already, and you put effort into breathing deeply to avoid pathetically moaning so soon.

You gasp as Javi brings his hand up to your underwear, pulling it aside so his tongue has access to your wet core.

As soon as his tongue connects, he lets out a groan. Your knees shake and whilst you had been trying to hover slightly before, you end up fully sitting on his face. This encourages him even more, sloppily eating you out, his nose brushing your clit. He licks, sucks, and kisses each spot perfectly. His moustache tickles a little and you realise you have never slept with a dude with one before.

“Oh, god-“ You gasp, cutting yourself off with a loud moan. “Javiii-“

He moans into you as he eats you out hungrily, sending vibrations around your aching core.

“Fuck-“ You say. You rip yourself out of his grasp and shuffle down his body where his cock stands, hard and throbbing. You had to stop him before you came all over his face. Joel wouldn’t have appreciated that.

You glide your dripping cunt up and down his shaft, wetting it before rising up on your knees and taking it gently in your hand. You sink down onto it and watch his expression. He grits his teeth in pleasure.

You let it fill you for a moment, not moving while you adjust to his length. He has less girth than Joel, but not much. His length is equal, hitting a spot deep inside you as you gently rock back and forth. Once you are prepared, you start to move, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing pace and force.

Using your hands to help you balance, you start to bounce in a quick rhythm up and down his length. Your tits jiggle in his face, the cross hitting against his lips. He takes it between his teeth and you giggle, your hole fluttering and pulsing as you do so. This causes him to spit it out, his mouth opening in a sensual moan.

“Fuck, baby, you ride this cock so damn good-“ He pants, hands grabbing at your ass greedily, spreading your cheeks and helping you with your momentum as you bounce on his length shamelessly. The praise encourages you to keep trying hard to please him.

Your moans are desperate as you keep going, your head thrown back and your mouth open. Your eyes roll pornographically. When you eventually summon the strength to open them and look down at him, you see him transfixed on you.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” He grunts, “Fucking ride that dick, baby, yeah. Oh yeah just like that”

You are too wrapped up in the sensations, the sounds, of you and Javi, that you don’t notice the door opening. It’s heavy footsteps on the lush carpet that break you out of your trance. You whip your head round, the motion of your hips not faltering, as you make eye contact with him. Joel. At last.

He smiles a dark smile, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. You realise how depraved it must all be from his perspective, the bejewelled Cross sticking to your tits with sweat as you bounce on this stranger’s cock.

“Don’t be rude, baby.” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Keep your eyes on what you’re doing.”

You break away from looking at him reluctantly, focussing your attention back on Javi, whose head is thrown back into the pillows, mouth falling open and eyes now closed in pleasure. You see sweat glistening on his throat and something urges you to lean down and lick a wide stripe up it, the salty taste beautiful on your tongue.

You try to pay attention to Javi and not let yourself get distracted by Joel’s movements. You hear the splash of liquid into a glass and realise you had observed his favourite whiskey earlier, right next to the champagne bucket. The signs of him had been all over the room already and you hadn’t noticed.

You continue to chase your pleasure, the alcohol supplying you with a rare confidence that left you able to perform for both men with little shame. You slow down your movements, feeling Javi deep inside you and grinding your clit against the dark curls at the base of him. Your moans become louder as you do so, rubbing against him rhythmically until you feel the tension of an orgasm building.

“I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, your voice strained.

“No you’re not.” Says the voice from behind you.

Javi’s eyes are open again, watching you, taking in every expression on your face. He smirks at Joel’s words and grips your thighs, preventing you from moving.

“Please-“ You gasp, unsure which of the two men you are pleading with. Your hips jerk involuntarily to chase the same sensation you had been creating previously but Javi keeps a firm grip on you.

“No. You’re going to step being selfish and ride him like a good girl.” Joel instructs. “And you’re gonna hold it. The only cock you’ll come on will be mine.”

You whimper pathetically, turning your head to look at Joel, who is sitting in the armchair I the corner of the room with a perfect view of the bed, hopeful that your wrecked expression might make him take pity on you.

“What did I tell you about manners already?” He scolds, unmoved by you. “Don’t look at me. Look at him.”

When you do, you find Javi’s expression is amused. He doesn’t add to the exchange, simply observing you and Joel’s dynamic, listening as the other man bends you to his will so easily.

You brace your hands on his chest once again and try to follow Joel’s instruction, abandoning the pleasure you had been giving yourself by grinding on his cock and going back to bouncing on it. You can’t find your rhythm and Javi helps you, thrusting his hips upwards into you.

Joel tuts disapprovingly as he watches, taunting, “You’ve forgotten how to ride a cock properly, huh? Need a lesson?”

You whine in frustration and embarrassment, giving up on your own movements and letting Javi control the pace from under you, rutting up into you with enough force that you still need to grasp at his chest to keep your balance. Your tits align with his face and he reaches up with his mouth to suck at one of your nipples.

You hear Joel moving and before you can wonder what he is doing, there are hands on you. His large palms wrap around your waist from behind, holding you tightly. Javi stops moving and Joel starts to control you, lifting you up and dropping you down harshly onto Javi’s cock. You let out a high pitched moan, to Joel’s displeasure.

“Be quiet.” He says. “This isn’t for you.”

He does it repeatedly, forcing you up and down again and again until you lose all control of your upper body, collapsing back into Joel’s wide frame. You bite your lip to hold back your moans, and then Javi helps you by reaching up and sticking a thumb into your mouth. You suck it obediently and you hear him curse under his breath.

“You gonna show him what else your mouth can do, baby?” Joel growls into your ear.

You nod eagerly and Joel lifts you off of Javi. You whimper, the sensation of being empty is unpleasant. Joel laughs darkly.

“Greedy little cunt.” He says. “Doesn’t wanna go a second without being filled up, huh?”

You ignore his teasing and get onto all fours, crawling between Javi’s legs, knowing that simultaneously, you are giving Joel the perfect view of your wet pussy. But he doesn’t touch you again and you hear his footsteps moving away from the bed. You are disappointed but after being chastised twice for looking at him, you manage to resist that urge and focus on Javi’s cock.

You start with just licking, gathering up the taste of your own juices from his shaft. You moan lightly and feel your pussy throb.

“Such a tease.” Javi says, tangling one hand into your hair. The other tucks behind his own head as he lounges back in the luxurious bedding, the image of nonchalance.

His comment doesn’t stop you, though. This is your style. You lick the tip, swirling round it with your tongue. He chases your mouth with a thrust of his hips but you pull your head back at the same time, stopping him from controlling the pace. He growls in displeasure but you choose to maintain the little semblance of control for a while longer. You replace your tongue with a hand, wrapping it around him and letting your mouth travel lower, teasing his balls with light kitten licks. He groans and you take one into your mouth fully, sucking lightly.

“Jesus-“ He sighs, bucking his hips up again involuntarily. You continue for a moment, swirling your tongue around it as it fills your mouth before releasing it with a pop and swapping the position of your mouth and hands once again.

Your hands massage his balls lightly and you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. You lower your head slowly, very slowly, until it’s halfway in and hits the back of your throat, before rising off of it again just as slowly. He’s more patient than Joel, who would have put a stop to this much before now.

You do it again, your speed increasing only incrementally. He twitches inside your mouth and you feel his fingers gripping your hair tighter in a sign of his impatience. Soon, the game is up, and he starts forcing your head up and down urgently. You gag and splutter all over his cock but he doesn’t slow down. You are so wrapped up in it, that it takes you a while to register a weight on the bed behind you, until eventually, your attention is grabbed by a hard cock gliding up and down your wet seam.

You moan around Javi’s cock which leads him to relent in his pace a little, choosing to savour the feeling instead.

“Now you remember what I told you.” Joel says. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”

You can’t respond other than to try and nod which leads the tip of Javi’s cock to prod forcefully into the back of your throat. You gag again and feel your hole convulse, Joel grits his teeth.

He presses the tip into you slowly and within just an inch, you are so full. Full of Javi in your mouth and full of Joel now, too. You moan as he pushes further and further in, your sweet sounds sending vibrations around Javi’s cock that have him cursing incessantly.

Joel’s hands reach to take both of your hips and as soon as he has sheathed himself fully, he is pulling out again and setting an aggressive pace. This is his favourite position and you imagine it is only enhanced for him, as it is for you, by seeing your mouth all filled up too, rendering you incapable of speech, locked in place between the two men.

He hammers into you and you lose control, the blowjob becoming messier, spit dribbling all down Javi’s cock so that it is sliding in and out of your throat with little resistance. Neither of them limit the harshness of their actions, Joel pounding into your cunt and Javi into your throat. The sensation is unlike anything you have ever felt. You don’t think you can get any fuller until you feel Joel’s wet thumb prodding at your ass.

You cry out as he slips it inside you. He groans, low and satisfied. “You like that baby, huh? You like us taking up every single one of your slutty holes? Filthy whore that you are. Jesus-“

You moan at his words and Javi starts to twitch inside your mouth. He pulls your mouth off of him suddenly, not wanting to finish yet. You lower your head turning your cheek so that it rests on his thigh, your back arching in an extreme fashion. He just watches, rubbing himself gently as Joel continues to abuse both of your holes from behind.

Then eventually he pushes you off of him and moves, your eyes are closed but Joel watches what he is doing as he gets off the bed and stands at its edge, pumping his cock in his hand. Joel manoeuvres you so you are facing Javi again.

“Can I come in her mouth?” Javi asks Joel.

Joel lets out a mean laugh. “You don’t have to ask that, man. What else is a whore’s mouth good for?”

You whimper, your cunt throbbing and pulsing around Joel, unbelievably turned on by hearing them talk about you, not to you, like you aren’t even the third participant in this event.

Javi rubs his cock over your face, your cheeks, slapping at your chin with it. Just because he can. Your mouth falls open and he feeds the tip to you slowly, giving you a false sense of security before roughly slamming in the rest of the length. It forces you backwards, impaling you harder on Joel’s cock and the now two fingers which are exploring your asshole.

You feel as though you are the rope in some sick game of tug of war, the way the two of them pass you back and forth between them. Eventually you can’t even separate the sensations both men are giving you and you are left weak and boneless, just moving with the hammering tide that pulls you in and pushes you away again and again.

It’s Javi’s pace that falters first, moans and expletives escaping from his lips until his salty hot load fills your mouth. He half pulls out and spills the remainder over your cheeks and nose. It drips all over your face and he holds you up by your chin. His thumb drifts over the hot spend and directs it towards you mouth. You swallow it all and suck his fingers clean.

“Jesus, I could watch that all day.” He says. But he doesn’t, and he walks away from you after only a brief few seconds. With Javi satisfied, Joel flips you over so you are on your back. He lifts your feet, placing both ankles on his shoulders, ploughing you harder than you thought possible. You had imagined he was fucking you full force before, but like always, he ends up having just that little bit more to give.

You moan and whine helplessly, his pace unrelenting and his stamina downright cruel. You are unable to open your eyes, absolutely exhausted from him and Javi’s treatment. He doesn’t mind, satisfied with your performance already and happy to use you for his pleasure when you are in this state, soft and pliable to his every will.  You vaguely register the sound of the door opening and then closing, the two men offering noncommittal farewells to one another.

“Oh, my baby.” Joel is whispering gently. “You did so well for me. You impressed me so much, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

His rambling seems to go on for a long while, but then again, you don’t know how much of a concept of time you even have left. Some of his words seem distant, like they’re coming to you through a filter. Some of them are so unbelievable that you discount them as just being part of a dream.

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. Always so good for me. Always do so well for me. My sweet baby.”

He must think you’re asleep, talking like this. You still aren’t entirely convinced you are awake either.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as he finishes inside you. You think he holds you like that for longer than usual, until he is completely soft and slips out of you, both his and your juices leaking onto the bed. He cleans you up and he kisses you. He kisses you everywhere, your face, your neck, your chest, down your stomach. You keen towards him unconsciously, weak hands grabbing at whatever part of him you can reach and ending up tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“What am I gonna do with you, my girl? Hmm?” He hums into the crook of your neck.

You must have fallen asleep, although you’re not sure for how long. When your eyes flutter open, it’s still dark, and you register a weight in the bed next to you. You turn towards it.

Joel’s eyes are already open and he is gazing at you intently.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hey.” You say. You can’t help the word from trailing off into a giggle. He renders you downright stupid.

He reaches out a hand to your cheek and strokes it with the pad of his thumb, before moving to push some hair behind your ear with his other fingers. These are his rare affectionate gestures, and whilst you aren’t experiencing them for the first time, they certainly aren’t frequent.

“It’s been a long year.” He says.

You never talk about the time you spend apart. All that matters is the precious, no, sacred, time that you do get together.

“It always is, for me.” You say. He tenses a little in response and you curse yourself silently for having said too much.

To your relief, he relaxes again and pulls your body closer to him. Warmth radiates from the place where your head meets his broad chest. He kisses into the top of your head, inhaling deeply the scent of your shampoo. It’s coconut. He kisses you again and again.

Suddenly, he speaks.

“I don’t know if I can do this again.” He says.

You freeze up. A chill runs down your spine. He wants to break off the arrangement? Somehow you feel blindsided, even though every year the possibility crosses your mind that he’ll finally do it.

Maybe that’s why he brought you Javi. Maybe he thought you would hit it off and you could just move on with him, offered up to you like meat on a platter for your own convenience. Your mind runs through the last few hours in an instant, looking for any sign, any hint from Joel that was this coming. You find none.

He, blissfully unaware of every thought racing around your head, continues, rubbing salt in the wound.

“I just- I just don’t think I can do it again. I’m sorry.” He repeats.

Your heart is racing, your stomach doing backflips. This was inevitable. He’s probably met someone else. Someone who he wants more from than what he wants from you. Someone his own age who thinks the same things he does. Someone who understands the references and jokes that fly over your head. Someone who is the opposite of everything that you are insecure about. Someone powerful and equally matched for him.

But then he speaks again, quieter this time. “Listen baby, the waiting it’s just- I can’t do it anymore. How could one night a year ever be enough? I need ‘em all.”

Oh my god. You honestly thought you must have been dreaming for a moment, unable to process his words and reconcile them with actual reality.

He is silent for a long while and you realise he must be waiting on a response, but you can’t find words.

“I- I-“

You hesitate and he cuts you off. His voice is guarded now.

“No, yeah. You don’t have to explain. It’s whatever. I figured you must have someone else anyway. Didn’t wanna assume but… Yeah. It figures.”

“No.” You say quickly. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else for- for years.”

A silence grows again. And eventually, you are first to fill it.

“How could there be anyone else?” You say. “I just stopped trying to find anyone else. It’s always been you for me, Joel. No point trying to fight that.” Your voice trails off to a whisper.

He puts a thumb under your chin, raising it so your eyes meet his for the first time during the exchange. His brown irises sparkle, lighter than you have ever seen them. He presses his lips to yours and kisses you desperately, muttering practically intelligibly about “My baby. God why didn’t I just ask sooner? My sweet baby. All mine.”

You drift off to sleep again, a tangle of limbs, breathing each other in. You don’t know what will happen in the morning, but at least you know that this time, it won’t be a year until you see Joel again.

Thanks for reading! Masterlist

[missbabyjay]

I Wanna Be With You Everywhere - Pedro Pascal x Reader

FLUFF!

MASTERLIST - CHECK OUT MY PAGE FOR MORE!

Warnings/Content: Fluff, Alcohol

The piece is based off of the song Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac

Summary: After a long week of hard work Pedro treats you to a home cooked meal. The two of you finish off the night basking in a beautiful sunset before drifting off to a world of luscious sleep.

Word Count: 1.1 K

The light hum of the fan tickled your brain as you lounged on your snug, plush bed, propped up with your favourite book. The large windows that resided in your bedroom were cracked open, allowing the warm summer evening breeze to seep into the house, the fresh feeling lingering in your lungs as you breathed in. You had experienced a hectic week; work was incredibly busy, you had a bunch of meetings leaving you relentlessly tired. You hummed along to the soft music playing downstairs that muffled through the house, tapping your finger on the back of your book. “Finally some relaxation,” you thought to yourself. 

 Pedro was cooking dinner for the two of you - knowing a hearty and tasty meal would make your spirit feel lifted. That man would do anything to make you feel better and considering he was on a break from work he had all the time he would need to make the end of your week far better than it had been since Monday. He danced as he switched between the cutting board and the sleek frying plan that laid hot on the stove - cooking a mixture of vegetables. Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac filled the atmosphere, creating a calming environment. 

You placed a bookmark into your book making sure you wouldn’t lose your spot - the plotline was becoming too enticing, but the overwhelming smell of Pedro’s spiced cooking filled your nostrils and you decided to make your way downstairs. You were eager to enjoy a nice meal alongside Pedro; his presence always calmed you down and after the past few days that was exactly what you needed. 

You trotted down the stairs, happy to see Pedro. The aromatics hit your face as you turned the corner to enter the cosy kitchen you shared with Pedro. You saw him dancing along to the music - the two of you shared a love for Fleetwood Mac. You began singing along with the song, “oh-ohhhh, I wanna be with you everywhere.” Pedro turned around with a smile beaming from ear to ear. “Oh Princesa, I love your voice,” he cooed into the air. You wrapped your arms around him as he finished cooking dinner, the two of you swaying along to the melody together. Every so often he would send you a peck, making you giggle. “Dinner is ready. Why don’t you have a seat, baby. I’ll serve you,” he insisted with a warm, loving smile.

Pedro had arranged the table so that two candlesticks sat inbetween you bearing white taper candles that were already partially burned, drips of wax gliding down the sides of them. A cream satin table cloth draped over the small table and the delicate dinnerware was set out on top. Pedro cooked a traditional chilean dish - oh how you loved his culture’s food. The two of you enjoyed the home cooked meal alongside a glass of wine, basking in each other's company. 

“I hope this was a lovely end to your week, mi amor,” his voice purred. You smiled gently at him, you appreciated how much he prioritised your feelings. “It was lovely. The meal was absolutely delicious, P.” You reached for his hand across from you, rubbing your thumb against his tough yet soft skin. He grabbed your other hand, squeezing both of them tightly. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N,” he said with a serious tone while gazing into your eyes. You heart felt warm from the kind words that poured from his lips.

Pedro offered to take care of the dishes, insisting you should continue reading your book. You decided to change your environment by bringing yourself out to the patio. The clock read 7:45 p.m., “Perfect,” you thought to yourself, just in time to catch the sun fall behind the horizon leaving the sky glowing. The stone tiles felt cold on your bare feet as you made your way outside. You settled yourself on the sectional couch that was nested in the corner of your patio. As you bundled up with a light throw blanket you heard the footsteps of Pedro coming from behind you. He was accompanied with two glasses of wine. He lit the citronella candles that sat placed on aesthetically pleasing candle holders. “I’ve got wine!” he sung, while wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

As you sat there you realised just how lucky you were to live the life you have. Pedro nuzzled in beside you, grabbing a portion of the blanket to cover himself with. He brought his arm around you, pulling you close to him. “I love you baby,” he said as he planted a kiss on your temple and let his head rest against yours. You decided to close your book, knowing it would be waiting for you to continue later on. You intertwined your fingers with Pedro’s, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, P, I am so thankful for you,” you exclaimed before cupping his face and pulling him into a passionate kiss. His kiss tasted sweet from the wine you were sharing, making you pull him closer to enjoy the moment a little more. 

The two of you pulled away just in time to savour the beautiful sunset that laid before you. “You’re more beautiful than this sunset, ya know that sugar? As corny as it sounds,” he giggled. His cheekiness made you chuckle. 

The sun had settled and the sky grew dark, dusk washed upon the two of you. You felt quite chilled, rubbing your arms to create some warmth. Pedro noticed while glancing down at you, “Why don’t we head inside?” he suggested. 

As a team the two of you collected everything, making sure to exhaust the candles - safety first! You made your way into the bedroom, picking out one of Pedro’s favourite t-shirts out of his dresser while he also got ready for bed. You glanced at his toned and tanned body as he ran his fingers through his chocolate brown curls.

You decided to keep the windows open, lounging in the sweet summer air. The two of you intertwined your bodies and sat in silence, listening to each other's heartbeat and breathing. Pedro’s hands ran up and down your body, finding their way to your bare back underneath his large cotton shirt you sported. He began circling his fingers on your back, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. Your heart rate slowed and you found yourself falling into a deep sleep; ending your stressful week in the arms of your passionate lover.

[justwritingscenarios]

I am SO SORRY for the two months delay but I really had issues writing this request. I started it over about 7 times... But I am FINALLY content with it. SO here we go !

Scenario 1 : continuously denying others who think they are together

Izo x GN!Reader // Words : 2.3K // Warnings : few swearing (no beta reader).

« Are you two dating?”

The first time someone asked you this question, it was Thatch, during a lunch.

“Why. No?” You were as confused as Izo was. Nothing was going on between you. You were just friends. Thatch didn’t insist. You had no idea what made him think like this…

*

“You’re dating?”

The second time, it was Ace. Izo chocked when the water went down the wrong way. You patted this back as he coughed.

“What the fuck Ace?”

“You’re sharing your bottle with him! You’re never sharing it with me!”

“Because his is empty.”

Ace, short on arguments, shout-talked: “Ok but that’s an indirect kiss!”

Between two coughs, Izo murmured a dumbass to the younger boy. You sighed. An indirect kiss…

*

“Ginjo or daiginjo?” Marco murmured.

“Hm?” You were on food shopping with Thatch. Marco went along you in an alcohol store.

“Izo’s birthday is coming soon. I wanted to offer him sake, but I can’t remember his favourite.”

“Ginjo.” You pointed at the right one on the shelf. “The fruitiest.”

“You know his taste so well.” The first commander gave you a side-eyed glare and smirked. “No wonder you’re his boy/girlfriend.”

“I am not.” You emphasized the not strongly. You just knew his taste because you were the cook’s assistant… You turned back to the wine section. What was the one Thatch used for his boeuf bourguignon again?

*

It went on like this. At least twice or thrice a week, Izo and you had to deny any romance going on between you. You wondered if there was a crewmate that hadn’t ask you yet. Yet, you never changed your words: it was just a friendship.

Izo had not such effect on you.

Sure, you thought he was an interesting man, experienced and talented in plenty of ways. He knew how to talk, how to take care of himself was it for his hair, his make-up, or his clothes. His eyes were captivating, and his voice was charming, of course. But he had no effect on you.

Right?

“(NAME)!” You turned your head to Thatch. “The food will burn. Turn it.”

You quickly answered his command and turned down the fire a bit. You sighed. You never got lost on your thoughts while on cooking duty. The cook knew it as well.

“What’s happening? It’s the third time this week you almost burned a meal. You should ask Marco to check you if you feel unwell.”

“I’m well. I’m not sick.”

From the counter you were working on, you saw Izo and another commander passing by a window. He sent you a smile and a quick hand sign, to which you responded, before going further.

“Not sick but lovesick, hm.”

You gave a snap on Thatch’s hand with your spatula.

“Ow! You shouldn’t hit a commander. Even more, your own division commander.” He said in a teasing tone.

“I am hitting a friend. My division commander friend. I fear no consequences.”

“You should! I feel jealous because you wouldn’t do this to your friend Izo.” You raised the spatula to snap him once more, yet he dodged it this time. You didn’t answer and got back to your task. But Thatch wasn’t having it. He observed your moves, seriousness in his expression for once.

“Stop watching me like this. You have work to do, Commander. Diner time is in an hour.”

“I know you like him.”

“I already told you we are not dating.”

“That’s not what I said. I said you like him.”

“I don’t.”

“What would you do if he kissed you?”

“What?” You stopped what you were doing and turned to him, eyebrows frowned. “What are you talking about now?”

“What would you do if he kissed you? Suddenly. Out of nowhere.”

“I don’t know… Your question is so strange.”

“Ok, then what would you do if I kissed you?”

This time you answered with hesitation. “I’d punch you in the face. Don’t you dare.” Thatch laughed and waved a hand between the two of you, indicating he had no intention to.

“See, that’s my point. You’re doing everything differently whenever it comes to him. I know I won’t convince you about it right now. Just think about it. Next time someone ask you if you’re dating, ask yourself why.”

*

You didn’t plan to pay attention to Thatch’s words.

“You’re so cute like this. You look like lovebirds in their nest- HAHA MISSED!”

Izo sent one of his geta to Ace’s face that went through him. OUCH. The second one got him on the back of his head. It was nighttime. You were sitting on the deck with Izo, his head on yours resting on his shoulder.  You were reading, waiting for the sleep to come. It wasn’t something unusual for you.

While Izo got back to his reading, your eyes kept reading the same sentence again and again… You were sat with Izo, resting against him, in your little own world until Ace’s arrival. It was intimate… even more when you think about the other times you would read in the same hammock or alone in the nest. Yet nothing never happened because you were just friends.

“(Name), you’re ok? You haven’t turned your page in a moment.” Izo’s breath on your ear awaken you.

“Y-yeah… I’m falling asleep on my book. I should probably go to sleep right now.”

“Sure. Have a good night, (Name).” You felt your inside warm. Since when Izo’s words made you feel warm?

*

“It’s been months. Can’t you just stop pretend and make it official? Everyone knows already.”

“You know Vista, I never thought about hurting any of you in about 20 years. But right now, I’m contemplating the idea of knocking you out.”

“Try me.”

Occasionally, when Thatch would finish tidying the kitchen early, he would invite a few fellow commanders to have a drink and play cards in the scullery. This time, there were Izo, Vista, Marco, and a sleeping Ace. Izo had won the previous games, and it wasn’t to Vista’s taste. He knew your relation was a good subject to distract the 16th division commander.

“Why don’t you want to tell us about it?”

“Because there is nothing to say beside it’s friendship.”

“Friendship. I’m friend with all of you but I would never read while resting my head on your shoulder.” Vista fluttered exaggeratedly his eyelashes Izo’s way.

“Lucky us, you would crush our shoulder under your weight.” Marco said and Izo added sneakily: “Do you even know how to read?”

Everyone still heard him and laughed. It earned him a punch in the arm from Vista.

“We know they’re special for you. Just ask them out already. Everyone’s on your asses because it’s clear as water you’ve been made for each other.” Vista added to his point, this time seriously; yet never forgetting his intention to distract Izo.

“Sure.”

“I can prove my point: they’re the only one you shared your reading with, they’re the only one you sleep with, the only one you shared your bottle with-Ace was right about it” At the call of his name, the young man woke up with a card glued on his cheek. “-Hell, they’re the only one that can touch your hair and keep their hand. You let them brush it for you, I saw it!”

“And so what? How does any of this prove I have romantic feelings for (Name)?” Izo sighed, looking at a mute Vista.

“What would you do if Marco tried to kiss you?”

Marco sent a side-eye to Thatch meaning why me. But he knew Thatch chose him because he was one of the longest friends Izo had and that he wasn’t annoyed with him at the moment, like he was with Vista.

“I would push him back or step backwards, something like this. But I don’t see your point.”

“What would you do if (Name) tried to kiss you?” Everyone’s gaze went from Izo to Thatch to Izo again. It was the first time the black-haired man was left speechless about that subject.

“You don’t know? Or you know but don’t want to say it?”

Izo gritted his teeth and looked down. He slammed his cards on the table, his game visible, and left the room without another word.

Izo had a winning game.

*

“So you wouldn’t kiss me. I’m disappointed.” A little smile showed on Izo’s red lips when he recognised Marco’s voice. The blond man came to his side and imitated his position, crossed arms resting on the railing.

“I’m sorry I left like this.”

“Don’t be. Vista was so preoccupied to confuse you that he got lost on his own and I won thanks to your desertion. And… They’ll get over it. They’re big boys.” Izo just hummed for an answer. “You know… Vista’s idea to ask them out isn’t that bad. I mean, you initially got closer to them because you were interested in them, right?” Marco watched Izo sighed and nodded. “Then what stopped you?”

“We’re friends. That’s what.”

“If by that you mean that you’re scared they don’t see you as more than a friend then let me tell you something: I haven’t been so captivated by a dawning romance since Oden and Toki.”

“It was 25 years ago.”

“That’s my point, Izo. For months I got to see the two of you sharing moments and looks. You know that most of our men don’t care about romance and yet you passionate them.” Izo shut his eyes and sighed once again. “To be honest I may be a bit guilty for everything. The first time Thatch asked you if you were dating it was because I give him the idea.” Izo looked at Marco with his eyebrows frowned. “You were there talking and whenever one of you was looking around, one had such a tender gaze for the other… It was physically hurting to witness your obliviousness. I thought it would give a little push… But you kept stated you were just friends and you stopped making moves their way. I’m sorry, Izo.”

Izo shook his head. “Don’t be.” He had drunk and processed Marco’s every words. He could have been mad, but he wasn’t at all. His friend wanted to help after all. And it gave him hope and strength he’d lost in the last months. He was about to go but Marco caught him.

“One last thing.”

*

Izo knew you were asleep when he left Marco. So, he waited until the early hours of the day when you would come in the kitchen to prepare the breakfast. You were always beginning the preparation by yourself.

When he entered, you had just started cutting bread.

“You knew it was Ginjo.”

You almost cut yourself and turned around to see Izo. He apologized for the scare.

“The Ginjo? Your favourite sake. What about it?”

“Marco told me you helped him choose it for my birthday gift.”

“Hm, right. He didn’t remember. I did. You know it’s my job as the cook assistant.”

“Yet, you couldn’t remember the usual wine Thatch was using for his beef recipe. That’s what Marco said.”

You frowned, wondering where the conversation was going. He had come closer to you during your small talk, and you could see his tired features. He hadn’t sleep much, if at all, but he mostly looked tensed, unsure, and decided. You left your duty aside to give him your full attention.

“Thatch asked me what I would do if Marco tried to kiss me. I told him I would push him away.” You were even more confused, and at the same time, you remembered Thatch asking you a similar question. “He also asked what I would do if you tried to kiss me.”

Since he didn’t continue, you asked “What did you answer?”

“Actually, I didn’t answer… But I had plenty of images in my mind I couldn’t describe.”

Considering his choice of words, Izo started apologising about it sounded perverted, unappropriated according to him. But you cut him short.

“He asked me too. He asked me what I would do if you ever tried to kiss me.” You read in Izo’s eyes his desire to know more. “I said I don’t know. But now I do.” You looked down, feeling your skin suddenly burning under Izo’s intense gaze. “I… I would let you do it. I would kiss you back.”

You felt his fingers brush under your chin and gently pull it up so you could watch the sweetness in his eyes. His pupils moved on your whole face, between your eyes to your lips, looking for permission and any sign of doubt or refusal on your part. But the fact you grabbed his cloth to pull him down and closer comforted him in his previous action. Your lips touched, smoothly, lightly the first time. More forcefully and strongly on the second as each of you grabbed the other by the neck. A thrill ran through your body when you sensed his warm tongue brushed your lips in the kiss.

Izo pecked you once more before he broke the kisses. He didn’t pull back thought. His hand on your neck fell to your hips to keep you close to him.

*

“Izo, I wanted to apologise for yesterday. And, I won’t tease you about your relationship with (Name) anymore.”

“Thanks, I appreciate. Even thought it won’t be necessary.” Vista frowned at Izo’s answer.

Izo and Vista were already almost done with their breakfast when you joined them and sat right next to Izo as per usual. You exchanged a look and smiled timidly. Ace that was passing by behind you stopped when he saw this.

“Ow, you’re definitely the cutest couple!”

“Thanks, Ace.” You answered him happily while Izo laughed at Ace and Vista’s lost faces. Things promised to be interesting.

[wardenparker]

The Viper’s Bride - ch 6

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst​

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid* Anger, arguments, hurt/comfort, Oberyn and Ellaria having some group sex as they do, a whole lot of tears, an intense lack of sexual education, homophobia, reference to past killings, angst. Summary: Misunderstandings and high tension after King Joffrey’s murder, leading to volatile moods for nearly everyone.  Notes: Internalized homophobia and a lack of sex education is such an intensely important set of topics to me, and being able to address them with such sex and sexuality positive characters like Oberyn and Ellaria is a beautiful personal catharsis. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

As soon as possible, Oberyn ushered you, Ellaria and Raeden back to the brothel. The panic on the streets is settling in as word spreads. The fear of war or change always affects the lower rungs of society in a more base way than the nobles’ petty squabbling. Once in the safety of the rooms, his eyes cut over to Raeden. “You will stay with our lovers at all times outside these walls.” He orders. “I do not know now when we will be able to leave King’s Landing, but we should be cautious.”

“They will never be beyond my reach.” He promises, his hands twitching to reach out and offer comfort but unsure of himself in this situation. Dancing with Ellaria and offering her comfort are two different things, and you had spent your entire day at the prince’s side with such seeming happiness. Until the moment of tragedy, of course.

The death of the king has unnerved Oberyn far greater than he has led on. Not because the pompous little shit is dead, no he found that to be most satisfying. The way he died was what concerned the prince. Poison. The manner of demise that the Prince of Dorne has implemented many times and is well known for. The fact that he had not been accused of anything was merely because Cersei’s grief had left her unable to hatch her schemes quick enough to implicate him along with Tyrion. When the king started to choke and turn purple, both you and Ellaria had been on the cusp of taking a sip of your own goblets, causing Oberyn to knock them out of your hands most violently. Striding over to Raeden, he cups the back of the taller man’s head, dragging him closer. “Accept nothing from any noble.” He hisses.

"Nothing, your Grace." This side of the man is the face of a warrior, and it is a face that Raeden recognizes. There is worry there, concern, and while that does give the younger man pause it is good see that his concern is for the two women and not just for himself like other nobles. "There will be invitations, though," he needs to make the prince aware of that, if nothing else.

“They come through me.” Oberyn insists before he pauses. It would be suspicious if he were to change the way he normally acts so he shakes his head. “Inform me.” He decides. “And you will be with them at every moment. Not a drop of wine passes their lips unless it is checked.”

"We are not under suspicion, are we?" As shaken as you are, you have been sitting in a tangle with Ellaria to ground yourself and seek comfort. The last thing you had expected was to be pulled into Queen Margaery's arms and be on full display in front of the entire court as she trembled in grief.

“The king was just murdered.” Oberyn scoffs. “Everyone is under suspicion, though Cersei will use this to hang her brother. But we cannot be too cautious.” He warns. “Others may use it as an opportunity to take advantage.” While he is a second son, he is still important to Dorne.

"Oberyn's knowledge of poisons is well known," Ellaria explains to you quietly, patience in her voice as she hugs you to her side. "As is his hatred of the Lannisters. Even if they do not suspect he poisoned the boy's wine himself, it is not a stretch to believe that he may have had a hand in things. We must all be cautious."

Oberyn nods as he watches Raeden’s eyes narrow with understanding. “Yes. We have to be cautious.”

"What a hellish day." You sigh quietly, curling in on yourself and deflating away from Ellaria's side as everything begins to catch up with you. To begin the day worrying about something as trivial as a bath, to go through arguments and confusion and guilt, and to come out on the other end having witnessed a murder is making your head spin. "I think...I will retire?" Looking up at the prince for permission, you feel like a child all over again. "If you do not require me, that is. Sleep is sometimes the best remedy for an unhappy day."

He lets go of the man who bears your marks and he nods. “Of course.” He murmurs quietly. “Take your Raeden with you and rest, unless you wish to have the comfort of multiple bodies.” He offers. “Then you are welcome to the bed here.”

"There will be no pleasure for me tonight." Standing two feet from a dying man has erased that need from your body and mind for the foreseeable future, and you shake your head. "I may read, but sleep is preferable to feeling sick."

“Comfort does not always mean pleasure.” Oberyn reminds you, frowning slightly as he takes your comment as an insult towards him. “Goodnight, Princess.” He moves towards Ellaria and pulls the other woman into his arms.

The light in his eyes extinguishes when he is displeased, you have already noticed, and in the moment before he turns away from you he is supremely displeased. Without the presence of mind to understand exactly what you have said wrong, you all but flee to the adjoining bedroom. The man is mercurial and fascinating, but until you learn his ways and his meanings you fear you may misstep more often than not.

“She did not mean it that way, lover.” Ellaria hums, reaching up to wrap her arms around Oberyn’s neck to comfort him. Scoffing, he shakes his head. “It was meant.” He grunts, his own sigh far heavier than perhaps he understands himself. Your judgement of him is something that he finds far harder to cast off than most. “So I dare not disappoint her expectations.”

“Two days is not long enough to know a person’s mind,” she tuts softly. “And she watched a man die today. For the first time. That can be difficult to process.”

There is a rational side of Oberyn that understands that, but right now he doesn’t care. He grips his lover’s chin and stares into her eyes. “Call the whores in.” He orders. “Plus the ones you wished to try.”

“The one I wish to try has retreated.” Ellaria pouts at the closed door to the other room, where Raeden had dutifully followed you. “No matter. Is Ser Loras joining us tonight?”

Oberyn shakes his head. “Another time. The man has decided to comfort his sister.”

“Ah.” She nods, understanding that Oberyn feels rejected on two fronts and not simply one. “I will see who is available for us.”

“I don’t care if they are available.” Oberyn grunts, pulling away and striding quickly over to the table to pour a glass of wine before he stares into the cup and sniffs it. “Get them here.” He orders before he takes a sip. “And tell Littlefinger they will be in my bed for the rest of the night.”

Ellaria nods, saying nothing and certainly not pointing out that Oberyn twists his face in exactly the same way that their oldest daughter does when she throws a tantrum for not getting her way. Instead she simply glides from the room, knowing she will have to come back with a bevy of willing bodies in order to calm him tonight.

His jaw is clenched, hand gripping the goblet as he stares at the door that has shut off his view of you and your soulmate. There is a divide between you and for the first time since you had busted into his room and demanded his protection, he regrets marrying you.

****** Undressing from Dornish gowns is easier than the ones you grew up with, and it takes half the time you would normally need to be in a nightdress and under the covers. Raeden has not joined you, not yet, but you barely notice from how distant he has felt since you spoke this morning. Perhaps no one wishes for your company tonight. That would be disappointing but not a surprise.

It is only ten minutes from the dismissal of your company from his presence that the noises start to come from Prince Oberyn’s chambers. Making Raeden quickly step back from the door and hastily start removing his sword and armor to distract himself.

Any attempt to read will now be in vain, and you put down your book on the table beside the bed. This is precisely what you could not stomach for yourself tonight – physical pleasure would only make your roiling stomach feel much worse and you sigh into the night air.

"I have never known you to judge how people behave." Raeden comments, slightly disappointed in your sigh. It reinforces his fear that you will reject him if he were to confide his secrets to you. "Yet you judged your husband."

“I judged nothing,” you insist, surprised to hear him think so. “It is simply that I do not crave to be touched tonight. Is that so terribly wrong after seeing a man murdered?”

Raeden turns to you, his robes discarded and just the soft shirt underneath cladding his chest. "My love...you husband did not offer to fuck you." He hums. "He was offering you the safety of his bed for comfort, just comfort. And you rejected him most curtly."

Frowning when you turn to look at him, the air of having done wrong hangs over you and makes shame twist inside you alongside the guilt you have felt for hours. “You sound as though you want me to go to him.”

"I doubt you would care for what you would see if you entered his chamber now." He shakes his head and frowns. "I will not have any opinion of your actions, my princess." He offers stiffly.

“Gods above, will everyone stop calling me that?” Despite it being your husband’s title, you feel no connection to it, and you end up sitting straight up in bed. “I welcome your opinion, Raeden. I treasure it. But when no one around me will speak plainly is it my fault for misunderstanding?”

Raeden's jaw clenches and he doesn't move, doesn't soften to comfort you like he would have only days before. He cannot. Not when things have shifted so drastically, and he is feeling as if is being tossed about in a storm on the Narrow Sea. "Then I shall remain silent so there is no chance of misinterpretation."

In a flurry of frustration, you nearly throw yourself out of the luxurious bed and stamp across the room, flinging yourself onto the chaise under the windows instead. If he is going to be rude and dismissive then you want nothing to do with him, either. “Good night, ser.” You grit out before extinguishing the final candle and plunging the room into darkness.

Raeden stands in the darkness, anger and shame twisting in his gut. Along with the arousal that every moan and cry of pleasure from next door fosters in his loins. Instead of begging for your forgiveness or relighting the candles, he gathers his armor and his sword in the darkness before leaving your chambers. "Good night, princess." He murmurs before shutting it behind him.

******

“Raeden?” From her position between Leyth’s legs, Ellaria spies him the second he appears dressed only in his undershirt and a frown while carrying his armor. “Has something happened?”

"Forgive me." His eyes shift uncomfortably away from the scene of absolute debauchery in front of him. Trying not to hear the sounds of skin slapping as your husband doesn't pause in his thrusts into the buxom whore under him. "I— I just need to—" He gestures towards the door that leads out into the hallway of the brothel. He will redress and stand guard outside the chambers where his soulmate and her husband are sleeping. Instead of going out of the door from your chambers to the hallway, he had fucked up and entered Oberyn's chamber.

“You are welcome to join us if you wish.” She reminds him, doubting but hopeful that he might be enticed.

The shake of his head is quick, almost violent. "I—I cannot." He grunts, eyes falling on a male whore who is laying on his stomach, obviously resting or preparing to rejoin the group. "My apologies for disturbing you."

As quickly as he appeared, he is gone again. Out through the door that leads to the hallway where no one but passersby will encounter the weary knight.

In the dim light from the torches, Raeden redresses, leaning against the wall as he stands between the two doors that lead to the chambers. One he is unwelcomed in right now, one he desperately wants to enter but cannot. Not if he wishes to keep his soulmate.

******

The next morning when Leyth's familiar face delivers fresh wine and a tray of delicacies to break your fast with, you barely stir on the chaise. You had not moved back to the bed after Raeden stormed out last night and you had cried yourself in and out of rest through most of the night. The pillow you finally fell asleep on is stained from tears and it is surely the worst night you have spent in weeks – since finding out you would be destined to marry a man who was not your soulmate. At least then you had had Raeden to comfort you for a time.

Raeden's eyes are heavy, staring between the doors as he stands watch. He had not slept. Keeping guard over your rooms as was his station and duty. Unable to rest, his spine stiffens slightly when he hears your soft groans as you start to wake. He missed holding you, being close to you. But you had wished to be alone so he had granted your wish. The door to Oberyn's suite slips open again and another two naked women file sleepily out of the room, besides Leyth, the man and another woman had left earlier.

The day holds no appeal for you whatsoever, with the people closest to you seemingly all upset with you, and you send Leyth away as politely as you can without dressing. No one wishes to see you and you do not wish to see them if they feel that way, so you will stay here and read. Even food holds no appeal for you, which is a change from your normal self indeed. Since Raeden had not returned at any point you have to assume - with regret and something else that you cannot or will not name – that he spent the night in another bed. A whore's maybe, or even Ellaria's, and that thought brings a whole new wave of tears.

******

“Good morning, lover.” Oberyn frowns, his eyes still closed, although his arms open to allow Ellaria to snuggle into his chest. “How was your sleep?” He asks groggily, still tired and sated from the activities of the previous night.

"Someone was snoring," she chuckles softly, crawling a few inches to deposit herself in Oberyn's arms. "How did you sleep, my love?"

“Better than I imagined.” Oberyn hums, rubbing her back gently. “Better than the cold bed next door.”

"What do you think happened?" Doubtful that you would have dismissed Raeden or that he would have left without some kind of deep disagreement, Ellaria frowns even as she places a kiss on Oberyn's shoulder.

Oberyn rolls his eyes and sighs. The hurt he had been dealt last night for offering you solace was not quite healed. “No doubt her lover tried to comfort her and was tossed out on his ass.” He snorts. “I dare not ask so I am not accused of suggesting an orgy.”

Ellaria almost groans, leveling her soulmate with a dubious glare. “Have we not learned that she is sheltered?” She reminds him, sitting up against the pillows at the head of the bed. "You offered her the comfort of multiple bodies and she took your meaning to be literal. That is not a sin, Oberyn. Only foolish."

“As you say.” He grumbles, the stubbornness of most Martells is enhanced in the second son. “Despite my repeated reassurances that I would not force her.”

"And you have not. She thought she was declining an offer." The fact that his mind and his reason seem to be clouded by you is worth noting, but Ellaria knows her soulmate well enough to know that he is still wounded, so she will not press his pride. "As for Raeden, I do not know what might have happened. But certainly your bride had a very lonely night."

“Where do you think he spent his night?” Oberyn wonders. “He would not even look at the brunette as I was plowing her field, so I doubt he spent the night between the thighs of a whore.”

"You ordered him to protect the princess," Ellaria reminds him, having seen which door Raeden went out when he retreated last night. "So I expect he stood guard all night as he was told."

He huffs, sitting up and rolling his eyes. “Gods old and new save me from these two literal creatures.” He groans, shifting so he can move to the edge of the bed and stand up. You and your soulmate are going to be the death of him.

Raeden's back straightens like a plank when the door to his right opens to reveal the prince draped in his untied robe looking bleary eyed as though he has just awoken. "Your Grace." He manages to stifle a yawn, swallowing it down and looking straight ahead to mask his tired features.

"Gods’ fool." Oberyn hisses, knowing immediately that the man has not slept for a moment. "I did not mean for you to stay awake all night." He motions Raeden over towards him. "Come. You will sleep before you fall down where you stand."

If he had his mind, he would argue that he could not protect you while asleep in a different room, but Raeden is altogether too weary for such a debate and nods dutifully before following the prince into the large chamber with its oversized and overstuffed bed. Just the night before it had been swarming with writhing bodies, but now it is simply disheveled as it stands empty in the center of the room.

“Strip your clothes and sleep.” Oberyn grunts as he moves over towards the table to grab a cup of wine. Needing to wash his mouth clean of sleep before he takes his lover to the bathing chamber to wipe her skin clean of cum.

“It is not the longest watch I have stood, my lord,” Raeden insists, though he is unbearably tired. Ill thoughts are a taxing burden and make a man weary all on their own.

“I do not make my men stand watch until they are too tired to fuck or fight.” Oberyn scoffs. “You will sleep, your princess is still safely pouting in her chambers.”

Having felt the sting of your rejection himself, Raeden says nothing to defend or condemn you. He says nothing at all, but weakly strips down and crawls under the plush blankets strewn across the prince’s bed. You will come looking for company when you are ready. You always do.

It is telling that the man almost immediately falls asleep. Making Oberyn smirk as he watches him for a moment before turning his attention back to his paramour. "Come." He urges her quietly. "We will spend a lazy morning in the bath while the lovers recover from their trying night apart."

“Poor dears,” Ellaria clicks her tongue and shakes her head, but leaves it at that as she follows Oberyn out of the room. You will both be fine, as long as you stop being stubborn and reach out. Although, the same could often be said of Oberyn.

Sleep comes easy for a soldier. He is used to falling asleep quickly and waking just as fast. Now, with the emotional turmoil of the night, he is exhausted and seems to be asleep right before his head hits the incredibly soft pillow. Dreaming of you, Oberyn and Ellaria twisted together in passion and laughing together as he stands off to the side. Rejected like he always has been.

******

It is well past midday when you finally emerge from your chamber, sheepishly intending to offer apologies to those you upset last night. It evaporates in the face of Raeden’s still-sleeping form laid out bare in your husband’s bed. The sharp intake of your own breath barely comes before a sob, and all at once you are fleeing behind your chamber door again with a violent slam.

The slamming of the door rouses Raeden, making him groan as he lifts his head and looks around sleepily. "My love?" He croaks softly, confused about where he is since he had been sleeping so soundly. He blinks and rolls over, the memory of Oberyn ordering him to sleep coming back to him and he realizes he fell asleep in the prince's bed. He wonders where the prince and his lover are, remembering that they had been there when he had climbed into the bed.

Unable to distinguish exactly why you feel so betrayed to see Raeden in the bed the prince and his soulmate normally occupy, you fling yourself onto your own bed instead and bury your face in a new pillow to soak it through with fresh tears. It feels as if a dagger has been shoved through your heart and twisted, leaving you ragged and breathless for reasons you can neither articulate nor separate. All you know, in that moment, is that the other half of your soul saw you in pain and instead of reaching out a hand to help you, he became as unyielding as his name and sought pleasure from others while you were raw and wretched.

Groaning, Raeden sits up and he rubs his hand over his face. Wondering if you are still in your room, he shuffles to his feet and walks over to the door. “My love?” He croaks out, knocking softly.

If you had a prayer of hearing the weak motion normally, it certainly would never have been heard over the muffled sound of your own tears blocking your ears. There may as well be no one else in the world for the kind of alone you feel in this moment.

He opens the door when he doesn’t hear you call out. Still sleepy enough that your muffled sobs don’t register as he calls your name. “Are you awake?” For all he knows, you have decided to sleep the day away. He steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind him, still nude.

His voice is a surprise, finally near and loud enough to hear, and you shove yourself up to sitting only for the dignity of not being seen sprawled out like a sobbing child. "Of course I am awake. It is past mid-day." You cut out, desperately trying to wipe your eyes. "I take it you enjoyed your night very thoroughly without me."

Raeden blearily rubs his eyes and frowns in confusion. “What?” He asks, instantly annoyed at your tone. “What are you talking about?” After so little sleep, he is not functioning at peak condition.

"I recognize that I was not pleasant company last night and I had intended to apologize for that, but I stepped out from my room to find you sleeping very soundly in my husband's bed. Naked. As you are now." Halfway between hurt and anger lies jealousy, and the ugliness of it twists inside you like a serpent. It makes you mean when you do not want to be, needy for the same frustration in others that you feel in yourself. "I hope that it was worthwhile."

The sleepiness is instantly gone and all that Raeden sees is the anger, the disgust on your face, hurt it in your voice. You think that he slept with your husband, or maybe his paramour and he knows he was right now not to share himself with you. “Exceedingly, Princess.” He stiffens, jaw clenched and his heart shatters, knowing that the love he thought he had does not exist. “No apologies are necessary. I am but a servant.” Bare assed, Raeden bows mockingly and moves to the door.

If he heard the wretched sob that came from your mouth after the door closed behind him, he gave no indication. Raeden only returned to the bedside where he had awoken to retrieve his clothing, dressing again with an unmoving continence and automatic movements.

******

Unaware that turmoil and angst are afoot, Oberyn sighs, completely rejuvenated after his bath with Ellaria. “I should let the girl come to me.” He argues as they walk hand in hand, dressed in nothing more than silk robes and their hair wet from scrubbing.

"I wonder that you think so, being the father of eight daughters." She tells him flatly, but squeezes his hand to show she is not upset with him. "She does not know how to trust you yet and the last words spoken between you were in anger. At least show her that you are no longer upset."

Oberyn bites his lip and frowns, feeling that his lover is making a good argument. While he had felt his innocent gesture had been taken as an insult, you did not know him well enough to understand that he does know that not everything can be fixed by a romp in a bed. “I will speak with her before waking Raeden to dress.” He decides, looking at the woman who has stood by his side for nearly twenty years. The woman who wears his makes and is half of his soul.

"Take her for a walk." Ellaria suggests, leaning over to place a kiss on his shoulder as they walk together. "Or share a meal with her. Something that she would consider...normal." There is always the chance that you will not want to see or speak with him, but she does not think you are a cross enough person to have that anger in you. Stubborn, perhaps. But your soul seems to be a bright one most of the time.

"I will show her the markets along the waterfront." He remembers how much you seemed to enjoy the sounds and smells of the waterfront. "I will drop in to speak with her and then come back to dress."

"She will be safe with you, and you will be seen being unafraid in the chaos of the day." Ellaria nods, clearly approving of his decision. "It will be good for both of you."

He kisses her hand and stops in front of the door that leads to the room you are occupying. “If she is unwilling to talk, I will leave her to sulk. And we will venture out.”

"I will go and check on our slumbering knight in the meantime." She tells him with a grin.

“My sun, my world.” He promises her with a tender kiss to her lips. Far more intimate than most exchanges of lips in this establishment.

"My beloved." Unable to let him go without one more kiss, Ellaria hums in satisfaction and flits away, pushing through the door to his left to go in search of their Ser Raeden.

Oberyn had thought to knock for a brief moment, but he did not wish for you to ignore him. Instead, he opens the door and slides inside the room to speak with you.

The crying has stopped, thank the gods in their heavens, or at least it has paused. When you hear the door scrape open you feel heavy and exhausted from so many tears and barely move from your place in the bed. "If you have come to be angry with me again, Raeden, I cannot stomach it," you manage despite your scratchy throat.

“What would have your Ser Raeden upset with you?” Oberyn frowns, unhappy to see that you have been obviously crying. “The man was sleeping yet an hour ago.”

This was not at all the voice you were expecting, and it wrenches a dry, cracked sob from you by way of surprise. "Aye. He was. Exhausted from a night that I had no part in, I take it."

He pauses, confused by your meaning and then it clicks. The man had stripped down, taking Oberyn’s order literally. You must have seen him sleeping while he and Ellaria were in the baths. “Gods help me.” He groans, striding over to the table and pouring you a cup of wine to soothe your throat. He shakes his head as he walks towards you. “Your lover stood guard outside the chambers all night after your spat. Guarding his princess.” He explains. “While I take no issue with having him in my bed, the man was only there to rest. After I had awoken for the day.”

Pulling the robe over your nightdress back onto your shoulders from where it has become disheveled, you look up at the prince with genuine confusion clouding your eyes. "He would have said so. Surely?" At least...you hope that he would have. But he has not been himself lately. "He has acted so strangely the last few days it is like I hardly know him anymore."

“Did you ask, or did you accuse?” Oberyn asks you bluntly. “I offered last eve to send the whores away for the night and let my wife be comforted by a bed filled with her lover, her husband and her friend only to be told that the thought pleasure was revolting. As if I was crass for offering.”

You tilt your head at him, sniffling back more tears, and hold the wine he has handed you in trembling hands. "I did not—" A wave of shame washes over you and makes your stomach turn to boot, and your head drops to match it. "I did not understand that you meant to send them away," you admit quietly. "You offered me bodies for comfort and I...I misunderstood. But I had thought to turn down the offer kindly. My only fear was in disappointing you."

“Ellaria surmised as much.” Oberyn sighs and steps closer. While you are not as young as he had feared when learning of you, you are still very sheltered. His hand reaches out to caress your shoulder and offer the warmth of his arms if you would like it. “I would not lie to you. Your lover has not received any pleasure in my bed beyond the hour of sleep he had stolen.”

Shifting over slightly on the bed makes enough space for him to sit, and you nearly hold your breath until he takes it, afraid of misreading a gesture again. More than anything, what you have craved since last night is safety as much as comfort. What happened to the king was unimaginably cruel and violent and what little sleep you had was marked with nightmares from it. "I had intended to apologize to you when I left my room some time ago. But being so unpleasant last night. But I—I saw him in your bed and I...I assumed..."

“Star, I admit that I had my fill of lovers last night.” He will not lie to you. “It would have shocked you to see what was happening in that room. Your Raeden would not even look at the whore I was fucking when he burst in. He had stood sentinel during the night so you would be safe.” Oberyn reaches over and covers your hand with his own. “It has been a taxing few days for you. I will not stay angry at small miscommunications like this.”

"It is not the lovers that I mind." It never has been. Although the realization of exactly how prolific his sex drive is was a certain amount of shocking, it does not offend or upset you. "Take as many as you like, continue on as you have been, that does not upset me." You remind yourself to breathe, and to drink the wine that was brought to you to soothe your throat. "What upsets me is feeling as if I am not wanted or needed. Or, worse, feeling as though I am in the way."

“You feel as if you are not wanted?” He is confused by that because he has mentioned several times that he would like to have you in his bed. “I am afraid I do not understand.” He confesses. “My lover and I would like you in our bed, not just to make you writhe with pleasure. And your Raeden is your soulmate. He wants nothing more than to be with you.”

"He did." But you are convinced that something has changed in him. "Last night he refused to speak to me when I wanted nothing more than to be understood." Taking the chance on leaning closer to him, the warmth of the prince beside you is more comforting than you would have expected. "Yesterday at the wedding he said we did not know the difference between lust and love. He has been a very different man since arriving in King's Landing."

“I am afraid that my paramour and I have caused friction between the two of you.” Oberyn sighs. “I must apologize to you for that. I never wanted to come between you as soulmates.” He frowns and tries to decide what might be best for you and your lover. “Would you like to talk to him?” Oberyn shifts and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I would not know what to say." You were both so angry when he came in just a little while ago. So filled with venom and unhappiness. "Perhaps he was correct, and I do not know my feelings at all. I cannot say anymore."

“Speak from your heart.” He urges you, reaching over and touching your chest where it beats. “You love him. Sometimes you must fight for what you love.”

He means well, you are certain that he does. But when he reaches to touch your chest gently over your nightdress there is a moment where you are certain you will ignite from a simple touch. "You make it sound as though I ought to have a suit of armor."

“Perhaps you should.” He smiles at that, happy that the unhappiness in your eyes turns to mirth for a moment. “Passion outside the bed is just as important as in it.”

"Passion outside of the bed has never lacked before," you tell him honestly, feeling again that the pull of truth runs deeply between you. "I have only shared my bed with two people, and they have both been guarded secrets."

“Two?” His brow raises in surprise. “I had thought your Raeden was your only lover.”

"It has been pointed out to me that sharing a bed with someone can mean things other than lovemaking." If it can be an offer of comfort, surely it can be other things as well. "My father employs a maester to look after his library, and that maester had had a child before taking his vows. She was employed as a kitchen maid in our home. And...she was very special to me."

From your tone, he knows that this woman was far more than a ‘friend’. “She was your lover.” He is delighted that you are not as prudish as you might have seemed, exploring pleasure with another girl before your soulmate.

“Not…precisely.” As close into his side as you are, you look down into the wine in the goblet in your hands instead of over at him. “Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that we were as close to lovers as two women can be.”

“Did you touch her?” He asks, tilting his head. “Taste her skin and learn what makes her keen in pleasure?” With your literal interpretation of things, perhaps you are unaware of what being a lover means.

“Well…I…yes, but—” This need to be honest with him has let you flustered and honestly wondering how you had gotten so off course in your conversation. “But…” With his reputation surely he understands this already? “Two women cannot…there is not a way for them to make love…”

He chuckles, sliding his hand up from your chest to cup your cheek. “My dear,” he murmurs softly. “Love comes in many forms. Sex is the same. She was your lover. You touched her as a lover does.” He explains softly. “If your Raeden just uses his mouth to make your cunt spasm, do you not consider yourself to have found pleasure?”

“But that is not…it is not sex.” As crudely as you are capable of speaking about it to the person you are sharing the act with, this moment is far from that. The prince is far more experienced, worldly, and knowledgeable than you are, yet the basic fact of what you were taught remains. “For a man and a woman to come together…to find pleasure…that is different.”

"Does that mean that any man I have in my bed does not have sex because his cock is not in a cunt?" Oberyn asks, genuinely curious about your reasoning.

“I—no…you have…” You sigh, dropping your face into one upturned hand and despising yourself for turning meek in front of the man you promised yourself that you would not be a fool to. “I have no trouble speaking of desire while receiving it, but discussing it like this appears to leave me dumbfounded.”

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." He hums, shaking his head. "The septa will not quiz you and beat your hand with a stick if you feel different that I do." He chuckles quietly and sighs softly. "You most likely felt shame at wanting your friend, touching her and wishing to touch her, no?" He asks.

"It was not to be spoken of." There was too much fear there, even at the age when other girls were beginning to be married. "She would have been sent away. Or...knowing my mother as you do now, you can imagine that it might have been worse."

"I imagine she would have had you dragged through the streets and beaten." He grunts, unhappy with the idea and cursing your mother. "And how did you act when asked about your lover? Even innocently?"

"We always said that we were reading together," you explain, huffing out a soft laugh. "She was annoyed at the idea of educated girls in her home, but lost interest after that."

"But you were fearful of someone discovering your secret." He pushes. He wants you to make the connection that he believes is why your lover is so changed since his arrival in King's Landing. He has seen the desires in the man's eyes, along with the shame.

"Of course." Her fate would have been sealed if you had been discovered. She would have been sent away at the very least. You cannot even imagine what your own punishment would have been.

"So you were guarded. Closed off." He hums. "It is smart when you do not wish to be judged."

"You are trying to make a point, but I fear I am not myself enough to understand."

"Your Ser Raeden seems to be hiding a secret." He points out gently.

"And...he fears I would judge him." It takes having the puzzle pieces laid out before you to be able to see the image they complete, but you nod solemnly. "I would not. No matter how terrible. But I thought surely that he knew how much I love him."

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." He murmurs. "You know your Raeden is loyal to you, and yet just this morning you were sure that he had shared my bed without any thought to you."

He is correct, though the feeling of discontentedness in the pit of your stomach is very uncomfortable. "I fear the situation may be more complicated than it seems."

"I will send your lover to you." Oberyn offers, patting your knee gently. "If your talk does not go how you wish, I will take you to the waterfront markets. How does that sound, star?"

"None of this is why you came to me; I do not think." While he has listened and given you admirable support, you have been exceedingly selfish with his time. "Will you tell me why you came, first?"

He hums and tilts his head. "I had come to apologize for my cross behavior." He admits. "I do not wish you to believe that I was angry at you. I was hurt, but I wanted to make amends. To offer to visit the marketplace on an outing."

"Then we should go to the marketplace." Feeling that everyone you care about was upset with you last night was not a pleasant sensation and you want nothing more than to erase it from your heart completely. "And perhaps..." A nervous swallow comes with a flustered face, but you are feeling more yourself now and braver. "Perhaps tonight we might spend time together? Not as two pairs of soulmates but...all together?"

He watches you for a moment before he nods. "That can be done." He knows that means that his usual entertainment will be placed on hold, but the ease of your relationship is more important than fucking that blonde he had seen in the baths. "After your talk with your Raeden? I must dress anyway."

"Thank you." Gratitude is not something you expected to feel today, but you certainly do.

"You are my princess." Oberyn reminds you, giving you a soft smile and leaning in to kiss your cheek. "I will send him in shortly."

"I have grown up with a view of marriage that is quite uncomfortable and certainly not encouraging," you remind him. "So I am grateful, and thankful, to find it is possible to be honest with you and be myself with you. Even if it is not always perfect."

"Perfection is boring." Oberyn smirks as he stands, caressing your cheek before he turns and walks to the doors that connect your rooms.

The waiting seems to take forever, but you dress yourself in something simple while - you assume - the prince is speaking to Raeden. By the time your chamber door reopens you are sitting at the long table with food and wine, barely picking at what was brought to you but knowing that you need something to keep your strength up.

This time when he enters your chambers, Raeden is fully dressed. Making sure that he looks as presentable as any other day had been a chore while Ellaria had chastised him as if he were a small boy. It had shamed him and now when he closes the door behind him, he stands unsure as to what to say or how to make amends.

“Raeden…” Taking a deep breath and smoothing your dress despite it being already pristine, you stand from the table and come around it. “Please allow me to apologize. I was upset last night and acted out, and I did not mean to aim those frustrations at you. Even worse, today when I had made up my mind to find you and make this apology then, I instead lashed out. You deserved none of this behavior.”

Instead of dismissing your apology with a frosty demeanor, Raeden bows his head. "I should not have left." He murmurs. "Nor should I have accepted your husband's offer of sleep." It had been an order, but the fault is still his. "It will not happen again." You are his soulmate, who the gods have determined he is supposed to be with and love. Only you. So he will do his best to honor that.

“You were exhausted. Sleep was needed.” Taking the chance to move closer to him, you step out and find that he does not shrink away from you. “My love, I know that these few days have been trying for both of us.”

"There have been many changes." He agrees diplomatically. "I do not fault you for being wary and cross." He covers your hands on his chest with his own. "I will not let you down again." Reminding himself of his duty to you, his station is necessary. He was forgetting that he was born without a name. Without a future.

“It is I who have let you down.” But the feeling of his warmth so near has you nearly sighing it is so comforting. “So many changes and I have not once asked if you are still happy. Or what could be done to make you even happier.”

"You are my soulmate." He insists. "It is more than I deserve just to touch you." He has long known that you deserve more than him, though you do not think so.

“That is not the same as being happy.” Both of your arms encompass him, Drawing him close to you in the middle of that room. “You deserve happiness.”

"Happiness is not always possible for some of us." He reminds you, even as he allows you to pull him close. "You do not need to worry about me, my love."

“Is there not a chance that it could be?” Risking pressing too hard and upsetting him, you cannot find it in you to back down from this idea. It seems to have burrowed inside of you most ardently. “I know that you wish for more than you have, love. But perhaps it is both of our fortunes that might change in Dorne, and not only mine.”

"I cannot wish for more than you." Raeden insists, clenching his jaw slightly and clutching at your hands almost desperately. "I am not discontent with you." He swallows harshly and bites his lip. "I do not understand what you are meaning."

Swallowing pride and fear, you cling to Raeden’s hands and remember the prince’s words. “May I tell you something, my love? Something that…I have been afraid to share? That I taught myself to think of with such importance?”

"You can share anything with me." There is a certain sense of irony in his statement. That he would protect you from anything, protect any secrets you might have. Even if he did not trust you with his own shameful secrets.

Managing to get him to sit with you, you pour wine into a second goblet for him and pick at the excellent fresh berries that had been sent up much earlier. “Do you remember Brynna?” You ask him after a pause, telling yourself to be brave. “The kitchen maid that I was close friends with? She married a little more than a year ago.”

Frowning slightly, he takes a sip of the wine, grateful to have something cool on his throat. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink either. "Yes, although you stopped visiting with her after you—we discovered that we were soulmates." He murmurs, feeling guilty that you had to push your friend away so that your secret bond with him was not discovered.

“Yes, I did.” It was soon after that that the maester’s daughter met her own soulmate, so your guilt had been quickly assuaged. “But I did not quit her company for the reason you might think.” Telling yourself to trust and to take the leap, you still have trouble finding his eyes. “I feared that you would reject me or be angry if you discovered her in my bed.”

He frowns even more, staring down into his cup and then up at your face, even though you will not look at him. "You—" He starts to question you and then stops, clearing his throat. "I...I see." He doesn't know if he is more confused or relieved that you have some kind of history with someone you shouldn't.

“I did not know that two women could be lovers,” you explain, feeling utterly childish about your ignorance. “To hear my septa or my brothers speak of it…a man is utterly necessary for an encounter to truly be considered lovemaking. But I—I have learned that is not so.”

Raeden takes a large gulp of his drink, his dark eyes finding yours and he pauses for a moment before he asks, "Do you— uh, prefer that?" He asks, reaching for your hand. "Does a man repulse you?"

“No!” Your hand fits into his immediately, grasping his fingers tightly as they lace through your own. “No, of course not, my love. It is only…it is different. Not better or worse, but rather…I enjoyed both. And I was very ashamed to enjoy it as much as I did, because I did not know how very natural it was. And I believe I am starting to understand that finally.” Leaning forward, you press earnest kisses to his knuckles, hoping to have cracked some kind of barrier between you. You had thought it existed so that he would not be disgusted with you, but here he is reaching for your hand. “I do not wish to keep secrets from you any longer, my love.”

"There is something I must confess to you." He croaks out, fingers squeezing yours as his heart pounds in his chest. Sweat starts to create a find sheen on his skin as his nerves starts to get the best of him. "I—I have never spoken of this to—to anyone."

“You can speak to me of anything.” You promise him, your other hand abandoning your wine to hold his tightly.

"You know that I have had lovers." He ventures softly, waiting for you to nod before he continues. It had not been a secret from you, and more acceptable since he was a man. "When I— when I was in training, my father send me to be trained by an old friend. Since he could not publicly claim me."

“That is how you came to the Vale.” You nod, having remembered the stories he had told you of his past. “Yes. I remember.”

He takes a deep breath and downs the rest of his wine. "While I was training, I had a – a friend." He confesses. "Much like your Brynna."

“Would you tell me about her?” It is no matter to you that he had other lovers. You know he has. Perhaps he feels shame or guilt for having loved her? But that does not matter to you in the least.

"His name was Alren." He chokes out. "He was the fourth son of Lord Royce." He explains, unable to look you in the face for fear of your reaction. He has never spoken of this, never dreamed of speaking of this with you.

“Oh.” Tightening your hold on his hand, you see those impregnable puzzle pieces slide into place. “And it was Alren who was your lover?”

"He was." Raeden confesses. "I—it was secret, it had to be. Until—"

“Oh, my love…” When his eyes drop and his shoulders draw in on themselves, you lean down to kiss his knuckles again. “Something happened to him?”

"He— someone discovered his...tastes and Lord Royce was not a man who accepted such things out of his son, fourth or no." His hands curl into fists and he lets out a ragged breath. "His lord father beat him to death in front of every boy there. Demanding the name of his lover. While I watched, helpless to save him." Alren had screamed out, begging him not to come forward. To save himself as he was brutalized by his father. Raeden had been frozen in fear, terrified of suffering the same fate as him. If the legitimate son of a lord could be treated so, what would they do to him?

“Gods in all their heavens…” The story nearly chokes you, wrapping around your throat and pushing a gasp from it and furious tears that anyone should be treated so for who they loved. “What a barbaric display, to have so much hatred for his son. I—” And yet, you can imagine it, having grown up with a mother who wished you dead. “I am sorry that you were afraid to share this part of yourself with me, but please…please know that I love you all the more.”

“I—know it is wrong.” He insists. “Unnatural to have those desires. Especially when I have my soulmate.” He swallows. “I am sorry for hiding it from you, but I will not betray you.” He vows.

“I thought it wrong as well. Unnatural as well.” You shake your head, more at your own self than anything else. “But I think perhaps it is not as sinful as any other love. And that we were misled by people who shared our fears.”

Thinking about that, he brings your hand up to his lips. “You are my love.” He promises you. “That will never change.”

“Never.” That is a promise you can make to him just as easily, but you find his eyes and hold them. “I was upset to see you in the prince’s bed today because I thought you were still angry with me, and might turn me away. It was only fear, my love. Not that I would be angry with you for desiring another.” Perhaps a touch of jealousy had joined the feeling, but you cannot be entirely sure who you were actually jealous of.

"I would never turn you away." He frowns at you, wondering how you could possibly believe something like that. He had been upset that you had been so stubborn last night to think the worst of your husband who had been nothing but generous towards you.

"Fear has a way of making you disbelieve what you know to be true." The words come naturally although they are not your own, and you hang your head. “The prince told me that. And I believe he was entirely correct.”

"He is a surprising man." He cannot help but chuckle in relief. "You have married a good man, my love. You are lucky."

“If you…” Even the idea of breaching this subject with him makes you nervous, but anxiety is far less important than Raeden’s happiness and security. “If it is something that you are interested in exploring again, that is…I know that the prince has expressed interest in bedding you.”

"I—I wouldn't— no, you—" he stammers, eyes widening slightly as you offer him something that he had never expected. He shakes his head. "I could not hurt you like that." He doesn't think that you would want your soulmate to be with someone else.

“It would only hurt me if you turned me away in favour of him.” You shake your head and clasp his hands all the more tightly. “I would never ask you to do something that made you unhappy. But my love, if you wished to take someone else to your bed, all I would ask is that you tell me first?” A soft, almost sheepish smile overtakes your face. “You should be happy, and if I can give you happiness by sharing you…that is something that I have only recently learned is possible.”

"I think that you are more interested in a place in the prince's bed that you wish to admit." He murmurs, looking over at you. "I—say that if you wish it, I want you to also have that opportunity." He sighs. "I know that I am drawn to both your husband and his lover." He confesses, embarrassed by saying those words out loud.

“If you wish for that chance, my love, I cannot see them denying you.” In fact, given some of the glances you have seen Ellaria giving Raeden since you met, and both of their blunt honesty, you are certain they would be thrilled to welcome him into their bed. “For myself…” your shoulders round a little and you cannot help but be a little embarrassed by how well you remember the moment. “I…kissed him. Yesterday. In the garden at the Red Keep. It was impulsive and I was afraid you would be upset with me for…finding myself attracted to him.”

“I would rather you desire your husband than fear the bedding we both know must come.” Despite what has been said, an heir is expected of you and people would spread rumors of you did not provide him with one.

“It does not make me love you less,” you promise him, knowing that that was the fear the foremost of your mind. “Just as I know your own desire does not affect your love for me.”

“Never.” He assures you, leaning down and kissing your hands one at a time. “Are you sure you do not feel any different?” He asks softly, wanting you to make sure. That is his biggest fear.

"Only in that I now wish to spend my time with three people instead of only you." It is a different feeling, to be sure, but not an unpleasant one. "The earliest feelings of attraction are rarely unpleasant, even if they might be different."

"No, I – I meant your feelings about me." He sighs, knowing that while you have your husband, your new title, basically the world at your fingertips – he has nothing. Nothing beyond his place with you.

"I love you. That will never change. No matter our circumstances, the world around us, or even if we were both to marry other people." That inevitability, once terrifying, now only seems as a minor hill to climb. A surmountable barrier. "You are my soulmate, and nothing can ever change that."

He cannot help but pull you on his lap. Needing to have you close as he nudges his nose against yours. "You are mine and I am yours." He promises you softly. "I love you, and I will always love you."

"Always." You promise him, the gentle whisper all it needs to be in the quiet room as you wrap your arms around him.

"So we agree?" He murmurs softly. "We are each perfectly fine with exploring intimacies with your husband and his lover?"

"As odd as it might sound to an outside ear?" And it would, there is no doubt or pretense about that. "I believe – yes. We agree." Pressing a firm, earnest kiss to his lips, you hold him a little tighter with that affirmation. "He asked me to walk with him today, and I asked if we might all spend some amount of time together. Perhaps...the topic can be broached then?"

"If you wish." He murmurs, sliding his hand up your back and holding you close. He closes his eyes and breathes you in, sighing softly. "I love you; I am sorry for our fight."

"I am sorry for it as well, my love." Your forehead against his is grounding, anchoring you to the moment and to the strength of him.

"If you are with your husband, I will try to sleep again." He decides. "Unless his lover needs to have me nearby. I am exhausted." He admits, knowing that he can admit that to you.

"He said that you stood watch all night." A thing which of course would make him exhausted, and you press a kiss to his forehead as well. "Rest well, love. May I wake you when we return from the markets?"

"I would go with you if you wished." He promises you. "You can wake me whenever you need me."

"Rest, my warrior. There are no more battles to fight today." There should not have been any, but the past cannot be changed. "And if you decide to spend time with Ellaria while we are out walking, I hope it is everything you could wish for."

"I am too tired for my cock to stir." He groans, shaking his head and giving a small smile.

Affecting a playful expression of shock and concern, you point to the bed immediately and barely manage to suppress a grin. "Then you must sleep immediately! For as long as you need, ser!"

He chuckles sleepily and nods. "I will." He promises. "I am surprised I woke." He had been sleeping hard when the sound of the door woke him.

"I will let you sleep." With one more kiss, you reluctantly extract yourself from his lap and stand up. He will be able to sprawl out on the bed and enjoy his rest, and you will walk with your husband with a much lighter heart.

******

"I hope her lover has patience since he is sleep deprived." Ellaria hums as her eyes flit towards the door connecting the rooms.

Oberyn nods as he knots the belt around his waist, securing his robes and hanging his dagger from his waist. "You will knock their heads together as if they were naughty children if they argue." He teases, well aware she might do the same to him if pushed hard enough. Now that he has more insight into your nature, he finds himself more patient.

"If I must." Ellaria chuckles, laying back on the bed as she watches him dress. "We had been thrilled to see she was not a child when we met her, but in many ways she has been treated as one. It is a shame."

"Her mother is a bitch who should be beaten." Oberyn grunts, looking into one of the mirrors and examining his beard before pulling out his dagger to scrap a patch of skin smooth. "Jealous of her own daughter."

"Lover, you are preening," she teases with delight. "Huffing and puffing like a great defender while you make yourself handsome for her. It is rather charming."

"Hold your tongue." He narrows his eyes in the mirror playfully before he looks back at his task and carefully drags the extremely sharp blade over his skin. "I am merely making sure that I look confident and collected as I walk the streets of King's Landing."

"With your bride." Ellaria's amusement is obvious, and she all but giggles when the door that connects your chamber to theirs opens to allow you through. "And here is the princess herself." There is no malice in her voice, no jealousy or resentment, only teasing and a good nature. "Our beautiful prince is making himself presentable for you, dear."

Oberyn blows out a raspberry towards his lover and drops his dagger after he finishes the last pass. "My love, you tease me." He grumbles quietly, eyes sliding over to where you are standing. "I gather your talk was successful?" He asks you.

"It went a good deal differently than I had anticipated, but...yes. All is well again." Feeling confident enough to step into the room and over to the pair of them, you are still more than a little nervous about going out and being seen with him. He has, after all, an immense presence and there are always eyes on whomever he is with.

"That is fantastic." He hums, cleaning the blade with a cloth and sliding it back into it is sheath. "As much as I enjoyed the sight of your lover in my bed, it is not a sight I wish friction over." He picks up a bottle of the oil that he uses to sooth is skin and splashes some into his palms to coat the freshly shaved areas.

"It will not be, in future." You can assure him of that, which makes anticipation tingle through you.

His brow arches as he finishes applying the spicy, sweet-smelling oil and reaches for the same cloth the wipe his hands. "That is a curious way with words, princess." He murmurs, his eyes sliding over to his soulmates before back to you.

"It was a curious talk." The coy little smile that curls up in the corner of your mouth is not intentional, but rather naturally playful. You feel so much lighter and freer than you had even an hour ago. "Raeden's story is his own to tell, but...it is safe to assure both of you that your honesty with us about your interest has helped us to be more honest with each other."

"Then it is was a very fruitful conversation, indeed." He hums as Ellaria looks very pleased with the turn of events. "Honesty is what is needed in lasting love and passion."

"I could not agree more." It is a fact, indeed, which you are grateful for in this moment. "Which is why I told him about Brynna."

"Brynna?" Ellaria's head tilts curiously as she looks between you and your husband. Oberyn had not told her so she surmises that it must have been something personal. "What a lovely name."

As the prince already knows the tale, you step closer to the bed where Ellaria is reclining and sit down on the edge of the mattress beside her. "She was...it has been explained to me that she was my first lover. I did not, at the time, understand what it truly meant."

Ellaria's smile blooms slowly, taking over her face until pure delight is etched in her features. "So you do know what a woman's touch is like." She hums, very pleased with your newly told tale.

When you nod it is a sheepish thing, and you fluster under how pleased she seems to be. "And I know now that the shame I felt at my time with her is not necessary." Although it may take time to shake the spiderwebs of guilt from your heart, you have certainly taken a large first step today.

Straightening, Ellaria leans into you and cups your cheeks with both of her hands. "Good." She smiles at you softly. "There should never be any shame in love. No matter the form it takes."

"I will do my best to remember it." She is intoxicatingly close, and you know that shyness reads easily across your features, but it is not for embarrassment or nerves. It is only the promise of things to come.

"See that you do." She urges you with a smile. She leans in and softly presses another feather light kiss to your lips for a brief moment before she pulls back.

The prince has been watching you, you realize when you open your eyes again, and you fluster completely, all over again. "I will do my best to return him to you is as good spirits as he is now," you promise Ellaria, finding yourself reluctant to slip away from her but at the same time eager to spend time with your husband. It is an odd feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

Oberyn rolls his eyes but he strides over to the two of you so he can kiss his lover and collect you. “I am always in good spirits around a beautiful woman.” He protests before kissing his lover soundly. “Where is your paramour, princess?”

"Sleeping, my lord." Raeden had been asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and you hope he rests well after a whole night standing guard. "I thought to wake him when we return."

“Good.” He nods his head and looks over to his lover. “Ellaria will be happy to lounge here and rest as well.” He smirks. “She was up late doing other things.”

"Enjoy yourselves." Ellaria lays back in the luxurious blankets and yawns dramatically, flashing you both a smile even as she waves you off. "And make him buy you something beautiful, darling. He gives wonderful gifts."

“I owe you something as well.” He smirks at his lover and offers you his arm. “Shall the Prince and Princess of Dorne be seen visiting the merchants and looking wildly happy?”

"I think they shall." It gives you such a giddy feeling to take his arm this time, smiling more than you have in a month and feeling like quite the gem although there is nothing at all different about you this afternoon than there has been any other day. The only difference is this man, and the fact that you are allowing yourself to enjoy the affect he has on you.

______

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My Masterlist!

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

All the stars are shining bloody red

Next chapter

a/n a fever dream of an idea but when it hits you it does. This is a song I suggest you play for reference. So enjoy this little something something. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

summary: just what happens when an innocent night at the pleasure house leads to something much bigger, making two lost soles collide.

warning: suggestive content, pleasure house, mention of sexual interactions, nudity, alcohol.

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"You bunch are no fun", Mor huffed over her fifth glass of wine. She's been trying to drag the whole family to the pleasure house at the side of Velaris ever since her wild night out with Emerie. And don't get me wrong, it was something they used to do. Some nights at Rita's were even wilder than what any pleasure house could provide, and yet the hesitation lingered.

"I have a set of breasts to look at already", Cassian slurred, his hand reaching for Nesta's chest, but she swiftly slapped his fingers away, glaring at him. "You are not getting the point", Mor sighed. "I'm not dragging you there for a gang bang or to look for someone to drag into your bed", she was perfectly aware that everyone in the family had settled. Solid relationships all around. Well, except for Azriel. Yet that was a whole different story. So Azriel, for that matter, might take full advantage of the place while at it.

"Quite frankly, I doubt anyone who goes there on a Tuesday night is there for a fuck", Mor swirls the red substance in her glass, earning a nod from Emerie, "It's like nothing I've seen before", the female breathed. "We've been trying to figure out what and how they do it, but...", and they had returned with big eyes, disbelief, and satisfaction lingering all over. Did it fuel others' curiosity? Yes. Just to be honest, no one believed it could be anything that could beat one of the sultry numbers in Rita's.

"Fine", Rhys states after silence falls, "Let's go, get this done and over with". Both Nesta and Feyre jump up, going straight for Mor, squealing in excitement. "Darling, if you were that desperate, you should have said", the high lord crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk, but Feyre only shrugged, "We would have gone with or without you boys, sorry". Cassian lets out a grumble as he too gets up from the comfy sofa, "If my head and nuts ain't blown away by the end of this...", Everyone chuckles, even Nesta has a smirk on her face. It's Azriel who has a tight frown on his, however. "Prepare for disappointment, brother", the shadow singer says, downing his glass of whiskey swiftly. "If you'll be a grumpy ass, don't bother going, Azriel", Mor stated firmly. Azriel knew that no one could come between her and her night. That was a well tested fact. He felt Elain reaching for his hand, and a part of him wanted to drop it because it just didn't feel right tonight. But he didn't, because being the only one without someone to return home to was painful enough.

When they finally got there the place was jam-packed. Azriel unleashed his shadows. Doing a quick safety check never hurts. After all, the whole family was here. So he had to make sure there was no harm around the corner. To his surprise, his shadows recognized a lot of noble members of Velaris. Scratch that there were day court and autumn males here. The back table was occupied by Helion. "Rhys", Azriel said directly through his high lord's mental shields. Azriel could tell that Rhys too had clocked on to the fact that this was attracting too much attention. Attention they didn't know was brewing here. "Listen around; count the names", The order was clear enough, so Azriel did just that. How long did Mor knew about all of this and said nothing? Fucking Mor, Azriel grumbled in his head.

Just before Azriel could unleash yet another set of his shadows, the place fell into complete darkness. Some squeals of surprise echoed around the room, followed by laughter and murmuring. The cool mist started streaming from the platform right in front of the tables. The first sounds of the music silenced everyone. A huge moon light up the place, dashing the yellow gleam all over, and the silhouettes of what Azriel assumed were the females who performed here come into view.

"You are so beautiful to me", the most velvet voice sang out, and Azriel's heart stopped for a second. His whole attention was now on the stage. The black fabrics fall from the ceiling, and bodies dressed in deep satin lingerie twist around them. Ahs and ohs fall from the people watching, but Azriel's eyes are not leaving the figure in the middle. "You are so beautiful to me. Can't you see?", it lulls. The anticipation of seeing the face behind the voice was so intense that it nearly drove Azriel out of his seat. He's so lost in it that voice he doesn't even notice that the female is the one twirling her hands and sending ripples of mist to swirl around almost everyone in the room. The gleam caresses people's faces, twirling their hair.

"You're everything I hoped for", nor does Azriel feel the same mist crawling up his arms. Slowly. Soothingly. "You're everything I need". His breath hitches in his throat as he feels the softest fingers touching his jaw. "You are so beautiful timo me" Because the smallest of stars start falling across the room, and it's enough to cast a spell of light over your face. The deep blue eyes looking straight at him. The deepest blue he had ever seen, and what a blue it was. And your hair is so wavy and long. Ocean green dances there. Hints of the deep purple of the waves But are you looking at him? Is that your finger touching him? There's no one else in the room. Azriel sees no one all of a sudden. It's just you and him. And you're singing. Singing so beautifully that he's ready to rip his heart out of his chest and serve it on a platter for you.

And then it all ends with the booming sound of music. His eyes follow your twirling body, dancing among the other females. One minute you're there, and then you're gone. Azriel jumps up from his chair before his vision becomes clear again, and he's back in the room full of people. The fact that he had just jumped up like that made a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He turns his head to the side, where Elain is pressing tissues to her dress, and sees a fallen glass right by the edge of the table. He must have knocked it over.

"Yep, I came internally", Cassian states and that's when Azriel's eyes fall over his family. Everyone's eyes are hazy. As if all they had done all night was smoke hallucinogenic herbs. It's Rhys, though, whose eyes are sharp as he catches Azriel's gaze. "Fucking told you", Mor is leaning against her hand, looking at the stage longingly. "Fucking told you". 

Get them out and back to the house. Meet me here in twenty. Back door. No weapons. Rhysand's voice pierces Azriel's mind, and all he can do is nod before his high lord turns to his mate. Brushing a strand of hair from her face. He leans in to kiss her, and Azriel quickly lowers his eyes. And then Rhys is up. His darkness wrapped tightly around him as he moved through the crowd.

Azriel winnows back to the pleasure house after what feels like a good long while. Making sure everyone was safe and sound was harder than he had imagined. Rhys is not by the backside. But his shadows quickly informed him of the path to the basement steps. Basement. A shiver ripples down his back, but he still steps forward until he can hear Rhy's voice loud and clear.

"We paid our taxes", a female voice rings out. Azriel can't see her yet, but from her tone, he's sure that she's smiling. "You and I both know it's not about the money", Rhys says calmly as Azriel slips through the shadows on the back wall.

"I'm glad to see you here finally, though", the lady purrs, her long gray hair twisted into a big braid, resting neatly against her chest. "I thought you were too ashamed". Azriel can feel a wave of tension rising in the room. "Myriam, don't push my buttons", Rhys warns her, but she only smirks. "Or what? You'll get me close?" Azriel is about to step into the room, but Rhys mentally tells him off. "Where's the girl?", he pushes, but Myriam continues as if she hadn't even heard him, "You do know that any other court will welcome me and my girls with open arms?".

Azriel lets his shadows swirl through the cracks in the room. Trying to scan through the rooms behind the lady's back. But he doesn't get far. Most of them are so deeply drenched in magic that Azriel doesn't recognize. The shadow singer frowns, watching his shadows struggle. Leaping away from the door as if whatever that was there hurt them.

Rhys lets out a deep sigh, "You're right," and Azriel's head jerks to his high lord instantly. What the hell was Rhys agreeing to all of a sudden? "I apologize, but you have to understand that I wasn't informed that we had such beauty in my city", Rhys steps closer to the table. Reaching for the bottle placed there. "I'm a jealous man; what can I say", he states, refilling Myriam's glass before taking a swing straight from the bottle himself. "Rhys, you know I'm willing to share. But it was you who dismissed me the first time", the woman says, and now Azriel's head is turning once again. First time? Dismissed her? What in the love of a mother was going on here?

"It's late now, but let's set a date for a meeting. I want to revisit this", Rhys says, smiling at Myriam, and she instantly returns the smirk. Hand reaching to play with the collar of Rhysand's shirt, "I knew that you would come to your senses", lifting her glass closer to her lips she settles on watched Rhys for a moment, "Just remember that I'm the one who has the wining card here".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan @bubybubsters

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 12

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 3.2k

Content: little bit of throwing up (alcohol induced)

A/N: thanks to @quarter-life-crisis2 for beta-ing the first part of this! This is now the second time I'm posting this so i have nothing more to say lmao

Chapter Eleven | Masterlist | Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Twelve – Peaches pt.2 

You stood outside Yoongi’s front door, pie held carefully in your hands, breathing deeply, taking a moment to try to soothe your nerves. It was outrageous, you thought, that you could be this nervous. It was Yoongi. On the other hand, it was Yoongi. It was not every day that you confessed to harbouring romantic feelings for one of your best friends. It was not every day that you ripped yourself open and placed your fluttering heart before them, hoping, praying that they felt the same.  

It was not every day, but it was today.  

You squared your shoulders, shuffled the pie so it rested on the palm of one hand, and used the other to key in the entry code.  

“I’m here!” you called as you strode in and shut the door behind you. 

You could hear and smell cooking from the kitchen, music on low in the background. You kicked off your shoes and took a deep breath. You had run over a hundred different scenarios, a hundred different scenes; sometimes you just kissed him; sometimes you prepared a long, thoughtful speech; sometimes you played it casual; sometimes you told him you loved him; sometimes, even in your thoughts, you chickened out entirely; sometimes he rejected you and sometimes he didn’t. You always cried.  

You were still standing in the hallway, staring up at the invisible obstacle in front of you when Yoongi approached, spatula in hand, frown on his face. You tried hard not to notice how cute he was with his apron on, how domestic. You tried to stop your mind flying forward to a future where he cooked all your dinners, or you cooked them together, in the house you shared. You needed to keep a level head. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw you. “I thought I heard you come in but then you didn’t appear. Why are you just standing there?” 

Good question.  

You chuckled awkwardly and walked into the apartment fully, straight to the kitchen where you set down your pie on the counter. 

“What’s in it?” Yoongi asked. 

“It’s peach and nectarine,” you answered, wondering if he would remember, if he might understand its significance. 

“It’s what?” 

“Peach and nectarine.” 

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, expectant. 

“It’s what?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes; your heart sang. You gave him a huge, dramatic sigh. 

“It’s peachtarine pie.” 

“Damn fucking straight.” 

He was in a good mood. You liked that. That had to bode well, right? 

“Do you want a drink?”  

Yes, you were offering him his own alcohol in his own house, but you felt like you needed it. You should have had one before you came out but time hadn’t allowed.  

“Sure, there’s wine in the fridge.” 

Not the sort of drink you had in mind. You checked in his fridge for soju and, finding none, walked around to his drinks cabinet where you deliberated between tequila and vodka, eventually plumping for vodka. Tequila gave party vibes which wasn’t exactly what you were going for. You returned to the kitchen and poured two shots.  

“Here.” 

You nudged Yoongi – who had turned back to the stove – and handed him the drink. 

“Wow, really? Are we celebrating or commiserating something?”  

He knocked back the shot anyway and you did the same, cursing Yoongi in your head for not keeping soju – or anything more palatable – in the house.  

“Nope. Just because.” 

“Ok, party girl.” 

He waved the glass out towards you, asking for another, which you gratefully gave, taking one more for yourself, too. That was a little more like it. You felt looser already. A little Dutch courage can go a long way.  

“What are you cooking for me?” 

You moved from the other side of the counter and stood next to him, peering into the two dolsots bubbling away. 

“Haemul sundubu.”  

“Yum, thanks.” 

“It’s almost done; there’s banchan in the fridge. And the wine I said I actually wanted to drink.” 

He grinned down at you and you hip-checked him, moving away to set the table and pour more drinks.  

You hadn’t decided when you were going to tell him. You had told yourself that you would show up and you’d just know when was the right moment; you knew now that that was bullshit and you should have come more prepared. The fear of spoiling everything was rapidly creeping up on you; Yoongi was in a good mood and you were having so much fun. You knew the second you opened your mouth to tell him, everything would change. Even if it was what you wanted, what you were hoping for, even if he said everything you most wanted to hear, it would change things. It was the last night of your friendship, for better or for worse. You felt desperately like you had to make the most of the evening, make the most of everything you had right now: the ease, the comfort, the little sparks of something more when he laughed at your jokes, when he smiled at you, when you got to touch him even a little. There would be no going back. So you delayed your jump into the unknown a little longer and it settled your nerves. It put off the moment and you could relax, at least for an hour or two. 

* 

The addition of a film after dinner had continued; it was supposed to be your night to pick but you couldn’t focus on making a decision so Yoongi picked one for you. You didn’t care. You weren’t even sure what it was, even though it had been on in front of you for the last hour and a half. You couldn’t have explained the plot if you’d been offered a lottery jackpot for it.  

You had your legs thrown over Yoongi, leaning towards him, sitting as you did every time now. He was slouching deep into the corner, his feet on the coffee table, picking idly at the threads of the holes in your jeans as he watched; your heart skipped every time his fingertips brushed the bare skin beneath. 

You could almost hear a clock tick as time went by, you still not having said a thing. It was coming. You knew it was coming. You knew you had to say something; you had steeled yourself for this. You had promised yourself you would do it. You had promised everyone: Taehyung, Nina, San. You had made Taehyung go to your apartment and wait on standby, so he could be there with no delay if it was a ‘no’. You had to do this. You were going to do this. And it had to be now. 

You reached out and put your hands on his, toying with his fingers. His immediately stilled and there was a twitch that told you he was going to pull them back, out of reach, but you held on. You kept his little finger in your hands, mindlessly fidgeting with it, finding yourself unable to look up at him. 

“Yoongi?”  

Your face was already hot, your heart already racing. He grunted inquisitively and you felt his eyes move to you. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You were still looking at his hands, your stomach doing somersaults; you wished you hadn’t indulged in so much stew now that it was threatening to come back up the way it went down.  

“Are you ok?” 

You nodded, your throat feeling choked already.  

“I, um... Do you ever... think about me?” 

You risked a glance up at him; he seemed surprised by your question and then confused. He leant forward, feet on the ground, taking his hand from yours to reach for the control and stop the film. Then he sat back, not slouching this time, and looked down at you again. You focused on your hands. 

“I mean,” you continued, before he could answer, “I mean that-… I- sometimes, just recently, I... I think, I have feelings for you.”  

Your face burnt so hot, it brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t know what to say next; usually your mouth did all the talking for you but it had dried up. And Yoongi wasn’t saying anything. You tried to speak and nothing but a croak came out so you cleared your throat and gave it another shot. This was not how you had imagined it going; it was supposed to be smoother than this, more confident. You hadn’t expected to be this meek; you weren’t meek. But the weight of this exchange was crushing. 

“I just mean that... Recently, I’ve felt... different... and I- I guess I just wondered if maybe you ever felt like... that. About me.” 

It took all you had to look up at him, to try to gauge his reaction, see if you could divine what he was thinking through his face. It was closed, impassive, inscrutable in a way that reminded you of when you first met—his silence in that third class, which you had put down to his ex, but he had never actually explained. You felt the same way as you had back then. You were sticky with nervous sweat, hot and flustered. Embarrassed and self-conscious and burning like you’d been skinned alive. The anxiety was rising in you, a panic that said it was going to go sideways, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. That something had already gone wrong. You tried to talk yourself out of it but the longer he stayed quiet, the harder it became.  

“Yoongi?” you whispered, the sound barely making it out of your throat, when the seconds felt stretched to minutes. 

He wasn’t looking at you; he was staring straight ahead until he gave you a millisecond’s glance and shook his head. You waited, again, for him to say something else, to say anything at all. There was nothing giving him away. You knew him better than this; you could read him; you could sense how he felt. But not now. Not now at a moment when you really needed it.  

“No?” you asked when he still said no more. 

He was looking down now, not at you but somewhere on the floor. There was pink at the tips of his ears; his cheeks just barely rosy. He shook his head again and cleared his throat. 

“No,” he confirmed, just as quiet as you were, his voice just as strained. 

“Oh.”  

Your attempt to mask the gasp you gave when trying to gulp in air was poor but you couldn’t bear the thought of bursting into tears, here and now. They pooled thick in your eyes and blinking them back only sent them scurrying, falling, streaming down your face in a deluge. You opened and closed your mouth, gaping, fish-like, a few times before you found the composure to reply. 

“Ok.” Your voice wavered. “That’s fine. Yeah, ok, friends I guess then.” 

You weren’t looking directly at him—there was no way you could—but you saw him, from the corner of your eye, nod, two almost invisible dips of his head. You removed your legs from over his, curling them under you, trying to keep your breathing in check. You didn’t know what to do now. You didn’t understand. You thought about what Namjoon had said, the way he had seemed so confident. Didn’t Namjoon know Yoongi? Surely he wouldn’t have encouraged you if he had known Yoongi didn’t feel the same.  

There was a tearing in your chest that felt like collapse. It had been quick at least. But it was sharp. You wiped at your wet face, wishing Yoongi would just say something, anything would do. You felt shut out, iced out, pushed out. Rejected. Which was exactly what you were. In an instant, he had moved a thousand miles away as he stayed sitting next to you on the sofa. You had never felt farther from him than you did at that second. It made your stomach sink like a stone in the sea. It made your hands go weak, incapable of holding a hand even if he’d let you. It made your blood burn with shame like the acid rising in your throat.  

Of all your hundreds of scenarios, all the practices you’d run in your head, none of them went like this. You always talked about it, sometimes you even argued, but it was never this. This silence, thick like fog, choking like smog, resting over you. You began to feel smothered, suffocated by it. You couldn’t breathe for fear of falling apart; you had to get out.  

Yoongi stayed still, looking at the floor, his fingers worrying a loose thread on his trousers. Did he want you to leave? Did he want you to stay? You couldn’t know and were not able to wait to find out. 

“I guess,” you said, when you found the ability to speak without sobbing, “I should just go.”  

Yoongi turned to you then, his face for a second wearing a look of panic. He opened his mouth as you stood and you waited for him, gave him a few seconds to tell you to stay, or encourage you to leave. He said nothing. So you walked, with heavy feet and a heavier heart, to the door.  

Yoongi followed you, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his fingers twisting around one another. You stooped to put on your shoes and it was only when you were leaning on the door handle that he said anything. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked back at him as you stood in his doorway; you blinked away more tears and you could almost have sworn you saw tears in his eyes, too. You didn’t stop longer to make sure. You turned tail and ran.  

* 

You had managed to hold in your sobs in the taxi ride back to your apartment; you couldn’t stop the constant leak of tears from your eyes, but you just about kept a lid on the worst of it. Then you flung open your door and fell to the floor, gasping and choking and barely able to breathe. 

Taehyung was by your side in a second, scooping you into his arms, stroking your back, pressing kisses into your hair, letting you make his T-shirt wet and snotty, not saying anything, knowing you weren’t listening anyway.  

You couldn’t quite believe it. Not because Yoongi hadn’t wanted you, but because you hadn’t anticipated it going like that. Because you didn’t understand. Because you somehow thought that there would be discussion; you could, now, think of things that you wanted to say, things you wanted to talk about; every thought and idea that had eluded you then flooded back now. You thought of the many ways you had broached the topic in your head and wondered why you did it like that. That wasn’t what you had planned. You hadn’t been clear, had you? Or you hadn’t got your point across? Or maybe you did? You just couldn’t tell. You were, entirely, in disarray. 

You also had to ask yourself, did it matter? If Yoongi didn’t feel that way about you, did it matter how he told you? Did it matter what he said or didn’t? Did it matter how you said it? He had clearly known what you meant because he had given you his answer. You had the answer you were looking for—you had the answer to your question, even if it wasn’t the one you had been looking for. The rest was irrelevant.  

* 

The emergency treatment for your heartbreak was booze and a lot of it. So much, in fact, that you ended the night with your head in the toilet, that seafood stew finally making its burning way back up, Taehyung standing behind you rubbing your back and making sure your hair was out of the way.  

He put you to bed, tucked you up nicely and, at your insistence, curled up next to you, where you clung to him like a koala, desperate to not be alone. 

Yoongi stood, gasping, at his door, unable to catch his breath. He was familiar enough with panic attacks to know that this wasn’t one, but he nevertheless sank to the floor and began walking himself through it. He focused on the inhale and the exhale, the counting that accompanied each usually uncomplicated step of breathing. He needed to focus on that. Anything so that he didn’t have to focus on what had just happened.  

Panic. That was one word for it. Insanity. That might have been another. Stupidity, certainly. He hadn’t expected it, could not have seen it coming even from a mile off. Nothing had seemed different. You were the same as you ever were; things between the two of you were normal. 

And then you asked him that.  

And he’d wanted to say yes. He was trying to. He wanted to open up to you and respond in kind and see if maybe something, anything, could have happened.  

But he couldn’t. The words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t force them out, couldn’t make himself say it. He could see it all crumbling; as if he had been watching from outside his body, he had seen it. He had seen himself fail, let you down, lie to you.  

And he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t understand the gut-wrenching, visceral fear that had gripped him when you spoke, when you looked up at him—timid and shy like he had never seen you before—and asked if he ever thought about you, said that you had feelings for him. Like a pair of icy hands, one on his heart and one around his throat, it took such strong hold of him that he literally felt strangled: couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do a thing that might have led him to happiness. 

And then you left. In tears. Because of Yoongi. He wouldn’t forgive himself for that. He probably wouldn’t forgive himself for any of it, but his own pain, he could handle. He was used to that. Causing you pain? Before tonight he would have said it was unthinkable. He would never.  

But he had. He had lied; he had rejected you; he had let you run out of his apartment with barely a word said.  

He had lost you. That was it. He couldn’t see redemption, couldn’t see a way to walk this back. Not a hurt this big. Not a stupid, pointless, embarrassing lie like this was. It was over.  

He couldn’t forgive himself for that either.  

* 

He stayed on the floor in the hallway until his legs started screaming for him to move, then a little longer. It wasn’t until Cherry came to chase him into bed that he stood up, walking straight through the apartment to his bedroom, not looking anywhere but straight ahead, not daring to glance at the scene of the crime, the scene of his immodest failure, a scene the very thought of which made him feel sick.  

He fell onto his bed and stayed there until Sunday.  

Chapter Eleven | Masterlist | Chapter Thirteen

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

[nevernonline]

✧.* grow as we go; svt smau.

entry #20 lost and found.

synopsis: over the past ten years you’ve fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it’s clear things would ever be the same again.

𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.

𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt

𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.

𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex’s, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

word count: 3.3k (texts under the passage <3)

masterlist ▸ 019 anywhere you go. ▸ 021 we're so back.

Minghao wasn’t sure his tactic to get y/n alone was going to work, but it was his only sure chance to try. All night up in his hotel room he thought of different things to say to her, questions that had been brewing in his mind for the past two weeks since her failure of a birthday party and her somewhat of a disappearance. 

Wonwoo was still sleeping in the bed adjacent to his, he knew he’d have to be up early to get a chance to watch Joshua exit y/n’s home so he woke up before the sun and tiptoed into the bathroom trying not to wake his friend who might try to talk him out of his plan. 

The bathroom light woke his tired body up even more. Was it silly to even try to look good for her? What if Wonwoo was telling the truth? Y/n maybe really did ask to not see them and only trusted her true feelings with his friend over him. 

Something about Wonwoo even sticking his neck out so Minghao could go talk to her in private was enough of a clue that he was lying to her. 

Minghao grabbed the keys from Wonwoo’s car, temporarily abandoning his four friends at the motel. After all, he knew they would understand. He drove down the clean old streets of y/n's hometown and smiled, imagining her when she was younger walking around, grabbing ice cream, doing her school shopping, someday maybe he’d get the chance to experience it with her, but today wasn’t that day. 

Pulling up to the corner, behind another black car he checked the time on his phone and waited nearly a block away from her big front door until he saw Joshua pull out of her driveway. 

After sitting in the car for what felt like a decade, Minghao caught a glimpse of Josh running around the side of the house to his car and starting the engine. For some reason he didn’t pull out of the driveway immediately which made the pit in Hao’s stomach fall deeper. Was he waiting for y/n? Was his plan going to fail him? 

But, the universe worked in his favor as Joshua pulled out of the driveway all by his lonesome and headed the opposite way down the block. When his car was finally out of sight, Minghao stepped outside into the fresh air and walked up the front walkway to her house. 

Unsure if he should knock or ring the doorbell to insure she heard that someone was waiting on the front porch, he saw y/n through the large glass window and stared for a moment at the back of her head. 

Taking a deep breath in he decided on a light knock, waiting patiently for her to come answer the door. 

“Josh, Seriously you have a key why are you kno-” 

As the door split open to reveal the girl he hadn’t seen in too long, she gasped and stood to look at him with a blank face. 

“Oh.” 

“That’s all you can say?” 

“I’m not really sure what to say, why are you here?” 

“I didn’t believe anything Wonwoo had told me yesterday, can we talk?” 

“Uh, yeah. Come in.” 

Minghao stepped through the door into y/n’s world and followed her through the house to the kitchen. 

“Want any coffee, matcha, water, alcohol?” 

 “Waters good.” 

Grabbing two glasses one for water and one for a glass of wine y/n felt like she so desperately needed to ease her stress, she sat down across from him at the table. Her eyes puffy, her face dull and dry, almost like she hadn’t been sleeping and probably crying. 

“So?” 

“Well first of all, it’s good to see you. I don’t really know how to start off asking you anything, but I guess I really need to know why you lied about writing the letter?” 

“Oh. Well I didn-” 

“Y/n come on. We both know you didn’t write it. I can read Wonwoo like a book, he was insisting a little too much that you didn’t want to see us. I won’t entertain it for even a second.” 

“Damn, Wonwoo. Well, the night of the party after Mingyu left his office to go and help Minnie, uh, Mimi came in after the lights went out and she threatened me. She gave me the letter to sign and told me to block you guys and go somewhere else.” 

“Threatened you how?” 

“Just that if she didn’t force me out, she would never get what she wanted.” 

“Which is?” 

“She didn’t say. She just handed me car keys and a zip drive.” 

“Did you look to see what was on it?” 

“No. I don’t care.” 

“But, it could be something good.” 

“It might be and it also might be nothing, but I want to be done with her. I want no stress. I was so happy before she came back into my life again and for a moment I thought she really wanted to move passed whatever fucking issue she has with me and be friends. I really just don't understand the issue.” 

“She’s jealous.” 

“But, why? She’s successful, her parents have money, she’s not unfortunate looking at all. She has nothing to be jealous of me for.” 

“Joshua? Mingyu? Minnie? The list goes on and on, she never could make friends who liked her more than they liked you.” 

“They did like her. I thought once she got with Joshua it was over the first time, then all hell broke loose. It’s like whenever she’s around everything in my life that was starting to be good goes to shit.” 

“You have to stop letting her get away with it.” 

“I just don’t want to deal with it anymore, Hao I’m so fucking tired.” 

“You have to deal with it. I know it’s eating away at you, but if you let it continue, you let her take over your life. I know you would never forgive yourself for that. Plus, you have some dumbass friends helping you and one smart one. Seokmin, Jun, Vernon, and Wonwoo need you, your the glue. They’ve been so sad thinking you just left for no reason other than you didn’t want to see them anymore.” 

“And you?” 

“Yeah. Of course. Why do you think I'm here convincing you to come back and be with us? I’d even offer to get on my hands and knees and beg but I don’t want it to come to that.” 

“I mean you could.” 

Minghao laughed at y/n’s small bit of sarcasm coming back to her, when he heard someone opening the front door, thinking it was Joshua he got up to leave when y/n stopped him and got up herself. 

“Dad? Where do you think you’re going, I said if you need something to let me know.” 

“Ah, honey. Just wanted to sit in the sun for a few minutes, and didn't want to bother you and your friend.” 

y/n looked over at Minghao, putting her finger up to gesture one minute, wrapped her arm around her fathers and led him towards the back of their house. 

Minghao just smiled back, watching her walk away out the patio door, helping her dad with his cane as she opened the door up and sat him in a chair under the sun. 

Before she came back in he studied how well she took care of him, placing a pillow behind his back slowly and comfortably, pointing at a tree to show him a bird, and a gesture which made Minghao think she was asking him a question. 

When she came back in she headed straight to the fridge and grabbed three cans of beer, walking back to Minghao cuddling with her dog on her childhood couch. 

“Come on.” 

“What?” 

“You’re going to have a beer with my dad, come on. His request. Bring Lucy with you.” 

She smiled gesturing to her small dog sitting on Minghaos lap, he gracefully picked her up, getting nervous to meet the man y/n had amazing things to tell him before. 

“Don’t be scared, kiddo. I don’t bite.” 

“Nice to meet you sir, I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Minghao opened a can of beer, placing it in the older man’s slightly shaking fingers, making sure he had his grip just right before opening the two following cans. 

“So, you’re the boy my daughter told me about huh? The artist.” 

“Talking to your dad about me, y/n? Wow.” 

“Na, once or twice.” 

“She doesn’t shut up about you, you might out rank Seokmin.” 

“Dad no-“ 

“No, let the gentleman talk, y/n. I want to hear it.” 

Y/n just shook her head, sitting back in her chair, blushing slightly. 

“Nothing but good things of course, I kept begging her to bring you over. But, she never did. Keep bringing that Joshua instead. He was never my favorite kid, nice, but a little bit of a follower.” 

“Well I'm glad she finally let us meet even though she didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Me too. I heard you used to be a little bit of an artist yourself, in the kitchen.” 

“Oh, definitely. Those were my glory days, now all I have to show for it is a little bit of a messed up leg and some grease burns, but the memories of it is all that matters. My restaurant is going well even without me, maybe it hurts my pride slightly as a perfectionist, but my wife knows her way around a kitchen better than me at this point.” 

“Ah, so y/n’s mom took over for you when you left?” 

“She always was in the kitchen with me, sous chef, that’s how we met. Many, many years ago. I was pretty new in the restaurant industry, we met at a cooking class. Been going strong ever since.” 

Minghao smiled watching y/n hear her father relive his life with such pride. He knew how much her parents meant to her, but now he understood why she loved to be loved, it was what she was used to, what she needed. He was the same. 

“A shame I didn’t get to meet her then.” 

“Well, she’ll be home-“ y/n’s father looked down at his watch, “An hour probably, you can stay for dinner if you like. Maybe y/n can show you how we are in the kitchen.” 

“I don’t think he can stay, dad. His friends are waiting for him at the hotel.” 

“Nonsense, call them a car, I’ll give you money.” 

“But-“ 

“Y/n, no. I insist. I have lots to talk to my new friend Minghao about. Get them here.” 

Minghao pulled his phone out, texting Wonwoo to get ready to come over to your house with the rest of the guys. Saying sorry he took so long to let him know how it was going. 

“Alright, sir. I let them know and called them over.” 

“Sir? I’m far too young for that, call me Wynn.” 

Y/n stood up from the table, excusing herself to go and take a shower, giving a slight look to her dad, almost begging for him not to embarrass her before waltzing inside followed by her small curly haired dog. 

Minghao sat and listened to many stories about her parents' lives, everything that went down with y/n before he had met her, he almost felt her father let him in even further to her life than she had on her own. 

A woman Minghao had assumed was y/n’s mom, considering her good looks and similar bone structure walked onto the patio, beaming a smile at her husband and coming over to kiss his cheek, took one look at Minghao and he already knew she was aware of who he was. Which was a confident point to him, y/n really did talk to her parents about him. Maybe he’d probe her later about the types of things she may have said. 

“Who’s this striking young man, honey? Where’d you find him?” 

“Well, he came over pleading to me to buy some candy for his fundraiser, and figured I’d give him some beers in exchange for candy.” 

“Ah, smart.” 

Y/n’s mom came over to Minghao as he stood out of his chair to greet her with a hand outstretched as she pulled on it and gave him a big hug. 

“I’m only kidding, I know who you are. I’m sure my husband told you our silly daughter doesn’t shut up about you.” 

“Good things?” 

“Oh, of course. Don’t tell her I told you this but, I think she may have a bit of a crush. I see why.” 

Minghao blushed, still holding onto her moms hand. 

“She must have forgotten to tell me how beautiful you are, I see where she gets it from.” 

“Oh, wow. A charmer. I love that. You’re staying for dinner?” 

“Yes, if that’s okay.” 

“I insist, if my husband hasn’t already. What would you like?” 

“Y/n actually made me that chicken recipe of yours… if it’s not too hard.” 

“Oh, she definitely likes you. Not hard at all.” 

“Honey, y/n has some more friends coming. How many did you say, Minghao?” 

“Four more. If that’s okay?” 

“The more the merrier. I’ll go get started. Where is that girl anyway?” 

“Shower.” 

“Okay, don’t hesitate to make yourself at home. I’ll go get started, gentlemen.” 

Y/n sat on the floor of her shower, letting the hot water rush down her skin. Wanting to feel it burning into her as she contemplated how dumb she’s been. 

She felt awful for letting her friends think she didn’t like them, that she was doing horrible things to make them hate the girl who was actually doing them to her. 

Was she excited to see her friends? Of course. But, she knew it came with a bunch of unanswered questions they couldn’t get to until later considering she never told her parents the new chapter in the Mimi saga, they already hated her for the past, but they would hate her more for this recent fuck up. 

She was looking down at her wrinkling hands as the door opened to the bathroom, a cold rush of air hitting her skin under the warm water. 

“Honey? Everything okay?” 

“Oh. Hi, mom. I’m good, just shaving.” 

“Alright, sweetie. When you’re finished would you mind helping me in the kitchen? If not, that's alright.” 

“Of course. I’ll be down in a second.” 

“Alright.” 

Seconds after her mom shut the door, y/n shut the hot water off, basking in her last moments of solitude and got ready to head back downstairs. 

As she was walking around the corner of the staircase, she heard a familiar voice at the door, Seokmin. 

Her best friend. The one person she felt the most guilty not talking to. 

Her mom was basically yelling with joy seeing him and Jun walk into her house again, as well as greeting two more new faces with her infectious cheerful nature. 

She told her to grab the cooler of drinks from the kitchen and head outside to meet her husband and Minghao. 

Y/n wasn’t sure how to make her entrance. 

As she reached the kitchen, her mom just gave her a small smile as she was cutting into the various fresh veggies from her garden, nodding her head to the door, forcing her to go greet them. 

She took a deep breath in, taking a sip of her moms wine sitting on her marble countertop and headed outside. 

“Y/n!!” 

All four of her friends greeted her loudly, the two of them who’ve known her the longest nearly having tears welling up in their eyes. 

“Hi. You guys look so nice? I’m in pajamas. What the hell.” 

“Go change, come on. We were telling your dad we’re having a small birthday party for you tonight.” 

“Jun, you don’t have to-“ 

“Shut up, yes we do. Now go. Minghao help her, she will need it.” 

“Guys no.” 

“Go, go, go.” 

“But my mom-“ 

“Honey, mom will be fine. Go on.” 

“Okay.” 

Y/n let Minghao back up the same staircase she had just come down, he took in the walls full of family photos and young pictures of y/n as she led him to the pastel blue colored walls of her childhood room. Full of posters and moments of her life. 

“The closet is slim pickings here and don’t mind the bedsheets, butterflies were super cool okay.” 

“Butterflies are still cool.” 

“Sorry we didn’t get to finish talking before and for my parents, they love company.” 

“No. They’re amazing. I see where you get it from.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Can I ask an innocent question?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is this the room that, you know.” 

“Mimi filmed me in? Yes.” 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“Don’t worry. So, my closet is obviously here. Overflowing. Uh, yeah, have at it, Hao.” 

“Also can I just say right here right now, your dad is fucking cool.” 

“Really? He’s not embarrassing you?” 

“No. He’s fun.” 

Y/n just laughed, sitting crossed legged on the edge of her twin sized bed. Waving him along to do his work. 

“What about… maybe this?” 

Minghao pulled out a long sleeved black dress, something y/n only bought to have in case the boy she thought she would love forever asked her on a date. It’s never been worn even though it’s been in her closet for years. She almost hesitated and said no, but the butterflies in her stomach watching Minghao pull it from the closet changed her mind. 

“Okay.” 

She got up and grabbed it from his hands, staring at it admirably as he watched her eyes light up. 

“Cover your eyes, please.” 

“Sorry. Okay.” 

Minghao didn’t even question her, he took his hands over his eyes as he closed them and listened to the signs as she was getting undressed. He never looked, even though he’s seen her less than clothed before. 

She tapped his forehead to let him know she was done, giggling as he jumped a little not knowing their proximity. 

He opened his eyes, staring at her. Unaware his jaw had dropped to the floor as he looked at her up and down, pulling his hands from his face and running them down the sleeves covering her arms. 

“Wow. That’s so..” 

“So? Bad? Good? What?” 

“Beautiful, yeah good obviously. It’s nice. Why have you never worn it?” 

“Oh, I was saving it for something special.” 

“Ah.” 

Minghaos hands still rested on her arms, staring into her eyes. Feeling the urge to kiss her, but didn’t know how to move. 

She just looked back at him, smiling, almost wondering why he wasn’t making a move, before a knock came onto her latched door. 

“Guys? Dinners are almost ready, come on.” 

They broke apart at the knock, leaving the lingering tension in the air around them. 

“Have we really been up here that long? Your dad will hate me.” 

“No, they know I would never do any funny business. Probably just assumed we were busy talking or something.” 

“Okay? Good.” 

“Can we finish this later?” 

“Y/n are you flirting with me?” 

“I think so?” 

“Good enough for me.” 

As they ate dinner, drank, and laughed y/n realized what she had been missing. 

Her friends, no matter the situation, were always here for her. 

The decorations, the flowers, the small cake they had picked up on their way over was all an effort to prove to her they would always have her back. 

When they all finally snuggled up into bed, her last thought was she would do anything to have it back, without all the complications. 

note: hi, omg? I have been so busy, but like literally am finally able to be here and post my last (2?/3?) chapters of this wild ride. sorry it took me like... forever?? but pls enjoy. I missed u, sorry it's sort of short also?and chaotic? yes. am I just apologizing.. uh, yes, but ok anyway, lolol? also my friend surprised me w/ txt tickets for my upcoming b-day so uh... cunty. ily ily. (also did not edit excuse me ok lol, bye)

taglist:@sun-daddy-yoriichi@hipsdofangirl@kissesfrmwonwoo@minhui896@wonwooz1@porridgesblog@jasssy051@soonyoungblr@saucegirlreads@musingsofananxiouspotato@young-adult-summer@punkhazardlaw@bibs-world@the-swageyama-tobiyolo@wonuulvr@woozixo@k-drama-adict@90s-belladonna@blaycke@dnylwoo@to-mi-yo, @nonononranghaee @bee-the-loser @mxnhoeuwu

[cornychip]

Something More- Chapter 2

18+

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter Summary: The twins birthday, Josh’s guest bedroom, getting caught…what could be better?

Pairings: Sammy x Reader

Danny x Reader

Tropes: friends to enemies?

enemies to lovers

friends to lovers

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ content only. DNI if you are under 18. Alcohol use. Strong/hurtful language.

Part 1

Part 3

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“I’m glad you came with me,” his voice sounded from behind you.

You flipped over onto your side to look at him, his hand falling off your back and onto the sheets.

“So am I.”

He smiled tiredly as he dropped his head against a pillow, shuffling under the sheets to get more comfortable. A hand found your hip, nudging for you to come closer to him.

“I liked you a lot in high school, you know?”

He spoke with his eyes closed, his voice slow and quiet.

“I didn’t know that.”

He chuckled softly.

“I guess I wasn’t obvious enough.”

Your stomach dropped a bit, that familiar burning rising again to your chest. You bit your lip; perhaps your body’s way of trying to tell you not to ask the question you were about to ask.

“What do you feel now?”

His eyes fluttered back open to look at you.

Your heart sank. You should have just stayed quiet.

“I’m not sure,” he chimed out, his voice clearer and more attentive now, “it’s been a long time.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Yeah, it has.”

“But I do know how jealous I get whenever I see you with Danny.”

He chuckled out and you couldn’t help but quirk the corner of your lip up.

“Some things never change, I guess,” he spoke again.

You propped yourself up on your arm in a sudden fit of amusement.

“You were jealous of Danny in high school? No way.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

“When it came to you, yeah. Although in every other aspect he was the biggest dork I’d ever met.”

You chuckled together.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” you answered, lowering your head onto his chest and closing your eyes.

“You will not,” Sam breathed out quietly, a grin tugging at your lips as you both drifted to sleep

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That was how it had been for the last couple of months mostly.

Giddy smiles down at your phone when you read his stupid dirty texts, showing up to his house with a bottle of wine, waking up with his arm wrapped over your side.

It felt good.

It was fun as Sam put it, just having fun.

You told yourself you were okay with fun, that being able to reap the benefits of a relationship without the responsibility of one was something to relish in. How you truly felt was not something you offered much thought to.

You checked the time, 7:40 pm, how on time did you need to be to their birthday party anyways?

You stood in front of your mirror, finishing up the last few buttons on the casual black mini dress you bought at a consignment shop mainly for the cargo short-esque pockets that adorned it. You slipped on a pair of frilly white socks and old black loafers, a pairing that Sam and Danny ruthlessly teased you for in high school, though now it seemed you were just ahead of trend.

Sam had offered to drive, but seeing that neither one of you had disclosed your recent relations to anyone, not even Danny, you had thought it best to go separately so as not to turn any heads. As Sammy always did he let it roll right off his back, not catching on that you had hoped he’d be at least slightly disappointed.

You optimistically got in your car to drive, telling yourself you would only have two or three drinks, though three out of four times you did so you ended up sleeping in one of Josh’s guest bedrooms until the next morning. This time, though, you told yourself it’d be different, you’d be responsible.

It wasn’t a big gathering or ordeal like birthdays past for the two twins, no raging house parties or cop raids while the Kizska’s parents were away visiting relatives or out to dinner and drinks with some friends, but it was still a Kiszka party. The backyard was strung with lights, and music was humming pleasantly in the background from scattered speakers. The boys had even splurged for some heaters in the brisker nights of spring. Few people you knew were there, mostly a collection of vibrant personalities the boys had met in the music scene and while living in Nashville, people you didn't know exactly how to approach or lead a conversation with the way the Kiszka boys could. You grabbed yourself a glass of champagne and found a spot farther from the main crowd and closer to a heater. It wasn’t like the rinky dink parties in high school that you found yourself missing some nights, but it was nice

“Don’t worry, the real party will start in a couple of hours.”

Sam bent and whispered into your ear before shooting back up to his full height.

You jumped slightly before realizing it was just him and offered a polite smile in response.

“I’m only staying for a few drinks, drove myself here and I’m planning on driving myself back…you know, like a responsible adult,” you straightened, trying to look as poised as possible.

“I’ve heard that one before,” he chuckled knowingly, “usually ends with Danny and Josh carrying you to bed.”

You gave him a playful glare, breaking into a coy smile quickly.

“Yeah well, we’ll see where the night takes us.”

You stood in silence for a bit, just watching as everyone else chatted and drank, a few people dancing around the yard to whatever music Josh had chosen that night. As always, Josh was the primary planner while Jake was mostly just along for the ride.

You shivered a bit as you felt Sam’s long slender fingers pinch at the hem of your dress, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before dropping his hand back to his side.

You looked up at him with an inquisitive face at his bizarre action.

“That’s a nice dress, it’s a little short don’t you think?”

Your eyes widened and your hands immediately patted down the bottom of the entire dress, trying to feel where it laid on your legs and if you’d been walking around with your ass out every time you’d worn it in the last 4 months.

Sam only stifled his laughter as he watched you, earning a shove against his arm.

“Don’t scare me like that Sam, that’s one of my biggest fears-“

“I know, I know because in ninth grade your skirt got stuck in your underwear and no one told you till 3rd period!”

Sam laughed to himself, hunching over and gasping for breaths as you continued your shoving.

“Yes,” you exclaimed, giving him one shove that almost sent him toppling over, “so why would you do something like that, how stupid are you!?” you gave him one final push as he straightened up, chuckling with him a little.

“You’re fun to tease, that’s why,” he said before sighing into a small and final chuckle.

Your cheeks turned warm, the way they did almost every time Sam flirted with you. You always wondered if he did the same, you thought most likely not.

“It looks good-the dress-I like it,” he offered before taking a swig of his drink.

You went shy at the compliment despite having been sleeping with him for the past 3 months.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, looking down at the dress to inspect it one last time.

“You look even better in it,” his hand snaked under the back of the dress slightly, squeezing at your ass.

You let out a little gasp as your eyes widened, immediately slapping his hand away and looking around to see if anyone had seen.

“Sam!”

You reprimanded in a hushed tone.

“What?”

He replied in his signature laxed voice, not a worry in the world.

“No one’s watching, and even if they were, no one cares.”

“Well I care!”

You offered somewhat spitefully. He only looked down at you with a smirk and those eyes, eyes that meant trouble.

“How about,” he began, leaning into your ear and finding his way back under your dress, “we take a trip inside, I left my jacket in his guest room and it’s getting a little cold out.”

You just looked back at him, matching his mischievous grin with a glare of your own.

“At your brother’s birthday, really Sam?”

You countered, slapping his hand off of you once again.

“I’m just really, really cold y/n, I’m just asking you to come get my jacket with me.”

“Get it yourself.”

You retorted, crossing your arms against your chest.

This time he just moved his hand to the back of your neck, trailing his fingers into your hair, gripping at your roots and tugging down gently.

“I’ll get lost,” he frowned disappointedly, looking down at you.

His hand tightened around the fistful of hair he had in his hand.

You let a small gasp fall from your lips, cursing yourself for giving him any reaction. As much as you felt guilty about even the prospect of sneaking off to hook up with Sam in Josh’s house, you just couldn’t help yourself around him.

“I-I guess I could help you out.”

You managed out the words.

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up into a satisfied grin as he softened his grip and returned his hand to his side.

“Great.”

You ventured inside, Sam’s hand ghosting your lower back whilst leading you through the yard and inside. A few people were in the house, getting caught up in conversation while waiting for the bathroom or grabbing food and drinks, but for the most part it was quiet. You stopped in front of the bedroom door, a door you had become far too acquainted with in the last year.

“After you.”

Sam motioned to the door and you twisted the knob, entering the guest room that was mostly a place for Josh to house all of his extra plants. Every window was bombarded with long dangling vines and the corners were scattered with terracotta pots resting on the floor. The room was dimly illuminated from the warm lights lining the backyard shining through the windows. You looked down to the bed, no coat to be seen.

“Looks like I must’ve left it somewhere else.”

Sam’s voice rang out quiet and smooth as he closed the door behind him, a small click sounding out as he turned the lock.

“Well, you are so forgetful.”

You teased, moving your way towards him and resting your palms on his chest as you stared up at him. His features were being lit up with the dull warmth of outside, the sharp curves of his nose and the impressive contour of his jaw. He parted his lips and smiled, that smile made you weak.

“It seems that way.”

He brought his hand up to your face, cradling your jaw firmly in his palm.

You told yourself not to enjoy moments like this, not to make yourself believe in the fantasy that was you and Sam. It was hard, at times like these, when he touched you so softly, looked at you so sweetly, spoke to you with such phantom flattery. When it was just you and him, alone, it seemed like so much more, it seemed real.

He swept his tongue over his lips and your eyes darted down, focused intensely on the way it made his lips glisten. You let your hands wander lower until your fingers hooked over the waistband of his pants. You had learned what Sam had liked in the last few months, what he didn’t like, and what drove him absolutely wild.

He brought his face down to yours, painfully slowly, stopping as his lips sat only a centimeter away from yours, breaths warm on each other's faces. The ends of his hair fell in front of his face and tickled your nose. It was shorter now, not even reaching his shoulders.

“Should I fuck you now?”

He questioned, his voice deep and soft as his chest rose and fell.

You only matched his stare, eyes wide as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Should I fuck you hard right here while everyone else is outside?”

His other hand came up to cradle the other side of your face, his eyes were transfixed on your lips now, never glancing anywhere else.

“Hmm? Should I?”

He asked again, waiting for anything, a nod, a hum of recognition, a shift in your stance.

“Yeah, I think you should.”

You answered, tightening your grip around his jeans. His lips jumped into a satisfied grin, pulling your face towards him and kissing you. Your lips moved together quickly as they connected, you both knew each other, your lips, your bodies, the way one another moved. He tasted of whiskey and cigarettes, a pairing you would normally cringe at, but when it came to Sam, it was so perfect. You were addicted to it, how he tasted, how he felt, his skin against yours, his voice whispering your name and his teeth nipping at your neck, you couldn't get enough.

He pulled away, pushing you back and onto the bed, his chest heaving with excitement and his lips flushed pink. You fell onto your back, propping yourself up on your forearms to look at him, a satisfied smirk growing on your lips as he pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it onto the floor. He moved towards you, stopping once he stood in front of you, your hands hurriedly moving to his belt, undoing it sloppily. He grabbed at your hair again, tugging lightly to make you look up to him as your hands continued working until his pants hung open on his hips..

He liked that, when you watched him.

“Just a quick one,” he smirked, “can’t miss cake.”

He released you, shoving his pants and underwear down and releasing his hard cock as he ran his hand over himself a few times.

“Is that all for me?”

You questioned as he began to crawl on top of you.

He chuckled under his breath, “Yeah, it is. You gonna be good for me and take it all?”

His fingers worked at unbuttoning the top of your dress, snaking a hand under and squeezing at the supple flesh of your ass once your breasts were exposed in the parting of your top.

You bit your lip to stifle a whimper as his hand slipped under your underwear, fingers moistening themselves in your arousal before bringing them up and teasing your clit.

“Mhmm,” you managed out, one hand grasping at the bedsheets beside you as the other entangled itself in Sam’s hair.

“God,” he hummed out, slipping a finger inside of you, “always so wet for me, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a cocky grin finding home on his lips. He moved his gaze from where his hand was working underneath your dress, now scrunched up and settled on your waist, to your eyes, waiting for a response.

“Y-yeah, Sammy, I am.”

You whimpered out, the nickname he once hated now sounding so sweet coming from your lips.

“That’s my good girl,” he added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly while his thumb ghosted your clit, his hard cock pressing needily on the inside of your thigh.

Your mouth hung open in ecstasy, he was so good with his fingers. His lips trailed down your neck and to your chest, leaving a scattering of slowly fading red marks down your sternum.

“You’re so slutty, angel, so hot.”

He mumbled against your skin, taking his fingers out of you and pushing your pantied aside, quickly lining himself up with your entrance.

You shuddered as he pushed into you, he was big, and no matter how many times or how hard he fucked you, it always felt so delicious the first time he pushed into you.

He whimpered above you, small moans falling from his lips as he slowly rolled his hips into you, a hand bracing himself on the headboard above you.

His hips met yours again, burying himself completely inside of you. A hand slipped under the opening in your top, grasping at your breast as he pounded into you, faster and harder each time, slamming the bed against the wall.

“F-fuck, Sam,” you struggled out.

“Pretty girls don’t use words like that.”

He strained out, taking himself out of you completely before slamming himself back into you.

You groaned out and nodded, Sam always got what he wanted, and this was no different.

He continued a grueling pace, his fingers moving between your legs and circling your clitwith his thumb and his palm rested on your lower stomach. You gasped, trying your best to quiet the moans trapped in your throat.

“God, S-Sam..”

Your words trailed out as he moaned in response. That familiar feeling began tumbling down into the pits of your stomach and coursing down through your legs.

“D-don’t stop Sam.”

You managed out, whimpers falling deliciously from your lips. Upon those words, Sam sped his fingers up, playing with your clit as his cock managed to find that spot deep inside of you, hitting it over and over again.

You began to become undone around him, your legs shaking as your eyes tightened shut.

“Look at me while you do it, watch me as I fuck you so good you cum all over me you slut.”

He groaned out as you peeled your eyes open, staring at him. His eyebrows were drawn down and his lips were parted. His eyes were unwavering as they bore down into your own.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? I make you feel so good, don’t I?”

His voice rang out, an evil smirk crawling onto his lips.

You whimpered out, matching his stare as your eyebrows knitted together and you hurtled towards your finish.

“You look so pathetic, am I really that good?”

He chuckled out.

All you could manage was a whine as he continued unraveling you.

“Am I?”

He pushed.

“Y-yes, you are Sam, you’re so good.”

He grinned as he sped his fingers up.

“Just good?”

He asked again.

“No Sam, you’re great, you’re amazing, you feel amazing!”

You exclaimed, legs shaking and squeezing together as you came around him. His hand pressed against your mouth, muffling your moans as he shuddered inside of you, panting out expletives.

“Sam?”

An all too familiar voice sounded out as footsteps approached the door.

You and Sam just stared at one another as you shoved him off of you, springing up from the bed and pulling your dress down and buttoning up the top.

“Fuck.”

You mumbled out, a knock sounded out on the door as you hurriedly slipped your shoes back on.

You ran your fingers through your hair and wiped whatever makeup had smeared off from under your eyes, hoping to look presentable enough. Sam pulled his legs through his pants quickly, abandoning the belt and his shoes and just buttoning the jeans before throwing his wrinkled top over his head.

He opened the door and there stood Danny.

“They’re making a toast…someone said they saw you come in here-”

His voice faded out as he spotted you over Sam’s shoulder, straightening your dress.

“Sam forgot his coat.”

You blurted out.

He only nodded slowly as Sam slipped past him, offering an awkward pat on his shoulder.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t want Danny to know, after all he was the one who was constantly trying to get you together and make you feel better when Sam was off with another girl. There was this weird feeling in your chest though, an odd heaviness when he stared at you with suspicion dampening his features.

You averted your gaze, shrinking in on yourself and walking up to him.

“Did you get it?”

He asked.

“W-what?”

“The coat, did you guys get Sam’s coat?”

You looked up at him, your face going hot.

“Oh, um, no…no it wasn’t in here,” you trailed off, walking past him to rejoin the party outside, your underwear pooling with the uncomfortable wetness of Sam’s release- it made you want to cry for some reason.

You walked outside, Sam was with his brothers, arms hung around their shoulders, cheering as everyone raised their glasses and candles were blown out. That heaviness in your chest weighed down on you further watching them.

You took a deep breath turning away and getting into your car. You drove home, not even bothering to put any music on. You knew if you did, you wouldn’t have even heard it, you felt weird. A gross feeling crawled under your skin and set heavy atop your chest. You pulled into your parking lot, putting your car into park with a long sigh, resting your forehead against the steering wheel as the dim glow of street lights seeped into your car.

You checked your phone, it was only 9:30 and with a 20 minute drive from Josh’s, you had stayed at the party for a whopping one hour. As your senses came back to you, the heaviness began to disappear and was instead replaced with a nagging panic. You took your phone into your hand, typing quickly as you mumbled various curses at yourself.

To Jake, Josh:

9:31 pm

So sorry I didn’t get to wish you guys happy birthday tonight, started feeling really unwell and had to drive home. Hope you guys have a great night, have a drink for me!

You sighed as you buried your face in your hands, throwing your phone aside. You stilled for a moment, contemplating how dumb you were and why on earth you cared so much that Danny might have now known about you and Sam.

You rubbed your face with the heels of your palms, scratching at your scalp and hair with your fingers, exhaling a lone line of grunts and moans until you recoiled your hands, a mess of hair falling in front of your eyes as you did so.

Your phone dinged and you shoved it into your purse, assuming it was just Josh or Jake texting you back as you grabbed your things and walked up to your apartment.

You collapsed onto your couch, not minding to turn on any lights as you buried your face into a discarded blanket crumpled lamely in the corner of the sofa.

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*knock* *knock*

You parted your eyes lazily as they adjusted to the dark interior of your living room. As your vision cleared and the momentary fog washed from your mind, you pushed yourself up and grabbed your phone to check what time it was.

1:24 am

You wiped the line of drool peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you ran a hand through your hair and stood up, groaning as your body slumped with tiredness.

Another knock sounded out, a bit more forceful than the one that had woken you up.

Who the hell was at your door this late?

You peered out your peep hole, eyebrows jumping as you looked again to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

You undid the numerous locks lining your door that Jake had come over and installed one day after reading an article about the dangers single women face whilst living alone, and slowly opened your door.

His head shot up to you as you opened the door, his hands clenching and flexing at his side.

“Danny…”

You let the word tumble out of your mouth, more of a question than a greeting. He only nodded his head, letting himself in and pushing past you, immediately pacing your living room, bringing his thumb up to his mouth and anxiously biting at the tip of it, a habit he’s had since you’d met him.

You closed the door after him and flipped on the living room lights, that heaviness in your chest returning, but also a sense of worry and confusion.

Why was he here so late and why did he look like he was about to disclose the location of a body he had buried years past?

“Danny what’re you doing here-”

“I texted you,” he blurted out, immediately returning to chewing on the tip of his thumb, finally stilling his pacing as you walked to your purse, taking out your phone and scrolling through your notifications.

Danny: Where are you?

9:34 pm

Danny: I’m coming over once this is done.

10:17 pm

Danny: Are you asleep?

12:05 am

Danny: I’m almost here.

1:13 am

You sighed out going through the messages as he watched you, eyes like a hawk.

“Sorry, fell asleep..”

You trailed off hugging your arms around yourself awkwardly as you stood in front of Danny on opposite ends of the living room.

He forced his hand down and instead crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“Danny, you’re scaring me, what’s going on!?”

You finally gave in, becoming anxious just watching him.

His mouth parted and his eyebrows drew downwards as his eyes widened. He let out a scoff, staring at you as if you were the dumbest person on the planet.

“What’s going on!?”

He repeated, a wild grin erupting onto his face as his eyebrows jumped up and he threw his arms in the air.

“What’s going on is you’ve been fucking my best friend for 3 months!”

He exclaimed, stomping up towards you and stopping in front of you, his features hardening, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he reveled in his anger. You just looked back at him, cheeks red with guilt, your stomach knotting uncomfortably with shame as you averted your gaze from him.

“H-he told you?”

Danny calmed for a moment, nodding his head as his lips pressed into a firm line.

“Yeah, he did, but God forbid anyone tells Danny anything!”

Your lips morphed into an uncomfortable frown and your eyes drifted to staring at the dripping kitchen faucet across the room that you’d been meaning to fix for the past few days, too nervous to look at him.

“I-I’m sorry Danny, I just-”

“You just what!?” Danny fixed his hands on his hip, done with the dramatics as his features fell in disappointed expectance and he stepped towards you, leaving only about two feet of distance between you two, “you just thought you’d fuck my best friend behind my back. God, y/n, are you that stupid?!”

You snapped your gaze back to him, the heaviness in your chest morphing into something closer to rage.

“No Danny, I’m not stupid,” you started, not minding whether or not your neighbors could hear the two of you, “is it so insane to think that maybe I’m a grown woman who can decide who she wants to and doesn’t want to have sex with?”

Your body heated up with that familiar feeling as your mind began to fog and your hands began to shake. Danny knew it well, how mad you could get, when your adrenaline kicked in and all your body told you was fight.

But Danny wasn’t going to back down tonight, not how he usually did when it came to you.

“Yes, it is insane because you aren’t grown, you are a kid, a stupid fucking kid that’s fucking a guy who isn’t even interested in you!”

His hands flew up past your ears as his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. His face was red with rage as you drew your eyebrows down and your mouth hung open at his words.

“If he wasn’t interested in me than why has he been fucking me for 3 months Danny?!”

“Because you’re easy!”

Danny yelled and the room immediately went still, his face dropped a bit, anger still laced through his features, but his eyes softened, like he knew he screwed up.

Your shoulders slumped and you felt the heat drain from your body, a single scoff leaving your lips.

“I’m easy Danny? Really?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes searching the room instead of looking at you.

“I-that came out wrong,” you only offered a cold laugh in response, “for him, it’s easy for him. He already knows you, feels comfortable with you…I just don’t want him to hurt you because I know how you feel about-”

You cut him off, the warmth coursing under your skin again.

“No! You have no idea how I feel, Danny, you don’t.”

You said harshly, trying to convince him and maybe even yourself, but at that moment, you had no time to offer him any acknowledgment that he may have been right.

“And so what if it’s easy, that’s what friends with benefits are.”

“You can’t be serious?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes in frustration.

“Why not? Why is it so mind blowing that I would want to have casual sex?! Tell me Danny, what is so awful about that idea that you cannot even comprehend it?!”

You yelled in one breath, your face getting red as you gasped for a breath, your hands and arms motioning wildly as you spoke.

“I just thought you’d have a little more respect for yourself, that’s all.”

He rubbed his forehead, sighing the last part of his sentence out as you just stared at him dumbfounded.

“And you had to come all the way here at one in the morning to tell me that, to tell me that I’m a slut for screwing your best friend, Danny?”

“That’s not what I said Y/n-”

“Yeah, well, you might as well have.”

Danny took a long breath, closing his eyes and exhaling shakily.

“All I’m saying,” he paused for a moment, opening his eyes to look at you, “is I think it’s a bad idea.”

Your face contorted in acute bewilderment.

“Then why on earth did you try and help me make him jealous? Why were you constantly pushing for us to get together? Just so you could show up to my house and berate me about it.”

“I guess I just thought you’d know better, that it was just some stupid infatuation.”

His words came out sharp as his jaw clenched and his arms crossed over his chest again and he stared at you, seething.

“I guess you thought wrong, Danny,” you relented, shaking your head, “now get the fuck out.”

You walked towards the door, opening it and holding it open for him to leave.

He looked at you, his features still hard, his mouth still pressed into that firm line, the wrinkles between his eyebrows heavy.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, walking past you and out the door, stilling for a moment in the hallway, his mouth parting as if he wanted to say something.

Instead, you beat him to it.

“And just so you know, the sex is amazing.”

Pressing your lips into a condescending smile, you slammed the door, slumping over as you came down. Now that he was gone, now that the heat had dissipated and your mind cleared, that heaviness came back, weighing you down further than before. You didn’t believe the things he said, you didn’t want to at least, but his words floated in the air around you, wandering in your thoughts every time you breathed in. You peeled your feet off the floor, they felt heavy, and walked yourself to your bedroom, throwing your body onto the unmade bed covered in potential outfits from earlier in the night. Shuffling your way out of your dress, you crawled under the blankets, letting the cool air of the window you had forgotten to close earlier chill your bare shoulders. You felt a warmth spread under your cheek on your pillow and you opted to believe it was nothing, that you definitely were not crying.

In your entire time of knowing him, you had never seen Danny that angry. The only fights you had ever been in were over pointless artificial things, mostly withering down to a joke or finding amicable ends. None of them had ever been like this, you couldn’t think of a time Danny ever spoke to you like that, ever raised his voice like that. Even the way he looked, with wild eyes, tensed jaw and furrowed eyebrows, you had never seen before. You felt your body shake as the patch of warmth grew under your cheek. You wondered if Sam had ever talked about you to Danny, if that was why he was so mad, if you really were stupid. You buried your face in your hands, crying silently into them as you tried to will the tears back, you wouldn’t give either of them the further satisfaction of your tears, they didn’t deserve them.

Your phone buzzed and your heart leapt. You wondered if it was Sam, asking if you had gotten home safe and if everything was okay, or if it was Danny, apologizing and asking for your forgiveness, he would never want to lose a friend like you.

You picked up the phone, warm anticipation pooling in your chest.

Jake: Hope you’re feeling better!

2:01 am

Josh: *Image Attachment* For you!

2:02 am

You pressed your finger against the cold glass of your screen, watching as the video began, as all four of them swayed together, slightly toppling over each other, and sang a discombobulated melody.

“A drink for Y/n!”

Sammy slurred out as they all raised their glasses, chucking back what looked to be a shot of whiskey. Danny bombarded the camera man, his face uncomfortably close to the lens.

“Come back and save me from these lunatics!”

His voice rang out, you wondered when Sam told him, how he told him. Maybe it happened right after that video was taken.

You turned off your phone, tossing it to the other side of your bed, not bothering to set an alarm for the next morning, and drifted off to sleep, your chest heavy.

[fortheloveofarchons]

Xiao being tipsy in front of Aether

Inspired by @kiboyr on Youtube! Go check them out!

C.W. - Paimon being a little shit - Xiao being a bit tipsy - Aether being the forward one - Kiss and make out (mild sexual content) - Past Zhongli/Guizhong - Guizhong dead - Mentioned Zhongli, Guizhong, Venti and Verr Goldet

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To my lovely traveller, 

The breeze combing through your hair today feels a little different, don't you think? A little sweet with a hint of grapes, right?

You must be wondering, you’re in Wangshu Inn, why would you feel my breeze? 

Hehe, that’s because I have left a gift for you. 

A few days ago, I paid a visit to this very same inn to try out their drinks, and guess who did I meet? 

If you’re guessing your beloved Vigilant Yaksha, you’re correct! Though he declined my offer for a few cups of drinks and company, I left him a gift and I told him this, 

“No takesies-backsies!” 

And I immediately left with the wind before he could process what’s happening. 

If you could smell it right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could pick a hint of sweetness in today’s wind. That’s because I left him a bottle of wine, haha! 

I know Xiao would only keep it instead of trying it, so I may have told a little lie that it may help with his karmic debt. I know, I know… it’s not good to lie about this. 

Still, wine and any kind of alcohol have been therapeutic to me. Almost like… a salvation. 

Nah, that was too strong of a word. 

So, if anything goes wrong with Xiao– in which the worst scenario is being tipsy, you can take care of him! 

How did I know you’d be here today? Well, a certain pretty bird told me– or rather, a pretty lady working in the inn told me about your upcoming visit. 

I do apologise for giving you this task which is partially my fault, but hey– at least you and Xiao can spend more time together, ehe! 

From your favourite bard, 

Venti. 

“Oh Venti…” Aether folds the letter neatly, letting out a sigh of resignation. 

Though, Paimon doesn’t notice the upward curve on Aether’s lips. 

“Hmm… Paimon doesn’t get why that tone-deaf bard is doing this,” Paimon says as Paimon floats in the air, munching on some cookies. “But we should check up on Xiao to see if he’s okay.” 

“Paimon, why don’t you let me handle this one?” Aether asks. 

“But Paimon wants to help!” Paimon stomps her feet in the air. “Hmph! You always leave Paimon alone when it comes to stuff like this! Paimon is not nosy, Paimon is just concerned!” 

“I know, Paimon…” Aether lets out a sigh once again. 

It’s just that you always say the wrong things at the wrong time… 

Aether could never forget that moment when Paimon, out of concern, asked about Navia’s parents whereabouts… even when Navia had told them both that they passed away years ago! 

Or how Paimon was so rude to Furina that Aether almost wanted to knock Paimon’s head. 

Paimon totally though you were just a bit of a diva at first. 

Oh, sounds like you’re really struggling to cope…  Ah, there it is. You don’t know how to cook! 

Oh… Right, Paimon totally forgot both your parents are dead. 

Even with that faint recollection, Aether’s ears feel red from remembering these moments. It wasn’t the first time for Paimon to say such insensitive words, and Aether is sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Paimon, why don’t you go and order some food?” 

“But–” 

Aether quickly brings up a small bag of mora from his inventory, shutting Paimon up instantly. The moment Paimon could hear the clinking sound of coins in the pouch, her eyes were shimmering like the stars tonight. 

“Thank you Aether!” Paimon gives Aether a hug that almost choked his neck, then grabs the bag of mora and finds herself a seat in Wangshu Inn to order what Paimon wants for today’s dinner. 

As soon as Paimon is out of his sight, the golden-haired traveller walks up to the lady named Verr Goldet, who is wearing a traditional, dark red, Liyue overcoat with gold accents and a chunky orange bracelet on each of her arms. 

“Welcome, traveller.” She smiles at him, just like how she would to any customers. “What’ll you have? We have dishes from both Mondstadt and Liyue, and our Almond Tofu is particularly popular.” 

“Then, I’d like a dish of almond tofu, please.” 

A few minutes later, the dessert is right in his hands. It has a silky-smooth texture with a long-lasting aroma of almond. Perfect for the adepti. 

He then quickly walks up to the inn’s topmost floor, where customers could see the whole view of Liyue: Rocky mountains that stands tall and proud alongside the stone forests, the open plains and lively rivers make up Liyue's bountiful landscape, all of which shows its unique beauty through each of the four seasons. 

As Aether could only hear the soft breeze, he called out a name, softly. 

“Xiao?” 

“You called my name, traveller. What do you need assistance with?” Aether quickly turns around to find the Vigilant Yaksha appearing in front of him, with hints of wispy black smoke. The first thing Aether instantly notices is the tint of blush around Xiao’s ears and cheeks. 

 “If… you don’t need anything, then I shall take my leave right now once and for all. I don’t have time for your mortal ideals, humans do waste my time–” 

“Wait! I called you because…” Aether takes a deep breath before he continues, stretching out his hands to show him the dish. After all, he didn’t want Xiao to disappear on him again, which the yaksha would always disappear with a wispy black green smoke behind. 

Truly a signature move. 

“I want to give you almond tofu and… I’d like you to stay for a bit.” 

 “Huh? Almond tofu?” That made the Vigilant Yaksha’s ears perk up, raising an eyebrow. He looks up and down, both to Aether and the delectable dish in his hands. “So, you just want me to stay in your presence…?”

Aether’s eyes shine bright like a puppy, twinking with pity. 

“Oh, fine. But only this once.” 

Settling himself onto a stool, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly chews onto his plate of almond tofu, savouring its silky sweetness. Meanwhile, the traveller sat right next to him, smugly stares at Xiao’s tipsy state as he continues to chew onto the tofu. Aether’s eyes follows the gentle movement of Xiao’s hands as he brought the porcelain spoon to his mouth, savouring each bite of his meal. 

“Why are you staring at me like this?” Xiao asks, noticing Aether’s burning stare on his left cheek. “You’re staring at me weirdly while I’m eating, I dislike it… I demand you to stop.” 

A soft smile grace Aether’s lips, reflecting the joy he found in simply being in his presence. He admires the way Xiao savoured the almond tofu, the way his eyes would gradually light up with delight at every delicious morsel.

“Traveller… you’re being very, very quiet tonight.” Xiao puts his spoon down on the finished plate. “You really want me to stay, huh?” 

All Aether could do was to prop his chin up with the heel of his hand, smiling at him in return. In that moment, Xiao could feel the traveller’s eyes lingering on his face, tracing every line, etching each detail into his memory: The flustered, furious blush, the prickling heat fanning across his chest and creeping up his neck, along with his clenched fists under the table.

“Fine, so be it.” Xiao quickly turns his head to avoid the traveller’s gaze, hiding his own expression. “I shall stay by your side, just… just this once.”

Ba-bump! Ba-bump! Ba-bump! 

“...What is this feeling?” Xiao mutters the question to himself. “Why am I… feeling like this?”

Heart, I demand you to stop feeling like this! NOW!

Letting his guard down, Aether gently holds Xiao’s chin with his fingers, turning his head to face each other, his touch tender and affectionate. 

“Oh Xiao~~” 

That only made Xiao’s face as red as a Jueyun Chili, stumbling on his sentence. “T– Traveller… Y– You c– You dare to consort me to your pleasure?! How absurd!” 

Xiao removes himself from the golden-haired hero’s hands, standing up abruptly before he tries to walk away. 

“Xiao, you know I wouldn’t do something like this.” He could feel that the traveller's words were firm from behind. “You’re blushing, by the way.” 

“Enough!” Xiao puts his hand to his chest, clutching onto the fabric of his uniform. He could not stop his heart from fluttering like a butterfly spreading its wings when it saw a Qingxin flower. “I hate this feeling…”

“Describe it to me then, maybe I can help.” Aether’s voice is as gentle as always, and it makes Xiao’s heart pang. “Xiao, I know you’ve been holding back. You don’t have to say everything if you don’t want to, but I will listen.” 

“This feeling… uneasiness.” Xiao reluctantly replies, trying to piece his sentences in place. “Your presence isn’t scary but– it’s strange at the same time. I don’t get it, I really don’t.” 

To Xiao, he’d always ask himself this question. 

Can one who has lived in darkness dreamt of a sun? 

[randomfanner]

Little Gifts

Three jars of honey, wildflower honey, blueberry honey and orange flower honey. A glass bottle full of apple juice rather than wine or alcohol. A collection of different types of wood, all good for whittling. A small container of blueberries and a small container of raspberries. Last thing in the box was some elegant robes that were dyed using feywild green and dunn.

Admittedly, as much as she would love to say everything in the box was purely for Halsin’s delight, the elegant robes might have been a purchase based on the view it would gift her if he decided he wished to put them on. 

Anya stared into the box again and triple checked everything, making sure she hadn’t forgotten to put anything in the box. She hadn’t of course and even if she did it wouldn’t be too hard to give him whatever she forgot. He slept well within walking distance. Finishing her check, Anya put the lid on the box and straightened her back.

Now all she had to do was venture across the room and actually give it to Halsin. He sat on his bed, a book in one hand and a cup of magnolia tea that Gale had brewed. It should be easy, it was just a walk over there and hand him the box. She had given him gear numerous times in the past and it would be just like that. There was nothing to be nervous about. 

Anya took a breath as she picked the box up and just… stood there.

“Just gotta give it to him,” Anya said as she looked down at the gift. It should be easy but anxiety still crept. What if he didn’t like it? That was a ridiculous thought of course, she knew it. She had basically done a check list of everything he liked and the only thing not included was anything duck related. 

So what was stopping her from strutting right over there and giving it to him?

“Dear, are you just going to gawk at him all night or are you going to give him his present?’ Astarion asked as he leaned on the nearby bookcase, a glass of what was either blood or wine in his hand. 

“... I am nervous,” Anya confessed. 

Astarion’s whole body went forward, lips curling into a frown as he stared at her. “Oh sweetheart, are you serious?” Anya gave a small nod. Astarion gave a sigh as he put a hand over his eyes. “He practically worships the ground you walk on. You could give him anything, and I do mean literally anything, and he would leap over the moon with his excitement,” Astarion placed his glass down on the ledge.

“And I am still nervous he won’t like it,” Anya said.

“Fine, I will give it to him then,’ Astarion reached out to grab the box, only to have Anya hold it away from him.

“No, I gotta give it to him,” Anya said as her whole body turned away. 

“Then do it,” Astarion said. “If not for him, and not for yourself. Do it for me. I want to see him in that new outfit you purchased for him,” the vampire wore a grin on his face. 

Anya’s cheeks turned red. Astarion had helped her pick it out; it only made sense he was interested in seeing the results, so to speak. Anya took a deep breath as she began to strut across the room “I will,” she said.

“Go get them, and if you get a chance to tame the bear, take it,” Astarion said as he reclaimed his wine glass, watching from afar with a smirk on his face. 

Anya nearly tripped over her own feet at the comment, she caught herself but barely. 

“Hello, Halsin,” Anya said as she stood with her back straight. “I have something for you,” she said as she held out the box to him. 

Halsin cracked a smile as he set his cup of tea aside and rested the book upon his thigh. “What is the occasion?” Halsin asked as he raised an eyebrow, but he took the box nonetheless. 

“I wanted to get you something,” Anya answered, her cheeks still red.

 “Oh,” Halsin said as he looked down at the box. “Well then,” he was completely speechless. “Thank you,” he finally got out. Halsin pulled the lid off of the box and stared at the contents inside. He froze as he looked at everything before he began to pick up each item, studying them in his hands. 

“I hope you like them,” Anya looked at his face and didn’t fail to notice the tears that began to leak from his beautiful amber eyes.  “Why- why are you crying?” Anya asked.

Halsin put the items down and dragged Anya into a hug, dragging her onto his lap. He pushed his head into the crooks of her neck as both hands met behind her back. A chuckle came from his lips. “You are much too kind, my heart.”

Anya’s whole body was in frozen surprise before her arms wrapped around him, a hand found his hair and her thick fingers began to run through the soft locks. “I wouldn’t say too kind now, but I am glad you like your present.”

Halsin moved away and pressed his forehead against Anya. “Like does not begin to describe it, it is wonderful,” he pressed his lips against Anya’s. Anya gave a happy hum as she kissed back..

It was almost a sorrow when his lips pulled off of hers. “Now then,” Halsin gently moved Anya out of his lap onto his bed as he picked up the emerald robe. He looked at the fabric, noticing exactly how much it was going to leave out for the viewing. “I do believe I best try this on, hmmm?” the smirk on his face and a tease in his tone. He began to walk behind the changing divider, leaving Anya to sit and her cheeks dusted with flush. 

“Oh my.”

[wrenreid]

Just Acting

mature content warning for this story

Chapter Twelve

You lay down on the bed for a moment, a headache from all that's going on squeezing your brain. You're glad to be alone right now. To process. Matthew is probably the most confusing man, no, person in the world.

You had changed into an FBI hoodie you'd gotten when you joined the show, some cozy shorts, and fuzzy socks, forcing yourself into some comfort.

AJ and Adam come in your room to check on you. "Hey Y/n, you want to do something with us?"

"I'm not really in the mood,” you tell them, not looking up.

"You okay?" Adam asks, his head tilting.

"Just in a shitty mood."

"Yeah so is Matthew. What's up with him?" AJ asks.

"Something must've bit his dick harder than usual today. He's an ass.”

"I'm sorry, Y/n,” she says softer. It’s been pretty obvious to everyone that things have worsened between us.

"It's fine. I love being hated, ya know?" You laugh playfully.

She puts her hand on your knee. "I can talk to him?"

"No need. Y'all go have fun. I'll join you guys tonight."

They nod their heads and leave with sympathetic looks.

This weekend was supposed to be fun. But of course, Matthew had to ruin it. You should've known better than to believe he could actually be decent for a few days. You came here worried it would go wrong, and it somehow ended up worse than you could've imagined.

He'd literally told you your existence pissed him off. And then said he was attracted to you. In a rude tone. And a stupid rude look on his face.

Fuck him. Fuck this whole thing. You don't need him to ruin your weekend. You get up, slipping in your white sneakers, and head outside to meet the rest of the cast. Matthew is no where to be seen.

The 7 of you talk and walk outside for a while. The sun setting, leaving the sky in an orange, pink, and blue glow. Normally, you'd take a picture of the glowing sun reflecting off the lake, but you want to enjoy the moment. Plus, Joe locked your phones in a drawer.

"Ooh we should make s'mores!!" You suggest with excitement.

"Ooh yes!" Paget responds.

"I'll go get the stuff,” Daniel says.

You volunteer to go with. You, Daniel, and Adam head to the small grocery store a few miles from the lake house.

"Ya know?" Adam starts while he's driving. "I've never seen Matthew act this way."

"I don't want to talk about Matthew," you say from the front seat.

"I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hatred for me,” you huff out.

"More like sexual frustration," Daniel says quietly from the back.

"What?"

"Nothing,” he brushes his mumbling off.

The three of you head to the store and grab chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. You pick out some random metal pokey thingies to roast the marshmallows on.

You guys check out and head back into the car. You put on some music, even though it's only seven minutes of driving, because you don't want the boys to bring up Matthew again.

When you guys get back, you set up chairs around a little fire place outside the house and Joe starts the flames up. You go inside to get the booze. You down a whole glass of wine before bringing the rest of the booze out to your friends.

"Alcohol and fire. That's one hell of a mix," Daniel says.

You shrug, taking a drink of whatever concoction Joe had made this morning. You sit down beside Adam and Paget and jab a marshmallow on your metal stick. You stick it right in the fire, letting it catch aflame. You blow it out after a bit, then make your s'more. "What?" you say to everyone looking at you, "You gotta burn the bitch."

The seven of you hang out for a while until Matthew comes out to see what everyone is doing. He sits down. "Glad you joined us, Gube," Joe says with a smile, handing him a marshmallow.

You avoid his gaze, only talking to or looking at the others. Then, you decide to be a complete bitch for a moment. You catch his eye, stare him down with eye contact, and suck the marshmallow right off the stick. You smirk. Luckily for you, everyone else was way too busy laughing and joking to see this.

He looks away, not sure what to do. You suppose the alcohol clouded your judgment for a bit, or maybe just the fact that he fucking frustrates you.

"Hey Adam, can I have a drink of that?" you say, indicating to the drink he's sipping on. This was just another thing you wanted to piss Matthew off with. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't.

"Uh sure," he hands it to you.

You take a drink of it, on the same side he was drinking from. When you're done you give it back to him, winking at Matthew. His nostrils flare. Finally, he's had enough. "I'm going to get a drink." He says, stands up, then disappears into the lake house.

You can't help but have a smug look on your face when you get up to follow him inside. You wouldn't do that if you didn't actually need to pee. You pass him in the kitchen, going upstairs to the restroom. When you come out, you see Matthew walking up the stairs.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Oh that back there? That was me knowing that my existence pisses you off, so I might as well have fun with it." You cross your arms.

"I didn't mean that," he sighs.

"Didn't mean what? That you can't stand me? That you can't even look at me?"

"I didn't say that. I said that looking at you makes me want to..."

"Want to what? 'Cause actually you never finished that sentence,” you say, tone of voice pushing him.

Before you know it, he's rushing at you. His lips connect with yours, hands on the side of your face. You're kissing him back. You're standing in the hallway between your rooms, kissing the guy you can't stand. His tongue winds up in your mouth and yours in his. He opens his bedroom door behind your back without parting your mouths.

You're in his lap, hands in his hair, tugging. Matthew's hands are on the back of your thighs as you straddle him. "You're such a fucking brat, Y/n,” he says, pulling back for air. You shut him up again with your mouth on his. You take his lip between your teeth, and he groans. In that moment, you forget everything. Everything but the two of you is gone-

"Jordan," you breathe, standing up.

"Yeah that's not my name,” Matthew says, looking up at you.

"Fuck. Jordan." You remember, you run your hands through your hair. "Fuck fuck fuck." You storm out of his room and into yours. He stops your door from slamming.

"Y/n,” Matthew says gently.

"No. Shut up. I have a boyfriend."

"C'mon,” he starts.

"No. Stop,” you're trying to slow your breathing down. "Ya know what? That didn't happen." You gesture with your hand between the two of you.

"Your swollen lips say otherwise,” he remarks.

He's such a bitch.

"No. It didn't. It was a spur of the moment idiotic thing from alcohol and frustration...Why did you kiss me?"

"Why'd you kiss me back?" he retorts.

"No. None of that shit." You say, gesturing his smirking face.

"You can't tell me you didn't feel that,” Matthew says.

"Actually I can. Because I didn't feel whatever the fuck you felt unless it was anger."

"Y/n..."

"Just go,” you tell him, running a hand through your hair.

He opens his mouth to protest, but doesn't. The first good decision he's made in a long time.

You plop back down on the bed, burying your head into the pillow. You scream into it, the sound only coming out as a muffled groan. You stay like this until Aisha comes up to your room around midnight.

"Hey girl, what's up?"

"Just annoyed,” you tell her, but you don’t entirely mean at Matthew this time.

"Ah, sorry,” she nods.

"It's fine," you sit up against the headboard. "I'm fine. I just need a shower." Yes that's it. A shower will help you feel better. Maybe.

You let the water hit you as you try to wash away the whole thing that just occurred with Matthew. You wash off his taste on your mouth. You don't know why the hell you did what you did. You could've pushed him away, but you didn't. You lost control. You never lose control. You don't even see him like that. All he is to you is a stupid castmate that loves pissing you off. That's all.

You wake up earlier than everyone else. You barge into Matthew's room, waking him up.

"You here for another makeout shesh?" He asks, gloating.

"No. I'm here to tell you that last night was obviously a mistake, and I'm sorry I kissed you back. It was stupid,” you say to him.

He nods his head, agreeing. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” There's something in his voice you can’t detect.

"I think it'd be best if we didn't talk to each other other than when filming,” you suggest, your head down.

"Oh,” he says. "What about the bonding?"

"Shit." You can't lose your job over this. You need this job. You love this job. "Fine. Bonding. But when we're together we're Delilah and Spencer. That's it."

"Right. Delilah and Spencer,” Matthew nods.

chapter thirteen

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @danis-stuff-is-here @kylakins88 <3