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clubdionysus · 2 days

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[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one.

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way.

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him.

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter.

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods.

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look.

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat.

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him.

He nods.

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter.

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made.

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check.

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this.

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous.

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you.

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet.

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared.

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment.

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips.

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him.

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this.

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No.

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace.

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive.

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s.

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour.

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is.

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news.

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open.

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors.

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place.

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind.

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice.

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you.

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want.

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume.

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him.

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors.

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings.

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him.

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place.

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock.

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips.

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams.

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version.

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable.

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him.

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan.

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new.

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration.

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably.

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing.

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute.

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both.

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point.

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information.

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling.

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more.

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so.

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious.

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema.

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day.

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you.

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him.

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home.

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head.

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm.

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet.

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference.

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt.

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love.

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels.

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go.

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted.

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick.

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval.

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch.

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again.

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited.

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk.

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too.

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done.

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south.

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral.

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you.

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants.

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver.

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive.

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens.

But it is a surprise when he lets go.

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer.

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not immediately, at least.

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself.

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him.

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first.

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away.

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.”

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch.

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you.

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal.

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you.

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night.

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away.

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you.

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him.

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more.

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you.

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does.

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you.

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure.

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot.

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible.

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t.

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him.

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.”

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to.

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names.

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps.

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before.

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning.

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you. Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you.

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up.

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom.

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept.

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change.

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #bad decisions #dappleddaisies

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rafecameroninterlude · 20 hours

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[🍪] chocolate chip cookie, includes; a fic inspired by a song of your choice!

maybe frat!rafe or either dealer!rafe (👀) with friends by chase atlantic😁😁😁😁😁😁😁they’re at a party and all her friends are fucked up and yk HAKSJDKD

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

pairing: dealer!rafe x fem!reader

summary: ❝all of your friends have been here for too long, they must be waiting for you to move on. girl, i’m not with it, i’m way too far gone.❞ — after confessing his feelings for you, rafe gets nervous and leaves you the following morning. now you two are at a party, and he isn’t leaving without you.

warnings: friends w benefits au, mentions of drinking and dealing of drugs, arguing, suggestive ending

word count: 0.7k

a/n: wrote this with s2 rafe in mind..

you were the only sober one at this party. along with rafe, who never drank when he was dealing, and vowed to never get high on his own supply. you knew he’d be here— a party wasn’t a party if rafe wasn’t serving up people in the corner of the living room. you stared at him from a distance, his eyes occasionally finding yours when he looked up from the stacks of money on the table. you hated how good he looked tonight. skin flushed with a sheen of sweat from having so many people around him, his bangs hanging loosely in his face, with that blue jeans and white t-shirt combo that you loved so much.

you swallowed thickly, your trance being broken when one of your, very drunk, friends grabbed onto your arm for support. “stop looking at himmm!” she slurred, cackling when you rolled your eyes. “he just wants you for himself without any real commitment.” she nearly lost her footing, a yelp leaving her lips as you decided to guide her out of the kitchen. while your friend wasn’t all the way wrong, she didn’t know enough about you and rafe’s ‘situationship’ to form an opinion on it. your friends only knew what you told them, which meant they’ve only ever heard your annoyed rants.

“let’s get you over here..” you sat her down on the couch where the rest of your friends drunkenly talked amongst each other. rafe wasn’t far from where you sat, his laugh echoing in your ears as he started stuffing his black backpack full of cash. you could tell by the smile on his face that he had a good night for shop. sensing that you were looking at him, rafe felt the burn of your gaze as he got up, having no intention of leaving this party without you on his arm. you smelled his cologne before he approached you, the scent making your heart flutter in your chest.

“hey, can we talk?” rafe stopped in front of you, your friends turning around at the sound of his voice. you looked up at him, cursing under your breath at how handsome he was. “leave her alone, asshole!” rafe smiled at your friend, flipping her off before getting you up and taking you outside. “your friends are annoying as fuck.” he stopped by his truck, backing you up against the vehicle until his thigh sat comfortably between your legs. you knew what he was doing. “they’re drunk..” you glared at him, “what do you want?” rafe tilted his head at your words. “what do i want?” he repeated.

“you gonna act like you weren’t staring me down in there?” he laughed, cupping your chin. “you look pretty.” turning your head away from him, you shrugged him off as you arched a brow. “i was looking at you, and?” you ignored his little compliment. “..and you haven’t replied to any of my messages or called me back.. why?” you shook your head. “are you seriously asking me this? you tell me you have feelings for me while you’re inside of me, and then leave without a word in the morning? excuse me if i felt like you were toying with me or something.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i got nervous, alright! but i swear to you i meant every word. i would never mess with you like that..” he stepped closer. “i’ve been wanting this, us, for a long time, y/n. i’m not good at this stuff, but i want to try, i want to do it with you.” your gaze softened. “do you mean that?” your voice was small, a clear indication that you weren’t trying to argue with him anymore. “i fucking swear by it.” you watched as his jaw clenched. “i wont disappoint you, baby.” finally, for the first time in two weeks, he took you in his arms. you sighed, feeling a weight you didn’t know was there, lift off of your shoulders.

“is this a revenge dress?” you laughed when he pulled away, inspecting your outfit. “no, but it worked.” you teased. rafe leaned down and kissed you, in which you wasted no time in returning. “come on, let’s get out of here.. ‘before your friends threaten me.” you let him place you in the passenger seat, a squeal leaving your lips when he landed a harsh smack to your ass.

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thebestandworstdayofjune · 3 days

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I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

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archangeldyke-all · 3 days

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more plug sev pls ☹️ it can be like almost anything just pLEASE

heheheheheh gonna combine this

giving Sevika sloppy head 🙂‍↕️ under a desk...or.....in a public space

men and minors dni

sevika looks so fucking good right now.

she's got enough regular customers for her to not need to go to parties to sell much anymore, but from time to time she'll get an invite to a party she just can't turn down.

she's dragged you along-- insisting that she's horrible at socializing without you, despite the fact that she's got a crowd of partygoers cackling at her jokes and stories right now.

you're watching from the couch, a small smile playing at your lips as you watch your girlfriend easily work a crowd. her henley sleeves are tugged up around her forearms, her hair is loose and brushing her cheeks, and her fingers are quickly rolling up a few joints for the crowd.

she looks up, her eyes finding yours across the room immediately, a shy smile on her lips when she catches you staring. she nods her head, trying to summon you toward her, and you go easily, moving through the crowds of people to wrap your arm around her waist while she wraps hers around your shoulders.

"what're you starin' at, huh?" she asks. you snort.

"there's a really hot weed dealer here."

sevika grins and ducks her head. "shut up." she mumbles. you giggle and kiss her cheek.

for a few minutes, you help her roll joints and count cash, snatching one for the pair of you to share, the two of you getting gigglier in the corner as you slowly smoke it between customers. but as the night gets later, more people start dancing and drinking, and pretty soon you and sevika are all alone in your little corner.

"so..." you start, trailing your hands up sevika's arms to grope her biceps. she smirks at you.

"so?"

"so... you think i got a shot with that dealer?" you ask. sevika giggles and swoops in to kiss you. it's far too sweet and chaste for your taste-- but you'll change that soon enough.

"baby, i think you got that dealer wrapped around your finger." she says. you grin and kiss her again.

"you look way too fuckin' good tonight, y'know." you mumble against her lips. she chuckles.

"yeah, my girlfriend helped dress me." she says. you smirk.

"she's got good taste."

you've both started swaying to the music, and you trail your hands down to grab sevika's hips, slowly pushing her further and further away from the crowd. "and where exactly are we going?" she asks. you giggle.

"well... you've got a few options. we could go out to the back patio, there's a few people out there you haven't met yet."

"or?" sevika asks. you grin.

"or we could go to the bathroom so i can get my fucking mouth on you-- show you how crazy you drive me."

sevika gulps, then she grabs your wrist and drags you down the hallway. you cackle the entire way.

it takes a few tries to find an empty room. there's couples hooking up everywhere-- drunk girls crying in the bathroom and people making out in the supply closets-- but eventually you find an empty bathroom.

you pull sevika in by her belt loops, slamming her against the door as you fiddle with her belt buckle, launching forward to slam your mouth against hers. sevika whimpers against your mouth and you sigh sweetly. "i fuckin' love you." you say.

sevika smiles as you start to kneel before her, tugging her pants and boxers down her thighs. "fuck. i love you too, baby."

for a moment, the weed and the sight of sevika's wet cunt overwhelm you. you're stuck in place, your mouth going dry and your head getting fuzzy as you admire her.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." sevika giggles. you huff and pinch her thigh.

"i have pictures-- none of them are as pretty as the real thing."

"fuck off." sevika shudders, pulling a joint out from behind her ear and putting it between her lips. you kiss her happy trail, your eyes locked on hers while she lights up, watching in fascination as she blows the smoke out of her nostrils.

"gimmie a hit." you demand. sevika chuckles and rolls her eyes, but places the joint between your lips regardless. you take a quick hit, then kiss her knuckles.

"thought you wanted to get your mouth on me." she mutters as she pulls the joint back up to her mouth. you giggle.

"feelin' needy?"

"'course i am. got a beautiful girl on her knees in fronta me." she says, gently swiping your cheek. you smile.

"i'll take care of you, sev. you just stand there 'n look pretty." you say with a wink. sevika snorts, then cuts herself off with a moan when you dive forward and start eating her out.

fuck she tastes good. she's soaking wet too. you groan against her and she lets out a curse, her head falling back against the door and her hands threading through your hair.

"shit, baby, you're so fuckin' good at this. couldn't wait 'til we got home, huh?" she teases. you giggle a bit.

"not when you look so good." you say before diving back in. sevika moans.

with the weed in your system and sevika in your mouth you easily lose yourself in making your girlfriend fall apart above you. the sweet moans and grunts she's letting out are like music to your ears, and you can feel her cum and your drool starting to trail down your chin. you don't care. all you care about is the sweet twitch of sevika's thigh as she gasps and bucks into your mouth.

"f-fuck, baby, you're makin' me all messy." sevika whines.

you groan against her cunt, nodding up at her. "i love it." you mumble between kisses and sucks. sevika huffs.

"shit, i'm gonna cum. you look so fuckin' cute on your knees-- my cum all over your face-- fuck baby, you've been wantin' this all night?" she asks. you moan and nod against her.

there's a knock on the door and sevika jumps. you don't stop, just diving back in for more of her as she scrambles to get herself under control enough to shout. "just-- just a minute!"

you chuckle against her and she smacks a hand over her mouth to muffle her moan, flicking your forehead.

"i gotta pee!" a drunk voice calls through the door.

"well do a lap around the house and find a different bathroom!" sevika growls, her voice squeaking halfway through when you sink a finger inside her. she glares down at you. you just chuckle and press against her g-spot, smirking as she shivers.

"some fuckin' people." the drunk outside the bathroom huffs as they walk away.

sevika snaps her head back as she cums, her skull hitting the door, her fingers scratching your scalp, the joint falling from her parted lips and landing on the bathroom floor. you chuckle, dodging the joint to lick up every drop of cum that you can.

sevika's got hearts in her eyes when you finally pull away with a gasp to blink up at her.

"you okay?" you ask with a giggle.

sevika doesn't respond. instead, she swoops down, grabs you and the joint, and pulls you up into her arms, kissing you passionately. you gasp against her lips, and she groans at the taste of herself.

"let's get outta here. i made like six hundred bucks tonight-- i'll take you anywhere you like."

you giggle. "home? for some cuddles?" you request. sevika melts at your request and wraps you up in a hug.

"'s long as i can repay the favor once we're in bed." she mumbles against you. you laugh and nod, and pull the bathroom door open.

there's a line of about five people waiting when you stumble out into the hall, and they all boo and groan as you and sevika walk out.

you just laugh as sevika flips them off. "you're just mad none of you have a girlfriend like mine!" she yells.

you muffle your cackles against her shoulder.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 days

Text

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 11

As soon as Alex and her family are safely in a car on the way to a hotel, Kara and Lena board Lena's jet back to the states. During the flight, Lena curls in on herself, picking nervously at her cuticles with a worried, guilty expression.

"Hey," Kara says, pulling Lena's gaze towards her. Her features remain heavy. "I'm not mad."

At that, Lena's face softens, but only enough to grimace with a soft huff. "You're not the one I'm worried about."

Kara must look confused, because Lena soon continues.

"As a rule, my mother knows who I spend my time with, and when." The guilt returns. "Except for you."

"So she didn't know I was in Capri with you..."

Lena confirms it with a shake of her head. "Nor why I went back to National City."

Well... this wouldn't be easy then. Dealing with a rabid press is one thing-- being at odds with one of the key players in keeping her family safe is another.

"I'm sorry," Lena murmurs. "I just... wanted to keep you mine. Just for a little while."

Kara shoots her a look. "I'm still not mad."

"You can be. If you want."

"I don't." She moves seats, switching to the bench Lena's on. She makes no attempt to still Lena's nervous picking, but simply spreads her legs enough for the outsides of their thighs to touch. Kara intends the physical contact to serve as reassurance, but she doesn't know if it works.

"I'm a big girl, Lena. I know I can back out whenever I want to. But I don't. Not yet."

A little bit of warmth cuts through Lena's anxious fog. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kara's heart beats a little faster, when a small smile answers her. Impulsively, she leans over to kiss Lena's cheek. She feels... giddy? Far more exhilirated she has any right to feel at her age. "Bring it."

----

Lillian Luthor is a slender, austere woman. Kara clocks her the moment the plane lands on the tarmac, tall and styled in her designer clothes and looks that only money and astronomically good genes could provide.

Only Kara witnesses the short beat Lena takes before stepping out of the plane, bracing herself for whatever follows. Kara keeps pace with her once they descend the ladder in single file. She may not be driving this bus, but she is no shrinking flower. In this, she is Lena's equal.

Not that the look Lillian gives her would have anyone believe.

"In the car," the woman orders. "Now."

Lena obeys without a word. Kara is a little slower to fall in line, but ultimately follows Lena's lead. Lillian climbs in behind them, leaving Jess and a woman Kara doesn't recognize to scramble on board last.

"The family is checked into the Lariat. So far no indication that they've been identified, but its still early."

"What about Kara?"

"What about you??" Lillian demands, tone scathing in its heat. "What were you thinking?"

Kara sees Lena wilt, and anger bubbles up in her throat. "Don't talk to her like that--"

"You have zero business here," Lillian fires back with steel in her voice.

"Mom!" Lena exclaims in Kara's defense. "It's not that big a deal--"

Ice blue eyes turn on Lena, freezing her to the spot. "It's a big enough deal that you saw fit to sneak behind my back, with a woman twice your age no less--"

"Mom!"

"Timeline, now."

Lena's shoulders sag, but says nothing. Looking to divert some of Lillian's ire, Kara moves to speak up. "We--"

"She already knows," Lena rolls her eyes.

"I do," her mother confirms. "But I'll hear it from you nonetheless."

Lena huffs. "Night two of the National City stop. Her niece left her phone backstage, and we exhanged numbers."

"Then?"

"Texting."

The exhange sounds like a repeat of one they've had many times before. Neither Jess nor the other woman-- who Kara assumes is Lillian's own assistant-- look at all nervous at the rapidfire crossing of words.

"Texting?" Lillian demands. "Or sexting?"

Kara bristles. "I don't see how that's any of your--"

"*Texting*, Mom, god!" Lena seethes. Her cheeks are bright red, from anger or embarassment or both. "Will you just--"

"Just *what* Lena?"

Lillian's voice is so sharp Kara can see the moment it cuts Lena down. Her jaw tightens, and when Kara sublty shifts to take her hand, Lena shifts away.

Satisfied that her daughter is suitably in line, Lillian turns to her assistant. "Mercy, have PR prepare a statement. The photos were misconstrued, they simply capture a couple of friends taking in the sights."

"Mom, no," Lena croaks. "I don't want-- who cares if people know that I'm gay--?"

"You are not gay!"

Lena flinches, features blanching as though Lillian had landed a physical blow. Only then does Lillian seem to realize that she's talking to an actual person. Her tone doesn't soften, exactly, but it doesn't sharpen any further.

"Your *brand* isn't," she amends, likely the closest thing to thing to an apology Lena would get.

"I thought Lena is the brand," Kara interjects.

Lillian's frigid gaze snaps to her. "She is."

"Her fans are more open-minded than you think--"

"Her fans don't buy tickets," Lillian informs her coolly. "Their parents do. And *they* are far less forgiving."

Kara looks towards Lena, who meets her gaze with a helpless one of her own. It's not untrue-- Esme hadn't bought her tickets, after all.

"Then what do we do?" Kara allows finally.

"Cut ties. Immediately." Lillian looks down her nose at Kara, her regard as condescending as though she were speaking to a teenager, not a women merely ten years her junior.

"No."

To Kara's surprise, Lena's response is faster than her own, and carries only the barest of trembles.

"Don't be foolish..."

"I'm not--"

"Do you love her?"

Lena freezes. Her gaze flicks to Kara. "It's only been a few weeks..."

"Precisely. Cut ties now, before--"

"But I want to," Lena finishes. This time, her gaze lingers on Kara's, a small smile warming her eyes. "I want to love her."

Lillian scoffs low in her throat. "You're too old to be play the love sick teenager. Or have you forgotten what happened last time?"

Kara watches Lena hold her mother's gaze, something heavy passing between them, inscrutable to anyone else. But Lena holds her ground, and surprisingly, Lillian is the one to back down.

"Then what would you suggest?"

"Like you said-- we give them something else to talk about." Lena swallows, but forges ahead. "I have some new material, I can perform it live in Paris."

Lillian purses her lips, but doesn't smack down the idea. She considers it, her gaze calculating. "And you two?"

"We do what we want," Lena delivers firmly. "No statement, no confirmation or denial. Let people see interpret it however they want. However they need."

Kara thinks of the young fans, isolated in their orientations or identities, seeing themselves reflected in their favorite artist. The gift that would be, the vote of confidence needed to dream of a future where what Lena and Kara share might be theirs.

Lillian shoots Kara a hard glare. "And you? It's your family in the crossfire if this idea goes to shit."

"Then it goes to shit, and we deal with it."

It might be selfish of her, but in all of their conversations, neither Alex or Kelly have suggested backing off. They spoke only of adapting, of overcoming, and Kara knows she has their unspoken support. And even now, being talked down to and chided, she feels happier sitting next to Lena in this moment than she has in years.

Lillian barely contains her snort of derision.

"Very well," she concedes, with a sharp note of criticism. Then she turns from them entirely to speak with Mercy in low tones.

Kara takes advantage of the moment to lean closer to Lena, murmuring in her ear.

"I want to go to Paris with you."

Lena blinks at her. "You don't have to--"

"Would you feel better if I were there?" Kara asks bluntly. Lena deflates a little, but this time in relief rather than shame.

"Yeah."

"Then let me come." Kara gives Lena's hand a squeeze, and is rewarded with a tired smile. "You're not alone in this."

"Okay," Lena says, her smile deepening into a challenge. "Let's bring it."

#supercorp #musician age gap au #fallout pt 2 #a couple of you guessed who we're gonna meet #and you were right!#you guys could write this stuff

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ssentimentals · 15 hours

Text

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that i will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen #seventeen minghao #seventeen xu minghao #xu minghao #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #minghao seventeen #minghao x you #seventeen scenarios #svt minghao #svt fic #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt fanfic #the8 imagines #seventeen the8 #svt the8

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kingofthecotas · 2 days

Text

visited sins

just after the emilia romagna press conference, pecco & marc | ~500 words

overt vs covert psychological warfare: a rosquez thesis

——

“Pecco!”

Pecco freezes, one foot in a snare, waits for Marc to catch up. He almost doesn’t want to turn around; he does.

Marc, arms folded, appraises him, face exactly as guarded as it had been in the press room. “Sorry.”

Which is absolutely fucking not what Pecco expected him to say.

“You should not be—you’re right, it’s nothing to do with you.” Marc shrugs. No expression. “Sorry.”

“Ah…” Pecco tries his best to gather himself. “It—it will keep happening, I think. They are just giving us some practice for next year.”

The granite cracks, just a little. “It’s our problem,” Marc says, plaintive. “Not yours.”

Pecco wonders if Marc hears the sound of his own voice when he says our, if he notices what it does, if it makes him want to bang his head against a wall. Maybe he rides through it. Maybe he doesn’t even realise.

That’s worse, somehow.

“It will be my problem. To them, anyway.”

“Not to me.”

“Well.” Christ. “Thank you.”

Marc nods, looks away as if he’s uncomfortable. “You really do not care?”

“I was not racing.” It’s true. True enough.

“You know what happened, though.” And that’s a challenge.

“I know what Valentino said happened.”

Conversations with Marc are always a tightrope-tread; he lets someone talk themselves into knots, nods along, lets them talk some more, and leaves knowing far more than they ever intended to let him see. He’s watching now, head tilted just the slightest amount, all sharp eyes and tight lips. He looks like he’s seeing something in Pecco that—maybe it’s the first time, maybe not, but he’s seeing it, cracking open his ribcage to stare. “So what do you think?”

It’s an easy trap, but a trap nonetheless. “I think that the truth is somewhere in the middle. Like with most things.”

“Mm.” A blink, and Pecco’s sidestepped the pitfall. “I really—I want to say thank you for the podium. I appreciate it.”

“It is not nice to hear, especially—” Pecco’s feet catch on something; the rope he’s about to hang himself with, maybe. “It was a good win. People should appreciate that.”

“I am used to it. Besides.” The word is rolled around his mouth before it’s released like a bullet. “You know why they do it.” A pause, just. “They do not like me.”

If someone found them like this—Enea, maybe, or Bez is in the next press conference—if someone would just appear and release Pecco from this death spiral he’s locked in—but that would be worse, if this was discovered. Whatever this is.

“I am me,” Marc says. “There is not a lot I can do about that.”

Fucking—Pecco doesn’t want to begin unpacking that.

“You’re not him,” Marc continues, voice soft. It’s a hammer blow. This is how he does it, how he gets back at Valentino: quietly, wide smiles, delicately uncaring words. Whispers in the ears of his disciples.

Pecco, caught in the snare, doesn’t say anything. Can’t—can’t say anything.

“But I think maybe—” and Marc looks him up and down, strips him bare, vivisects him right there in the corridor outside the press room. “You already know that, no?”

By the time Pecco has his breath back, by the time he’s gathered his insides up from their pile at his feet, Marc is gone.

#i have been visited by the gods of productivity. i will now not write anything for three months #yeah i do have adhd why do you ask #motogp rpf #marc marquez #pecco bagnaia #rosquez #<- i have to tag because it's them. it's always them #cara.fic

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earth2steve · 14 hours

Text

eddie ramblings from my notes app: vol 3

18+, fem!reader

you think he might've been holding his breath when your hands hit his belt and your knees hit the carpet, but he's certainly not short of it now. his head is tilted back and lolling about on the couch cushions around low groans, and you mark exactly three spots on his throat you'd like to sink your teeth into.

“fuck, look at me, sweetheart - please?”

it comes out bordering on frantic, desparation in his tightened jaw and clenching fists. you obey, catch his eye from your spot between his thighs, and eddie writhes something painful.

“oh fuck, no — shit, i can’t.”

you almost laugh, pulling off of him and pressing a hot kiss to his twitching thigh.

“make up your mind.”

eddie shudders around a low, drawn-out moan. “jesus christ, baby — gotta slow down or i'm gonna blow my fuckin’ load.”

“that's the point, handsome.” you beam.

“c'mere.” he pants, lurching forwards to grab you by the forearms and tugging you up.

he’s already eating you alive before you can ask what he’s doing; hand wound tight in your hair and tongue halfway down your throat. it's hot and messy and you don't know how this could possibly be calming him down if that was his intention.

your hand replaces your mouth around the length of him and eddie swears against your lips, whole body jolting straight.

"stop interrupting me."

you make it worth his while to listen, taking him to the hilt over and over even when your jaw starts to ache. it's like he can't quite decide what to do with his hands — they keep flying upwards to tug at his own hair and then caressing your cheek and then clutching white knuckled at the cushion beside him. he can't shut the fuck up to save his life, either.

“shit, sweetheart. oh god, jesus– fuck, you're insane.”

when you grab his flailing hand and push it down on the top of your head, eddie's eyes roll so far back in his head you think it must hurt.

he hits the back of your throat over and over, but you breathe through your nose — squeeze your fist tight in concentration. your other hand settles on his knee, gripping tight. it shakes under your fingers.

you can see he’s holding out, for whatever reason you can't fathom. trying to stave himself off. it only makes you more determined.

“the sooner you come, the sooner you can have your turn with me. 'let you do whatever you want, eds."

the whine that punches out of him rings in your ears. you give him another 30 seconds, tops.

#jj writes #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #filthy on main sorry

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anomaly-hivemind · 2 days

Text

We’ll meet again || Double penetration in one hole and public w/ Bill cipher x fem reader

Word Count: 1993

Masterlist

Tag: Double penetration in one hole, vaginal sex, Exhibitionism, public, Overstimulation, dubcon

Note: The reader is slightly black-coded. Nickname is Dimples or honey lips

You got a full time job at this mystery shack in the middle of the forest. You had been working there for maybe a total of three months with little to no issues, until it became the start of the summer. Then came two young kids and all the oddities that seem to have started when they got there. Staying with their Grunkle which was also your boss, you got to know everyone well.

“Hey Y/N do you mind watching over the shack for me for a few hours, I’m taking Mable and Dipper out for a bit” Stan said while already basically out the door so you just nod. It was a long slow hour of nothingness, maybe an old lady or two but nothing interesting to make you pay attention to anything.

“So one save me from this boredom,” You groan and rub your forehead. You could only play with pens and paper clips for so long. You heard a ring and turned to face the door, but there wasn’t anyone around as far as you could tell.

“I’ve only seen you around recently how fun” A voice behind you makes you turn to it with wide eyes and you lean against the register. A guy who didn't really seem all there was standing behind the counter with you. ‘Where did this bum come from, how the fuck did he get behind you in th first place.’ You thought with a panic as you looked at the unnatural yellow glow in his eyes and felt like he was peering into your soul nonconsensually might you add.

“Sir you can’t be behind the counter” You try to keep a kind voice in hope to not upset the potential crackhead that had wandered into the mystery slack.

“BuUt I came to answer your pleas of boredom dimples. definitely not to find something of importance. ” He spoke dramatically before mumbling something under his breath.

“My what now.. Sir please just set back into being in front of the counter.” Instead of doing what you asked, he took a step closer and unfortunately for you that ass of yours was not moving any closer to the register than you already were.

He moved his arms on both sides of you and smiled an uncanny smile that made you shiver. Next thing you know you are moving onto the counter to escape his attempt to trap you. Like hell were you gonna get murdered by some random probably drunk stranger for drug money. You liked it here but not enough to get yourself killed and mutilated for it.

“That tremble of yours is pretty cute Honey lips, filling my head with all kinds of things.” you make a run to the door but before you could open it the yellow eyed guy stood in front of the door blocking the fastest exit out.

The room felt cold and shaped all of sudden and you felt like you were a deer in headlights. You couldn't move anything but move your head which is what tipped you off that this was no normal paralysis.

“What the hell did you do to me!” You yelled at him in a concerned voice. The guy uses your stuck body to lean against your shoulder.

“You have a pleasing meatsuit Dimples.” he whispered in your ear.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?!” your voice got shaky as you tried to keep the confidence you definitely didn’t have right now.

“Name’s Bill! But you can call me your new lord and master for all of eternity!” The guy’s body drops to the ground in front of you and out comes a bright yellow triangle with one eye and a top hat pops up in his place floating around. “Oh so i’m tripping balls right now, inhaling the wrong type of air that's what going on right now.”

“I am very real despite what that simple brain of yours thinks.” he rolls his eye at you as he flies around you in a close circle.

“You are nuts.” you shake your head, who would have thought that your mundane need to cure your boredom would lead to… well whatever this was right now.

“Well it's not my fault your corrupt mind brought my attention, so what was it you wanted Dimples.” you don't answer so he speaks again.

“Entertainment was it, well honey lips consider me willing to entertain…But in exchange you gotta entertain me.”

“How would i do that” you felt dumb even entertaining this Dorito thing.

“How ‘bout I reverse the functions of every hole on your face.” his eyes smiled or so that's what you think his face was doin at least.

“How about no.”

“No fun boo, mhm how about something we both can enjoy” He had his hand in front of his face where his chin would have had if he wasn’t, well if he wasn’t a triangle.

“Like what?”

“You'll just have to take the chance and Trust me.” There was a slight giggled that came from his lip face. his hand lit up in a blue fire and you realized you could move again.

“But why are you doing this?” you tried to ask but he only gives you a cryptic answer.

“Boredom is my worst enemy, so I'm here to save you,” he said loudly.

You were definitely going to regret this lapse in judgment you were about to have. You raised your hand and shook the demon's hand with great hesitation. ‘Was I fucking stupid, i gotta be brain dead to shake the hand of a demon who gave me vague information of his probably dangerous arrangement i agreed to already. Sign my life way I guess.’

He snapped his fingers and your clothes were gone, you let out a shrill as you covered the important bits the best you could.

“No amount of gold on earth can buy originality…but you're come close enough.” Move your arms away.

You felt very exposed, you were naked in your work space in front of this triangle being of unknown origins. You were in the middle of the room and anybody could come inside the place, hell Stan and the kids could come back at any time then next thing you know it you’re a register offender. You could only hope that what this chip shaped man demon thing had in planned for you wouldn’t last that long.

In a flash Bill grows a body and keeps his triangle head that has changed into a pyramid. He was also equally as naked as you are, Plus he looked Hot to add to it. You look him up and down but your eyes get stuck on a thing well two things actually. Two dark cocks that were long and thick at his base, erect and twitching. You were staring at them and you were drooling a bit. It was embarrassing.

“This form pique your interest?” He stroked himself slowly as if he was giving a show for you. You don’t catch yourself nodding to his question and before you know it he is up against you, dick touching you everytime he curves it in a stroke. He moved you closer to the counter, your bare ass touching the desk.

“Let's get started, Honey lips.” he rubbed the tips over your fold and let out a funny happy sounding noise.

“So wet already~ who would have thought you could be so needy and wanting.” he pushed one of his veiny cocks into you, all the way to in until kissed it on your cervix. You let out a loud squeal like moan as you arched your back. There was no way you were going to cum, not from him just sliding into you…right.

“Feel free to cum at any time, I'm super giving Dimples.” he started to move his hips, your pussy regards no shame as it makes wet squelches as he tickles your g-spot. Your hole sucking in him it's making you feel like a slut.

“Fuckin… Ah~” you feel your legs start to shake from his mean pace inside of you. Bill starts to push his other cockhead and you clench around them. You cum around them as soon as he pushes the other one all the way inside as well. Stretching you out like never before, it felt like you were touching stars.

You have no time to recover from his movement because he doesn't stop, letting out a groan and mumbling to himself about how snug your pussy felt around him. Your ears burn as he teases you for cumming so fast and mentioning how he was just getting started with you. He starts to push almost all the way out before ramming back into out then repeating. Your eyes start to water as you reach another climax right after the other.

“You are mighty easy to please Honey lips.” he groaned and pushed you over on the counter, you were now laying back on the cold desk in a daze as he held your legs up at his waist. Your walls flutter around the girth of the two dicks of his inside of you.

“I can’t take it!” you whine as you feel an orgasm number who knows you're not keeping track start to approach you.

“Limits only exist in the mind.” Bill rolled his hips at an odd angle that it was almost like his dicks were moving at different times. He gives a squeeze to your breast and you shiver.

He kept moving his hips in this devious way that was starting to make you spasm and moan. Bill moved his hand down your body and he started to play and tease your clit, the whole action makes you choke out a cry as you feel a pool of wet hit yours and his thighs. ‘Did I just?!’

“YOU DID?” He answers your thoughts with an overly happy tone that was embarrassing. He kept thrusting his hips into you and circling your clit and you impulse your legs shut. You didn't think you could cum anymore but this DEMON has proved that to not be true in the slightless.

“Can you try not to lose consciousness, it won't make me stop.” He spoke through breathy groans. Bill’s words make you clench around you again, you could see the specks of darkness forming in your vision but you try to shake them off.

He slammed his hips into you at a breathtaking pace, his was slower and harder and it literally took your breath out of your lungs with each thrust. You could feel him twitching in you, a dead give away that he was close to coming. His pace brought you back to another painful yet pleasuring orgasm, his hand went back to your clit to run a slow tight pattern on you.

His hips sputter and he comes in heavy thick ropes of cum, filling you up like a pie. Pools of his seed dripped out of you when he pulled out of you a bit too fast for comfort. You let out a quick whine.

“Your a fun time Dimples, really know how to keep up with me.” he changed back to his triangle form. You try to get up but the sudden movements make your ears ring and thighs send you any single they can. You look up at Dorito demon as he watches you struggle a bit.

“We’ll meet again, Honey lips.” his eye curls as his way of a smile, then he poofed out of nowhere.

Now you need to get some clothes before anyone sees you like this…And to wipe the cameras.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #book of bill #bill x reader #bill cipher smut #bill cipher x reader #smut #humanized bill cipher #humanoid or noid #humanoid bill cipher

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goldsbitch · 2 days

Text

Hypochondria

part 4 to p1, p2, p3

He can sense her emotions, she feels his pain. Baby steps, that's the only way to go.

author's note: guess who's back - and a promised smut chapter turned into slow burn. any reported typos are appreciated. there will be p5.

"I'm sorry, Lando - this all just so bizarre. I'm barely taking it in. Literally don't understand how you're so calm."

He laughed gently. "Well, I did have few extra days to process. And hearing my name roll of your tongue is distracting enough," he said flirtatiously.

Her cheeks went red and her mind stopped, head getting filled with desire and lust. Lando's lips turned into a wide smile, him feeling her arousal as if she was screaming it loudly to his face.

"Glad to see my words have an effect on you. This is indeed going to be fun..."

Lando was on cloud nine. He was just staring at her as if she was a miracle. Her deep eyes unable to stay away from looking at him and lips that had a silent invitation written on them.

He was high on the way how relaxed she felt, proud that he made her feel like that. It was as if there was no yesterday or tomorrow. Just them and the couch. And after few moments of silence and collecting his bravery, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

It was clear to him from the moment he took her upper lip in that he'd give anything for this moment to take at least a thousand years. She did not hesitate and kissed him back immediately. The sweetest touch a woman can give. Leaned in and let nature do its miracles. He smiled into her lips and pushed himself closer to her, making her sink in the couch.

It was right then when a loud, impatient knock nearly sent them both into shock. Lando froze and back away from Y/N little bit, furious with whomever that dared to disturb a key moment in their lives.

"Lando, I apologize, but we have an urgent matter on our hands."

He rolled his eyes and let a deep breath out, recognizing the voice of his workoholic PR manager. This was not the first and probably the last time he had to tell his team off in the dark of the night. Internet never sleeps.

"Can it really not wait this time until tomorrow?" he said before he gave Y/N shameful and apologetic look. She just kept herself quiet, sunken into the comfy couch.

"I'm afraid we will need some immediate action," came from behind the door after another impatient knock.

Lando got his phone out to check the time, only to see 17 missed calls from several people.

"Ok, I'm coming."

He half opened the door to a very flustered PR manager, who looked like he was about to announce a coming tornado. Lando just raised his eyebrows, encouraging him to spill the beans and then planning on dismissing him.

"Anita released a break up TikTok. It's going viral."

As far as emergencies go, this one felt to Lando like a second-tier one. He was more concerned about the anxiety he felt coming from Y/N. Kind of wished she was kept out of it, for her own good.

"I'm sure we can address this in few hours," Lando replied calmly.

"She accused you of cheating. In a very colorful manner, I must say," the guy continued, as if he was not confident enough to fully explain the situation. "I'm in touch with her publicist, so that we can come up with a joint statement online. Apparently she won't talk to anyone but you."

Lando stayed silent, the only thing he really wanted was to close the door and return to the couch.

"We can't have another cheating scandal. McLaren will get involved," he pleaded once again in hopes of finally convincing Lando.

Deep breath. "Sure. Can I meet you at the lobby or somewhere in few minutes?" Lando caved in. A puzzled look flashed over his PR's manager, because usually Lando preferred to solve his crises in the comfort of his suite. The driver hoped no comment would come his way. After few seconds, the guy finally nodded.

"Understand, sure. I'll see if we can get the conference room."

He closed the door and tried to brace himself for any type of reaction Y/N might have. But deep inside he knew - seen it countless times. She abruptly got up, fixed her clothes, flashed him only one quick look before avoiding his face completely.

"Um, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," he said, letting her pass by. The reality hit hard. She barely knew him. Somehow, the air got flooded with inescapable loneliness.

Y/N tried her best to follow her daily routine the following week. The memory of her running away from Lando's room like a little child chasing her like a nightmare. It was just so humiliating. The guilt, unjustified, was eating her up. She tried to stay away from social media, but her will was not strong enough. Late night scrolling included absorbing lot of Lando hate.

He also did his best to keep himself busy and focus on his job. If it had been any other person, he'd already be chasing Y/N down and try to reason with her, get this experience behind them and keep starting fresh. Perhaps he was lucky, that he knew her and if he's pushed immediately, she'd just hide even more.

He found himself on the track during free practice, constantly stealing glances over to the medical tents, just to get a glimpse of his guilt ridden soulmate. All he wanted to do was shake some sense to her. That evening he finally snapped. No more hiding. He was about to get creative.

So there he was, alone once again in a random hotel room in a city he barely remembered the name of, trying to get a hand of morse code. Something he never thought would be his issue, ever. It was a shot in the dark. Pinch a message into his arm and hoping she'd understand his intention. After all, she felt his pain, so he figured if he was annoying enough, she'd have no choice but to show up. Many curse words were uttered about the absurdity and difficulty of it all, before Lando got a hand of it. He opted to focus on the rhytmn and after he felt confident enough, abandoned tapping into a table and began pinching his left hand.

Let's talk. Room 1014. Please.

Over and over again. It was so incredibly annoying. But, he was going to persevere even if it meant having a bruise tomorrow.

After what felt like like seven thousand years - a knock on the door.

This was it, he thought as he opened the door to another annoyed person. She shot arrows from her eyes and he could not help but smirk. He won, she cracked the code.

"Now, let's get one thing clear. You are not going to use this trick outside of an emergency. Ok?" she opened with, having hard time to admit he won that round. It's been few days since they last locked eyes. She could practically sink in his. He just gave her a small nod, definitely not planning on misusing this ever again. Absolutely not.

"I'm glad you understood," he said and let her walk in. Was he nervous? That was probably the closest thing to describe it.

"I don't know the Morse code, so that made it super fun," she proclaimed and stopped in the middle of the living room, not sitting down on any of the chairs or couches.

"Me neither. But you better learn it, you never know..." he teased and walked dangerously close to her. She kept her gaze down.

She spoke before he could say any more cheeky lines. "So, I'm here. Anything specific you wanted to say that exceeded your ability of speaking in Morse code?" Her coldness hurt. However, he was not going to let her push him away so easily. "Y/N, this is not going to work on me. You can't push me away so easily, so just try and stop it. Please." Big gulp on her part followed by a light nod. "Good. Listen, I don't want to let this fizzle out so easily. It's hard to think about anything else once I've met you. I'm sorry about the whole break up mess. It's not fair to you. But, in my defense, I had no idea I'd just randomly be sat next to...you," he said, practically breathing out the last word.

She began walking frantically. "It's...um, it's a lot. Your world. And then the fact you seem to know things and are so far ahead in this game."

"It's not a game to me, Y/N," he said, watching her pace around the room.

She stopped by the bed and sat on it, finally able to look at him again. "Ok, bad word, but still," she paused and searched for the right words. "We have nothing to connect with...I mean nothing real."

Lando was not going to buy into doubts. His mind was set. Slowly, he walked towards her and sat next to her.

"Does it scare you? That you are tied to me basically against your will?" he asked the one thing he was afraid to hear the answer to. But he figured that the beginning was never suppose to be easy anyway.

"A little bit. Actually yes, it does," she said, in a strangely releaved tone and his heart sank just few stories lower. Lost in his own head, he nearly missed her giving up on sitting and landing on her back with a thud, eyes locked with the ceiling.

"I never liked being pushed into things. It's my life, I get to call the shots," she began to let her thoughts run freely.

"Choosing something that comes to you willingly does not have mean giving up your free will...I'd just like to at least give this a chance. I know already that I can't be your friend," he whispered, turned his look towards her and slowly lowered himself on his back as well, lost in his thoughts once again.

Lando's body laid still, but his heart was beating as if he was in the final quali lap. He had the advantage, drew the better card. Unique insight into another human's soul. Short cuts and few cheat answers for any test ahead of them. So why did it make him feel all the more lonely? He was reaching out, confused in the exact same capacity as she was, but she was not giving him much back. Yet. If was obvious. He was miles ahead of her, not thanks to his own doing. He could be there for her, but it would take some time and a lot of luck for her to be able to be there for her.

"Can you stay here? For the night?" he asked in a soft low voice, unable to hide his own vulnerability. "Not like, you know," he added immediately, hoping he comes off the least creepy as possible, "Just like this." Baby steps. He was praying for just that.

The body next to him also laid still in a very stiff manner, the exact opposite of relaxed. But the pull towards him was just too loud to resist. It was stronger than her. Curiosity tripped over the tiny fear inside her, grabbed the innate desire for human connection by the hand, and together opened the door for Lando to enter.

"Yes," she whispered, wondering if there is anything she wanted to add.

A small smile crept onto Lando's face. He got up and shit the light off. Both of them settled in a more relaxed pose, albeit still fully dressed. If by some miracle he manages to fall asleep, he will be waking up next to this magnificent, magical being for the first time. And hopefully not the last.

They laid next to each other, like the strangers they were, for few minutes, before she found her own little hand reaching out for his. Soft fingers mixed with his. At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. Lando's heart almost stopped, his breath caught in and resulted in gulp, too loud for the current setting. She could not help but smile and tried to hide it with pressing her lips together - even though it was dark night and both of them had their eyes closed. He mimicked her movements and traced her fingers as well. Every little place he touched burned with intoxicating intensity. He held her index finger lightly while she brushed up and down his thumb.

For the first time in years, Lando was careful. He'd rather lie next to her in silence than risking her wanting him to leave. The guilt from bruising her with his crash still hadn't left his mind. But when her hand crept more and more inside of his, he could not help but circle around it, until he was covering her hand completely. The air was still. Two scared souls discovering each other, tiptoeing around as if they were made of glass. Once Lando started drawing little circles on the palm of her hand, he finally felt her beginning to relax. He was still trying to get his mind wrapped around how the whole connection worked. Perhaps the more open she was to communicating with him, the more of a window he got. His next words slipped through without much of a thought.

"I've dreamt about you probably thousand nights."

Y/N could not recall the last time she heard a sentence that sounded so honest. Raw, it was almost childlike. She thought about her own countless nights when she slept alone and longed for a soul to crawl to. And also all those times she wasn't alone in the middle of the night, yet it still felt like eating someone else's dinner. The emptiness never truly filled. Hand never fitting someone else's like a well-fitted glove. Was there ever anyone who told her something like this before? Probably not. Of course not.

"I'm scared," she repeated.

"I know," he smirked for himself only. "I can feel it...But can you please tell me what's scaring you at this moment? I'd love to understand."

This time it was her who chuckled and squeezed his hand a bit. His heart once again beating so loudly he was scared she could hear it.

"I randomly meet this man, this devilisly handsome guy, who seems to know things I've never even told anyone, is hyperaware of my emotions as if they were his own...How am I suppose to resist this?"

"Why would you?"

"If we proceed with this, I am basically allowing you to become a weapon designed to destroy me. If, or more likely when, I fall for you...How can anyone else ever top that? If you decide that you're bored with me, I'll quite literally only be left with bruises."

He listened to every word as if it was a gospel and this time took a second to calculate his response. Lando opened his eyes to try and see a glimpse of her face in the dead of night, only to find her already looking at him.

"As far as I remember, you were always a part of my life. The one constant that does not leave," he said and licked his dry lips. If she was becoming vulnerable, he'd have to do the same. "If I fuck this up, if you decide that I am not worth spending time with and if you walk away...I'll still be left with the glimpses. I'll have to watch from afar, knowing you don't feel this. Funnily enough, you have the option to choose. I don't."

"And do you even want it? Would you-" she tried to continue with her question, but he interrupted her immediately.

"Of course. Hundred times over. I know you're scared, but I am scared too. Because there is a perfect piece of puzzle right in front of me and if I fuck it up, I am ruined for life."

She only saw a small reflection of light in his eyes, but that was enough to understand he was serious. Her shoulders relaxed and she let a breath she didn't know she had been holding, out.

"Well, good to know you are a dramatic person," she responded, trying to lighten up the mood.

It worked, his small smirk entered the chat again. "Yeah well, get use to it," he said with a new found confidence, tried his luck once more and scooted over to her just a little bit.

"Sorry, there was a hard spot in the matrace," he said cheekily and closed his eyes, trying to play it cute.

His body heat radiated towards her. "Of course, a hard spot in this top-of-the-world matrace," she questioned his argument with a smile, his magic getting her head-over-heels.

"Yes, I'll complain with to the staff tomorrow, these things can really fuck up your sleep, you know."

"So true. And what, have you solved it now?" Another door opened. Lando smiled.

"Still not perfect," he remarked, pretended to have a moment to think and finally scooted over and put his arm around her. "Yeah, this is the only way I'm afraid."

She was glad his eyes were closed, because her smile was impossible to hide. Both of them were fully aware there is no hard spot on the matrace. "Of course it is," she commented, as she settled down in his embrace.

Her face was now settled in crook of his neck, her uneven breaths leaving goosebumps on his skin. His light stubble teasing her forehead. Once again, Lando was overwhelmed just how well she fit in his embrace. He had to actively try and breathe regularly, because he was anxious about giving away just how much he was enjoying having her in his embrace. Her hand was pressed against his chest and Y/N had to fight every cell in her body, because the urge to explore his body was overcoming her. Lando shifted a bit, having to to try and find a spot where his belt wasn't pressing on his body in a way that hurt. Immediately, he felt a sudden wave of guilt coming from her and she bolted straight up. Had he fucked it all up? He cursed himself, he should have just pushed through it.

He forgot to take in the fact she felt his pain. "What's wrong?" he asked shyly, as he also sat up to match her moves.

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to seem like I'm suggesting something, but can we get out of our daily clothes? I hate sleeping like that." Who would like that anyway, was the thought that crept into Lando's mind, but he kept it for himself. "Sure, no problem."

"Do you have some t-shirt I could borrow?" she asked, turning on the light next to his bed, sitting with her back turned to him, perhaps trying to hide away. Lando tried his best not to get shaken up and loose his cool. This wasn't her running away and it was also not her suggesting anything.

"Of course," he said and got up to search up the best clean t-shirt her had. She took a deep breath as she tried not to stare, guessing by the sounds that he was getting undressed. But, as she did, she was happy he did not see her blush. Just like he did before, she forgot to take in account that he felt her sudden arousal and curiosity without having to look at her. For a change, he was happy he had his advantage. He peeked over to her, seeing her abrupt turn back. It was hard not to be amused by her.

"Here you go," he said as he strolled back over to her and handed her his t-shirt. "Don't worry, I won't look," he informed her and as the cheeky guy he was deep down, added his signature wink. "I'm sure there is an extra tooth brush in the bathroom, if you wanna join," he continued and walked over to the other side of the suite, hoping she was watching him walk around in boxers only.

Finally having some distance and a minute to contain herself, she carefully undressed, leaving on only her panties and his shirt on. Only then she noticed just how intoxicating his natural smell was. Knowing well enough she was doomed.

When Y/N finally joined him in the bathroom, he gave her the second toothbrush in silence and kept brushing his own teeth. It was refreshing seeing her in such an intimate setting. He tried as best as he could not to notice just how hot she looked in his t-shirt. Watching her in the reflection, he realized he never appreciated a moment like that with anyone else before. He smiled at her, because he could see her shy nature peeking through causing her hair behind her ear.

She was about to join him back in the bed when she saw him placed right in the middle of the bed, far from when was last time she approached him like that.

"It's the hard spot, there is no other way," he brushed over it nonchalantly and tucked himself in the bed. "Come on, here, here," he patted a spot next to him. In the dim light, with shadows only highlighting his toned chest, curly hair falling over to his eyes, innocent smile and opened arms, he was like a mystical creature created only to entrap Y/N. At least, that's how that felt. No way back.

She slipped in the bed with him, to the exact position as they were just minutes ago and turned of the light once again. This time, Lando was way more relaxed even Y/N noticed the difference. With each passing moment it was becoming less and less stiff or awkward. Comfort replacing natural stress of sharing a bed with a stranger for the first time. For a brief second, it was as if they'd done this every night before drifting off to sleep. Lando was happy to take things slow. Not expecting anything more. He was content with knowing she was not planning on leaving him there alone that night and that was enough. Not for Y/N. Her body was acting way before her mind could stop her. Her now warm fingers started drawing little stars on his exposed chest. It was peaceful. Until her finger moved a little lower. Another gulp from Lando. She felt him tightening his grip on her.

"Careful now...I might get the wrong idea," he breathed out for only her to hear.

Their lips were so riddiculously close, yet too far away. The only thing she wanted to do was kiss him. All restraint suddenly gone. But she needed to be sure - did he wanted to kiss her? If she dared to ask him, he'd laugh out loud at the obviousness of it all. Poor guy didn't notice her desire because he spent all of his energy trying to hide his.

She licked her lips. "Wrong idea...like sending me away?"

Loud sigh from Lando. "No..the wrong wrong idea," he whispered, being so close to her she could feel his soft breath, as he started to move his hard up her arm, under the t-shirt he gave her. She became very aware of the fact she was not wearing a bra, something Lando noticed the moment she came to the bathroom. His arm stopped momentarily at her shoulder. " Wrong idea that you want me to do this..." he continued moving his hand again, "...or this," reached up to her collarbone while pressing her closer to him with his other arm. "Or heaven forbid..." he whispered a question as his lips were nearly touching hers. Lando was too scared to make the first move, still afraid she might vanish into thin air.

She was brave enough to close the gap. "Or this." With that, she kissed him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ushygushybaby

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 2 days

Note

Heya love,

Thank you for taking my request! I hardly think you can ever disappoint!

So, Autumn Court is a rather traditional court, and we know how discriminating against females it is.

Picture Rhys and the IC being invited to Autumn for whatever reason may it be. There, he decides to wander through the grounds. Somewhere in a secured area within the forest, he finds a female sitting by herself—too gentle and demure to belong to Autumn.

She’s shy in her discourse and neglects to tell him who she is. Eris pops up suddenly and pries the female away from him in a manner that’s too protective and possessive to be friendly.

Later on, Rhys realizes that this young female is Beron’s only, and youngest daughter. Secluded from prying eyes, Beron has made sure no one knew who she is until he was ready to marry her off.

But when Rhys finds out, and the mating bond snaps for him, he’s ready to fight for her. Going as far as to ask for Eris’ help, who happens to be extremely close and protective of his baby sister.

I hope that was clear enough and not at all confusing. Take your time with it, love! And feel free to change any detail you deem necessary.

Thanks again🩷

This

Perfect!!!!

Thank you so much🤩💕I love it so much that the story started to play in my head on its own and continued even in the dream. Hopefully, you'll like it

Moon princess

Word count: 9600+ (oops)

Warnings: mentions of Beron, court machinations, swear words, but no fights and no blood this time

I'm thinking about writing another part where they are slowly getting to know each other. Which I originaly wanted to add into this one, but tumblr stopped cooperating somewhere around 5k words in, messes up with saved text and takes forever to respond. Message is clear, I guess I have again too many WIPs in drafts. It happens all the time 🙄 Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Rhysand threw the pen on the desk and sighing leaned back in his big leather chair. Since early morning he was sitting in the office, writing letters, reading reports and sorting out complaints according to the urgency. It was already past lunchtime, but he didn't get even half through all the documents. He needed some distraction at least for few minutes.

In the very nick of time, the doors flew open and Cassian casually strode in, a massive sandwich in one hand, a piece of paper in the other one. He held only the corner of it between index finger and thumb, glaring at it as if someone had used it as a tissue.

"So.. What are we going to do with the invitation?" he asked with a full mouth.

"What invitation?" Rhys looked up, tired. This was hardly the kind of distraction he wished for.

"This one," general waved the paper. He flopped down to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "From the Autumn Court."

Rhysand frowned. "I got invitation?" he asked with feigned calm.

"Yup," Cassian took another bite from his sandwich, a bit of dressing dripped on his shirt, but he didn't seem to even notice it. Rhys' mouth twitched.

"Oh, really? And remind me, when exactly did I get it?"

"Few weeks ago. Helion also got one. He wants to know what we assume about it and whether we will accept or no. He's still waiting for the answer by the way."

Rhysand raised brows at him. "So you wrote to Helion."

"Nope, he wrote to you right after getting it."

That was the last drop. Closing eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "I think that we already talked about this at least a million times before, Cass. You can't take my mail, open it, read it and then keep it in your room."

Cassian threw up his hands and the dressing and slice of tomato flew out of the sandwich, landing on Rhys' expensive carpet. Rhysand eyed the stain, blood boiling in his veins.

"I don't do anything like that, bro! You know me. Plus, I don't remember that we've ever talked about such rule."

"That isn't rule I made up. It's called postal secret and privacy. Now bring all my mail! Immediately!"

"Fine, fine," Cassian fumed and rolled his eyes, but at last he stood up, throwing the invitation on the desk and left.

When the doors closed behind him, Rhys flicked his wrist and stain from the carpet disappeared. Then he reached for the invitation and cursed because it was smeared with dressing, too. Rhys licked his dirty fingers, commendably humming and wiped the rest of the dirt with tissue. His stomach loudly rumbled, reminding him that he should head out for some food soon.

He unfolded the paper, quickly scanning the text. Beron was inviting him and his family to a week of festivities on the occasion of a significant announcement. There wasn't written anything else, no more details. Rhysand sighed heavily, drumming with the fingers. His brain coils were working at full speed.

'Significant announcement'

What could it be? Considering that it was Beron, it couldn't be anything good. Because of Cassian, they had last two days left to prepare. He needed to know at least what to expect, so he could work up some plan later.

Azriel?

Claws of his power knocked on Azriel's mental shields. He answered right away, letting him in.

What?

Where are you now? Are you busy?

I'm preparing for the mission we talked about yesterday.

Rhysand considered it for moment, biting on his lower lip. Forget that thing for now or entrust it to someone else. This is urgent.

Azriel answered without hesitation. Fine. Are you in your office?

Rhysand loved how pragmatic Shadowsinger was. No questions. All he needed to hear to drop current job was that it was urgent. He didn't question him. Yes.

I'll be there in a minute.

When Az arrived, half hidden in his shadows as usual, he showed him the invitation and explained the situation. Azriel actually laughed when he heard how Cassian came, asking what was the plan. After that, he immediately disappeared in his shadows, heading to contact the spies they had in Autumn Court.

As expected, Azriel returned shorty before they were supposed to leave for the party. His spies didn't know much, only that Beron was secretly planning something big, the wards around his castle were strengthened and that the frequency of the correspondence between him and Spring Court increased in last two months. There was no time to contact spies in Spring whether they knew something more. Azriel planned to use the time they would spend in the Forest House to spy on Beron and learn more.

It was decided that only Rhys, Az and Cass would go. He didn't even try to ask Mor because he already knew the answer. However, he asked Amren and she clearly refused. She literally said that she would rather give up all her jewellery than listen to a single word of that old, pathetic excuse of a male.

Rhysand winnowed them to the Autumn Court close to the borders of the High Lord's estate. As soon as the world around them stilled, the brisk smell of autumn hit their noses. At gates, a dozen of soldiers stood on guard, armed to the teeth. They eyed them suspiciously, but let them pass. The three of them exchanged look as they stepped in, feeling the strong pressure.

"Putting up so strong wards and then inviting guests, one would think that your High Lord is planning something evil or he got himself a gem of size of his head," Rhys purred, but none of the soldiers even as much as blinked. Pursing lips he nodded. "Sharp guys. I wonder if they would stay still even if we started cutting off their limbs."

"I'm sure they would scream like females," Cassian grinned, folding arms on his chest.

"Are you trying to terrorise our guards, Rhysand?" a sly, bored voice spoke from somewhere behind them. They slowly turned around, arrogant as ever.

"Eris," Rhysand flashed his best cocky smile and shoved hands into pockets. "We are just merely testing them. Since when are heirs on the duty to come to the gates and welcome guests?"

"Ever since the so-called guests are mutts from Night Court," he snarled back, picking non-existent dirt from under fingernails.

Azriel was as always calm and composed, avoiding any attention, but Cassian was his opposite. He straightened up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and gritting teeth. "It's a good custom for the host to respect the guests, especially if they were invited, not to insult them. In Autumn, good manners seem not to be taught though."

Eris didn't react, only scoffed. He turned on the heel and started to walk towards the castle surrounded by reds and yellows. He showed them to their chambers connected by private sitting room, briefly informing them about the time of the evening party and that someone would come to show them the way later.

With a free access to the castle, Azriel didn't waste a minute and as soon as Eris left, he disappeared into the shadows to snoop around.

The party took place in a fancy ballroom. Rhys snorted at the sight of pure opulence, shoving hands into his pockets. Everything in this huge room was made of white marble with gold details, including a high vault ceiling. It was so polished that it looked like a mirror.

Autumn aristocracy and several of the High Lords were already here, so Rhys made a show of checking his appearance, keeping his mask of ruthless arrogance.

He had to admit that Beron knew how to show off his wealth. Massive golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, flooding room with bright light. In the vases next to each marble pillar around the perimeter of the room were big bouquets of flowers made out of gold and copper. The start of the party was planned for the sunset, so the whole room looked like made of gold. Amren would love this for sure.

Rhysand wouldn't let it show on his face, but inside he felt sick. It was overdone and suffocating. And he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Cassian was openly showing his disgust, Azriel scanned the surrounding from under his frowning brows, arms crossed on his chest.

"Finally some friendly faces and my favourite ones," a rich playful voice boomed on their left. Azriel rolled his eyes, not bothering to even look at the coming person and murmuring something about the need of a strong drink, he left. Rhysand with a cocky smile turned in time to see Helion, the High Lord of Day Court, giving a hug to Cassian.

"Good to see you, friend," he purred.

Helion hooked a muscular arm around his shoulders and winked. "What do you say about the host's taste?" he pointed with his chin to the ballroom, speaking lowly only for his ears.

"I say you must feel like home here," Rhys snorted.

Helion pursed his full lips, thinking about it. "Not really. But the drinks are good here," he swirled the golden liquid in his glass and waved them, already heading to the crowd. "I hope to see you later in the privacy of your room, so we can catch up."

Rhysand gave him just nod and his eyes turned to the dais in the same moment as High Lord of Autumn with his wife and sons appeared. Rhysand tried to keep his face emotionless as his eyes fell to the Lady of Autumn. He hated to see the visibly mistreated female, something about her reminding him of his late mother even though unlike Lady of Autumn she was strong and wild and didn't let his father to treat her badly. Maybe it was the motherly vibes they both shared.

He rather averted his gaze to the gathered crowd and half listening to Beron's speech, let his powers lurk around, looking for any useful information he could get from these people. His violet-blue eyes searched for Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring, between the High Lords. Maybe if he played it off well, he could find out more about the business Autumn and Spring were cooking up, but his golden hair and tall figure were nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Beron finished his boring speech with a promise of the big announcement on the end of this week of festivities. Rhysand despised the idea of waiting for the whole week. He needed to know what was going on in order the prepare for it, eventually come up with plan to sabotage it. The sooner he knew, the better.

He tried to find Azriel's mind in the crowd to give him orders, but with satisfaction he realized that Shadowsinger wasn't anywhere nearby, most likely already snooping around High Lord's quarters where he intended to send him. That male was a real workaholic.

As the evening progressed, Rhysand got even more bored. Chat with other invited High Lords led to nothing as none of them wanted to discuss anything of real importance at place where they could be easily heard by wrong persons. Cassian was cleaning plates, Azriel was who-knows-where and even Eris seemed to slip out to the night.

In need of fresh, cool air he moved to the terrace and then down to the gardens, looking for a quiet, dark corner where he could blow out the steam. The sounds of party slowly grew distant, number of guests on an evening stroll decreased. Rhysand didn't want to be disturbed, so he walked more deeper into the dark gardens. Thinking that he found the secluded place he needed, he looked around, noticing guards pacing on the edge where gardens turned into a forest. That piqued his interest. What could possibly be worth of guarding in the forest?

He merged with the night, getting pass the guards unnoticed. It was too easy and thus it was no fun. He hoped for at least a small hitch to make tonight interesting. Hopefully, whatever was hidden there, would be worth of the effort and provide him with some sort of excitement.

He dragged through the forest looking right and left, searching for something that didn't fit in. After half an hour he was ready to call it off, marking it as a great waste of time, when he noticed a soft light behind the thick bush. Carefully stalking closer, he stayed hidden in the darkness of autumn forest and took a look around.

There, hidden behind bushes and trees, spread out a clearing bathing in the cool silver light of full moon and in the middle of that on a fallen tree trunk sat the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Her petite figure with soft features and porcelain skin glowed in the night. Dark brown silky hair fell in waves to her tiny waist. Dressed up in light, white dress that reflected the moonlight, surrounded by hundreds of fireflies, the small female looked like being of another world. Devouring that fragile beauty, he suddenly remembered the bedtime story mother used to tell him, his most favourite one. How could he forget it?

The story was about Moon Princess who spent her entire life, night after night watching Fae live, dance, laugh and love. Her desire to spend at least one day with them and experience the same things they did, grew so strong that she got sick, slowly fading away. When her father, Moon King, learnt about her desire, he decided to grant her her wish in order to save life of his only daughter. And so Moon Princess descended from the moon to the clearing in the deep forest, instantly feeling better.

At that time, young prince happened to be in the forest on his way back home, witnessing her descent. He immediately fell in love with her and took her to his castle. Gradually, she fell in love with the prince, but when the month her father granted her was coming to its end, she became sad and again fell ill. Her father couldn't stand to see his daughter suffer so much and allowed her to stay with her prince. After some time they got married, had a lot of children and grew old together.

When Rhys was younger, he dreamt about finding his own Moon Princess and having his happily ever after with her. Seeing this gentle creature in the woods now, he felt like he was witness of descent of Moon Princess he waited for. She took the air from his lungs and captivated his heart. Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped out from the shadows. Not wanting to scare her off, he cleared his throat, making as much noise as possible on his way to the fallen trunk.

Despite his efforts, she winced, covering lips like petal of rose flower with her delicate hands with elegant long fingers. Her doe eyes of colour of deepest sea gazed up at him. Recovering from the initial shock, she blushed, readying to run away.

"Don't! Please, stay. I mean no harm," he raised both of his hands, trying to calm her down. She was like a frightened animal. Rhysand assumed it would be for the best if he introduced himself.

"I'm Rhysand and I'm guest of the High Lord of Autumn. I was just on a walk when I noticed you sitting here alone. Are you lost?"

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

"What Court are you from? I happen to know all High Lords. I can help you get to the right one."

"I'm.. from here," she spoke shyly, her voice sounded to him like the sweetest melody. He swallowed hard, his palms sweating. What was wrong with him? He was feared High Lord who had more lovers in his life than he could count, yet he felt like inexperienced youngling.

"Can.. can I sit down here with you?" he asked out of breath.

How pathetic, Rhysand, he scolded himself. You finally found female of your dreams and you behave like total idiot. Bravo! She will certainly fall for you and agree to meet you again. You need to come with something better than this.

She bit on her lower lip, considering it, but at last she nodded, moving as far from him as she could. Rhys put on his most dazzling and kindest smile and sat down next to her. She blushed even more.

"The moon tonight is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, my lord, I suppose it is."

Rhysand snorted. "I'm not your lord. Please, call me Rhysand or just Rhys if you want. How should I call you?"

Female nervously fidgeted her fingers. "I think I should go." She was about to stand up.

Rhys' hand shot up instinctively, his fingers firmly but gently wrapped around her wrist. Mother above, she was so small and fragile like a porcelain doll. "Please, stay. I understand. No names."

She weakly twisted her wrist in his grasp and he let her go. She sat back down and Rhys sighed with relief, licking his lips. He wanted to make her speak more, yearning to listen to her voice from now until the end of his life.

"Do you come out here often?"

"I'm not allowed to go out much," she whispered hardly audibly, her shoulders slumped.

"How so?" Rhys asked with concern, his gaze again roaming over her petite body. However, he didn't get the answer.

Eris emerged from between the trees, his features twisted in anger.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed and taking female's hand yanked her to his chest. He looked her up and down, checking her for any injury quite roughly.

"Hey! Stop treating her like that! You are hurting her, asshole," Rhysand couldn't stop himself, his mask naturally slid down to its place and he was again fearsome High Lord. He stood up baring his teeth, ready to fight him off if necessary. He wouldn't mind to even kill him to protect this Moon Princess, as he decided to call her until she told him her name, and maybe even after that.

Female's eyes widened at him, but she didn't dare to say a word.

"How did you get here, Rhysand?! This is a private place where guests aren't allowed. If anything, the fact that guards stand at entrance to the forest, should make it more than clear."

"And you," he turned to the female. "What did you do here with this bastard? Why didn't you immediately leave when he appeared? If he finds out what happened here, we both will have a serious problem! Do you even understand that?"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to leave, but.." she mumbled, cringing, her face pale.

"But what?! Return to your room! Now!"

"I don't know and don't even care who she is to you, but I won't allow you to talk like that with her," Rhys grabbed front of Eris's shirt, staring him down. He was only a few inches taller than the Autumn heir, though the effect was the same.

Female gaped at him in shock, but as soon as Eris let go of her arm, she backed few steps, then turned around and ran away. Rhys wanted to ran after her to make sure she wasn't hurt, but he banned himself to even move. His outburst was bad enough, giving out too much.

They stared at each other, heaving.

"Back off, Rhysand!" Eris snarled lowly.

"No!" he growled back. "Who is she?"

"That's none of your business," Eris glared at him, unmoved.

"Now when I met her, it is my business. I won't just stand by and watch someone hurt females for absolutely no reason."

Pushing him away, Eris burst into fit of laughter. "Good joke, Rhysand, really. Maybe you should clean up your own yard before you start poking your nose into other people's affairs." With that he left, heading in the same direction as the female.

Rhys just stood there, taken aback, gazing after his receding back. He didn't want to admit it, but Eris was right. There was still too much to improve in his Court, but that didn't mean Eris had any right to point it out. In this regard, Autumn wasn't any better than Night.

Later that night Rhysand was pacing in their sitting room, while Azriel and Cassian watched him from couch with concern.

"Don't you want to finally tell us where you disappeared?" Cassian groaned, sipping his drink.

"Did you find anything out?" Azriel added. Ever since he returned he was frowning, angry that he not only couldn't find anything useful, but also that Beron's office and chambers were so warded that he wouldn't be able to get in even if he had a whole month for it.

"Nothing like that," Rhysand growled. The thought of the female and her scared gaze where eating him up. He needed to see her, to make sure she was all right. But where to look for her? Then his gaze fell to his brother, half hidden in his shadows. If anyone was able to find her, then only he.

"Fine, so listen up," he groaned. While still pacing back and forth, he told them everything about his encounter with her and described every detail he remembered.

Azriel listened him attentively, nodding at last. "I will look for her while spying around. But I have to warn you - don't keep high hopes. There's an entire part of castle where I nor my spies couldn't infiltrate no matter how many times we tried it. And we work on that for years. If she is held captive in this castle, they can keep her there."

Rhysand sighed and ran hand through his hair. Eris knew her, but he wouldn't tell him anything. Could she be his lover? Or some secret fiancée? Wife? Or she belonged to another Vanserra? Just imagining that such fragile, young female was here to satisfy Beron's needs made him feel sick.

He needed to calm down, to do something to change the flow of thoughts, so he stepped to the bar and poured a glass of whiskey. He emptied the glass in one gulp, the liquor burning his throat. He grimaced and poured himself another glass. He sat down.

Cassian and Azriel started to discuss something, but he couldn't focus on their words even if he wanted. He could still see her in front of him, surrounded by silver moonlight, beautiful and so unearthly. He was only snapped out of the memory when Cassian put his big hand on his knee.

"Stop it," he muttered in amusement. "It's nerve-wracking when you nonstop tap your foot. Even Azriel here is getting nervous because of you."

"I don't-"

"You do," Azriel nodded, corners of his mouth twitching. With raised brow he looked at Cassian. "What do you think? Finally?"

"Finally," general agreed.

Rhys was confused. "Finally what?" he snapped.

"You are in love," Cassian howled with laughter and Azriel joined him shortly.

"I'm not in love. I'm just worried," Rhysand retorted, crossing hands on his chest and almost tipped the drink on his expensive shirt.

"And now he's even blushing like an innocent schoolgirl," Cassian was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"What's so funny?" Helion appeared on the threshold, light smile playing on his lips.

"Nothing. They are just two bored idiots," Rhysand groaned. Helion was the last person he wanted to find out about his encounter. High Lord of Day was the worst gossiper in entire Prythian.

"Oh, c'mon. I want to laugh, too. I'm bored here. This is the worst Court to be in."

"Because you would like to make out with a certain lady who is out of your reach?" Rhysand grinned. This lifted his spirit a bit.

Helion groaned, flopping onto other couch. "Don't even remind me of that matter."

To that Cassian started to laugh even harder.

Helion frowned at him. "Is he okay?" Rhysand only shook his head.

"Two lovesick birds," Cassian tried to calm down, Azriel next to him was massaging his hurting cheeks. He hadn't laughed so much in ages.

Helion watched them with wolfish grin and shiny eyes. "Idiots or no, I'd love to see them worn out in my bed anyway."

Azriel stopped smiling immediately, the idea had never been to his taste. Cassian just shrugged. "Maybe some other time, but thanks," he playfully winked at Lord of Day who obscenely ran teeth over his lower lip.

"I'm already waiting for the day."

Rhysand cleared his throat, grinning. "So.. Did you come for something specific or just to make obscene proposal to my brothers?"

"Actually, yes," Helion smiled, still undressing his long-term targets with eyes. "I and other High Lords are worried. You certainly already heard about something going on between Autumn and Spring."

"Sure, I did."

"I didn't see Tamlin at party tonight. I have quite bad feeling about this."

"Me too, friend," Rhysand swirled the golden liquor in the glass. "Me too."

"I guess that you don't have more detailed information on this matter that you could share with me."

"Unfortunately, I know just as much as you and the others. Azriel here is trying to find out something while we are here and his spies are snooping around in Spring, but we haven't heard anything new from them, have we?" He turned to Shadowsinger who only shook his head.

"But if you find out something, you will share it with us, right?"

"Of course I will. I can imagine only one scenario in which Beron is after the access to the Wall and human lands. We both know very well what it would mean."

"Do you think that Tamlin would allow such thing?" Cassian asked seriously.

"We can only hope that he has enough common sense to not allow it," Rhysand emptied his second glass.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

The week of festivities passed quickly. Beron prepared all kinds of activities to keep his guests entertained. Rhysand had stopped counting the number of hunts, competitions and banquets he absolved right after the first day.

Azriel spent most of the time in the shadows, spying all around the castle, following Beron like hound, but there were no news about the female nor the plans Lord of Autumn had.

Rhys started to have very bad feeling about this all and grew nervous with every passing day in dark. He kept his eyes on Eris who was obviously ignoring him, hoping he would make a mistake and take him to the female. However, Eris, the cunning fox, after the first ball never left the room, participating on every event from the beginning to the very end.

When it was finally time for the last ball, Rhysand was so nervous and irritated that even his brothers were avoiding the conversation with him. And he wasn't the only one. All gathered High Lords seemed to have enough of this shit show and masquerade, waiting only for the big announcement.

That evening, the atmosphere in the ballroom was suffocating, none of the Lords bothered to tune off their powers anymore. When Beron with his family appeared on the dais, five pairs of hostile eyes gazed at him from the crowd, waiting.

Thank you for coming and blah blah blah, Rhysand didn't really listen that old asshole, not until Tamlin appeared on the dais next to Beron who announced that they were intending to make an alliance together. Tamlin seemed to be taken aback to see everyone and to hear that they spent the whole week here, so apparently he wasn't invited for the shit show nor Beron bothered to notify him about the recent events.

"And to confirm my good intentions, my only daughter, Selene, will marry Tamlin," Beron declared.

The wave of shock ran through the crowd. As it seemed, even Autumn aristocracy didn't know about the existence of the mentioned daughter. High Lords looked at each other. Their worst fears had come true. Beron was after free access to the Wall.

However, right at that moment, it was the last thing Rhysand cared about. The doors behind Beron again opened and from the dark of the hallway a small figure emerged. Dressed in dress of moonlight colour with dark brown waves styled into a complicated hairstyle, his Moon Princess walked into the room. She looked up and their eyes locked. Exactly as that night in the forest, her beauty took all the air from his lungs, but it wasn't the only thing that happened at that moment.

Something inside him broke, the crack so loud everyone in the room had to hear it. And in that hole in the middle of his chest, a shimmering gold thread formed, blooming like a flower. The thread shot out, bridging over the entire room. Gently touching his Moon Princess, it wrapped around her and bound their souls together.

Rhysand watched it all with wide eyes and slightly opened mouth. As understanding hit him, he wavered and took a small step back, shocked. Beron's daughter was his mate. The Mother had a strange sense of humor, but in certain way it made sense. The feeling he had when he saw her on the clearing, the pull, the need to make sure she was safe. Of course she was his mate.

"What's going on?" Azriel, always the most attentive, as the only one noticed his moment of weakness.

Rhys couldn't take eyes off of her, barely managing to force his lungs to work again. "She's.. she's my.." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

Azriel's eyes also widened, jumping between him and the female. Even Cassian who overheard them, gaped at him.

"Are you sure?" Rhysand gave him a look and Azriel shook his head. "Of course, you are. Whatever you decide to do now, you can count on me," he said darkly, tendrils of shadows dancing around him.

"And on me," Cassian pat him on the back.

After the shocking announcement, the party was naturally over or at least for High Lords certainly, as they all left right away.

Helion stopped briefly at the doors of their chambers with grave expression to tell them that all the High Lords agreed that the wedding must not take place. For some reason they expected that the Night Court would take care of that, but they were ready to assist them if needed.

Honestly, Rhysand didn't remember much from what had happened after the bond snapped for him, not even how he got back home and to his bed. He lay there in the dark, unable to sleep, all the satin sheets suddenly too scratchy and insufferably hot. His mind was nonstop returning to the only thought - he had a mate and she needed his help.

He tried to analyse the moment when it snapped for him. He was curious whether she felt it too. Though, no matter how many times he replayed the scene in his head, he couldn't find a proof she felt it. Her eyes were sad, her expression shy and guarded. She walked into the room, stopped at Tamlin's side and accepted his waiting hand without a single wobble. She was shivering like leaf in the cold breeze, but all for the different reasons. At dawn he finally came to conclusion that she didn't know about the bond.

He kicked off the blanket and changed. He was determined to solve this problem as soon as possible. He wouldn't leave his mate in hands of any other male.

The Town House was completely silent when he ran down the stairs taking two at a time. The wedding was supposed to take place on the day of the autumnal equinox. That left him only a month to solve this. He didn't have much time and had to start right away. He rushed into his office, almost breaking the doors, and took a sheet of paper and a pen. Quickly he scratched letter and without reading it again sent it. He waited for the reply whole day, without leaving his office. He didn't even eat nor sleep. When there was no answer, next morning he wrote another letter.

Nobody came asking him what to do. His family already knew where they were needed the most. Azriel took all his spies and dividing them into two groups, he sent one group to Spring, the other one under his lead headed to Autumn.

Cassian collected all information and maps they had of the Forest House and looking for places where wedding could take place, he began preparing plans from kidnapping the bride before the ceremony to snatching her from groom's hands before they could say their yes.

Amren shut herself up in her apartment, searching old books with ancient magic for the ways how to break through wards.

For Mor, this was hard. She couldn't be much of help in this case, so she took it upon herself to take care of her cousin and made sure that he ate three times a day, took shower and tried to rest. She gladly accepted the role of an emotional support, listening to all his worries and self-loathing whenever he was in mood to talk.

On the fifth day when there was still no answer, Rhysand decided that he wouldn't wait any longer. He only had a limited amount of time and it was inexorably running out.

Without invitation he winnowed to the clearing near Tamlin's manor in Spring. As expected, it took only mere seconds and Tamlin appeared in his beast form, ready to turn the intruder into shreds. When he saw Rhysand waiting for him, he slowed down.

"What are you doing here?" he growled angrily. "I thought that not sending a reply is quite a clear answer."

"So you read the letters. I need to speak with you. You are doing enormous mistake-"

"That is not your business!"

"The problem is that it is my business. It's all High Lords' business, for the fuck's sake! You are going to open for Beron a way to the Wall!"

Tamlin snorted. "No, I'm not. I would do no such thing!"

"But yes, you are. Why else would Beron want to make an alliance with Spring?!"

"I can assure you that he won't get to the Wall."

"You are wrong and you know it. Whatever is going on, it won't take long and he will get what he wants."

Tamlin just gazed at him, muscles in his jaw ticking.

"What is it what you need so much that you are willing to work even with that old bastard, Tam?"

The beast's gaze wavered, but he wouldn't give in so easily.

"Tam, talk to me. We used to be friends and damn good friends. If it is a help you are looking for, I'll send you any kind of help. Do you need more soldier? You can have them. Money? Bride? Skilled officials to help you rule the Court? You can have it all, you just need to tell me. But don't go into alliance with Beron.."

Tamlin seemed to consider his offer. "I-.. I have tied hands.. I'm trying, but I shouldn't have been ruler.. I'm not built for state affairs. Everything is falling apart and now.. my advisers gave me an ultimatum.. They ask for heir otherwise they will leave me alone in this mess.."

Rhysand blinked in surprise at sudden honesty. With Tamlin, they had a lot of bad blood standing between them like a wall. Ever since Rhys' mother and sister were killed and he and his father killed Tamlin's family in return, they had hardly spoken. This was definitely progress or so he thought.

"I don't need your help, Rhysand," Tamlin murmured, "return to your Court before I make you." Tamlin pivoted, heading back into the forest.

Rhysand planned to solve this without mentioning Selene and the bond, but now there was no other way. Tamlin didn't want to listen and wouldn't accept his offer. This was the last thing that could change his mind.

"You can't marry her!" he called after Lord of Spring.

The beast stopped and looked back at him. "Why can't I?"

"Because.. she is mine."

Tamlin snorted, again moving.

"She's my mate." Rhys only whispered it, but the sweet spring breeze carried the words to his former friend. The beast halted in the middle of the step and fully turned to him. He searched him for any hint of lie, but when he found none, the emerald eyes widened.

"It snapped for me the moment she stepped into the ballroom and our eyes met. I think she doesn't know though," Rhysand continued quietly, hoping he would understand and cancel the wedding. All he needed, was more time to find a way to get her out of Autumn. He didn't ask for anything more. She didn't need to find out right away that he was her mate. He would be completely fine with only a friendship as long as he knew where she was and that she was safe.

Tamlin's eyes narrowed and darkened, one corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. "Don't worry," he said lowly. "I'll take good care of her. She will have anything she wants and I will protect her. I promise you."

"But will she be happy? Without her mate?"

"If she doesn't know about that, I see no reason why she shouldn't be. One can't mourn something they don't even know that exists."

"Tamlin, you don't understand-"

"But I do understand," he interrupted him. "See you at the wedding. Or rather not. Now we don't want to try our luck, do we."

"Tamlin!"

"Get lost!"

Rhysand fought against the magic of wards that after the dismissal was forcing him to leave. He wasn't done here yet. However, not even a High Lord could stay in other Court if the Lord there expelled them. Unwillingly he winnowed back to his house.

He stood in the middle of his office, heaving heavily. Tears gathered in his eyes. He ran hand through his dark hair and then dragged it down his face. He looked around, searching for something that could ground him, finding nothing. He fell to his knees and yelled so loud that walls shook.

In a blink of eye Cassian appeared at his side and clumsily held him, checking him for injuries. He seemed to be relieved to find none.

"He refused," Rhys sobbed. "I told him and he refused.."

"I'm so sorry, Rhys," Cass spoke kindly. "But.. We will solve this. Don't worry. We all will do our best to get her out of there."

Next week Rhysand's mood was switching between being furious, coldly calculating and falling into depression. At the end of the week, Azriel returned and whole Inner Circle gathered to share all facts they knew and come with some solution. As far as they knew, Selene lived in warded part of the castle where only family members and chosen maids could enter. Azriel spent the whole two weeks trying to break in but to no avail. Amren also had no luck with her research. Wards were a complicated ancient magic and to break through so strong ones, they would need a very powerful and dangerous magical object like Cauldron that was lost for centuries and they didn't have time to look for it anyway.

Rhys only sat there, gloomy, listening. He was again falling into depression.

"What if we got help from the inside?" Cassian suggested, looking around the table.

"From Vanserras?" Azriel looked up. His hazel eyes lit up with idea and he turned to Rhys. "I think that it's quite good idea."

"Thanks," Cassian grinned.

"And who would you ask for help?" Mor rolled eyes. "Beron? His wife? Or his rogue sons?"

Azriel didn't pay any attention to her insults and continued. "I think that the heir would be willing to help us if we convinced him."

Rhysand finally looked up, frowning. "He told me that he doesn't want to see me anywhere near her."

"Exactly! Don't you see it? Who let her out during the party when Beron was too busy to notice it? Eris. Who was out there protecting her? Eris. Who is often visiting the warded quarters despite having chambers in a completely different part of the castle? The answer is again Eris. I'll bet that he goes there only to visit her. Several times a day actually."

"Why should he want to help us to kidnap her?" Rhys shook his head.

"Because he cares for her," Azriel answered simply, tilting head to the side in disbelieve that Rhysand didn't get it yet. "I heard that he isn't thrilled for the coming wedding."

Rhysand clenched hands into fists, thinking. During the last two weeks they had tried everything and nothing worked, even Tamlin laughed him out. There was nothing else they could do except of waiting until the wedding day and then try one of the risky plans Cassian had prepared for that case.

At last, he nodded. "Fine then. Can you deliver message to him?"

Azriel smiled. "Gladly. If you write it right now, he can get it tonight."

Two days later, Rhysand winnowed to the river bend on the border of his Court and hid into the shadows under the trees, waiting. He didn't have high expectations, he was avoiding the hope so as not to be disappointed in the end. The time ticked by while he watched flowing river, but in his mind he saw only her, his Moon Princess bathing in the silver moonlight with shiny big eyes and soft smile on her lips. He could keep watching her lovely profile forever. If that was all he was allowed in this lifetime, he would die a happy male.

Thirty minutes later another male winnowed to the same bend of the river, his red hair looked like blazing flames in the setting sun. He eyed the empty river bank and nearby tree line with arrogant, bored expression. He crossed hands on his chest, glaring into the waters.

Rhysand stepped from his hideaway, casually walking with hands in the pockets to the place where the other male waited at. "I already started to think that you won't come," he tried his usual cocky tone, but even to him it sounded fake.

"You are the one who wanted to meet up at this.. where are we actually?" Eris raised a brow, disgusted.

Rhysand shrugged. "Just old campsite. Nobody is coming here anymore, not after what happened here. Old story. The most important is that we can talk here without being overheard."

Eris clasped hands behind his back. "So? What is so urgent? I'm busy with wedding preparations as you know."

"That's the reason why I need to speak with you." Rhys swallowed hard. He was preparing for this discussion ever since Azriel left with his letter in the pocket. Despite everything he decided to be honest for once instead of making up lies. "That wedding must not take place."

Eris raised brows at him. "Why?"

"Because..," he tried to say it aloud, but couldn't, "it can't happen."

"Good try, but I don't have time for this. So if you don't have any good reason for this, I'm leaving." He pivoted.

"She's my mate."

"What?!" Eris turned back to him so fast that he almost slipped on the stones.

"You heard me. Selene, your sister, is my mate."

Eris just gaped at him, eyes wide, but at least he wasn't about to leave anymore.

"The wedding is the biggest mistake. I don't think she knows about the bond, but she won't be happy. You have to help me stop it."

Eris's mask slipped down for a moment and Rhysand noticed pain hidden beneath. "I can't. It's too late."

"It isn't. They aren't wed yet, there's still time."

"And what do you expect me to do? Do you want me to go to my father and tell him: hey, forget about the alliance with Spring, her mate resides on the other side of Prythian? That would 100% work."

Rhys rolled eyes. "No, just help me get her out of there. If there is no bride, there won't be wedding nor alliance. This will solve all the problems at once and nobody gets hurt."

Eris snorted. "And what about her? What will happen to my sister?"

"She can live here, in my Court. I'll protect her, give her home and take good care of her. You will be welcome to come visit her anytime you want."

Eris shook head in disbelieve. "You will keep her at your side like some sustained lover? No, in such case she's better in Spring with Tamlin. I saw them talking together and he was really kind and respectful to her. That's what she deserves, Rhysand. The respect. There might be no love between them yet, but it can change in the future. He will provide her with the same things you are offering, but he will make her his wife."

Horrified, Rhysand took a step back. "Lover? What? Don't put words into my mouth. She doesn't know about the bond and I won't push her into relationship with me. If she wishes so, we will be friends. She decides what we will be, not me. But if the bond snaps for her and she accepts it, I'll more than gladly marry her right away. In my Court, she will have freedom she never had and in marriage we will be equal. In everything."

He gave him a doubtful look, laughing. "Equal? Mother's tits! I won't believe such empty promises."

"These are no empty promises, I'm serious. Can you see me laughing? I'll make even a bargain with you. If she agrees to marry me, she will be my equal. I'll make her a High Lady."

"There is no such thing as High Lady." Eris stuck out chin, narrowing eyes.

"Then she will be the first one. Do you want to bet?"

"No, but I want that bargain."

"Fine," Rhys smiled for the first time since he learnt that his Moon Princess is doomed to marry another male. "So, what do you want in exchange for your help?"

Eris tilted head to the side, pressing lips into thin line. "Help for help. When the time comes, you will help me get rid of my father."

"We have a deal." After wording their vows, smell of magic filled the air and a small tattoo appeared on their bodies.

"Great that you agreed so easily. I was ready to get down on my knees if necessary," Rhysand grinned.

"That sounds like a lot of fun. Especially, in this awful state you are in. I think I'm going to change my mind."

"Good you can't," Lord of Night patted his shoulder with new tattoo.

Eris barked with laughter.

"Now tell me, just out of curiosity, is Selene really your sister or just half sister? It doesn't really matter to me, I'm asking because-"

"She looks so different?" Eris finished the sentence with fox grin. "She is my sister. Frankly, she looks like clone of father's great grand mother. I would show you her picture, but.."

"No need. I believe you."

Eris raised his brows doubtfully.

"How exactly do you imagine her abduction to take place? If your spymaster can so easily get into my chamber, I'd say you don't need me."

"Believe me when I say that we already tried to get to her. Unfortunately, not even my brilliant spymaster can get through your father's wards. That's why we need your help."

"I see. I'm relieved to hear there are wards that can stop you and your people."

"If we weren't in such time crunch, we would find way in for sure. But we don't have so much time now," he winked. "All I need from you is to get her out of the wards inside the castle. It really doesn't matter whether you take her to your room or to that clearing, as long as she will be somewhere where we can get to her."

Next hour or so they spent discussing the details of the abduction, so the both sides knew the exact meeting place, time and what to do. When Eris left, Rhysand return back home, feeling much better. In good mood he shared the plan with Cassian and Azriel who would go into the action with him. Now he just needed to wait for message from Eris. If he hadn't seen with his own two eyes how much young heir cared for his sister, he would doubt his intentions. This all was possible only thanks to the exceptionally strong sibling love and overprotectiveness. In moments like this Rhys thought about his own baby sister. What would it be like if she was still here?

Days were passing one after another without any news from the Autumn heir until finally four days before the wedding a small piece of paper appeared on Rhysand's desk. He opened it and skimmed a neatly written short message.

Cassian! Azriel! he called in his mind.

Ever since he made the deal, they were staying in their rooms in the Town House instead of the House of Wind, just in case they would need to quickly move on. It took them only a minute to get to his office. As soon as they appeared on threshold, he happily waved the paper in the air.

"Get ready! We leave an hour after sunset."

Exactly one hour after sunset Rhysand winnowed the three of them to the Autumn Court's borders, the rest of the way they had to fly to avoid being detected by the magic of the wards that Eris inconspicuously lifted for several minutes.

Thankfully, wards around the Forest House weren't so hard to get through and Azriel could safely get them in without any help. Under the cover of night, Rhysand led them through the grounds to the clearing where they were supposed to meet with Eris and Selene. They slipped past the patrol on their way, unnoticed. Just to make sure they weren't walking into a trap, they silently landed in the forest and went on foot the rest of the way. Hidden in the dark shadows under the trees, they waited.

Ten minutes later, Eris appeared on the clearing dimly lit by the waxing moon. And he wasn't alone. Holding his hand, a small figure walked behind him.

"Be careful here," Eris kindly warned his sister and she smiled in answer.

When they stopped in the middle of the clearing, Selene looked up on the moon, bathing in the silver light. With her long hair down and in the snow white dress, she was stunning. Meanwhile, Eris intently gazed into the night, his body tense. Rhys nodded to his brothers and moved forward. They assumed she would be less frightened if he went first. He let the dry twig to crack under his boot on purpose, notifying them of his arrival.

Both siblings turned in the same time. Tension in Eris's shoulders melted away, replaced by sadness. Selene seemed to recognize him and shyly hid behind her brother.

The males nodded in greeting. "Everything okay?"

"Nobody saw us."

"And Beron?"

"Some kind of troubles with goods for wedding in the port."

Selene watched their quiet exchange calmly from behind the brother's back, curiously peeking at Lord of Night. She didn't seem to be surprised by the turn of events at all.

Rhys nodded at last and leaning to the side to get a better view, he smiled at her.

"Hey there," he said so softy he surprised even himself. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes, my lord," Selene answered shyly and hid even more into brother's shadow.

Rhysand huffed in amusement. "I thought we already had this conversation, darling. Only Rhys for you."

Eris winced at the way he addressed his sister, but didn't say a word. Instead he took his sister's hand and pulled her from behind him. "It's okay, dear. He's here to take you.. to safety."

She looked up at him with her big bright eyes, waiting. "I'm sorry, Sel," Eris continued, "I can't let you marry Tamlin. I genuinely think that he would be a good husband to you, but you wouldn't be happy with him. That's why you have to.." He couldn't finish the sentence, his voice failed him. Rhys noticed the tears in his eyes and decided to ignore them for now. He understood how hard this must be for him.

"So you allow me to leave with my mate?" Her silent question made them both gape at her in shock. Eris recovered as first and smiled sadly. He reached into the pocket between the words and pulled out a bigger bag.

"I- I packed you some clothes for the start.. and a couple of your favourite things.."

"You know about the bond?" Rhysand's heart stuttered. He didn't expect that.

She met his gaze for a second and quickly shied away, blushing fiercely. "Since the night we met here," she took her brother's sleeve between fingers and stepped closer to him, partly hiding behind him.

Rhysand was so happy that he couldn't find words. He had so many questions that he didn't know where to start. Cassian and Azriel quietly approached them and Selene's eyes widened with fear.

"That's okay, they won't hurt anyone. They are my friends who came to help me get you safely to my Court," Rhys held out hands, explaining. "This is Cassian, General of my armies, and this is Azriel, Spymaster. They are big, clumsy and quite grumpy, but both are very kind-hearted, I assure you. We grew up together like brothers."

When introduced, Cassian grinned widely and waved at her, while Azriel put hand on his chest and slightly bowed.

Eris scoffed, rolling eyes.

"It's time. We should go before someone notices she's gone," Azriel murmured lowly. He was right. It was too risky to stay here for too long.

Rhysand cleared his throat nervously and offered her hand. "Can we?"

She looked up at her brother questioningly. Eris's jaw tightened as he turned to face her. At first he only held her hands, suppressing his feelings, but then he broke and pulled her into a hug. He whispered her something in the ear and tried to wipe his tears away stealthily while pretending to clean some dirt from her shoulder.

They parted and Selene walked over to Rhys' group, her cheeks wet.

Eris sadly watched as Rhysand gently picked her up and handed her bag to Azriel. "Everything is going to be fine. He will take good care of you.. I'll visit you soon," he looked at Rhys who nodded in agreement.

"Anytime you want."

"Oh, and take this," Eris reached into his pocket and handed her a blank sheet of paper. She turned it in fingers, confused. "It's enchanted. If you want to talk with me, just write on the paper and it will teleport to me. When I answer, it will return. If there would be any trouble with it.." His eyes moved to Lord of Night.

"I'll gladly help you with it or you can write a letter and Azriel will deliver it for you."

The mentioned one nodded in agreement and opened the bag so she could put it in.

"I'll miss you, brother," she sobbed.

"I already miss you. Stay safe." Eris stepped away, hardly keeping his tears back. He put on his cool mask of heir, but his amber eyes were giving him away.

"Thank you," Rhysand swallowed hard, hardly suppressing his own emotions. "When you are ready, let me know. I owe you for this. And don't worry. She will be safe and well cared of. I'll write you when we arrive."

Eris only nodded, fists clenched at his sides and retreated a few steps to give them enough space. Rhysand summoned his wings and carefully took off followed by his brothers. Selene watched Eris until trees obscured her view. Then she wiped her tears and rested head on his shoulder. It took him by surprise and for a moment he forgot how to use the wings.

"Sorry," he apologised for the shock and she hummed in answer. He exhaled shakily, again feeling like a youngling on the first date. "A-are you scared? Of flying?"

"No," she whispered between sobs.

Rhys tugged her closer to his body, gently rubbing her shoulder with thumb. "I know it's kind of scary for you. You don't know me nor my family, but I promise I'll do anything to make you happy. And the bond.. I won't pressure you. It's up to you-"

"I want the bond," she said firmly, interrupting him. "I saw that we will be happy."

"You did?" Rhysand raised a brow. Eris probably failed to mention that his baby sister was a seer.

"Sometimes I see little flashes of my future. I knew that you will come for me."

He huffed. "Of course you did. You are the Moon Princess after all."

"Who's Moon Princess?" She seemed to calm down at last and stopped crying, but she stayed hidden in the crook of his neck.

"Well, she's someone my mother used to tell me a story about. Do you want to hear it?"

She nodded and so Rhys started quietly whispering the story into her ear while they were sliding through the peaceful night sky, heading to their own 'happily ever after'.

#acotar #rhysand x oc #sarah j maas #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel acotar #tamlin #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #cassian acotar #request #autumn court #night court #beron vanserra #helion acotar

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lambilegs · 3 days

Text

night in (lee harker x reader)

(contains: calling lee "daddy," her spitting in your mouth, degradation, reader is referred to as having a "clit," "pussy" and "folds," reader receiving fingering)

idea came from this anon!! thank you so much for it hehe 💗💗

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹₊˚⊹ ♡ ʚ🎀ɞ ♡ ⊹˚༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

"c'mon," you whine, wiggling your fingers at lee, cocking your head to the side, "just do it. please, for me?"

she rolls her eyes. "I'm not gonna arm wrestle with you in a public place."

you two are seated at a table in your favourite fast food place, awaiting your order number, 526, to get called out. after spending far too many seconds having stared at your girlfriend's hands, and the way the veins became more defined when she flexed and moved them, you inquired after an arm wrestling challenge.

lee isn't so up for it, tentatively watching the crowd of students surrounding you two. you pout at her, gripping her wrist and shaking it. "baby, please, we'll never see these people again."

she gives you a wry half-smile. "in a town this small, we absolutely will."

she has a point -- one that you choose to discard, tugging on her arm some more. "do it, do it. don't you want an opportunity to flex to me how strong you are?"

her smile widens, just by a twitch, voice lowering. "and here I thought you got enough of that when you watch me work out."

you smack her arm, bristling and leaning back. it's true, and you hated her for having that on you. whenever she worked out from home, you practically ogled her, mouth watering at how her muscles gently rolled as she lifted weights, the way her shoulders tensed and flexed when she did push-ups. there had been all too many workouts of hers that, due to your endless coaxing and flirting, ended with you on your back, her fingers shoved deep inside you.

you feel yourself clench down at the memory, trying to kick the mental image to the back of your mind, far away from the forefront. "well, regardless, there can never be too much showing off." you grab her hand, trying to will her arm into the position of an arm wrestle. "stop being so stubborn and just do it to pass the time."

finally, she heaves a sigh, releasing your hand and shrugging off her jacket. the sight has you holding your breath, eyes nearly shutting when she begins to roll up the sleeves of her turtleneck. she props her elbow on the table, palm open and ready for you.

you giggle at your success, patting yourself on the back.

a small scoff slips past her soft lips. when your hand slides into hers, palms rubbing together, you almost feel like you're back to months ago, when you had held her hand for very the first time. the way her long fingers wrap around yours, how cool her skin feels, the firmness of her grip -- all of which you're now intimately familiar with, but nonetheless, the slow, intentional interlocking of hands just reminds you of how good it feels to have her be yours.

"okay," you mutter, shifting in your seat, a tense flow of anticipation washing through you. "three, two, one."

immediately, you force as much strength as you can into your arm, gritting your teeth and furrowing your brows in concentration. you glance at lee, nearly crying out at how composed she looks. her jaw is tense, and her mouth is tightly pressed together, yes, but she just watches your hands intently, blinking slowly at it, her breathing barely altered. meanwhile, you're gasping at her strength.

it takes approximately ten seconds before the back of your hand smacks down on the table. you wince, bottom lip jutting out as you lift and twist your sensitive wrist around. meanwhile, lee settles back into her seat, a small, satisfied curl to her lips.

"oh, shut up," you grumble.

she tenderly grabs the hand you're rubbing, her thumb's tip beginning to gently circle it, the ghost of her touch nearly turning you into putty. "I didn't say anything."

you grunt. "your stupid face says it all."

"I thought you liked my face?" her voice is lightened with an edge of teasing.

"no, no, we have an amicable relationship only."

her mouth twitches, the near-smirk immediately fading away when you make eye contact. you sigh. "what? what were you gonna say?"

she shrugs, mouth twisting in evident amusement. "nothing."

"just tell me, lee."

"I was just..." she glances nervously to the people surrounding you two, pulling your hand gently so you two can be closer. your breath trembles at the proximity. her voice trickles to a whisper. "I was going to ask if you sit on everything you have an amicable relationship with?"

"order 526!"

you groan, pushing her away, stomping towards the counter. she remains in her seat, fondly staring at you as you grab the paper bag and head out the doors, which does nothing to help in quelling the blush in your cheeks.

as you head out into the parking lot, you immediately shiver at the cold, bitter air hitting your face. almost as though she senses your discomfort, lee appears a moment later, sliding her arm into her jacket, hissing as soon as she feels the weather. she turns to you, wordlessly bending down to hook in your zipper and pull it up. flustered and in awe, you nearly shove your face into the takeout and scream in that moment, the urge only intensifying when she wraps an arm around your waist, leading you back to her car, which of course, she somehow memorized the exact parking spot of.

when seated in the car, her eyes flicker to you, mouth opening and closing.

you don't miss it. "what is it?"

her lips press together, and she avoids your gaze. "was that joke, um, okay? the one I just made?"

at once, your shoulders sag, melting into your seat. you lay a soft hand to her cheek. "baby, of course. I was just messing around when I left the table."

"no, no, I know," she says as she plugs her keys in, turning the car on. "I just hoped I didn't push it too far or make you feel... uncomfortable. I'm, well... worried I wouldn't be able to tell." her eyes are frozen on the wheel.

"you didn't, baby, I promise. okay?"

her wide eyes blink to you, and when you nod gently, her own head tilts in response. it's barely there, but you can see the way her shoulders relax at your confirmation.

you clear your throat, smiling bashfully to yourself. "plus, you may have somewhat had a point."

as she begins driving, the corner of her lip quirks up. "I know."

you smack her arm again.

upon your guys' arrival at her cottage, you saunter through the door, tossing your head back at her. "though, I think we ought to have a rematch."

she practically glides past you, as though the idea is of no serious consequence to her, heading to the kitchen to set the paper bag down. "is there a point?"

you bounce lightly on the balls of your feet. in truth, there really is no point to engaging in any sort of physically challenging competition with her. she's part of the fucking fbi, for crying out loud, her body's probably numb from all the damn training she's spent years doing. but, you're not bringing this suggestion up for the sake of proving her weak. you know you have no chance in that. the truth is really that you haven't been able to get her casual display of physical strength out of your head since you two left the restaurant. the way it didn't even take her a minute before she sent your arm plummeting to the table. just like how it is when you watch her work out, or when she carries heavy things for you, you're worked up. and play fighting with her -- well, it was just one of many fantasies and wants you haven't confessed to her yet.

as she exits the kitchen, peeling off her jacket, which is damp with snow, her eyes scan you carefully, observing you. "why are you looking at me like that?"

embarrassed to have been so quickly caught in scheming, you grab the fabric of her shirt that's clutching around her stomach, yanking her forward. "come, come, one more match."

"baby, I'm hungry."

"so, use this as motivation."

she searches your face, eyes glinting with an unspoken question, before finally sighing. "fine. another arm wrestle?"

you drag her to her bedroom. "no, play fight."

you feel her pause. "is this some sort of competitiveness?"

a laugh bellows from you. "it's just fun, lee."

when she speaks, her voice is small, as though she pities you for the admission. "I'm probably going to win, though."

as soon as you two enter her bedroom, you grip onto her forearm, using her surprise as an opportunity to push her onto the bed. she flings onto it, a small, monotone, "ah," coming from her, and your face cracks at the noise.

"someone spoke too soon," you muse, something churning in your stomach at the sight of her on her back, looking up at you, her pony tail messy with strands streaming out.

she flattens her palms on the comforter, lifting herself up, eyes widening when you push at her shoulders again, an action which sends her sinking into the mattress again.

"babe," she breathes, eyebrows scrunched together, creasing her forehead in confusion. when she starts shifting up again, her eyes are narrowed on you, hooked onto your every single move.

and so, you let her stand up, not wanting to lose. her shoulders are tense, as though she's poised and prepared for your every move. it causes an eager thrill to whirl within you, your stomach flipping at her focused gaze.

"why do you want to play fight so bad?"

you shrug, trying to level your voice. god, even when done for the sake of pure fun, it was hard to lie to her. "just to see how it feels."

when the corner of her lip tilts up, and she looks away with a little snarky huff, you seize the chance, lunging towards her to shove her down again.

your heart beats in your ears when her eyes dart up right before you can touch her, her hands snapping up to clutch at your wrists, whirling you around and pressing your front to the nearest wall. she holds your interlocked hands to your back in one hand, the other flat against the spot between your shoulder blades, pressing you in.

adrenaline shooting through you, you push all your force back into her, trying to send her flying back. but, she's too strong and too acutely aware of your moves now, and she keeps ahold of your wrists as she yanks you from the wall, practically throwing you on the bed.

you kick your feet out, trying desperately to grab ahold of any win you can. what you receive in response is lee's iron grip to your leg that keeps you in place, her body lithely crawling on top of you so her thighs lock in your other leg. you grunt loudly at the pressure, but inside, you're marvelling at just how strong your girlfriend is.

she straddles your hips, knees pressing against the plush sides of your body. when your hands flinch, readying to try to push her off, she's faster than you could dream, long fingers wrapping around yours as she pins them to the bed.

as the heat of the moment wears off, your breaths evening out, her actions of the last few moments soak into your mind, and with it, comes an ache between your legs. the sensation only seeps further into your abdomen when you come face to face with her burning eyes, which are wide with energy, her soft lips releasing warm puffs of air all over your face.

her head dips down to yours, strays of her brown hair tickling at your cheeks. "satisfied? this is how it feels." her voice, like most of the time, is flat, but it's also heavy, deeper, with the charge of the moment, and you squirm under her.

her eyes flick down to your crotch, mouth twitching in realization. "you're turned on."

"no," you whine, shaking your head. "I'm not, I just--"

"stop trying to lie to me," she cuts you off in a hushed voice, smooth and thick like caramel. it's so authoritative and steady, and you whimper at it.

at the meek sound you produce, she blinks down at you, a small, endeared smile on her face. "was this your plan since the beginning?" she pushes her strong thigh between your legs, pressing down. "since we picked up food?"

"no!" you exclaim, indignant at the suggestion (as though you hadn't been hatching a plan since post-restaurant). "no, that was genuine."

"then?" she whispers, her hand languidly sliding from your entwined wrists to down your body. she playfully squeezes a tit, thumb rubbing slow, light circles around your nipple, then continuing her way down. her palm rubs at your tummy, sneaking under your shirt, and you gasp at her cold skin against you. finally, she tugs at your belt, releasing it from your buckle, her gaze never faltering. "since we got home?"

"I... I..." you hesitate, your previous boldness practically dissipating now that you have to confess to her.

"you..?" she drawls out, hand slipping into your jeans. when her fingertips brush against your sodden underwear, she hisses. "god. you've been wanting for a while." she says it plainly, as an objective, hard fact, and her bluntness only makes you even more turned on. at your lack of answer, she tilts her head, waiting.

your voice is small. "yes, I've been wanting it for a while."

"you still haven't specified how long," she murmurs, lips diving to your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses along your skin, pausing to suck a rough, stinging mark, the lovebite leaving you writhing. "tell me."

you shoulders twist in pleasure from her ministrations. "I... you're right. since we got home."

she hums in response, three fingers pressing into your clit, the wet fabric of your underwear stickily clinging to your pussy. she pushes and rubs slow, firm circles against your longing bud, her teeth gently sinking into your shoulder, licking a long stripe to soothe it after you cry out. "are you just always in the mood or something?"

her tone is absent of bite, the words playfully mocking. and as frustrated as you are to admit it, you still let her words get a rise to you. you shake your head hard, nose wrinkling in disagreement. "no! I'm not easy or something--"

she suddenly pushes her thumb to your clit over your underwear, rubbing it side to side with enough pressure to send you tumbling into a slew of moans.

"what was that?" she nips at your jaw, thumb continuing to roughly toy with your clit, her longer fingers massaging against your wet mound.

"I said I'm not easy." the firm intent of your words is made less believable with your moans and whines, you know so. stupid lee.

"yeah?" her hand pushes past your underwear, and the feeling of her fingers directly against your dripping pussy has you crying out. she rubs your folds between her thumb and index finger, lazily playing with them as though she has all day to be exploring you. her knuckles brush against your swollen lips, and she dips two fingers in, dangerously close to sliding into your hole. "are you sure you want to keep fighting that argument?"

her fingers begin to stroke a bit deeper, slipping in, slipping out, the teasing motions sending your hips bucking. she leans her weight onto you more, keeping your hips stuck under her. "just admit it."

your mouth quivers, clit fucking throbbing for more. you can't help but give in. "fine. I'm, um, I'm easy."

"who are you easy for?"

you turn away, face growing warm. "I hate you, lee."

she ducks down, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "first, it was amicability, now hating me? it doesn't feel that way." to prove her point, she slips her fingers out, smearing your juices against your budging clit. her fingers become slippery against it, smoothly gliding along the bud, hard enough to send you clenching, but lacking in pressure enough to leave the burning in you unsated.

"well, it's true," you gasp out as she suddenly flicks her fingertips.

"mm, well, I suppose I should stop, then."

you groan in frustration, too needy to continue playing such games with her. "fine..." you eye her neck, which is shiny with sweat. "I'm easy for you, lee. I only want -- ah!"

you cry out loudly, nearly sobbing in pleasure when she finally pushes two fingers deep into you. she's ruthless, her fingers moving swiftly, her entire being completely in tune with the body she's lavished her attention on countless of times. her knees lock in, keeping your body still as her fingers curl in you, roughly pounding in and out.

"keep going," she demands, fingers thrusting in you so sloppily, your juices helping her reach in with ease. the sensation of her long fingers rubbing against your sensitive inner walls make you keen.

"I only belong to you," you moan, neck arching up. you'll do practically anything at this point, if it means she'll keeps going. and the longer she does go, the hazier your mind gets, inhibitions pouring away.

"again."

"I only belong to you, daddy." you pant, tongue hanging out as she continues to plunge her fingers into you, spreading you open. the feeling of her digits deep inside you is so distinct, so exact, and the intimacy of her truly being inside such a hidden spot of yours makes your mind hazy with adoration.

after a few more moments of nothing but gasps and moans, it sinks into you what you just said. you jerk up, hand flying to your mouth. oh my god. yeah... that is one of the things you never have told her about.

her movements slow down, and despite your humiliation, you let out a strangled noise.

she sucks in deep breaths, nostrils flaring. "did you just call me 'daddy'?"

you swallow hard, stomach tickling with the acute humiliation from having been caught saying it rather than introducing the idea in a dignified, or at the very least, fully clothed, conversation. "um, yeah. I'm so, so sorry. it just slipped out, I--"

your words melt into a relieved sigh when she presses her mouth down, pink lips slowly pressing and roving along yours. her tongue gently sinks into your mouth, and when you open wider, she slides it in, massaging your own wet muscle with hers. you gasp against her when her fingers begin to skim feather touches to your pussy lips.

"don't," she rasps out against your mouth. she pauses, before quietly admitting, "I liked it."

she meets you for another brutal kiss, lips hard with pressure, teeth gently clashing as her tongue flicks playfully against yours. at once, her thumb begins to circle your clit and the precipice of pleasure has you arching against her.

arousal courses through you as you register her confirmation. "you do?"

"mhm." she drops one last soft kiss to your mouth before her fingers easily slide into your hole again. you cry out at the sensation, and she sharply bites on your bottom lip, groaning into your mouth. she hesitates before saying, "call me it again."

your cry breaks into pieces at the request, hesitating before obeying her. "I-I... okay, daddy."

she sighs, pressing her forehead to your neck, hot gasps hitting your sweaty skin as her fingers speed up, jerking hard inside you. "there you go, baby. take it for me like a good girl."

you choke out a gasp at her words, hips impossibly unsteady. she pauses momentarily to slide her legs between yours. right hand still impossibly deep in you, she uses her left to bend one of your knees up, spreading you open even further.

she presses her torso flush against yours, fingers beginning to ram in you again. the way she's spread your legs out has her fingers' movements even more pronounced, and she has enough room now to tilt her palm up so that it presses into your clit with each thrust.

she bites her lip. "you hear that?" she goes silent for a few moments, nothing but the soaked squelching of your pussy ringing in the room. you softly whine, shivering at the noise and how exposed you feel. but, she doesn't back down. "your pussy is always so ready for me. sometimes I wonder if there's a moment where you aren't wet."

her chiding words have you trembling under her, your pussy beginning to latch on tighter.

she snickers softly, her laugh lines deepening as she smiles. in the midst of your guys' rushed, messy movements, fondness overtakes your chest at the sight. she's so lovely.

"so responsive," she murmurs against your cheek. "have you always been this good at being a slut?"

her words send you into submissive puddle, and you shake your head, whimpering. "no, daddy, only for you."

her eyes widen at the title, becoming heavy-lidded once she begins to speak, watching you fall apart under her. "that's right. this is my pussy. gonna fill you up every night and ruin anyone else for you."

you giggle, feeling nearly delirious with the mix of sensations. "yeah? you're so confident that you think no one else has a chance?"

a small, breathless laugh flies from her lips, and you feel the air of it hitting your skin. "I know no one else does." her forehead presses to yours and her tongue slips out, slowly stroking along your top lip, which parts from your bottom as soon as the contact hits. "the way you open up is proof enough."

your thighs clench at her honest words, burying your face in the sheets. "it's not my fault." your tone softens. "it feels too good, daddy."

something flashes in her eyes. you love what this little nickname seems to be triggering in her, as though each time you call it out, you're only tugging her deeper into her all-consuming state of dominance.

her jaw clenches and she presses the heel of her palm hard against your clit, which sends you squeezing on her fingers again, your orgasm fast approaching. "baby, I'm close, I--" you cry out as her fingers curl, hitting that deep spot in you. she starts relentlessly, ceaselessly pressing down on it, her palm still bumping against your swollen, stiff clit.

"I know, baby, I know," she breathes into your neck. "why don't you let go for daddy? come all over my fingers." her voice is shaking, but the command is firm.

god, fuck, that was so sexy. hearing her call herself it has your mouth hanging open, gasping, wanting her to completely take control of you. she smirks at the sight, grabbing your chin and roughly spitting into your mouth, the sudden noise resulting from it making you jerk up. as you feel her spit roll down your tongue and into your throat, your body twists in satisfaction, swallowing it down. you love when she gets like this -- so possessive and unhinged in her pursuit of your pleasure. she continues holding you in place, her gentle rubs along your cheek at total contrast to the fingers drilling into your hole, making you feel almost confused as to which sensation was which.

when you come, you spasm all over her fingers, walls fluttering and sucking her in, and she grunts as she struggles to continue fingerfucking you. but, she keeps going as best as she can, pushing and pulling, mindlessly sucking at your neck, until you whine for her to stop.

when she slips her fingers out, you feel suddenly empty, and you nearly beg for her to put them back in. but, the soreness that starts creeping in between your legs is enough to stop you. when you tell lee as much, she kisses your head, running a hot bath for you two.

in the warm water, you feel her chest, which is pressed to your back, suddenly rumble with silent laughter. when you turn to her curiously, her teeth flash as she chuckles gently.

"so, 'daddy,' huh?"

#🧍🏽‍♀️#hahahahaa #s.writing #lee harker x reader #lee harker #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs #longlegs fanfiction #nsft #scheduled #gonna be out when this postssss <33

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 days

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Diesel Is Desire, You Were Playing With Fire

A/N: It's still day six of @nessianweek, right? Just posting a teensy bit later than I intended! 😬 Anywho! What better way to celebrate Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed than the two of them being hot and covered in blood? And simping about it? Am I right? Hope everyone enjoys!

Read on AO3

The pounding in his head seems to radiate from the left side, a constant thrum near his temple and gnawing straight through his mind. It has a low ringing still niggling in his ears, has pressure building behind his eyes, as Cassian slowly opens them. The instant flare of light leaves him wincing, but as his eyes adjust, he realizes just how dim it actually is around him, most of the light spilling in from torches in the hall beyond.

Dim and damp.

There’s a cool dampness that clings to the air around him, to the stone pressing against Cassian’s cheek. With a soft grunt, he tries to push himself up into a seated position, only to find his hands bound, metal scraping and tugging at the skin of his wrists when he tries to move. He rolls over enough that his gaze can follow the chain of the shackles up and into the stone wall. Some more shifting brings his attention to the rope tightly bound around his wings, and he dares to test out the strength of the restraint, grunting in frustration when there's no give.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

A hand digs into Cassian’s hair, tugging against the wound there until he’s yanked up and into a seated position. He blinks a few times against the pain and comes face to face with the hard, brown eyes and arrogant sneer of Maelor.

Of course.

Of course, this male decided to pick back up the mantle that Kallon and his little band left behind. Cassian still remembers when Maelor was a youngling in the rings, over throwing punches and refusing to follow any orders.

“Are you finding your accommodations comfortable, General?”

Cassian hums, making a big show of looking around the room. He notes just how small the room is, the single exit along the opposite wall. The metal bars of the door look sturdy, but the rust on the hinges look promising.

“You could consider hanging some art on the walls,” Cassian drawls, flicking his gaze back to Maelor.

The male looks unimpressed with the comment, eyes flashing and teeth pulling back over his bared teeth. Cassian bites back a smirk. It’s too easy to get a rise out of the male. Barely through the Blood Rite means the male is still too green, still unseasoned about this sort of thing. And probably too stupid to have really thought through this little plan beyond the rage Maelor is letting get the better of him.

“But I suppose I’ve seen worse,” Cassian continues, shrugging his shoulders as much as his restraints will allow. “Than wherever here is.”

Maelor snorts. “Nice try. As if I’d tell you that. I’m not stupid.”

Cassian bites his tongue around his disagreement, against pointing out the obvious. “Can’t be too far from the western steppes where I was patrolling. I presume that’s where you attacked.”

“You didn’t even hear me coming,” Maelor tells him, puffing out his chest like a preening child. “You’re losing your touch, Lord of Bloodshed.”

“Still, we both know you don’t have the strength to carry or fly me that far, so let me guess, an old converted cellar in the deserted Wirmlowe camp?”

Maelor’s fists clenching is the only confirmation that Cassian needs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re still the one in chains. Still the one who will pay for your crimes against the Blood Brothers.”

“Blood Brothers? Really? That’s the name you decided on.”

The sound of the back of Maelor’s hand across his cheek is loud in the small space, ringing off the stone walls around them. Cassian chuckles at the display, another blatant show of the untampered emotions from an inexperienced warrior.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cassian tells him, working his jaw against the sting. “Nes likes my pretty face.”

“I don't have time for this,” Maelor mumbles, spinning on his heel and stalking back toward the door.

“There’s still time, you know. To let me go and pretend this whole thing never happened,” Cassian calls after him, shaking his head solemnly as he leans casually against the wall. “I mean it's your life on the line, but…”

Maelor whirls back around, that sneer back on his face. “Your precious High Lord isn’t coming for you.”

Cassian chuckles again. This male really is more stupid than he looks. “Oh, it's not Rhys you have to worry about.”

As if on cue, the door behind Maelor’s back explodes off its hinges, the force sending the male flying to the ground, the metal bars crushing him against the stones. Silver flickers and floods into the room, those flames echoed in a pair of eyes now standing in the open doorway. Now narrowed firmly on Cassian.

There’s no stopping Cassian’s grin at the sight. He’d felt that familiar warm thrum in his chest as soon as he’d come to. Felt that gentle tug that informed him the other end of that golden thread was drawing closer. And now here she stands, silver still simmering and weaving at her fingertips, leathers clinging to her frame, and hair pulled away to show off the sharp angles of her face. To give Cassian the perfect view of one of his favorite expressions painted across her face.

“One night. One date night, and you had to get yourself kidnapped.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart.”

Nesta steps further into the room, moving lithely over Maelor’s body with ease. “If you didn’t want to go to the ballet tonight, you could have just said.”

“You really think this was my doing?” Cassian asks, holding up his bound wrists in emphasis. “Think this is what I want?”

The left side of Nesta’s lips lift up into a smirk, the blue of her eyes sparking in that way Cassian’s always loved. “Well, we both do know how much you love to be tied up.”

“Only when it’s you doing the tying.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but there’s no hiding the fondness in her expression. It has Cassian’s grin stretching wider across his face, has warmth bubbling between his ribs. She finally turns her attention toward Maelor’s body, crouching down and rooting around until she locates the keys on his person. As she focuses on unlocking the shackle around each of Cassian’s wrists, he can’t help but stare at her face, especially so close to his.

All these years and it’s still such a problem for him, tracing the planes of her high cheekbones, the faint freckles that he knows are echoed more prominently across her shoulders, each dark eyelash framing a pair of icy blue eyes. Gods, he’s truly the luckiest male, and he’s sure his dopey smile only reflects the sentiment.

The shackle on Cassian’s right hand releases, and he winces slightly, taking a moment to flex his fingers and turn his wrist. It’s at that exact moment that shouts echo from above them, what sounds like thundering steps growing closer and closer.

“Didn’t you check the whole perimeter before storming in here?”

Nesta sighs through her nose, pressing the key into Cassian’s freed hand. “If you’re going to critique my rescuing, then you can rescue yourself next time.”

She pushes back to her feet, unsheathing Ataraxia. She resets her stance, lifting her sword aloft and readying for the rebels that come storming into the room. Four males by Cassian’s count, and the Mother only knows how many more there could be on the way. Each one wears a sneer, wears a look of pure rage and blood lust, and it’s all directed at Nesta.

Directed at his mate.

Cassian swears softly under his breath. He focuses his attention on unlocking the shackle around his left wrist, even as the clanging reverberation of metal on metal bounces off the walls around him. When he’s finally free, he scrambles toward Maelor’s body, unsheathing the male’s blade and jumping to his feet.

He’s quick to turn his attention toward the first male he sees in front of him. He’s as unseasoned and undisciplined as Maelor, the male’s tell before he strikes forward obvious. It’s almost too easy the way Cassian is able to parry the strike, and he sends the male’s sword skittering across the stone before he sinks his own into the Illyrian’s gut. When the male drops to his knees, Cassian finishes the job, the feel of warm blood across his knuckles all too familiar.

His eyes flit around the rest of the room, finding Nesta squaring off against two males. For a moment, he can do nothing but stare, but watch his gorgeous mate. Her feet move with all the grace and lithe speed of a dancer, parrying and dodging each male’s attempted strikes against her. Ataraxia arches through the air as she slashes across one of the male’s chest, blood splattering across her leathers, her cheek. She turns fully toward the other male, preparing to square off solely with him, but it means she doesn’t see the third male now approaching her from behind, in her blindspot.

There’s no stopping the red that floods Cassian’s vision, instincts roaring through his veins and clawing through his chest.

He rushes forward, the weight of the sword in his hands, the swing of it, second nature to him even with the unfamiliarity of this particular blade. The male crumples into a pile of limbs and blood, and Cassian turns back toward Nesta with a winning grin, his mate having already disposed of the other Illyrian male.

“You’re welcome.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at his teasing drawl, but then those eyes are widening. She lunges forward, and there’s a soft, gurgling grunt right by Cassian’s ear, the distinct sound of metal sinking into soft flesh. He turns his head and meets the unfocused gaze of a fifth male, Nesta flicking Ataraxia upward to finish the job before pulling it free.

“You’re welcome,” she mocks back, that teasing smirk back on her face. “You’re losing your touch in your old age, General.”

Cassian chuckles, reaching his non-sword hand up and trying to wipe the blood from Nesta’s cheek. It’s unfair really, the way she looks even more beautiful with the streak of red across her skin, the splattering that reaches up toward her brow. With the silver still simmering in her eyes, Cassian thinks he might be falling in love all over again.

He leans down, bumping his nose against hers. “Careful, Lady Death.”

“What the fuck?”

Cassian pulls back, turning just as three more males come rushing through the door and into the room, more footsteps still echoing from above. Cassian almost wants to laugh. How big could this rebel group be? There couldn’t really be that many males that wanted to follow Maelor of all people.

Either way, Cassian and Nesta reset their stances, settling back to back with their respective swords raised. It’s a practiced dance between them, the way they move so in sync. With every offensive strike forward that Nesta takes, Cassian takes a defensive parry back. They spin in place together, taking on and felling each Illyrian that dares to raise a sword against them.

Despite the familiarity of a sword in his hand, the weight of the borrowed one is not, the balance not quite right either. One lucky swipe by the male he’s facing, and the sword in Cassian’s hand goes sailing out of his grip. He quickly switches to hand-to-hand, landing a strong uppercut that knocks the male unconscious. Shaking out the throb in his knuckles, Cassian spins back toward Nesta, placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her steady.

“What are you doing?” Nesta gets out between gritted teeth, still swinging Ataraxia.

“I need a weapon. Hold still.”

Cassian shifts his hands up into Nesta’s hair, finding the dagger disguised as a hair pin that he knows is always hidden out of sight there. He pulls the dagger free, the golden brown strands of Nesta’s hair tumbling free down along her spine. Her hair sways and glints from the torch light with her every movement, and Cassian has to remind himself of the situation they’re currently in before he gets distracted again.

“You know,” Cassian begins, whirling back around and using the dagger to take down another male. “As far as date nights go…”

“Don’t you dare,” Nesta seethes, sweeping out a male’s feet from under him and driving Ataraxia into his chest.

“I’m just saying that–”

“Mother save me, you would be enjoying this.”

Cassian sinks the dagger into the neck of the Illyrian in front of him. “Can you blame me?”

With the last of the Illyrian rebels a crumpled heap against the stone floor, Cassian is able to return his attention to Nesta, to sweep his eyes over her and really take her in. Her hair hangs like a curtain around her face, framing it the way Cassian loves best, even with the blood now making a mess of the strands. There’s still blood on her face too, contrasting with the bright blue of her eyes, sparking and flaring with the adrenaline and magic still coursing through her. With Ataraxia still clutched in her bloodied hands and the Illyrian leathers clinging to her frame, she’s a dream. And with the half a dozen males slain by her hand at her feet, Cassian is almost embarrassed to admit how aroused he feels.

His mate. His wife. His Nesta.

“I’m only a male after all.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she sheathes Ataraxia, stepping closer into Cassian’s space and pressing up onto her toes so she can wrap her arms around his neck, pushing the rope from his wings and finally freeing them.

“Just so you know, this doesn’t actually make up for tonight.”

Cassian chuckles, sliding his own arm around her waist and tugging Nesta’s body flush against him, right where she belongs. “I’ll have Rhys see if the ballet can do an extra performance. Just for you, sweetheart.”

“Good. It’s the least you could do after I rescued you, you big bat.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

#NessianWeek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #pro nessian #nesta x cassian

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keelt9 · 2 days

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Chapter 5

Masterlist

Montreal definitely wins the trophy of the most rainy race until now. When we arrived in Canada, the sky was gray but nothing else. Now, with the beginning of media day, a pretty background with lightning appears earlier in the morning.

As Lewis kept working in his media duties, I was on the rooftop from the hospitality working in layouts Thomas sending me, one of my house and the other for the shelter.

The lighting makes someone curse as it goes up stairs, I giggle when Rosa appears grabbing her chest scanning the room.

“It’s just a lighting Rosa.” She scoffs and sits at the other side of the table.

“You've been working all this time?” I nod and raise an empty bag of snacks, following for a new one I just opened.

“And eating.” I saved the file to avoid a disaster before closing it and left it aside so I can talk to her without distractions.

Rosa takes the open bag and scrunches her nose. “Dried seaweed?”

I giggle. “I lost a bet with my brother, so he will be choosing my snacks for a whole week.”

Talking about the king of Rome, Lewis appears in the stairs already changed and pretty excited for the end of a media day.

“You punish her with snacks?” Rosa complained right away, Lewis rolled his eyes, sitting next to me. “She loves her snacks.”

Lewis looked at me as I stuck my tongue out. “She lost! Besides these are healthy ones.”

I laugh at the same time two lightning flashes appear in the sky.

“How can you work here? It’s windy, there's lightning and it’s starting to get cold.” Rosa looks at me, relaxing her lethal eyes; at least I have a hoodie to cover me from the wind.

Lewis shakes her hand. “Thank you. Is the same thing I told her.” He scans the rooftop; all the boys and girls of the cafeteria were already in the lounge. “Let’s go, you’re an amused person.”

“There is no one here.” I raise my hands as he takes my laptop.

Rosa ate seaweed and scrunched her nose standing, like her it took me a while to get used to the flavor.

“From far.” Next to us is the Red Bull hospitality, the upper floor is crowded with cameras and cellphones getting ready for record.

I stand and follow them with my bags in my hands. The salty flavor? Yes, I could get used to it.

The day of P1 came with a slight rain from time to time. I like the rainy days however I hate Lewis having to drive with this kind of weather.

“Take care ok?” I ask Lewis at the back of the garage. “I’ll be right here.”

Lewis smiles, grabbing my cheek. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry too much.”

Once the member of his team appears in the room, they are ready to go. Lewis smiles at me before walking away.

All the practice, I was pressing my hands together and cracking my finger trying to stay calm even when all is in total calm; it was until Lewis's car stopped and he got out of the car I could relax a little bit.

We don’t need any words, he just passes next to me and grabs my arm walking away with his team, he’s safe.

I heard indications that all the cars must be in the garage in 20 minutes, so I reached Bono who’s about to walk inside the room for the feedback with an innocent question in mind.

“Hey Bono, is there a problem if I go and walk along the track for a while?” I don’t see Toto coming too.

“Little H, give them 30 minutes and you can go.” Toto smiles entering the room.

Bono raises his shoulders. “You hear the boss.”

By the time I see the cars passing in front of the garage and George’s and Lewis’ getting inside too, I see my clock and 40 minutes have already passed.

“Take an umbrella.” Rosa said to me when she saw me walking out of the garage.

The sky is still cloudy, a few drops won’t hurt me.

“It’s ok, I’ll just be out for a couple of minutes.” I put on a huge black jacket. “This is enough.”

Rosa shakes her head as she keeps talking with her team.

It’s nice to get some fresh air; combined with the few drops over my head that made me feel relaxed, the loud noises from the tools, people and other equipment became distant after a while.

It was the sound of footsteps and faster breathing that made me turn around seeing Max trying to keep his suit race on at the level of his waist.

“Do you have something to do with the rain?” I stop, waiting for him. “In this week, every time there is a high chance of a storm you are sitting or walking around open space.”

Unintentionally the corner of my lips rises as I put my hands on my pockets. For the first time there is not this discomfort sensations with him.

“I believe you don’t have trouble getting wet, a little bit. Do you mind if I join to you?” I see Max with her big jacket too. “A quick walk along the track.”

I breathe in slowly and keep walking, he remains in his spot, so I turn around but don’t stop walking.

“You coming right?” Max smiles make me smile.

For 40 minutes Max told me about old races on rainy days with stories about mistakes that almost turned into a disaster and funny moments he could remember, the way he speaks and the fact his hands seem to do it too actually made me laugh a couple of times.

Even from time to time I challenge myself by asking him a few questions about him and his first years of racing.

“Aren't you curious? What will be living a day with so many things happening around you.” Max chuckles.

“I mean, I don’t mind being anonymous from time to time.” We’re walking back to the garage, our clothes weren't damped. The rain stops after a while leaving us with windy weather. “Still, I curious about something.”

He stops talking, making me curious, looking at him. “About?”

“Trying to figure out what you are thinking when you look at me in that way.”

I laugh lightly, it’s not a big change I have towards him, still he notices it. “I guess you're winning the benefit of the doubt.” After all, every conversation we had before I cut it out rudely, this is clearly different.

“I’m taking a pole position?” I genuinely smile at him before turning my face away.

“You have your moments.” The posture of Max relaxes, his shoulders go down even his steps seem light.

He keeps talking about a lot of things and I carefully listen to him until the paddock is a few meters away from us, time to split.

“I can get used to being surprised by you.” Max said, as we reached the main gates. We visibly relax even if our jackets are clearly wet.

He looks at the garages and smiles in a wily way. “The Red Bull garage has a nice spot to see the race. Maybe next time you don’t mind seeing different colors in a car.”

“I have a busy diary.” I take my hands from my pockets. “Besides, I'm in the Mercedes team right now.”

Before I could say something else I see Lewis coming out of the garage zone talking with Rosa going to the hospitality.

“I have to go, thanks for walking with me, Max.” I didn’t even reach to give 3 steps when multiple questions attacked my mind.

Bloody hell.

“Max.” I walk back where he remains standing. “I can make you a space… maybe.”

My phone buzzes the photo Roscoe appears on the screen, it’s Lewis.

Max didn’t say another word, making me feel shy, so I turned around to keep walking.

“I’ll take it as a <yes>!” Max shouts out as a wide smile appears on his face.

The following days were great for Lewis, he started the race from the second row, making him reach the third position. For my peace I watched the race from the paddock even when the rain stopped hours earlier; there some part of the track still wet, from T.V was hard to see.

Lewis reached me in the hospitality room covered in champagne and a big smile on his face.

“Congrats!” I stop before hugging him. “Save the hug for later.”

We high five as he goes to change for the last interviews he had for the day, and we can fly right away to home. We don’t want to miss any birthday of the family if we can be there, even if Lewis could be there just for one day.

I spent that week in London making a quick trip to Newport to see the progress of the house.

“Are you taking Roscoe with you?” Thomas asked as we stood seeing the people working, Roscoe next us.

“Of course, it’s Austria. Besides, after that I'll be in Monaco for a couple of days sending my things back to London.” I get down, kissing Roscoe's face. “He gives great advice for packing.”

Thomas laughs. “Have you already mentioned something to Lewis?”

I sigh. “I will, in Monaco.”

After long days of thinking and talking with friends and family I decided it’s time to stop my travels around the world; with the places set for the shelter and my house along the crucial moment of finishing the project, I need a place to stay calm and be close in case something comes up. That’s why the last GP I will be with my brother, be the one previous to summer break.

“Are you sure? I mean I can keep you informed about every single thing if you need.” Thomas already suggested to me at least I should close this season with Lewis.

“Do you know how tiring it is to travel every week?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “This is temporary, I don’t want you to screw my house.”

Thomas scoffed and put his arm around my shoulder looking around. He, like Mika, stands next to me in the worst times, making me aware every day, if I feel the strength left in my body, I always can lead on them.

“This is a nice place to start, after all.” Roscoe barks, calling for us to pay attention. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll make this a fortress but at the same time I built a nice garden for you.”

It’s the bulls house, so a lot of his colors were in the fences and every visible place. We arrived in Austria one day before the race, but Lewis suggested that Roscoe and I stay in the hotel, by the time we arrive they would probably be finishing the qualy.

So that’s what we do, Roscoe and I relax in the hotel near to the pool when Lewis reach us. Roscoe immediately notices him running, pretty excited for the way his little tail moves.

“Hi there.” Lewis hugs me sitting next to me. “How was the flight?” He asked if we didn’t take his jet with us.

“Calm, private.” He laughs. “A tricky day tomorrow, right?”

Lewis bluffs and assents. “Not the best spot, but we will work on that tomorrow. Anyway, are you hungry?“

Roscoe barks. “We do.” Lewis chuckles while standing so we can go to eat something.

We came back at night tired and stuffed, as I told him the idea of Thomas about the refuge like me, he’s pleased.

“Oh, I have the tickets for the race.” Lewis invited them to the GP of Silverston, the next race in two weeks. “I’ll give it to you at home, ok?”

As we’re waiting for the lift, Roscoe barks when the door opens, Leo in Alex's arms.

“Young boy, hi.” I greet Leo when they come out. “Charles, Alex, goodnight too.”

The couple giggles and lets Leo on the ground for the dogs to say hi.

“Y/N, Max was looking for you.” I choke with my own saliva winning the eyes of three people and two dogs.

“Are you all right?” Alex asks but I just nod. Thankfully the people who were waiting came out in the other lift, avoiding the talk.

Inside of the lift, I feel Lewis' eyes on me. “You’re taking Roscoe for the night? I ask, trying to switch the topic keeps floating in the air.

“Yeah, I’ll take him to the track.” He simply answered and didn’t say anything else. When the lift reached my floor I thought I would avoid an uncomfortable talk.

“See you tomorrow.” I kiss both of them but Lewis holds the door for a second.

“You know you can talk with me about everything, right?” I almost avoid it.

“I know.” I reassure him with a smile waving my hand as the door closes.

In my room, I hide my face on the bed, feeling embarrassed, but the constant buzz of my phone makes me answer the video call.

“Jesus! You scare me!” Mike fakes surprise for my messy hair. “Are you blushing?”

Oh my word, I shake my head, and breath in trying to calm.

“Is that all?” Mika giggles and raises her hand.

“Hey, it’s quick, the green one or the blue one?” She raises two dresses in front of her.

“Is it for your date with Thomas?” I wink at her, now who’s blushing.

Thomas and Mika had a couple of dates, claiming it’s just a friend's meal, but I’ve seen the way they look at each other, and that’s a lame excuse.

“Y/N, focus.” I laugh but I choose the green one. “I have time, you can talk all the time you want.”

Mika, every time she’s nervous, she talks without anything could stop her.

In the middle of our talk about a funny consultation she had that morning, a soft knock on my door distracted me.

“It’s ok, I almost finish.” She is straighten her hair.

I shake my head, I wasn't waiting for anyone. “No, it’s ok, Lewis knocked three times before entering.”

After a few seconds, I hear the knock one more time, maybe it’s important after all.

“Sorry Mika.” She smiles and stands in front of the camera giving me a full look of her. “He’s done.”

Mika winks before saying goodbye to hanging out.

I walk to the door, as I was talking with Mika I change my clothes for my pjs, I open without even asking, the tiredness taking my body, and close it right away.

Max is at the other side of the door in black shirt with black bags.

After a long breath, I opened it one more time. “Sorry, you took me by surprise.”

Max nod and clear his throat. “Sorry, it’s late I know but …” His cheeks are softly turning pink. “Here.”

It's a VIP pass, I choke my head. “Thanks? I mean, I already have one.” I take it from his hands turning around. I see it, it’s from RB garage.

I bite the inside of my cheeks, feeling awkward. “You know I don’t mean a right away invitation, right?”

In Max's face you can see the confirmation of his worst scenario.

“Of course, I imagine that so I came prepared. This is for any GP, when you feel ready to come.” He has that cute smile one more time.

I nod and keep it. “Good night Max.”

“But.” He closed his eyes. “I'll make my open invitation valid.”

This boy confuses me so easily.

“Checo mentioned you visited Lewis constantly, right?” I nodded slowly. “Would you have a walk with me next time?”

His eyes were closed one more time so he didn't see me smiling at him.

“It's not for being rude but when I'm in Lewis' home it is practically for me to be working on endless paperwork or packing some things I have there…So, I don't have so much time for walking around.” Isn't a lie but I hope Max doesn't feel I turned him down in a rude way, again.

“Perfect! I could help you with that.” He surprised me that I couldn't answer right away. “If you don't mind, of course.”

“Mhm, no, I…I…I don't want you to feel bored or anything like that, so it's ok, we can leave it open.” My mind is struggling to find another excuse.

“It's ok, I don't mind, we talk more comfortably.” He answered calmly, extending his hand for a shake.“Deal?”

I tightened my fist, he raised his eyebrows in a funny way.

I take his hand. “Deal.”

Lewis is right, the race for him simply doesn't go as he expects leaving him in the 8th position.

After his interviews he always finds a moment of calm along Roscoe; who as typical of him steals glances and hearts from everyone.

When finally we can go home, I see in the RB hospitality a lot of people with happy and exciting expressions, and the multiple race winner in the middle of it.

“Ready?” Lewis asked, coming out ready to go.

“Yeah, let's go.” I take a last look at a victorious Max.

By the second day in Monaco Lewis forgot he had tickets for the Roland Garro in France, he invited me too but there are things to send to London in a few days.

“Are you going to be fine?” Lewis asked, giving Roscoe a piece of celery.

“Sure. We wait here for you to take us home.” Lewis giggles. “Have fun, we have a lot of packing and arrangements, don't worry.”

It's been half of a week in Monaco and Max doesn't give any signs of life, so he probably gets it that being stuck inside of the apartment when he can enjoy the no race week, is a waste of time.

“Hey, it's okay if I invite a friend to help me with…?” Although I couldn't avoid asking

“It's your house too.” He stands to cut more fruit for us. “I'll be back Wednesday night.”

“Is anything granted, just in case.” Roscoe sees me and growls a little bit. “What?” I whisper to him.

Roscoe walks to his bed taking with him the fluffy lion. “And you’re judging me?”

“I promise, when you come to my new house, I'll make more than pancakes.” Roscoe licked his nose before we came out of the building.

I turned to my left slightly, then I saw Max in casual jeans walking inside the building.

“This isn't…Come here, baby.” Roscoe follows me as we follow Max reaching him outside of the lift. “Max?”

He turns around surprised to find us.

“Hi, I was about to go up.” He petted Roscoe's head. “I guess you're already finished, right?”

“For the…” He nods. “No, I mean, yes, I…I could say that.” I cover my eyes trying to put my ideas in order.

“I mean, yes, I already finished, my brother helped a lot.” Max put his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry, I have a busy week and well, it would be weird if I call Lewis for he let you know that.” He laughs.

“It's ok, I just have to close a few boxes and put in order a couple of files, I appreciate you coming.” He smirks, I narrow my eyes.

“I will help you with that.” I shake my head. “A good talk will be helpful after all these days.”

That's how we end up in Lewis apartment putting tapes over the boxes and putting papers in order.

Max was entertaining with something until I realized he was reading the papers of the refuge.

“This is yours?” I nod but I don't take it so much importance. “You have a refuge?”

I walked to see what caught his attention, the sketch of the logo. “Not yet.”

Max sits on the floor reading carefully as he keeps asking me questions about the refuge and all related too; without realizing I ended up telling him about my journey with this project sitting in front of him, on the floor of Lewis living room.

“This seems pretty good, of course I'm not an expert but hey.” He lifted the paper with the final sketch. “This is awesome.”

I feel flatter even with an unusual warmth on my cheek.

“I’m afraid.” I let it out without a filter. “I know I can deal with something like this is just…” I see Roscoe sleeping peacefully. “I don't want to let down anyone, especially Lewis, not after…”

The imagene of Lewis holding me tight on those dark days helps to realize Max's eyes shift, it’s like looking at a calm sea..

“I just don’t want to mess up anything.” Max stretched his back giving me the papers.

“Listen, if you ever need a hand, give me a call.” He stands and picks up his phone, I didn’t even realize someone is calling him. “Just a second.”

He walks to the other side of the room giving me time to calm down a little bit, when he comes back, apologizes but he has to go. I walk with him until the door to say goodbye, just when he walks away…I notice something different.

“Hey Max!” He turns around, raising his eyebrows. “Thanks…for everything, the talk, the packing, the vitamins.”

Max smiles and takes a deep breath, speaking in a teaser tone. “Well, I scored some points for a small visit to the garage.”

My answer is a small smile which makes him press his lips together while containing a smile.

When he goes into the lift I walk back to the living room, shaking my head and putting the last papers in their respective box, but at the corner of one of the sketches Max was seeing there was a small note, along with his number.

>+1 ;)

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