#I should wear her to cons more often

[blown-blooms]

And if not, there must be more than one way to skin a cat, If you'll... pardon the expression.

[queenshelby]

Uncle Tommy (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Niece Reader

Warning: Smut, Incest, Taboo Relations, DDLG, Dub-Con

And yes, this was a request! Please comment and engage!

It was during the month of August that you moved back to Birmingham after having spent almost twelve years travelling with your mother Esma after your father died and whilst your mother disliked the idea, you were eighteen now and to put it bluntly, you were no longer a child and had to make your own decisions.

Your mother had met and married another man a few years ago, and you had no desire to be a burden on their newfound happiness so, when your Aunt Polly suggested for you to move in with either her or your Uncle Tommy, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Your Uncle Tommy had horses and you had always loved the idea of working with them, so it was an easy decision to move in with him. Your Uncle Tommy had a new wife. She was his third wife and whilst you thought that living with a man like him and his newfound love would be slightly awkward, you settled in easily. 

After a few days, you began to feel more comfortable in your new surroundings, enjoying your work with the horses and even though you had not seen your Uncle Tommy for over 12 years beforehand, he seemed genuinely happy to see you.

You came across as bright, intelligent and respectful and found yourself in your uncle's office quite often, helping him with paperwork and other business-related tasks. However, there was something peculiar about your Uncle Tommy. Something that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but also somewhat exited when he was around, although you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

He was a mid-forty-year-old attractive man with a commanding presence, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. You never remembered him like this from your childhood. Now he seemed to have acquired a distinguished elegance - a byproduct, perhaps, of his wealth and power.

It wasn’t just his looks, but also the way he carried himself. Confident, commanding, yet respectful. He treated you like an adult and didn’t hesitate to give you the responsibility you craved.

But then, occasionally, you felt as though he made some advances towards you which you were not sure whether or not you should reciprocate. He was your uncle after all. He was a married man, and you were in a relationship with a good young man who happened to be working in your uncle's factory. 

On occasion, your uncle would put a stray hand on your waist, his fingers lightly tracing your curves as he leaned in close to whisper something mundane, his warm breath tickling your ear in a way that made you shiver.

You would quicken your pace, eager to escape the alluring pull of his nearness and return to the comfort of your own room. However, sometimes, you got lost in the moment, in his mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you.

One evening, after a particularly long day of work with the horses, you found him in the study.

He was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. His eyes were focused on some documents in front of him, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"Uncle Tommy," you said softly, not wanting to disturb him.

He looked up, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were wearing a simple dress that hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under his gaze.

"Come in, Love," he said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something," you said finally. "It's about James, the young man I am seeing," you told him, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.

"What about him?" your uncle asked , setting his glass aside and giving you his full attention. There was a hint of something in his tone that you couldn't quite place, but it made you feel slightly uneasy.

"Well," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I just wanted to let you know that we're getting serious. I think we might even get engaged soon which means that, maybe, I would be moving in with him."

Your uncle's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes that made you feel uncomfortable.

"Love, you are fucking 18 years old, " he said, his voice low and controlled. "You should not be making decisions like that yet," he said honestly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he looked at you thoughtfully.

"I respect your feelings for this young man," he said finally. "But I urge you to be careful, eh? Don't be a fool. You are a fucking Shelby and you  do not commit yourself to just anybody," your uncle said and you sat there in silence for a moment, digesting his words. You knew he was right, of course. You were young and had a whole life ahead of you. You should not make any rash decisions, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"I understand Uncle Tommy, but I really love him,"  you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your uncle chuckled in response before leaning over the desk and caressing your cheek.  His touch was gentle, but the heat of it sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and danger at the same time.

"You are a beautiful young woman Y/N, " your uncle said, his voice dripping with suggestion. "And you deserve much better than a factory worker like him who seems to have no fucking aspirations to become anything more, eh," he added, his fingers tracing your jawline.

His fingers lingered longer than necessary, and you felt a strange heat spreading through your body. You knew you should pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. Instead, you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your heart racing as your mind filled with forbidden thoughts just before his wife walked into the study.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she entered the room, her eyes flickering between you and your uncle.

Your uncle quickly withdrew his hand, his face becoming impassive as he greeted his wife with a warm smile.

"No, it's alright, love. Y/N and I were just having a discussion about her future," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

You quickly stood up, eager to escape the tension in the room, but you took what your uncle had said to heart. You knew that he was right and, over the next few weeks, the relationship between you and James became strained.

A few weeks later...

It was around 10 o'clock when you heard a knock on the door of your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, reading a book and trying to clear your mind. 

"Come in," you called out, setting your book aside and straightening your posture as the door opened and your uncle stepped inside.

He looked striking as ever, his hair perfectly styled and his suit tailored to perfection. His eyes scanned over you in a way that made you feel both excited and slightly uneasy.

"Uncle Tommy, what are you doing here?" you asked as he entered your bedroom, closing the door behind him, before sitting down by your side.

"I just came to check on you, Love," he said , eyes gleaming as he looked at your young and naive figure. "To see if you were doing alright," he continued, running his fingers ran through your hair. "Frances told me that you have been having some problems with this boy you were seeing," he then admitted  , with a hint of concern in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for the attention, and somehow, comforted. You thus sat up next to him, wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, confiding about what happened between you and James.

"We had a little argument because he wants things that I am not ready for, you know. So, I have distanced myself a little from him for now and it's really making me sad," you answered honestly, and your uncle nodded before resting his hand on your bare thigh. 

Your uncle's touch sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, his skin was warm and rough, you leaned in slightly towards him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Well, I told you before Love, you deserve better than a boy like James fucking McFallon, eh," your uncle said with a gentle voice, running his fingers up your thigh, causing you to shiver.

"Now, tell me though Sweetheart, he didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, did he? Because if he has, then I will need to deal with him,"  Thomas said, his voice a low growl.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and safety in your uncle's presence. You knew that he would always be there for you and protect you from anything that could harm you.

"No, he didn't. I just didn't want to take the next step with him yet," you said softly, looking up at your uncle.

His fingers were still tracing their way up your thigh, sending tingles throughout your body.

"And he hasn't touched you in any placed you didn't want to be touched, has he?"  Thomas asked, looking into your eyes with that piercing blue gaze.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, in your rather naive mind, causing your uncle to chuckle.

"I mean, he hasn't touched you down here without your consent , has he?" Thomas clarified, his hand vaguely brushing over your clothed sex.

You felt a sudden heat rising to your cheeks as your uncle's words finally sunk in.

"No, he hasn't. I wouldn't allow it," you said, but your voice wavered slightly, giving away your uncertainty as your uncle's eyes gleamed as he nodded his head, pleased with your answer.

"Good, because if he had touched you right there without your consent, then would have had no choice but to fucking cut him, eh?"  Thomas said, as he gently caressed your cheek with one hand while rubbing his fingers over your panties with the other, before pulling the fabric to the side. 

You froze almost immediately , tensing up as you tried to comprehend what your uncle was doing.

"Uncle Tommy, you shouldn't touch me down there, I think," you stammered while, at the same time, inadvertently spreading your legs.

"You are right Love, I probably shouldn't. But doesn't it feel nice when I touch you there?" Thomas whispered as you rubbed his thumb over your clit, creating a strange wetness between your folds.

"It feels really weird, Uncle Tommy," you moaned as your uncle started to move his thumb in a circular motion, building up a strange and unfamiliar ache in your lower belly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas asked, his voice husky and full of desire as he slowed down his movements, waiting for your answer.

"No, don't stop," you panted , your body coming alive under his touch.

Thomas smiled and resumed his previous pace while feeling himself grow hard beneath the confides of his pants.

"Do you think I could have a closer look at your treasure, Sweetheart? I would love to see that beautiful little hole of yours now, because it is getting so nice and wet for me,"  your uncle whispered in your ear while slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

"Uncle Tommy, I don't know if that's a good idea," you said, gasping slightly as you felt your uncle's fingers touch your intimate areas.

"I promise, Love, I will make you feel really nice down there," Thomas reassured you, sliding his index finger over your wet folds. 

"Okay , but just this once," you agreed, reluctantly but with a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Good girl. Why don't you lie down for me , Love?" Thomas suggested, removing his index finger from your wetness and giving you a soft pat on your bottom, encouraging you to lie back down on the bed.

You didn't resist and followed your uncle's instructions, biting your lip as he slipped off your panties, leaving you bare before him.

Thomas couldn't help but admire the sight of your body laid out before him. Your legs were slightly parted, giving him a glimpse of your beautiful, wet sex. Without warning, he then spread your labia open with his fingers, exposing your clit and inner folds.

"Such a beautiful sight, eh" Thomas whispered while gently tracing your folds with his index finger, causing you to shiver at the touch.

"You are simply stunning, Love," Thomas continued, awe in his voice as he leaned down to get a closer look.

"Have you ever put your fingers inside your little tressure box here?"  Thomas asked, his voice low and deep as he gently circled your clit with his thumb.

"No, I don't think I have," you replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves as your uncle asked you such a personal question.

"Would you like me to be the first one to do it?" Thomas asked, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"I-I don't know," you stammered, feeling yourself flush at the thought. "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, biting your lip as your uncle's fingers continued to explore your wet sex.

"Only for a moment, Sweetheart. But I promise, it will feel so good after that," Thomas reassured you, before slowly and gently running his index finger over your wet sex again. 

"Okay , let's try it," you agreed, feeling yourself getting more and more aroused by your uncle's actions and words.

Thomas couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as, very carefully, he pushed his index finger inside your tight sex, feeling your inner walls clench around it.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, as your uncle's finger penetrated you for the first time. It felt strange and unfamiliar, but also incredibly pleasurable.

"How does it feel, Love?" Thomas asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"It feels...weird, but also kind of nice," you replied, finding it hard to put your feelings into words.

"Good, that's great Love," Thomas praised you, as a proud smile appeared on his face. "Now, I want you to relax and breathe deeply while I move my finger inside of you, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, taking deep breaths as your uncle slowly moved his finger in and out of your sex. It was an odd sensation, but also incredibly arousing.

You couldn't believe what was happening in this moment, but at the same time, you couldn't deny that it felt incredible. Thomas's fingers were now exploring every inch of your wet sex, causing you to moan and writhe in pleasure beneath him.

"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas groaned, as his finger moved deeper inside of you. "But I think I can get a second finger inside without breaking your barrier," he said tentatively  , looking deep into your eyes for consent.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, but you also couldn't deny the arousal that was building up inside of you. You nodded your head in agreement, and Thomas slowly slid in a second finger, causing you to gasp at the feeling of being stretched.

"That's it, Sweetheart. Just relax and breathe," Thomas whispered softly in your ear, as he continued to move his fingers in and out of your wet sex.

The feeling was still strange and unfamiliar, but the pleasure that accompanied it quickly overshadowed any discomfort you might have felt earlier. Your breathing became heavier and more ragged as your uncle's fingers continued their slow, teasing movements.

Thomas could feel your body tensing up beneath his touch, so he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more, "You're doing great, Love. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

He moved his fingers slowly at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being penetrated in this way. He could feel your tight walls gripping his fingers, and he knew he had to be gentle.

"Oh God," you moaned, your head falling back as you felt your arousal build. "Something strange is happening," you admitted, as you could feel a pressure building up inside of you, along with a warmth spreading throughout your body.

"Explain it to me, Sweetheart. What do you feel?" Thomas asked again, his fingers still working their magic inside you.

"It feels good, but I feel like I am about to wet myself," you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

"That's good. This means you are close," your uncle said as he started to circle his thumb faster on your clit, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you at the same time.

"Let go, Sweetheart," Thomas coaxed you. "Don't hold back, just let it happen."

You listened to your uncle, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the sensations rippling through your body. His words were like a switch, releasing all remaining tension and inhibitions, sending you crashing over the edge in a dizzying wave of pure pleasure.

"That's it, Love. Let it all out," Thomas encouraged you with a gentle smile, as he watched you ride this new and exciting experience.

"Oh my god. Oh fuck," you moaned as your body trembled and shuddered, the pleasure radiating outwards from your core  , pooling in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Your orgasm hit you hard and strong as you released your wetness all over your uncle's hands, leaving you panting and sweating. You squirted for several seconds, leaving the sheets soaked and you blushing with embarrassment.

"I-I didn't know that could happen," you stammered, your cheeks flushed red as you tried to regain your composure as Thomas carefully pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your thigh, as he studied your expression. Your face was flushed bright red, and you looked utterly spent.

"How are you feeling, Love?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.

You blinked dazedly up at him and nodded slowly. "I...I'm okay, I think," you finally answered, your voice still trembling slightly as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Thomas smiled at you and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "Good," he said simply before standing up, leaving your side for a moment.

You watched him through hooded eyes as he walked towards the en-suite bathroom, before returning with a warm washcloth to gently clean you up. His touch was tender, caring and you ought to ask whether you had indeed wet yourself , but you couldn't summon the words. He then threw the washcloth into a nearby hamper before reclaiming his prominent position on your bed.

"Don't be embarrassed, Love. That's completely natural," Thomas murmured softly as he traced the curve of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling down at your amazed expression.

"I've just never... felt anything like that before," you admitted shyly, feeling just slightly overwhelmed by how strong your reaction had been.

"It wasn't bad, though. In fact, I think I might like it," you added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at your uncle. "Do you think I could make you feel that good too?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at your uncle with wide eyes.

"I am sure you can, but not tonight, Love. Tonight was all about you," Thomas replied, his voice gentle and soothing. "There is no need to rush things, we have all the time in the world," he added affectionately, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead once more.

"Now, why don't you have a rest and we can revisit this tomorrow if you like," Thomas suggested, as he tucked the blankets around you, tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You watched him as he turned off the lights and left your bedroom, before letting your heavy eyelids fall closed and slipping into a peaceful sleep.

T

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[echoofadream]

sub!Geto Suguru x fem!dom!reader

This is my first fanfiction so i don't know if it turned out to be what you wanted. It took very long to write and it was a tough process because I tried to make Geto's behavior as canonically accurate as I could. I also got carried away and kinda invented a plot and an OC? Not entirely sure, but I wanted to give the reader a name so your name in this one is Terumi Rei. If you like it and want me to make her an OC and give her a story and more depth please tell me! I hope you'll like it!

Synopsis: you're Geto's money-collecting monkey and one day you stop paying him so, instead of coming to kill you, he puts a curse on you. When you've had enough of both his curse and the fact that he wasn't coming to you, you go to his temple yourself.

Contains: smut, femdom!reader (woman, lady, miss, mommy), dub-con (??), masturbation (m!), oral (m! giving), p in v, cowgirl, unprotected sex, creampie, bondage?(hands tied with a belt), overstimulation, degradation, begging, mentions of murder (please tell me if I forgot to add anything else)

Being the CEO of one of the most known businesses in Japan had its perks...and its downsides. One of them were the disturbing dreams you've been having lately as a result of a certain man's bank account being, well, emptier than it should. Were you afraid? No. Were you mad? Extremely. You've slept three hours this week and it was Friday afternoon. You were stressed and tired and angry. So you did the most logical thing you could and that was paying him a visit.

The sound of your heels on the floors of the temple echoed as you made your way to his office. At some point you were, of course, stopped.

"May I help you, miss?"

In front of you stood a man. He was a foreigner, that much you could tell from the color of his skin and his poor accent. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in your outfit. A white dress shirt with a black vest on top, a tie around your neck and wide leg trousers. High heels matching the belt and the purse, and gold bracelets around your wrists, as well as manicured nails.

"You're rich, aren't you?" he asked with a smirk on his face. He wasn't looking you in the eyes right now, but you could tell that he had already figured out the reason you were there. He kept eyeing a certain spot behind you, the same grin on his face.

"I'm here to see your boss. I don't have time for your stupid questions. Let me pass" you say, your face more angered than expressionless, your tone more assertive than it should've been in the presence of a man who could kill you without breaking a sweat.

"You have a big mouth, lady. You should keep it shut more often" he says, becoming serious and looking into your eyes again, leaving alone the "inexistent" thing behind you.

"And you should let me pass. You wouldn't have half the stuff you have if it weren't for my money. Move"

He frowns but doesn't get to say anything more as the door behind him opens and a man wearing buddhist robes approaches the two of you, a close-eyed smile on his face. You cross your arms in front of you. He looked so careless. His face seemed relaxed, his body language wasn't threatening and he actually seemed in a good mood.

"Good afternoon, miss Terumi" he says, his tone gentle, as though he was happy to see you. "What do I owe the visit?"

You don't answer, instead you keep giving him the same ugly look which was contrasting his joyful expression. He sighs. "We shall talk inside my office then"

He starts walking towards the room he just exited and you follow him, annoyed at his demeanor. Once you closed the door you turned around to face him. In the meantime he had already made himself comfortable, sitting on his low pedestal, legs spread and elbow on his arm rest. This man was laying on the mat on the floor and he called this chamber an office. The fact that he lived in this world, so much more different than yours made you want to punch his smile off his face.

"What's behind me, Geto?" you ask, trying not to yell at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, miss. Though you look awful. Do you get enough sleep?" He faked his concern for you and that only annoyed you more.

"I would if I didn't have that thing haunting me" you say, lifting your right arm and pointing with your thumb behind yourself. Geto chuckles.

"It's on your left side" he says, visibly amused.

"I'd prefer it if it wasn't at all"

"Then pay me, miss Terumi" he says, smiling at you innocently as though putting a curse on you for not paying him was the morally right thing to do. In his mind it actually was.

You step closer to him, slightly struggling to walk over the tatami mats on the floor, since your heels were digging into the material. "I paid you 10 million yen last month. I'm in the middle of signing a contract and I can't afford to spend more money. I'm not giving you any"

His face darkens. "I suppose you don't value your life then" he says. The tension in the room begins to grow. There were only the two of you there, but it felt as though his piercing purple eyes weren't the only ones staring at you with ill meaning. Despite the heavy pressure you felt on your shoulders, you took a step closer to him. His eyes narrow and his mouth shapes in a disgusted manner, as though he just tasted something horrible.

"Don't come any closer, monkey!" he orders, his normally soft and gentle voice filled with disdain. 

"You're utterly stupid, Geto"

His eyes open wide and he gets up from his seat, raising his voice. "What did you just say to me?!"

"You're deaf too?"

"You..." he starts, clenching his fists.

"I'd be dead by now if you wanted to kill me" you say, a smirk forming on your face. "Why am I breathing? I'm not giving you any money yet I'm still standing. Why?"

"Don't force my hand, monkey!"

"Firstly, I'm a public figure. If I disappear the police won't rest till they find me-"

"And you think I give a fuck?!"

You sigh. "Of course you don't. Why am I giving this monologue anyway? I'll be frank. I got fed up with your death threats. Give you money or I die. I'm done, Geto. I'm done with this. If you want my money you're gonna give me something in return"

He bursts out laughing, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Me? Give something...to you? Woman, you're alive because I allow it"

"And your girls have nice clothes because I gave you the money"

"Don't bring them into this!" the man snaps, pointing his fingers at you. "I have other means to get money. You're not special"

You stand there without saying anything. The smirk doesn't leave your face, and you cross your arms in front of you, as though you were waiting for a little boy to finish throwing his tantrum.

"I'm going to kill you"

"You don't sound convinced"

"I swear you monkeys are getting more and more stupid by the day! Do I have to say it more slowly so you could follow? I. Will. Kill. You. So give me the damn money if you want to leave unharmed"

You chuckle at his frustrated state, a hand going to cover your mouth. "Have I ever told you how handsome you are?" you ask.

"How the fuck is that relevant?" He raises an eyebrow and his body loosens up. As much as he wanted to believe he was a superior being, he was nothing but a human. And like all humans he lowered his guard the moment he was complimented.

"Answer my question" you tell him, one of your hands going to your neck and loosening the tie.

He scoffs. "No, you've never told me before. But I know I'm handsome. I don't need some monkey's validation to sleep well at night. Though you kinda need to please me if you want to sleep well at night"

You took a step forward, getting closer to him. Geto had made it very clear that he wanted you to keep the distance so he took a step back and tripped over the edge of his pedestal. He fell on the floor. The next sounds he heard were your laughter and his heart beat in his ears as he felt his face getting warmer.

He looked away and tried to get up, but the moment he placed his hand on the floor to lift himself you stepped on it with your heel. "What the fuck, woman!" he snaps.

Instead of answering, you crouch in front of him, one knee in between his legs and the other next to his thigh. He sighed in relief when you lifted your foot off his hand and he quickly brought it closer to his body, rubbing it with his other hand. When he lifted his gaze he was met with yours.

"You're beautiful, Suguru"

He gulps and his cheeks flush red. This was too easy.

"Get away from me..." he says, uncertainty palpable in his voice.

"The reason I stopped sending you money is the same reason for which you cursed me instead of killing me" you say, lifting your hand to try and touch his face.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Even though he sounded threatening this time, his red cheeks were telling a whole different story. For god's sake, he could push you off him. He could kill you right then and there. If he wanted.

You lean in, your face getting closer to his. When he shivered from your breath too close to his skin, you whispered in his ear. "We both want the same thing from each other and you know it"

"Fuck you..." he said, his voice barely audible but still full of hatred.

"Poor choice of words, Suguru"

"Don't call me tha-ahh!" He lets out a moan when your lips make contact with his neck, kissing it affectionately. "Fuck..."

"Be patient, Suguru. I'll fuck you soon"

"That's not wha-ahh I...wanted t-ahh...fu-..." Louder and sluttier sounds came out of his mouth as you started to lick his neck and gently bite on his skin. He grabbed your shoulder, but instead of pushing you away, he dug his fingers into it. If you looked more closely you could see that his arms were trebling as his whole body was squirming under your touch.

"Geto-sama, is everything fine?" He freezes when he hears Miguel's voice from the other side of the door. You chuckle and slide his robes off his shoulders.

"Mhm...ye-ah I'm...I'm fine! Everything's fine!" he answers, trying to make his voice seem as steady as possible.

"You're cute, Suguru" you compliment him, pulling away from his neck and caressing his cheek.

"Don't call me by my first name, you filthy monkey!" he snaps at you, voice full of spite.

"I suggest you keep quiet already" you tell him. Your face was serious now, no longer playing around. "You don't want them to hear you, do you?"

He frowns and looks away from you. He hated this. Not your touch, god forbid! He hated not knowing what he felt. He always thought that all non-sorcerers were inferior creatures, good only for giving him money and curses. Yet here you were, the money-collecting monkey. He shouldn't have gotten in this situation. You stopped paying him so he should've straight up come for you and give you the ultimatum and kill you once you refused to keep giving him money. But he couldn't bring himself to do it for some reason.

You grab his chin and force him to face you. His cheeks reddened once again at your gesture. "Keep quiet, will you?"

"Fuck you!" Wasn't he so stubborn? Wasn't he so cute when he insulted you trying to convince himself that he didn't crave the touch of a monkey.

You get up and take a few steps back, but before you realize his hand grabs your arm. He was looking away, gaze fixed on the floor. He sighed. "Don't go..."

You laugh and get closer once more. "Are you gonna be quiet?" you ask again and he nods. You kept smirking as you slid his robes all the way down and threw them on the floor behind you. You start moving your hands along his bare torso, groping him here and there.

"Will you stop playing around already?" he asks, not trying to hide his irritation.

"If you learn how to respect me then I might give you what you want" you reply in the same tone as him.

Suguru scoffs. "I'll never respect you"

"Then I won't fuck you"

He bites his lower lip in frustration. Why was it so fucking hard? "Sorry..." he mumbles.

"What was that?"

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't hear me" he replies annoyed.

You chuckle. "I'm just messing with you. I never thought you'd be so sensitive, Suguru"

"Just touch me already..." That was it. He finally said it. But, to his surprise, you didn't do it. He sighed. "Please...touch me..."

"That's better"

You push him on the floor, making him lay flat on his back. You stood up and started unbuckling your belt and taking off your pants in a hurry. Holding yourself back from taking him has been so difficult till now. You couldn't wait to finally have him.

When your pants were off you saw him rubbing his thighs together as he watched you undress. "What?" you ask.

"Nothing..." He looked away, as though if he didn't see you he'd also disappear from your line of sight. That was cute.

You grabbed the hem of your panties and slid them down your legs, finally taking them off and throwing them on the pile of clothes on the floor where they joined his robe and your trousers. You place your thighs on either side of his head and grab him by the hair so that he'll look where you wanted him to. Yet he kept his eyes closed.

"I won't sit on your face if you don't look at my pussy" you tell him.

He shakes his head. "No...this is humiliating. I don't wanna...I mean I want it but...I don't wanna see you do that."

"Too bad I'm not negotiating with you. Now open your damn eyes before I open them for you"

And he did. You saw small tears in the corner of his eyes as he looked at the sight before him. Your dripping pussy was on display above him, offering him the view of your arousal, showing him how badly you wanted him. His tears slide down his face and get his hair wet. "You look..." he starts, but suddenly stops himself.

"How do I look, Suguru?"

"Better than I've ever pictured you inside my head..." he replies, almost breathlessly. You smirk, thinking about what other fantasies this man probably had of you. But you had something more important to do right now so you saved that thought for later.

"Wanna eat my pussy?"

He bites his lip. God was this humiliating. He nods and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out. You don't waste any more time and lower your hips on his face. As soon as he felt you against his mouth he grabbed your thighs and started licking your folds, letting out soft moans and whimpers. You grabbed the wall in front of you, pulling on one of the signs attached to it and knocking it down.

"Fuck..." you cursed as you started grinding on his face. His tongue was doing god's work on your deprived clit. That was the least he could do for making you wait that long. "God...keep going mhm~...yeah, like that...fffuuuckk~ just like that!"

You felt his right hand leave your thigh and a couple of seconds later his sounds got louder. You looked behind you and saw his pants pulled down to his knees, his hand stroking his cock. "Oh my god..." He looked better than you've ever imagined. Lengthy veiny shaft, fat red tip leaking precum. It looked like it would hit all the right spots inside you. And you couldn't wait to use it like a dildo to get off while looking at this perfect man.

You got off his face, but his hand gripped your thigh harder, trying to hold you in place. "D-don't...'m not done..." He looked so fucked up. His hair was sweaty and he was panting like a dog. His tongue was stuck out and his mouth and chin were covered in your essence. What a sight he was.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Suguru. You want that?"

"Yes..."

"You need to learn to be more polite, darling" you tease.

"I won't be polite to you, monkey. Now sit on my fucking cock. I need it. Come on" He pushes you away from him, trying to make you do what he said. You sigh and get up, heading to the pile of clothes. You hated him with a passion but you were getting that cock one way or another and you heard the word "monkey" too many times today. Your sleep deprived brain wasn't gonna make it till evening if he kept saying it. You grabbed your panties and belt and returned to the man. He was laying on the floor like a fucking whore, ready for you to take him, legs spread and arms above his head and all that. You grabbed his wrists and wrapped the belt around them.

"Hey, what do you think you're do-" You shoved your panties inside his mouth then got on top of him again, positioning the tip of his dick against your entrance. You rubbed it along your clit a little, sighing contently as Suguru was squirming underneath you and thrusting his hips upwards.

"So impatient, Suguru..." you say, a big smile on your face now that you finally silenced him. Without any warning you lowered yourself on his cock, earning a high pitched moan from the man underneath you. Suguru threw his head back and started thrusting into you like a bitch in heat. Even if you were one hundred percent right and his cock was indeed filling you up perfectly, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl, you were still fed up with his attitude.

You leaned over him and took one of his nipples into your mouth and bit it hard, twisting the other between your fingers equally as painfully. It didn't give you the expected result. Instead of stopping his movements, he let out a scream so loud you could swear even the people outside his temple heard it. He raised his hips, lifting your whole body off the floor as he kept them still. And you felt something warm inside you.

You didn't even have time to realize that he just came from that, nor did you get to catch your breath when the voice of a young girl called out from outside the door.

"Geto-sama! What's taking you so long? You said we'd go to the aquarium!"

Both yours and Suguru's eyes widened in surprise. He let his ass fall back on the floor and you covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan when his cock hit your g-spot so fucking hard. You hurried to take the panties out of his mouth so he could answer the girl's question.

"I'm a little busy, dear" he answered, his voice hoarse. He coughed a little then spoke again. "We'll go! I have to finish...some paperwork...forgive me for making you wait"

How did he sound so calm while talking to his girl? You sighed. It was fucking Geto Suguru. You knew why.

"How many times have you been fucked in here, Geto?" you ask as soon as the girl's steps fade into the distance.

"So I'm not Suguru anymore, huh?" he asks, a smug grin on his face.

You frown. "Do you want me to put them back in that smart mouth of yours?"

"Maybe I do..."

You start riding him again all of a sudden, sending shocks of pleasure through his entire body as overstimulation starts taking over him. "Mhm... ngh-ahh... Ahh" he started moaning like a slut again. You wouldn't let him get away so soon. He needed to be taught a lesson. You were gonna fuck him like you hated him so he would learn never to disrespect you again.

"Nhgh-...ahh sensitive...ohh f-fuck...!"

"What? What is it, you slut? How many people have fucked you in here, huh? Answer!"

He shook his head as tears started to form in the corners of his eyes. God he was so pretty. The way he looked like such a slut, hair messy, toned body covered him sweat, your dry cum still on his face...

"I'll stop" you threaten him, "I'll stop if you don't tell me how many have fucked y-"

"No no n-ah ahh no NO! Don't f-ahh stop! Many...ngh-ahh many...!" he cried.

The sounds of skin against skin, the wet sound your pussy was making as you were sliding up and down his abused cock, his whorish moans and cries as another orgasm took over his entire being were the only noises present in the room. Your combined cum was sliding down his legs, wet spots already formed on the tatami mats underneath your bodies.

"Oh ahh~...f-ahh...ngh-ahh" he started sobbing, fat tears running down his pretty cheeks. The way his cock twitched inside you after the second high, hitting all the right spots as you used it to get off only contributed to the orgasm that was approaching you rapidly.

"I'm gonna cum, bitch" you tell him. "Gonna cum using you like all the other people you called over did" Your hand goes down and you start rubbing your clit, feeling your high engulfing your entire body.

It was hard to keep going right after but you still did. You had to punish this man for all the things he did and said to you. So you kept bouncing on that divine cock of his as cum was gathering in between the two of you and making everything so wet and lewd and dirty.

"I'm gonna make you cum till you forget your own name, whore!" you try to yell at him, but your words have been coming out as only moans and whimpers for the last ten minutes. Suguru kept sobbing underneath you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open, slutty whimpers and moans constantly coming out as his voice was getting more and more hoarse.

"Mhm~...ahh slower...f-ahh gon-...cum...hurts....slower...monkey"

You stopped. Your eyes were wide and you could feel the ager his words caused start flooding your body. "What did you just call me?!" you snap at him, feeling a strong desire to punch him in the face right then and there.

He looked at you and whimpered, moving his tied arms frantically. Tears were still streaming down his face as he looked at you with pleading eyes and a hurt expression.

"Mommy...I said mommy...you misheard me, I said mommy!" he whimpers.

You smirk and cover your face as you try not to burst into laughter. God he was so shameless when he wanted pussy, it was almost unbelievable.

"You wanna cum, Geto?" you ask him. Your mind was so tired you weren't even aware of half the things you were telling him.

"No!" he yells. "Not Geto, Suguru...Suguru, mommy...!"

You look at him dumbfounded and it takes a while to realize why he was saying his name. When you did you chuckled. "Yeah...you're right. Suguru. My Suguru. You get it?"

He nods rapidly. "Yes, yes, yes, yours. Wanna cum. Wanna cum, pretty please"

You smirk and start going up and down again, throwing your head back at the feeling of his fat tip harassing your sweet spot.

"Ngh-ahh thank you! Thank ahh-...ahh ngh-... thank you!" he whimpers, his third orgasm getting closer each time your soft walls squeezed his cock.

You weren't in a much better state yourself. Sweat was dripping down your face and body, the shirt you never took off so drenched it became see through. Your hand hurries to your clit to rub circles around it so you could feel that wave of pleasure engulf you once more.

"C-cum...! gon-ahh cum...!" Suguru sobbed.

"Cum whore! Fu-" you don't get to finish your sentence as you feel him shoot his warm cum inside your cunt. The feeling pushed you over the edge, making both of you cum at the same time.

You collapse on top of him and close your eyes. The sleepless nights and the intensity of what the two of you just did made you barely able to think, let alone get off him.

"Off!" he whimpers. "Off, off, off! Hurts! Please!"

His voice gets you out of your dizziness and you get off him, his cock slipping out of you so easily and making both of you whine. You lay on the floor next to him, both of you panting, the sweat on your bodies making you stick to each other. You tried your best not to fall asleep but you failed miserably. You were scared that he'd do something bad to you while you were sleeping. You needed to stay awake.

"Miss Terumi..." he starts but when he turns his head towards you he sees that you're already asleep. "I'm sorry..."

Tags: @megumisdivinedogs , @eclecticfirewitch , @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd , @memi067

[merakiui]

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills. 

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t. 

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame. 

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more. 

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake! 

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath. 

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult. 

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists. 

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite. 

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t. 

He had you. 

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years. 

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest. 

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.” 

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s. 

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have. 

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love. 

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap. 

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?” 

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.” 

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo. 

She wants to kiss you. 

“Just how much have you had to drink?” 

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless. 

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts. 

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin. 

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills. 

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire? 

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite? 

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare. 

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily. 

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment. 

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily. 

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments. 

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.” 

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy. 

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams. 

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child. 

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target. 

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him. 

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap. 

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve. 

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb. 

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair. 

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you. 

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since. 

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind. 

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering. 

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?” 

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?” 

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding. 

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection. 

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips. 

“Riddle…” 

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra. 

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love. 

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon. 

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?” 

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response. 

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?” 

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.” 

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk. 

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/ 

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

[xspeter]

TIME AFTER TIME

Chapter three ❣︎ that boy is mine

i’m sorry that you, seem to be confused

he belongs to me, that boy is mine

❧ warnings: reader gets a drink thrown on her, but that’s really all! some mentions of sex (but nothing happens)

❧ wc: 3.6k

❧ Note: sorry for the long wait guys !!! school was kicking my butt, but i’m on spring break now!!

❧ masterlist

♥︎

You feel stunned for a moment. Which, honestly, you’re not sure if it’s because you so boldly asked Steve to fake-date you with barely any forethought, or if it’s because Steve agreed to it almost immediately.

“So you’re, um, you’re sure?” You stammer, cheeks beginning to flush.

Steve just shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean it’s like you said- I wanna show Nance I can be the guy she wants.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes avoidant.

You hum, nodding your head. So you were doing this. Okay. Great.

Suddenly there’s a crash followed by a harsh yell, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’re quite literally at a raging highschool party. You clear your throat, “We should probably..”

Steve nods more aggressively, “Yeah, okay, let’s go.” He doesn’t even hesitate before he’s grabbing your wrist and forcing you inside the house, and you wish you’d never gone in.

It’s so loud, people scream way too explicit songs, girls dressed in the tiniest short-shorts and baby-tees (practically the opposite of your purple dress), and the boys are shirtless and downing bottles of alcohol like it’s apple juice.

“Jeez..” You mutter, unconsciously standing closer to Steve.

He chuckles, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips, “You okay, princess?”

You resist an eye roll, the nickname was anything but new to you. “How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?”

He furrows his brows and points to his ear, not so-subtly leaning closer to you, he says, “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You scoff and shove past him, taking the lead confidently. Where you’re going, you’re not sure, but you figure your best bet to fit in is to head towards the kitchen where all the drinks are being served.

You cautiously make your way through countless sweaty bodies, praying Steve is still following you and didn’t leave you stranded.

You turn around to make sure he’s still there and - he’s not. “Oh my god.” You grumble, eyes darting across the room, but there’s so many bodies you can’t even spot Steve in the crowd. “Shit.” You whisper. Suddenly you feel self-conscious. You weren’t used to being at a party like this with Steve let alone by yourself.

You take a breath and continue on your path. You assume if Steve wants to find you he’ll meet you there, and if not then… well, you’re not very sure.

There’s multiple boxes of canned beers along with a giant punch bowl. You aren’t sure what your chances are that the punch isn’t spiked, but the atmosphere is making you feel dehydrated, so you take your chances and grab a cup.

You swirl it in your hands for a few moments, before you finally decide to just down the whole thing. You immediately wish you hadn’t. It tastes bitter and you shiver as it slides down your throat. “God,” You cough, “What's in this?”

“I heard some guy earlier say ‘pure fuel’. Not sure how helpful that is though.” You whip your head around and are met with the sight of the very man you’d been hoping for. Jonathon.

You feel your lips subconsciously twitch into a smile, “More like pure vodka.” You joke. Jonathon chuckles and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, and you honestly have no idea how he’s even wearing that thing with all the body heat in the house.

“I didn’t think you’d show.” He says, and you shrug and lean against the counter, “Were you waiting for me?” You nearly surprise yourself with your boldness. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

“Of course I was,” Jonathon says casually, “We’ve barely seen each other since I moved back.”

You hum, cheeks flushing a little at Jonathon’s casual answer. It’s like he doesn’t even know the effect he has on you.

“Yeah.” You hum. The conversation goes silent after that, Jonathon sips on his beer casually while you stare at the ground. It’s weird, you’ve imagined yourself in this exact scenario so many times. You’d always know what to say to charm him, but now that it’s actually reality you find the words getting stuck on your tongue.

“Oh,” Jonathon nods his head to something behind you, “there’s Steve.” You turn around and promptly find the said man to be in what looks to be a very uncomfortable conversation with Tina Tarsden, a girl who was very well known for her obsession with Steve.

Jonathon walks past you silently, most likely on his way to attempt to save Steve from the conversation, and you awkwardly follow behind.

Steve clearly looks relieved once he catches sight of Jonathon. You’re hidden behind him, which means neither Steve or Tina are aware of your presence.

“Hey, man!” Steve says, “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

Tina scrunches her nose at the interruption and takes a bitter sip of her beer. “Jonathon,” She drawls, placing a hand on his bicep. It makes your blood boil. “How’re you and Nancy?”

Jonathon shifts uncomfortably on his feet, “Uh, fine. I guess.” He mutters. Tina just hums, clearly uninterested in the conversation. “Have you heard about Steve’s latest whore?”

Suddenly you feel like this is a conversation you’re not meant to be present for, but you need to know if news about yours and Steve’s “relationship” has really already spread that quickly. Jonathon laughs awkwardly, “Uh, no. I haven’t heard about Steve’s latest… fling.” His voice jumps an octave at the end.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed, he says, “Tina, i’ve told you this a thousand times! Who I date isn’t any of your business.” He sighs, “I'm sorry I'm not into you like you’re into me, but you just need to get over it.”

Tina grips the plastic cup in her hand tighter, cheeks flushing with rage. “I’d agree if you weren’t dating that prude Y/N L/N!”

Now, after her very rude and untrue comment, you think it’s a good moment to make yourself known. You move from behind Jonathon, arms crossed over your chest as you shoot Tina an icy glare. “This whole jealousy thing really isn’t a good look for you, Tina.”

Her jaw drops tightly but she’s quick to pick it up. Her eyes are burning with a rage you'd rarely ever seen pointed at you. “You bitch.” She mutters, taking a step closer to you. Steve watches her cautiously, clearly ready to step in at any moment. Jonathon on the other hand is shocked. “You guys are dating? Since when?” He asks.

You exchange a look with Steve over his question. Neither of you had really discussed your timeline or even how this fake relationship had started yet. Steve makes up a quick excuse, “Uh, I'll tell you another time, man.” Jonathon accepts this answer, but Tina does not.

“I mean, you can do so much better than this… child!” Tina growls, pointing a manicured finger at you. “Look at that dress she’s wearing!”

By this point a small crowd has begun to form around the four of you, and you shift uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s stares. You look down at your dress, “What’s wrong with what I'm wearing?” You mutter to yourself. Sure, you’ve always known your style to be a little different to most kids your age, but you’d never been criticized about it before.

Tina scoffs, “You dress like an eighty year old grandma!”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Well, last I checked Steve chose this grandma and not you..” You spit back.

Steve laughs at this, but covers it with a cough as soon as Tina turns around and shoots him a hard glare. “I doubt Steve chose you,” She says, voice dripping with venom, “He probably just needed a quick and easy fuck. You guys are neighbors aren’t you?”

Her implication makes you angrier than you were before. To have Tina Tarsden, the biggest slut in Hawkins, imply that you were putting out so easily is laughable.

You step closer to her, “If Steve wanted a quick and easy fuck, all he’d have to do is whistle and you’d come running.”

Tina does not like this reply at all. Actually, she dislikes it so much that she throws her drink at you. The cold liquid soaks through your dress and ruins your hair and makeup. You stand there dripping onto the hardwood for a couple seconds in pure shock, and by the time you come to and go to retaliate you find that Tina has already walked away. Instead, both Steve and Jonathon are in front of you.

“Shit, are you okay?” Jonathon asks, hand reaching for your bicep to hold you steady. Your eyes shine at him, but if it’s because of the oncoming tears or the lighting you’re not sure.

You know you pushed Tina. You stooped to her level and caused her to become so enraged she threw her drink at you. But, still, you loved this dress. You loved it more than you loved yourself. And now it reeked of alcohol and had a large light brown stain right on the front of it.

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You mumble, hands shaking slightly as you ball them at your side. “Here i’ll take you home-” Jonathon begins, but Steve stops him. “I got it. Besides, you’ve been drinking. I haven’t touched any alcohol tonight.”

Jonathon nods, “Yeah. Right. I forgot you guys were dating now.” He says it questioningly, like the idea had never crossed his mind as even being a possibility, and honestly, it’d never crossed your own before tonight either.

Steve shoots him a tight smile, before he’s gently reaching around your middle to cup your waist and lead you out of the house. You blindly follow him, mind too preoccupied on the night's events to even notice how large Steve’s hands feel on you. How warm they are against your now freezing skin.

As you walk through the weaves and weaves of people, you aren’t sure if the girl you see walking in Jonathon’s direction is Nancy or just your mind playing a trick on you. You’re hoping and praying it’s the latter.

You barely even register Steve softly ushering you into his car, not until it’s already in motion and the heaters blast onto your cold skin. You wince at the coldness, and reach forward to turn them away from you. Steve mumbles a sorry from beside you, and you turn to look at him and the smile he’s very clearly holding back. You sit in silence for a few more moments, before he glances at you from the corner of his eye and suddenly you’re both bursting out in laughter from the situation.

“She- she dumped her drink on me!” You say between breaths, holding your stomach as you cackle. Steve does his best to keep his eyes on the road as he does the same, “I seriously didn’t know you had it in you, princess! I mean, ‘he’d whistle and you’d come running’ that was comedy gold!”

Your giggling dies out slowly, and silence replaces it. You know there’s so many things you need to talk about, but you’re not sure if now is the right time. But before you can speak up Steve’s already pulling into your driveway.

You swallow, “So, when should we, um, talk about… this.” You gesture between both of you awkwardly.

Steve clears his throat, “I’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

You smile, “Okay.” And then you bid him goodnight.

🝮

Your dress was ruined. You’d spent a good portion of last night attempting to get it out with Monica’s help to no avail.

You stare at it sadly now, wondering if there was anything you could do to save it. After a couple more moments of contemplating you decide there isn’t, and promptly throw it in the garbage. You’ll have a funeral for it soon.

“I’m sorry, babes.” Monica murmurs from beside you, rubbing your arm comfortingly. You shrug her off, “It’s just a dress. There’ll be others.”

Monica nods, and you pretend you don’t see the disappointment in her face at your subtle rejection. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m glad you’re being so level headed about this, I definitely wouldn’t be.” She jokes.

You give a strained chuckle, hoping to break the awkward tension that fills the space between the both of you. Newsflash, it doesn’t.

Monica looks as uncomfortable as you feel. “Look, Y/N, I know I’m not-”

Suddenly the doorbell rings and you practically jump up to answer it. Monica sighs but doesn’t say anything as you walk away from her. You subconsciously thank god for saving you from an awkward conversation you lost definitely did not want to have.

Unsurprisingly, Steve waits on the other side of the door. His hair is slightly messy and he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans, and compared to his usual school clothes this is much more casual. You on the other hand had stuck with a pretty white dress and a pair of black converse.

“You should’ve called before you just showed up.” You mumble, but still step to the side and let him in.

Steve just shrugs, “I’ll remember that next time.”

No, he won’t. You just roll your eyes in response.

Steve stumbles into your living room and plops himself onto the couch, where you had laid out a single notebook and two pens.

“What’s this for?” Steve asks.

You take a breath and sit next to him, “This,” You say, smoothing your dress over your knees, “Is our contract.”

Steve raises a brow, “Contract?”

“Yes, contract. Because I’ll be damned if we say one wrong thing and expose ourselves to the whole school.”

“I think you’re being a little over dramatic about this whole thing.”

“You say that, and then at our twenty year reunion people are going to be asking you about that one time you faked a relationship and it totally backfired.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Okay, whatever.”

You smile approvingly. If only Steve was this complacent all the time. “I think we should start out with some ground rules.” You say.

Steve nods and leans forward to grab a pen, “Okay. I’ll write down the first one.”

You’re a little surprised by his initiative, but allow him to do so.

You soon regret it though, because the first rule he writes says “must change wardrobe”.

You immediately go to take the notebook and scribble the rule off, but Steve snatches it away from you. “Hey, hey! A rule is a rule!”

“We’ll, that’s a stupid rule!”

He scoffs, “It is not!” He winces, “Look, as much as I hate to admit it, Tina was a little bit right about your outfits. Then make you look like a grandma.”

You scoff out a laugh, your jaw dropping. “Was this seriously a thing that no one had thought to tell you before? Were they just gonna let you love the rest of your life dressed as a ninety year old woman? You’d never let Steve know that his words got under your skin, so instead you retorted with, “Well, it’s not like you have the best style known to man either.”

Steve shrugs, “I never said I did.”

You stare at him, hoping that at some point he’ll break, but he doesn’t, instead he just stares back.

After wait feels like forever you finally just throw your arms up and say, “Fine! I’ll go shopping.”

Steve tuts, “I don’t trust you to do that by yourself, so I’ll be going with you.”

You scoff, “No way! I’ll just take Robin.”

Steve grimaces and thinks about Robins denim jackets and platform shoes, “Yeah, that’s a no.”

You groan and flop back into the couch, “You suck, you know that?”

Steve just grins, “And yet, you asked me to date you.”

“Fake date, get it right, Harrington.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, and instead puts the notebook in your lap, “I think it’s your turn.”

You didn’t know this turned into a turn-taking thing, but you don’t argue.

For the second rule you write down what you think is the most obvious one, no one can know. Not even your families.

Steve doesn’t argue with this one, he just hums and practically snatches the notebook from you to write down the third rule. Must drive to school together. You find this one to be a little odd, but seeing as you’ve never been the biggest fan of driving, you don’t object.

Now it’s your turn, and you have a weird feeling this one might be a little controversial with Steve. No kissing.

Steve immediately disagrees, “How's anyone gonna believe we’re dating if I can’t kiss you?”

“We’ll just say we’re taking things slow!”

Steve gives you a pointed look, and you sigh. “What if.. you only miss me on the cheek?” Another look.

“You’re not going to make me change my mind.” You say.

Steve groans, “Fine! We’ll stick to.. cheek-kissing or whatever.”

You smile gratefully and hand the paper back to Steve, but he just shrugs and hands it back to you. Since neither of you have anything else to add, you scribble to lines at the bottom and sign your name.

Steve snorts, “This is so dorky.” But he does the same.

“Alright, now we need to get our stories straight.” You sigh, arms crossing over your chest.

Steve just shrugs, “Well just say we decided to start dating on a random tuesday afternoon. There, easy.”

“What’re you gonna say when people ask what led to the conversation, or when we realized we didn’t hate each other anymore, huh?”

Steve groans, “Fine. What do you think we should say?”

You smile, “I’m so glad you asked. I thought about it last night, and I think we should say you realized you had feelings for me a couple weeks ago and then ran to my house in the pouring rain and confessed your love for me.”

“We’re not saying that.”

You frown, “Why not? It’s cute!”

Steve shakes his head, “Because this ain’t one your cheesy rom-coms. Why don’t we just say you were helping me out with a project and we realized we didn’t hate each other and decided to give a relationship a try.”

You hated to admit it, but Steve was right. That sounded way more believable. “Okay. Fine. Whenever. We’ll stick with your boring story.”

Steve just grins, “Atta girl.”

You both sit in silence for a few moments, the paper sitting idiot in front of you. Suddenly, you smack your hands on your knees, “This has been so much fun but I think it’s time you went home!”

Steve furrows his brows, “What do you mean? We’re going shopping together.”

That's how you find yourself in your current position, following Steve as he pushes a cart through Kohls.

Every piece of clothing he’s pointed out to you has been completely out of your comfort zone, but you allowed him to stuff them into the cart anyway.

You draw the straw at a tank top covered in yellow sunflowers. Not like, just one in the middle, no. There was not a single space without a sunflower on it.

“I will never wear that.”

Steve wiggles it in front of you, “Come on, it’s cute!”

“It’d be even cuter in hell.”

Steve just chuckles and tosses it back onto the rack, “We probably have enough stuff already anyway.” You sigh, hoping Steve takes it as a signal that you’re ready to be done with this and just go home. While yes, he does understand that the overflowing cart is most definitely enough stuff, he doesn’t understand that you’re ready to go home. Instead, he leads you to a dressing room.

“I’m not trying on all of that! It’ll take me hours!”

Steve just shrugs, “You better get started then.”

You go to argue, but he just shakes his pointer finger at you, “Rule number one, sweetheart.”

You hate that he’s right, and you hate yourself even more for even agreeing to that stupid rule.

You dramatically grab a handful of clothes, two pairs of jeans and three crop tops, and walk into the dressing room with them.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way the jeans made your ass look, and two of the crop tops actually aren’t that bad.

You yell at Steve to hand you another set of outfits, but he tells you to just get them yourself. God, why are men so lazy?

You exit the dressing room still wearing the jeans and a black, off the shoulder crop top.

Steve looks up from the floor once he hears the door open, and he nods. “Yeah,” He lets out a wolf-whistle, “You look great.”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, something you’d never expected to hear from Steve Harrington. “Funny you think I care what you think.” You retort.

Steve just shrugs “I never said you did, I was just saying,” He eyes you up and down, brown eyes lingering on your curves, “You look good.”

You just roll your eyes and slam the dressing room door in his face, hoping and praying he doesn’t see the way your cheeks and ears had tinged a soft shade of red.

Besides, Steve Harrington is still that annoying kid you’d met all those years ago. There’s no reason for you to be blushing at some compliment he didn’t even mean.

And yet, you are.

♥︎

taglist! (dm to be added!): @carinacassiopeiae

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned. 

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them 

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn. 

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was. 

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy. 

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way. 

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing. 

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it. 

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser. 

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much? 

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering. 

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too. 

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves. 

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit. 

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water. 

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job. 

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it. 

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees. 

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions. 

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on? 

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her  thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped. 

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance. 

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers. 

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow. 

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair. 

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons. 

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night. 

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth. 

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried. 

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words. 

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running. 

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance. 

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves. 

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared. 

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he? 

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too. 

But life wasn’t fair. 

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better. 

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta. 

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him. 

Perfect. 

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would. 

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done. 

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest. 

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body. 

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall. 

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy. 

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back. 

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought. 

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top. 

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go. 

Not now, not ever. 

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck. 

Mine, she’s mine. 

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything. 

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock. 

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving. 

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case. 

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped. 

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would. 

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good. 

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

[cherienymphe]

Violet Eyes & Violent Delights (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, loss of virginity, mentions of incest (Helaena x Aemond), power imbalance, mentions of consensual fidelity 

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics​​

summary: You picked a flower, and Aegon picked you for himself.

~

You always belonged to Prince Aegon.

Even when you didn’t know it.

You were never supposed to get distracted from your duties nor stray too far from the other serving girls. It was an easy enough rule for your young mind to comprehend, but it was a beautiful day, and the sun shown down on the flowers just right, and you wanted to pick some.

Aegon wanted to pick you for himself.

You hadn’t known that was possible then. For someone to just pluck another person all for themselves like you often plucked flowers. The queen had been beside herself, a look upon her pretty face that you had not been able to decipher until years later. She had rubbed her hand over her chest, pink lips pursed as she flicked her eyes between you and her eldest son, the latter with a tight grip around your wrist as he awaited her answer.

“Well…your sister will require a lady-in-waiting one day. I suppose that we can get her started early-.”

“Helaena?” Aegon had scoffed, a deep frown on his face. “I want her for me, mother.”

Her face had fallen, taut now.

“You don’t like it when I enjoy the company of my nephews, Aemond is a twat, and Helaena is…stupid-.”

“Aegon,” she snapped, eyeing you once more.

Even if you felt it was your place to speak, you had not known what to say then. One moment, you were picking flowers, and the next you were being pulled through the corridors by prince Aegon himself.

“You’re pretty,” he had told you. “…and my mother says that I can have anything my heart desires.”

You had been rendered speechless to be in such proximity to the royal family, but the more he went back and forth with the queen, the more you thought that the eldest prince just wanted a friend. Your free hand landed on the arm that held yours, and the action had caused the prince to pause in his quarrel with the queen, turning to look at you.

His own silence had triggered his mother’s, and you could feel her eyes on you. It was the strangest situation to find yourself in then, and you had cleared your throat, feeling overwhelmed.

“I will…be grateful for any place her majesty finds for me here.”

The red-headed woman had sighed, looking down at you two with a furrow between her brows. That was your first lesson in just how stubborn and determined Aegon could be, and just how much the queen would spoil him.

“I will bring it up with your father,” she had firmly told him in a quiet voice.

Years later, when you would ask Aegon what the king had said that night, he would tell you that the older man had all but waved it off, declaring that his eldest son should be allowed any friend he wishes. Overnight you had gone from a serving girl to prince Aegon’s…companion.

Getting work in the castle as an orphan had been a feat on it’s own, but to become so close to the family that sat on the iron throne was another entirely.

“I do not feel right in this,” you had said one day, gingerly touching the nicest dress you’d ever had the pleasure of wearing.

“My sister has so many. She could really stand to lose them all,” Aegon had murmured from behind a cup.

You did not agree as Helaena seemed very precious to you. In fact, you did not agree with the prince on a lot of things, but you quickly learned that your opinion hardly mattered in his eyes. In fact, a lot of things about you hardly mattered. It took longer than you would have liked for you to realize that you were not so much the prince’s friend, but instead his trinket, his possession to do with as he pleased.

You belonged to him…and no one else.

“Even if you did have any right to talk to her, she would not want to hear your crazy ramblings,” he’d sneered at his sister one day.

The white-haired girl had shrunk in on herself, timid eyes finding the floor. Aemond had been nearby, quiet and disapproving as he watched with a frown. You had wanted to say something to defend the innocent girl, but without saying as much, Aegon had made your place here pretty clear.

He had made it so that you could have a life of comfort and leisure and fine things…and he could just as easily take it away.

“She was only being friendly,” you had told him later that evening.

The look that Aegon gave you, you would have thought that you were attempting to cut his throat. You had looked away, head falling as he neared you. He did not respond for what felt like a long time, and you wished that you could take it back.

“Do you wish to be hers instead?”

You frantically shook your head.

“No, I only meant-.”

“What need would you have for Helaena?”

You had looked at him then, lips parted, and he frowned at you.

“She did not find you. She did not beg mother to keep you around. I am the one who went to her to get you nice things to wear and a nice bed to sleep in. You are mine…not hers, and if you wish it to be different, then I can just let her give you all those things instead.”

The threat was clear enough for your young mind to comprehend even then. You had swallowed, slowly shaking your head at him, and it took a moment before the prince looked satisfied enough with your answer.

Your dynamic was something you grew to get used to. It was no longer weird for you to follow after Aegon like a lost puppy. Somehow, his heavy footsteps ahead of yours became something like a comfort to you. You no longer second guessed his disapproving stare at one of your dresses, a nasty sneer on his lips as he snapped at one of the maids to find you something better.

You donned what only Aegon approved of, you wore your hair in whatever way he liked, and when you spoke, it was only after a quick glance in his direction. You were well into your adolescence when you realized that you were not Aegon’s friend. You never were.

You were his doll.

He made you up and dressed you up as he pleased to sit prettily at his side. He insisted that you go everywhere with him, and while the king did not mind your presence at dinner, his spirit still jovial even with his failing health, the queen however still eyed you with that look you had yet to place. However, when you felt Aegon’s fingers absentmindedly touching your shoulder that night, like he had every right in the world to, and her face fell like her worst fears had come to pass, you understood then that she was terrified.

It had started small.

Your eyes would wander, and you would find them meeting a gaze that was already waiting for your attention. Aegon’s shoulder would brush yours when dining, his chair as close to yours as humanly possible. Even in the most mundane of settings, you would feel the faint touch of his fingers stroking along your sleeve, careless to all who might see.

Only his drunk lips betrayed his sober thoughts.

“Do you love me?”

You had blinked at him, hovering over his prone form, tucking him in as you often did when he got too much ale into him. His pale blond hair hung in his face, and there was the barest of frowns on his features as he stared at you through tearful and bleary eyes.

Queen Alicent’s fearful expression was ever present in your mind, and you wondered how you never saw it before.

You were not ignorant to the ways of men. You saw the way they behaved when they had too much to drink or even when they were sober and feeling particularly bold. You knew what Aegon had dragged his brother out for one night when the latter was only thirteen years of age. You knew it was the same thing Aegon himself had been eager to seek for himself only a year before.

You felt so cold as you realized what the queen had tried to prevent years and years ago.

Even in this moment, as the prince eagerly awaited your answer, he could not help himself to touch you. His head lolled, and his hair went every which way, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Yet, his hand still found the strength to toy with your sleeve and trail his fingers over the back of your hand. Aegon did that a lot, and you wondered if he even noticed it now seeing as it was almost second nature for him.

“Of course, I care for you,” you eventually replied, straightening a little. “As I care for everyone in your family who has never been anything but kind and…so very gracious to me.”

Aegon’s hand fell, and he was quiet as he merely stared at you. Your heart pounded, and cautiously, you straightened and backed away.

“You should…rest. You will have a hard enough morning as it is.”

He said nothing more, and you did not look back as you left his chambers.

You could not get to yours fast enough, only a wall away from his own, and you pressed your back to your doors when you closed them. Your nails scraped against the wood, and your heart threatened to leap from your chest. The truth was not only that you did not love Aegon, but that you never would.

Prince Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, was not a good man.

His marriage to his sister had come and gone, and he treated her no better than he did before. He was quick to anger, and slow to forgive, and you bore witness to this more than anyone. Aemond had the reputation for being especially cold and intimidating, but Aegon possessed a cruelty that made your stomach turn. You knew of the time he spent in Flea Bottom, unfortunate enough to be forced to go with him sometimes, and you were not stupid.

The unmistakable white hair and light eyes a child or two possessed was telling.

Aegon was a selfish and demanding prince with a dark heart that desired any and everything it should not. Somehow, over the years, that had come to include you without you even realizing it. His pet. His doll. His poor servant girl that he had saved from the plights of poverty and decay.

His cold violet eyes starred in your nightmares many nights…

…because the truth was that he scared you beyond belief.

The same man that had changed your life in the course of a night was the same one who left you shaking most days. Where you once felt like his shadow, the roles had reversed somehow, and you felt like he was always over your shoulder instead. You felt like it was his breathing that you felt down your neck instead of the cool autumn air. His fingers along your spine instead of the soft fabric of your dress.

His presence was oppressive and paralyzing, and you feared that if you offered to give it all back as if these past years had never happened, he would not even let you go. Aegon may have never touched you in the same manner he did those poor serving girls who often ran shaking and crying from his chambers, but you were well and truly his.

You were right on Aemond’s heels as he smoothly made his way down the steps. His long blond hair swayed against his back with every movement, and you found yourself absentmindedly admiring it. You did that more often than you wanted to admit, and you quickly looked away, reminding yourself how devoted he was to his sister.

The Targaryens and their odd customs would never grow on you, you were sure, but you supposed that if Helaena had to find comfort in one of her brothers, better it be the lesser of two evils.

Sometimes you envied her in that way. You did not know how, but your future seemed so assured to you. Every time you thought about it, all you saw was the eldest Targaryen prince, and somehow someway, you knew that is all it would ever be.

It seemed inevitable, and not just to you, but to all those around you.

Once you had shown up, a drunk Aegon was much more eager to leave the brothel, preferring to hang off of you than his own brother. His breath wreaked of wine, and his hand was tightly curled around your waist. You followed Aemond down the familiar path as you snuck his brother back into the castle, nights like this a regular occurrence.

When he fell back onto his bed, eyes already fluttering closed and lips parting, his fingers were tight on the fabric of your dress. It took a lot of strength to pry them away, and even then, even in his sleep, they tightly wound through yours. You sighed to yourself just as the youngest prince spoke.

“You know what my brother is like…”

You looked over your shoulder at him, gaze meeting his as he watched you two with his hands behind his back. The fairness of his skin was made all the more so by his dark attire, and as he stared you down, you frowned.

“I…do not-.”

“I know you hear the whispers,” he quietly interrupted. “We all have.”

You swallowed, heart sinking as he brought up Aegon’s disgusting nature.

“I know you see the fear in their eyes whenever he comes around…whenever it’s their turn to tend to his chambers and food…”

You looked away, shaky gaze finding the floor.

“It’s either them or you,” he brutally murmured, causing your stricken gaze to land on him again. “…and my brother has never been one for patience.”

“Aemond-.”

“Do you think…that playing the ignorant fool…will save you?”

You furiously blinked, not even realizing you were crying until the tears hit your cheeks.

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“…because perhaps you stood a chance once, a long time ago, but the moment has passed.”

He blinked at you, and if you did not know any better, you would say that the look in his eye was pitying.

“…and I do not believe in delaying the inevitable.”

You sharply exhaled at that, chest tightening, and Aemond left you without another word. You stared after him with parted lips, wet cheeks cold from the air that hit them before turning your face away, visage crumbling as he voiced what you were always thinking.

There had always been some part of you that wondered if Aegon only did to those poor women what he really desired to do to you. There were many nights you had lied awake wondering how much torment you could save if you only gave in, but there was a part of yourself that you never wanted to face. A part of yourself that was selfish and still hoped for marriage to a nice man and a good life beyond Aegon’s reach. You had convinced yourself that it was still possible somehow despite the phantom grip prince Aegon had on the back of your neck.

When you finally pulled your hand from his, you were desolate in returning to your chambers. Aemond’s words were heavy in your mind for days, so much so that you found yourself staring at him almost with a glower, silently begging him to take them back. Inevitable. Gods, how you hated that word, but it was true.

Your life had become inevitable.

You had plucked a flower, Aegon had plucked you, and from that point on, your life became inevitable.

“They are talking of marriage for my baby brother,” Aegon slurred, chuckling to himself. “…finally.”

He stumbled into his chambers with your help, plopping onto his bed.

“Truthfully, I do not know why our mother did not just…marry him off to Helaena. We all would have been much happier for it,” he almost sneered at the mention of his sister.

You went to pull away when he reached up, fingers digging into your arms through your sleeves, a look in his eyes that you could not place. They were glassy and lilac and almost pleading beneath that layer of coldness.

“Do you wish to marry some day?” he murmured, looking up at you.

“Doesn’t every girl?” you replied, avoiding an answer.

Aegon briefly looked away, scoffing to himself before those dead eyes met yours again.

“I suppose so… I suppose you want a beautiful gown and flowers in your hair and a sweet wedding night to match…”

His tone was almost mocking, and you frowned at him.

“I suppose,” you weakly told him, trying to get him to lay down.

“…and…do you want those things with Aemond?” he almost seemed to force out, glassy eyes trained on you.

His words took you by surprise, catching you off guard.

“Aemond? No,” you lightly chuckled, shaking your head. “No…”

It was a stray thought here and there, but nothing more. Aegon seemed to study you, jaw ticking and gaze hardening.

“I see you look at him sometimes…the way you look at him lately…”

Your frown deepened.

“Aegon-.”

“He’d never touch you,” he suddenly spat, making you flinch. “Not unless he wanted to lose that other eye.”

You hissed at the venom in his words, attempting to step back, but he only held you in place.

“Don’t be cruel,” you cried.

“I am not being cruel, I’m being clear.”

You could not move, and Aegon’s fingers absentmindedly massaged your arms. He pulled, causing you to stumble closer, and he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“Why don’t you love me?” he murmured.

It sounded like he was talking more to himself than you, but then he lifted his gaze, chin resting on your stomach now. His blond hair fell back away from his face, and despite the tears in his eyes, there was an anger there that made you shudder.

“I get it. I am not…the kindest…and I am no gentleman like my brother,” he sneered. “…but have I not…?”

Aegon licked his lips, the top one curling over his teeth a tad.

“Have I not given you everything?”

His hands slid down to your wrists, tight around them, and you winced.

“Have I not given you all?”

You had no response to that for he was right. Everything you had, you owed to Aegon, and some part of you had always dreaded the day he’d come to collect. He abruptly stood, and you almost tripped over your feet. He drunkenly eyed you with a wild look in his gaze before reaching out and ripping the comb out of your hair. You helped at the slight tug, eyes wide as he threw it to the ground.

“Your pretty pins…your pretty necklaces,” he ripped the jewels from off your neck. “…the clothes off your very back are because I gave them to you.”

“I-I know that,” you shakily said to him.

His hands found your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to be alarming. You reached up to touch his arms, and Aegon’s gaze flickered between your eyes. His breathing was heavy, and you blinked out more tears.

“You say that,” he murmured, roughly brushing a thumb over your mouth. “…but I think it’s time I finally remind you.”

“Aegon-.”

“…time I finally get what I am owed.”

Prince Aegon’s lips were rough on yours, tasting of sweet wine. He kissed you like he was trying to take all of your breath away, and in the back of your mind, you noted that this was your first. You were unsure of what to do, pulling at his hands and trying to lean away.

“Wait,” you mumbled. “Stop, I-.”

“Stop?”

He pulled away from you, a deep frown on his face.

“What right do you have to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Your gaze was pleading, hands futile as they pushed at his chest.

Aegon’s lips were just as hungry as before, teeth nipping at your lips and hands rough on your body. He cared little for your dress, ripping it off of you in any way possible. The cold air had you pressing yourself against him despite yourself, and he was eager to trap you in his arms, nails dragging along your skin.

The fear of what was happening wholly hit you once he tried to lay you down, and although the small grin on his pink lips told you that he enjoyed the small fight, the ravenous look in his eyes betrayed his impatience. You could do nothing but cry when your back met his bed.

Aegon took his time in kissing his way down your body, a childish eagerness in him as he seemed not to know where to play his lips next. He wanted to taste all of you at once somehow, and even though it was impossible, he was determined to try. With his face between your legs, you tried to run away, but his arms snaked around your thighs and held you in place.

“I will show you,” he promised into your skin. “I will make you addicted to my very touch.”

The conflicting feeling of pleasure from someone you feared made your head spin. Your hands flailed, unsure of where to put them at every swipe and swirl of his tongue. One eventually tore at the sheets while the other reluctantly found his hair. Your stomach clenched, and your chest arched, and you fought between pushing him away or pulling him closer.

When wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, you did not know how to handle it. It was the most intense thing you had ever felt, and Aegon did not let up until you were practically sobbing again beneath him. Drunken lips danced their way up your frame, kissing your skin in no certain pattern, and Aegon’s hand slid along your neck.

“I plucked you…like you were my very own flower…”

Your lips parted into a silent scream, nails clawing at his skin when he pushed into you with no warning. Your vision blurred all over again, tears falling past your ears, and Aegon’s fingers pressed into the bone of your jaw.

“I watered you…I made you bloom…”

His hips snapped against yours, his thrusts short and forceful. He leaned in to bite at your neck and shoulder, marking you and tasting you. You pushed at him to no avail, and Aegon seemed to let out a growl of frustration, fucking you harder.

“I will reap the benefits of what I have sewn,” he said through clenched teeth.

His hand was harsh in your hair, tugging on it and yanking your head back. Your nails pressed into his shoulder, and you cried beneath him. Aegon either paid your tears no mind, or he actually enjoyed the sigh of them. His cock pushed into you and stretched you in ways you did not think was possible.

Much to your horror, eventually, your pain gave way to more pleasure. It still stung and was still uncomfortable, but that same heat as before began to creep along your body. It started deep in your gut before slowly spreading to every part of you. Aegon hovered over you, looking down at you and repeatedly looking down to where he disappeared into you.

You were afraid to look.

You were afraid of what you might see.

“So pretty,” he said to himself, pressing his forehead to yours. “…and all for me.”

His words had you squeezing your eyes shut, turning your head away with a cry. His mouth was at your ear, labored breathing and soft lips. His blond strands brushed your skin, and you cringed when he placed a kiss just below your ear.

“You will know true satisfaction by sunrise.”

You were still wiping away a stray tear when your chamber doors were opened. The woman behind you paused, fingers still on the laces of your dress when he spoke, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Leave us,” he deeply said, tone leaving no room for argument.

When you had quietly snuck out of his chambers during the early hours of the morning, you knew that your solitude would not last long. It did not mean you were not allowed to mourn it though. You remained still as he approached you, and a shiver traveled down your spine when his soft fingers grazed the skin of your back.

He said nothing as he finished her job, hands running down your sides, greedily tracing your curves as he stepped closer. It was only when his arms came down over you, the cold feel of a necklace on your skin, did you finally lift your gaze to meet his in the reflection. Aegon looked more than satisfied with himself as he secured the piece of jewelry at the back of your neck.

Your lips parted, another tear skipping down your cheek as his chest brushed your back. He reached around to take your chin in his hand, holding your head in place while he pressed his lips to your cheek. They lingered there, and he held your gaze.

“Flowers…for my flower.”

[ahhhwomen]

Little Kitten

Trigger Happy AU Part 1

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Okay, I’m not going to lie, I am not very good at writing, and this is the first fanfic I have ever posted on here… however I implore you to give it a try, please. Depending on feedback I may have to make this quite the series….

AU Warnings: Kidnapping, murder, Mommy kink, smut, pet play, death (not main characters), framed murder, violence, drugging, angst, obsession, dub-con/rape-con | Minors DNI

Warnings Part 1: Talk of a dead body, Death by alcohol poisoning (non-relevant character), Insensitivity, Mommy kink, allusions to pet play.

Summary: Police Officer Wanda Maximoff doesn’t like to share.

Word Count: 1168

The way you struggled as she dragged you into her car, was making her go mad.

You were teasing her.

All that kicking and screaming, your nails clawing at her. Not to forget those beautiful tears running down your red cheeks. She wanted to ravish you, tear you apart. You just kept on fighting; you must want it so bad. After all, you knew it made Mommy want to hurt that lovely skin of yours.

She was going to enjoy this.

----------

“Another drunk?”

Wanda ignored her coworker as she continued to assess the body. The man was laying face down on the sidewalk with a beer bottle in hand. Day old, vomit in amounts that should not be humanly possible, was spewed around him. They showed up increasingly this time of year, idiots.

She brushed the filth off her hands and rose from her crouched-down position. “What else would it be?” She questioned, unimpressed.

The other officer looked defeated, “I don’t know, don’t you think it’s weird?” He shrugged his shoulders. “They have been showing up more and more as of late, shouldn’t we-“ He paused, ”shouldn’t we look into it or something?” Wanda could barely contain her eyes from rolling into her skull. This man was dumber than the guy who drowned in his own vomit.

“We are closing in on summer, which means people are going to get wasted and make foolish decisions much more frequently than what you are used to, newbie.” Having to draw out her sentences like she was talking to a slow child was starting to piss her off.

She huffed as she mentally scanned all the details, writing them down was too much of a hassle, the information was pretty much useless anyways. As soon as it would find its way into a rapport, no one would bother reading it again. Just another stubborn part of the job, paperwork.

Wanda winched, just thinking about it gave her a headache.

“Wrap him up, we are done here.”

She was walking over to her car when something pink caught her eye. You were wearing knee-high stockings, mostly white, but with a strip of pink running along the top.

Wanda slowly dragged her eyes over your figure, still a couple of yards away. There was something about you. Something that begged Wanda to take care of you, to ruin you, and build you back up again.

She opened her car door, making a split-second decision, she picked up her disposable gloves.

Wanda jogged back to where the disposal team was bagging the body and her useless partner was standing around fiddling. “Wait a moment.” Wanda unzipped the body bag, reaching over, she felt around the man’s throat. “Yeah, there is some strange swelling, not often seen with these types of bodies.” Her partner looked over her shoulder, puzzled. “Are you sure?” Wanda nodded.

She could see you slowly make your way over, 15 seconds.

“It’s probably nothing. To be confident, I am going to ask around. Make sure no suspicious activity has been displayed recently.” Her tone signaled finality. That didn’t stop the newbie from trying to question her, however before he could get the words out, she had already closed the body bag, gotten rid of her gloves, and was making her way to you.

“Excuse me, miss!”

You looked up at the officer walking towards you. “Yes? Can I help you?” Your small voice almost made Wanda lose control. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other while standing in front of you. Having to do something with her hands too, she fished out a small notepad from her left pocket and her pen from her right breast pocket.

She hummed “Do you live around here honey?” You nodded, uncertain of what the beautiful officer wanted. A light blush dusted your cheeks at the nickname. Wanda was going to have a field day with you.

A new toy.

“My name is Officer Wanda Maximoff, and I would like to question you regarding what you may have witnessed in this neighborhood the last couple of days. Is now a good time to talk?”

You can’t recall seeing anything, but you figured she would want to question you anyways, so you stayed silent.

Until her question registered, that is.

You almost answered yes, there was just something about the redhead standing in front of you that made you want to comply with her every command. It must be because of her status as an officer of the law. Or so you tell yourself.

“No, I’m sorry. I have a class I need to get to.” Lest you want to be murdered by your new professor, a real hardass. Or so you heard. The woman in front of you smirked, confused you tilted your head. “Is that an issue Officer?”

God, weren’t you just adorable? Looking like such a lost little kitten, in need of a proper handler. “Not at all sweets, just write down your name and address right here,” Wanda handed her notepad and pen over, making sure to point to an appropriate space for you to write. You were clearly too stupid to think for yourself, that was fine. Mommy would do the thinking for you.

Soon.

You handed the notepad back to the Officer. Wanda made sure to memorize your name and address written so beautifully, Y/n. She smiled a little.

It fits you.

She shifted on her legs again, her thighs rubbing together. Refraining from touching you, Wanda pocketed the notes. “I will come by tomorrow, is 10 am all right with you love?” Wanda made sure to lay the nicknames on thick, she couldn’t help herself. The way your eyes turned big and doe-like. She wanted to fuck you right where you stand.

Snapping out of the trance that woman was, you quickly pulled yourself together. “Yes ma’am.” You were happy your mouth remembered to stay respectful even as your mind betrayed you and filled your head with very naughty thoughts of Officer Hot.

Wanda gazed at you with hunger in her eyes. Before she could do anything, however, your phone buzzed. Alarming you to your lateness. You sputtered out apologize as you moved past the redhead, failing to see the smirk that widened as you half sprinted down the road.

Very soon.

[pablitogavii]

Hiii!!Can you do smth like Gavi and the reader went to Coldplay concert with Mikky and Frenkie,bc Gavi is a big fan of Coldplay?

Thank you🌹Love youuu🙈❣️

Sky full of Stars

Pablo was supper excited about the Coldplay concert coming to Barcelona that he kept talking about it for the whole week to his sister, friends and of course you.

He grew up listening to Coldplay with his sister and there are many beautiful memories that he has with their songs in the background. For your very first date, he took you to the edge of the town where you laid in the trunk of the car looking at the stars and listening to Coldplay...so this was a special even for him.

"Amor, should I wear blanco or azul??" he asked you checking himself out in the mirror while you smiled at his indecisiveness when he looked so handsome no matter what color he chose to wear. But you decided to be helpful so you replied "Tu estas tan guapo cuando te pones blanco.." and he smiled immediately choosing that outfit and leaving to change.

"Así? Dios! Did you change??" Pablo said when he saw that you wore a white top and some shorts in order to match with him which looked so perfect contrasted with the bright red lipstick he loved to see on your lips.

"Mhm..wanted to match with my amorcito" you waled up to him snaking your arms around Pablo's neck while his were on your waist pulling you close and kissing your lips (ofc getting some lipstick on his that you needed to clean afterwards hehe).

Groupchat:

frankiee: ready??

pablo: sí!

aurora: i'm sure pablo is ecstatic!! see ya there!

y/n: he is rora hehe

pablo: shut up hermana!

mikky: we're picking you guys up in five <3

When Frankie and Mikky picked you up, bunch of paparazzi were snapping pictures calling the boy's names which usually annoyed Pablo but nothing could ruin this night for him.

"You guys look so good in matching outfits!" Mikky complimented and you smiled thanking her before laying your head on Pablo's shoulder which he welcomed with a kiss on your head.

When you arrived, there was a large crowd of people laughing, chatting to one another, laughing some more and just spreading positive energy.

"We are going to get you ladies a drink..wait here so we don't lose you" Frankie said kissing Mikky while Pablo still kept a tight hold on your hand unsure if he should leave you alone in the crowds in case you end up getting lost. He was always way too careful when it came to your safety.

"Don't worry, amorcito..I'll wait for you right here" you reassure Pablo going on your tip toes before pecking his lips making him smile and nod his head before leaving wit Frankie towards the bar.

Meanwhile Aurora and Javi joined the two of you giving you hugs before Aurora asked Javi to take a photo of the three of you which he gladly obliged.

aurorapaezg

Coldplay con mia hermanita @y.n.bebe y amiga especial @mikkykiemeneyl! Oh and the boys @javi_begines @pablogavi @frankiedejong

Liked by 100K

Comments:

gavifansss: y/n is so beautiful!!

javi_begines: photo credits??? liked by aurorapaezg

y/n.bebe: best photographer!!

mikkykiemeney: YES! thank you Javi!!

aurorafans: beautiful!

gavigirl: not aurora calling y/n her hermanita OMGGG!

pablogavi: gee we feel special lololol

y.n.bebe: you are special <3

pablogavi: babyyyyy<33

gaviiigaviii: aweee she so cute!!

fanssbarcawags: power couples at the concert!!

mikkykiemeney: me obsessing with y/n's outfit!!!

y.n.bebe: luv you bonita!

frankiedejong: let's have fun!!

"You look so good hermanita! My hermano is a lucky cabrón!" Aurora said and you laughed before hearing "yeah he is!" behind you as Pablo's arms snaked your your waist from behind and he kissed the side of your neck before giving you the promised drink.

"Gracias amor.." you say sweetly blushing a little that he was very touchy in public which isn't often but you weren't complaining.

When the music started, everyone sang and danced taking a few videos for memory before putting phones away to enjoy the moment fully.

Then they started singing "Sky full of Stars" making Pablo immediately look down at you rested in his arms the same moment you looked up at him with a smile remembering that night of your first date.

"Dance with me linda?" he said and you blushed nodding your head while snaking your arms around his neck while he pulled you in closer and you started to slow dance like nobody else existed..like you were the only two people on Earth.

"Que preciosos!" Aurora whispered to everyone and they all smiled at how i love you two looked at each other enjoying your special moment.

Mikky took her phone and took a video of you and a few pictures to send to you knowing you would want to remember this moment in te future.

"I love you..did you know that??" Pablo said with a big smile and you smile nodding your head before kissing his lips softly.

"I know that..and I love you too Pablito!" you smile resting your forehead against his as the song ended and everyone cheered.

"Que romantico!" Aurora teased her brother taking off his cap and putting on your head before leaving with Javi to grab another drink while you blushed looking at Pablo whose eyes were sparkling looking at you.

"Check you phone" Mikky winked before she left with Frankie and you did smiling wide at the video and pictures they took of the two of you dancing.

y.n.bebe and pablogavi

Coldplay Concert

Cause you're the sky full of stars <3 @pablogavi @coldplay

Liked by 200K

Comments:

pablogavi: mi princesa preciosa

y.n.bebe: te amo<3

aurorapaezg: mi hermano y su princesa!!!

paezfamforevaa: this is so adorable!! aurora ships them too!

mikkykiemeney: me catching this moment like a pro!!

y.n.bebe: graciasss mikky! besitooosss <3333

barcawagssfav: love her smile!!

gavigavi: most adorable couple!!

gaviraispreciousboy: idk if i'm jealous, or happy, or both AWWW

pablitogavifan: the reason fans don't hate on this girl is because she is real and honest! others only used situations to get fame and you can tell this girl truly loved pablo! Always support love! <3

liked by pablogavi

When you came home, you were both ecstatic of the feeling from the whole night laying in bed together cuddling up and watching the video of you dancing on repeat..it looked like it was from some fictional show.

"We need Coldplay to play on our wedding.." Pablo said and you blushed looking up and and putting your phone away.

"Our wedding?" you said shyly and he nodded kissing your lips before pulling you closer wishing you sweet dreams while your heart was pounding hard against your chest after hearing those words..your and Pablo's wedding.

Hope you like it! Did Pablo go the concert??

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 8 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[Chapter 1] ☆ [chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5] [chapter 6]☆ [Chapter 7] ☆ [chapter 8] ☆ [Chapter 9]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 8/10 ☆ 1,690 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, violence, more will be added

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You packed everything important; papers, photos, clothes, electronics. You broke and soaked the information on hard disks that you didn’t need. Cried for about an hour on the couch, wondering why the fuck Kate would do this.

Every bill from the hospital was paid. Every single one and the hospital ended their letters with “we hope to see you again!”. 

As if.

There was money in your bank account too. Over 20 grand, just sitting there, transferred from an account overseas, but you didn’t need to be a genius to know that it was from her. Though this had been what had gotten you into this mess from the start, this was why you had even kidnapped Kate Laswell.

You should be ecstatic. Alice would be happy for you. You could move, abandon the house out in nowhere, escape with memories of your sister and you, laughing and crying together.

… memories of running, feet burning beneath you, of your burning ass, of pleasure… and of a face battered in by a fucking Shakespeare book. The constant thumping sound of a book connecting with the face, getting wetter and wetter, the feeling of the nose bending beneath it. Of the fear that ran through you as you watched Phillip Graves raising a gun at Kate.

After crying, packing everything into your shitty car which was filled to the brim with gasoline.

So you wouldn’t have to tank up for a while. So you could leave immediately, so you could abandon them all without any problems.

You found her knife in the car, beneath the seat, when you tried pushing a back under it. The butterfly knife was a silver coating, simple and clearly expensive. You opened it, looking at the sharp blade. It was like a last reminder of Kate. Expensive, well-designed and still dangerous as fuck.

Like a sign. You put it in your pocket. Closed all the car doors and got into it. Taking one last look at the old house, in the middle of nowhere, between fields and with the gentle humming of the highways. With an overgrown lawn, left to live its own life while you stayed at the hospital with Alice.

All the pictures, the clothes you had left of her, her books and CDs, everything you connected with Alice was in the van, neatly packed down in bags and then boxes, so they wouldn’t get wet. It annoyed you that you could pull the memories of the two of you from the house and pack it down too, to make sure they were safe and secure.

The rusty blue van started with a roar, like a monster waking up after a nap, growling for a while before agreeing to stay alive. You backed out of the driveway.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Using the horn this early in the morning was honestly rude, yet you found yourself honking, already annoyed with waiting.

The dress you wore had screamed your name when you packed it away the day before. You didn’t wear dresses often, preferring hoodies and such, but when you had woken up in the motel this morning, you had put it on. A babydoll dress in black that Alice had convinced you to buy years ago but you had never used it. Not before now.

You honked again, your van’s engine growling along.

It echoed through the neighbourhood, into the rest of the London traffic. Finally something happened and the little system next to the gate turned on, scratching for a moment.

“What do you want?” Ghost’s voice sounded a little tired, but as annoyed as you assumed he had been with you the entire time, barely audible over your god awful van. It was different from when he had kidnapped you back, first choking you out, then interrogating you with Price.

“To talk to her,” you answered loudly. Silence for a second.

“Go away, kid.” He then answered, “she doesn’t want to talk.”

You seethed at the kid. You were 25, not a goddamn child.

“I don’t fucking care I want to talk to her. It the fuckin’ least she can do.” ‘I saved her’ went unsaid.

You could only hear him grumble vaguely over the system, before the gates swung open in front of the car. 

“Thank you.” Your car almost coughed as you made it go forward, rolling into the property. You stopped in front of the main door, your rusty ass art piece standing out next to the dark and fancy SUVs.

One annoyed-looking, robe wearing Kate Laswell stepped out, morning hair a little messy but pulled back into a bun, her blue eyes resting on you. A part of you wanted to scream at her, another wanted to fall to your knees and beg. In the doorframe, both Ghost and Soap stood, watching you like ferocious guard dogs, waiting for the moment to attack. 

When you killed the engine and stopped, everything got much more quiet. You stepped out, standing only a few metres from her.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Kate calmly stated instead of greeting you, a neutral look on your face.

“Fuck you,”  not the best way to start the conversation and you could see Soap’s eyebrows raise behind Kate, but you paid her no mind as you took a step forward, “Fuck you, Kate. I fucking saved you and you disgarded me like a piece of trash.”

“I gave you what you wanted,” Kate remained almost emotionless, tipping up her chin a little, “You said it yourself. You needed the money to pay the bills, to start over somewhere new. I gave you that.”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ ask me what I wanted?” You asked angrily, clenching your hands, “Did you even fucking care? Bashed in that dude’s face and I was no longer of use to you?”

Kate shrugged but you could see the corner of her mouth twitch, see her shoulders tense a little, “Figured it was better than killing you.”

The urge to scream at her was back and you ran a hand over your face, keeping yourself back from doing so, from giving her the hell you wanted to. 

It was as if your mind wasn’t in control when you stepped closer, reaching into your pocket - ignoring the way the men in the door tensed, as if ready to step in, yank you away from her, push you to the ground –

The folded butterfly knife rested in your hand as you offered it to her.

“This was in my car,” you said, more calm now, not even sure why you made this stupid choice, continuing, voice turning into a whisper, “please don’t make me leave. I’d rather die. Please. I’ll be good for you.”

Kate stared at the knife for a moment, then up at your face again. Something in her eyes softened.

“I’ll be good for you,” you whispered, reiterating that you meant it. Your hand was shaking a little. With your black dress, you weren’t sure if you were dressed to impress or dressed for  your funeral. 

Her hand reached out calmly, to touch the butterfly knife in your hand. But instead of taking it from you, like you had expected, she moved her hand to push your fingers against it. 

“Keep it,” her voice wasn’t loud, her eyes never leaving your face, almost as if she was looking for something. As if this was a ritual of a kind, and you, the black lamb, had willingly come for slaughter - only to be turned down.

This wasn’t really what you had expected and though you tightened the grip around the folded knife, you didn’t move otherwise. She was the sun in your galaxy, the one you would look for and you didn’t know when she had become that. It was fucked up, it was wrong and there were no doubt something toxic about it, it was all messed up.

Kate Laswell stepped even closer. Her hands were soft as they rested on your warm cheeks, framing your face. You had to focus on not crying for a moment. The hand that wasn’t holding the knife came to rest on her elbow, as if to wordlessly beg her to never let go. You wanted to run your hand over the sharp bridge of her nose, wanted to kiss the wrinkles near her eyes, push away the stray long pieces of hair in her bangs, kiss her jaw and breathe in her scent near her neck. 

“I’ve ruined you, haven’t I, darling?” She asked, a tone of sadness clear in the question. You nodded a little, ever so slowly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “rewritten my code –” your moved your hand from her elbow to rest against the back of one of her hands, nuzzling into her palm a little, “I don’t think I mind, though.”

That was the truth wasn’t it? A fucked up truth, from a broken woman that found somebody other broken in a different way, with a power imbalance between you. Even if she just wanted to keep you around as a fuck toy, you didn’t mind. You had somebody to care about again.

A soft smile appeared on her face.

“No more running away?”

“No,” you answered honestly, adding a sharp, “and don’t send me away again, either.”

A huff left her. “Alright.”

You were the one to initiate the kiss and Kate only deepened it. Finally you slid the knife into your pocket, before putting your arm around her shoulder. The world could have ended around you and you would have been happy. 

You heard a huff from behind her  - you just flipped Ghost off behind Kate’s back, making Soap giggle.

When you pulled away from each other, Kate didn’t even try to bed discreet as she took in your body, your soft curves in the dress, only hidden a little by the jacket. 

“That’s an awfully pretty dress, Fae,” she whispered, slowly licking her bottom lip, licking off the taste of your mind, “I should look at it closer. Preferably in my bed.”

Even as you felt your face heat up, you snickered like a love struck school girl. 

[2chopsticks2eyes]

What You Deserve: Part 3

This is part 3 of a three part series, please be sure to start from part one!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: All parts are ~67k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, mentions of non-con, PTSD, Anxiety, Alcohol, Cussing, Come Eating, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, References to Drugs, Drug Dealing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eating Disorders, Childhood Trauma, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex

Summary: After unfortunate circumstances, you pack up and move to Korea with your best friend Bang Chan to attend college. After falling into Chan's group of friends he had established, you find yourself getting a little too close to the mild tempered and snarky Lee Minho.

Author's Note: I am probably spoiling the whole story with the warnings, but I like to be safe. I originally was only on AO3, but I wanted to link platforms with Tumblr and Twitter too. Hope you enjoy!

__________________________________________

Part Three: Making Amends

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

U looked sexy today dancing

U should wear that shirt more often

Little Mouse🐭😘:

My crop top?

U might need to convince me

What do I get out of it? 😏

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

Maybe u should come over and find out

Little Mouse🐭😘:

Lucky for u, I don’t work today 😌

Better make it good

On my way

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

I think u will be VERY convinced 😉

You smiled at your phone and decided to shimmy into one of your more sexy pieces of lingerie, a silky black crop top (might as well give him some incentive) and grabbed a light cardigan for the spring weather to leave. It had only been a couple days since you’d been outside of class with him, but it was enough to get you excited to go to his place. When you stepped out into the living room, Chan was lounging on the couch by himself. “Hey Channie! Where’s Lix?”

“Hyunjin’s place.”

“No surprise there.” You chuckled and he smiled at you. “Holy shit! I forgot to tell you! So you know how your lounge’s coffee is shit?”

“It’s hard to forget.” He grimaced.

“Well, I didn’t tell you, but I asked my boss if he was considering a sister store and I suggested setting up as an addition to collaborate with the lounge! He said if I planned everything out and it would help with both yours and our revenues, he could let me set it up!”

His eyes turned into saucers. “Kiyomi!” He stood up and abruptly wrapped you in his arms. “You are so fucking amazing! That’s an amazing idea!” He stood back with his hands on each side of your arms. “Let me know if you need help with anything. I’m always here for you, sweetheart.”

He gave you a sad smile and squeezed you closely. You were slightly confused, but you tightly hugged him back.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, Y/N…”  He sounded hesitant. “I… I found a girlfriend..." You pulled back and your eyes widened. "-her name is Lisa - she’s fucking gorgeous and I realized I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately. I hadn’t even considered that you were probably feeling lonely at home.” He raised a hand and cupped your cheek.

You felt guilty and glad at the same time. “That’s great Channie! I’m so happy for you! This wouldn’t happen to be miss couch cowgirl would it?” You tauntingly grinned.

“Well… so what if it is?” His face was bright red and you pinched his flushed cheek, which was immediately swatted away.

“Well at least you tasted a sample before committing.” You winked at him and he gave you a disgusted look while stepping back with an unamused expression. “But really, Chan. I really am happy for you. I will have to meet her at some point.”

“Yeah definitely, I’ve already talked her ear off about you.”

“All good things I presume?”

“No, I absolutely trashed you. Told her you were a piece of a shit.” He said nonchalantly.

“Well joke’s on you. You’re the one who loves this piece of shit.” You poked your tongue out at him and he laughed at you, wrapping you in a warm hug again. You thought about it and you wanted nothing more than to ease his worries. “And about the… loneliness, don’t worry about me, pup. I have 7 new amazing friends that will help out with that. Min and I hang out all the time!”

He tensed at that last bit and you froze. “Minho?” You pulled back and searched his eyes for what he was thinking.

“Y-yeah… he tutors me, remember?” You tried to deflect the attachment to ease his worries.

He physically softened. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Channie?” He hummed in response, smoothing the hair on your head while doing so. “Do you have a problem with me and Minho?”

He retracted his hand and sighed. “I- I dunno, Kiyomi. I love him like a brother, I do, but when I first met him… he was a real playboy. He would pick up girls every time we all went out together and would take them home, and the next time we would see him, he would be marked up all over and he was constantly hungover. When we asked about the girls, he just said it was a quick fuck and probably wouldn’t see them again.” He looked up at you with sad eyes. “He hasn’t really done that within the past year as far as I know, but I dunno, I guess I just worry about a pretty girl like you hanging around him a lot.”

Your mouth was agape and your stomach had dropped. How many girls had Minho been with? Is he just waiting to fuck me then bounce? No that doesn’t make sense, he is the one that is wanting to hold off. Well, he could just be playing with his food before… Your mind wouldn’t stop racing at this new bit of information and you started wondering about his past. You really didn’t know much about him before you met other than his cats and the fact that he lived in Gimpo.

“It’s stupid though, he’s an amazing friend and I wouldn’t ever want to change him now. He really seems to have cleaned up his act.” Chan reiterated.

“S-so what? You’re worried we would start dating or something?” You tried to dance around the question, trying to understand what his stance was.

“I mean I guess. I dunno, like I said, it’s stupid. But it’s Min we’re talking about, completely not your type.”

You rolled your eyes. “Chan, you must be really naïve if you think my tastes haven’t changed since high school. I think I prefer actual men other than whiny jocks and stoners nowadays.”

“Touché.” He looked down at the cardigan you were holding. “Going somewhere?”

You panicked. You couldn’t tell him you’re going to hang out with Minho right after he said he didn’t feel comfortable with it! “Uhhh, Ji said he wanted to hang and watch movies tonight.” Guilt overflowed your heart, but Chan wasn’t ready to know the truth quite yet.

“Oh okay cool. Have fun! Be safe!” You breathed a sigh of relief and waved as you stepped outside. Once you got on the bus, you immediately texted Jisung.

Kiyomi Aussie😍:

Jisung! My Blueberry #1! 🥰

My best little quokka! 😍

My handsome piece of cheesecake! 😘

Quokka🐿🍰:

…🤨

What did u do and what do u want from me?

I refuse to bury a body 🙅🏽♂️

Even if it is for a pretty girl 😉

Damnit now I’m craving cheesecake

Kiyomi Aussie😍:

Ji, u always want cheesecake

But I will def buy u one if u do me a solid

I’m going to Min’s place but I told Chan I’m going to hang w/ u for a movie night

Can u PLEASE cover for me? 🙏🏼

Quokka🐿🍰:

U had me at cheesecake

I don’t know y he would check in w/ me

But I’ll cover for u beautiful 😚

Kiyomi Aussie😍:

Ur a saint Ji! Next time I see u you’ll get u ur cake

Quokka🐿🍰:

So, do tell…

What is it that u and Mr. Lee REALLY plan on doing tonight?

...😉

Definitely going to ghost that text. No regrets. When you stepped up to Minho’s apartment door, you adjusted your bralette underneath your shirt and checked your makeup from the camera on your phone. You paused for a moment and laughed at yourself, never did you think you would try this hard to look good for a man. The thought of his previous escapades popped into your mind and you briefly got nervous. Maybe I can slip in the topic at some point…

You knocked on the door and it took a moment for him to answer. When he opened the door, you saw that he was dressed up, had beautiful dark makeup on, and had his hair done with shaggy looking waves. In other words, he looked like a whole motherfucking snack. His eyes went wide as he looked down at your midriff. “Well hello beautiful! You’re bribing me aren’t you?” You sauntered in and gave him a sensual kiss.

“So what if I am?” He ran his hands over your exposed waist and slightly dipped his fingers up under the hem of your top. All according to plan.

You started to pull your cardigan off, but he stopped you. “Don’t, we're going out.” He grabbed your hand and led you out of the apartment.

“Oh really? And where is it, pray tell, that you plan on taking us?” You clung on to his arm and the two of you walked down to his motorcycle. 

“It’s a secret.” He winked at you and strapped on your helmet. Then he fucking lifted  your whole damned body to seat you on the back. I know I weigh very little, but damn, that’s fucking hot. You bit your lip and he gave you an expression that he knew exactly what you were thinking.

The ride was another free flying experience. Adrenaline, excitement, and arousal overflowing your senses. You had never been this horny around anyone before, but it seemed like this man exuded sex appeal wherever he went. Your hands moved from grabbing onto his waist, to grabbing onto his muscular thighs, teasing him by sliding up and down them, moving closer to his groin.

He turned his head for a moment with a glare and then picked up the speed, making you cling to his waist for dear life. You heard him laugh loudly and you smacked his chest, making him laugh even louder.

He turned into a dark, sketchy alleyway and parked in a small car lot with very few cars. When he helped you off the bike and removed your helmet, you gave him a suspicious gaze. “Is this where you murder me and throw my body in a dumpster fire?”

“Of course not!” He looked utterly offended. “I would sell your organs for petty cash first!”

You couldn’t help but guffaw at that. “Ah, that makes much more sense! You’re so smart, babe.” He snickered as well, as he held his hand out.

“This way to your demise, darling.” You dramatically bowed and took his hand. He led you out of the lot and down a half staircase on the side of the alleyway and what you saw when he opened the door blew your mind. 

A night club with colorful and flashing lights filled the room. It didn’t look trashy unlike what resided outside. A whole ass dance floor filled the room with a lit up bar fully lining the back wall. “Holy demented shit, Minho?! Where the hell did this come from?!” You had to yell over the loud EDM music filling the air.

“Old spot I used to regularly go to a year or two back! The drinks are badass!” Your mind filled with images of him dancing up on other women and you had to shake it from your mind. He’s here with me now, that's all that matters.  

The air was electric and the building smelt like smoke, sex, and liquor. The neon lights that flickered over Minho’s face were mesmerizing. You couldn’t even come up with a witty response to his smirk with how beautiful he looked. He looked completely in his element with his age worn leather jacket and lax disposition. Shadows danced underneath his cheekbones and his eyes twinkled in the lights. Your body moved before your brain did as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Well I definitely would like to put our dancing skills into action! Let’s go!” You grabbed his hand and dragged him around the mounds of dancing and grinding bodies. When you reached the bar, Minho raised his hand to the bartender and he immediately left the line of people he was tending to.

“Holy shit! If it isn’t Lee Minho!” He grabbed his hand over the bar to shake it firmly. “Where the hell have you been?!” The man looked close to Minho’s age and had handsome features. Damn, why does every man I meet in this country have to be so goddamn beautiful??

“Hey Jackson! Long time no see! I’ve just been busy as hell!” This supposed ‘Jackson’ turned his gaze over to you and offered a debonair smile.

“Well who’s this lovely lady?” He picked up your hand from the bar and chastely kissed the back of it. You mildly flushed at the action and Minho cutely swatted him away.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Isn’t she a beauty?” Minho looked at you with pride and you nudged his side when your stupid face blushed.

“Girlfriend? Out of anyone I’ve seen you with, since when did you grow a sense of commitment?” Minho’s expression was undiscernible and he punched Jackson’s shoulder over the bar.

“Since I’ve been away from your shit influence!” Minho quickly deflected. “Babe, get anything you like, it’s on me.” He beams at you with an unfairly sexy half grin.

“It’d better be! I’m broke as fuck!” He laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Well I want some Bullet Bourbon and Coke, but I want you –” You shoved your pointer finger into his chest. “-to take some shots with me first!”

He cackled at you. “Whatever you say, your highness!” He turned back to Jackson. “I’ll take the usual.” He winked at the two of you as he took Minho’s credit card and rushed off to mix some concoctions. You turned back to Minho with a raised eyebrow and a half grin.

You figured now was as good a time as any to bring it up. “No commitments Mr. Playboy? Exactly how many women have you brought here?” Your voice sounded teasingly, but your mind was dreading the answer.

Again, his expression was unreadable, but quickly turned into a cocky grin and he closed in on your ear. “Why? Is my little mouse jealous?” You shivered as the hot breath rolled across your neck and you pushed him away rolling your eyes.

“More like I want to see how many women I’m competing with around here.” You crossed your arms and eyed him down.

His expression turned soft and your concerns started to melt. He wrapped his arms around your waist again and linked his hands behind you. “There is no competition, Y/N. No one can compare to you. Mind nor body.” You were positively swooning and there was no way he didn’t notice. But before he could comment on it, Jackson showed up with a tray overflowing with drinks.

You deadpanned over to Minho. “This is your usual? Min, you don’t need to get me shitfaced to get me to want to fuck you. I’ve literally been begging. ” He absolutely cracked up and doubled over.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you wasted out of your mind!” You glared at him and he abruptly leaned in for a sweet, sensual kiss. You felt kind of awkward with the intense PDA, but his lips were so addicting that you couldn’t care less. You melted into it and wrapped your arms around his neck. Before it could get any more heated, he broke the kiss by shoving a shot glass in front of your face, instantly catching you off guard. “ This beauty is called the Screaming Orgasm.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. The shot looked like a mixture between chocolate milk and an espresso shot. In other words, it looks delicious . You grabbed the shot and cocked your eyebrow. “Is this a threat or a promise?”

He grabbed his own from the tray of four more of the same shots and held it up for a toast. “We won’t know until the night ends, will we?” He had a cheeky smile and was looking down at your lips, licking his own in temptation.

The sex this man exuded was beyond belief. “I’m holding you to your word, babe.” The two of you threw back your drinks and your taste buds were stimulated with a creamy, coffee-like taste and the sting of vodka. You closed your eyes and relished in the taste as it slid down your throat. The warmth that hit your stomach was the familiar feel of intoxication that would surely hit you soon. You opened your eyes and Minho was smirking at you. “It’s delicious! But I couldn’t say that I had an orgasm, screaming or otherwise.”

He scoffed at you. “Patience, little mouse.” He picked up his drink which was a delicious shade of dark red. He watched you eyeball it as he took a sip, smirking at you then promptly handing it over to you. You sniffed it and it smelled absolutely divine. When you drank it, the fruity, bitter taste drowned your senses and warmed up your nerves. “Bokbunja, it’s a Korean fruit wine.” You took another gulp with an innocent look and he just rolled his eyes at you. “I guess we’re switching then.” He grabbed your bourbon and coke and took a couple of large gulps as well.

He sat his newly appointed drink down while you gulped down your fruity wine like you hadn't had anything to drink in weeks. When you finished, he laughed and gave you the rest of your original drink which only had about a third left. “Let’s take another shot and go dance!” He yelled over the ever growing noisy crowd. You nodded your head, reluctantly sat down your drink, and clinked your shot glasses together, downing them whole. He grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to the dance floor with a seductive smile on his face.

He pulled you close and brought your arms to wrap around his neck, to which you complied eagerly. The upbeat music overflowed your senses and you felt like it was only the two of you in the room. Of course, with the both of you being dancers, you tore up the dancefloor. The two of you were perfectly in sync and your bodies couldn’t get any closer. You could feel your combined touches heating up and his hands were roaming all over your back and ass.

You turned in his grasp as he wrapped his arms around your waist and hips, pulling you close to him. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. You’d never felt so sexy in your life and you could definitely thank your beyond gorgeous boyfriend for that. 

You felt like you were floating on cloud nine. The bass of the music shaking the floor, the gentle hands ghosting up and down your body, and the buzzing of alcohol in your veins. It was euphoric.

You had no clue how long you two had been dancing, but the more you felt the alcohol getting to you, the more daring you became. You rhythmically rolled your hips back to grind up against him and he groaned in your ear, his hot breath sending heat waves through your core. He suddenly dug his face in the crook of your neck and started sucking at your pulse point, commencing the soaking of your panties.

You turned back around hungrily and repeated the same action to him, re-darkening the already purple marks on his neck. He snaked a knee in between your legs and you started to grind on it, stimulating your clit and not giving a damn that there were hundreds of dancers around you because - let’s be honest - there were others dancing a lot more provocative than you were right now. When you released Minho, he growled in your ear. “I need to sober up or I’m going to fuck you right here in front of everyone.”

“Better than nothing, babe.” You flashed him an evil grin, which he took away with a ravenous kiss. You could feel the reluctance he had to pull away, but when he did, he grabbed your hand and led you back to your spot at the bar, drinks right where you had left them. Jackson hurried back over to you guys.

“More shots? Drinks? Condoms?” He smirked at the two of you. You threw back the two remaining shots. 

“Condoms please!!” Your inebriated state didn’t give a fuck for shouting that to a complete stranger.

Minho rolled his eyes and mussed your hair. “No, just a couple of waters and the tab please.” A moment later he returned with the aforementioned items. Jackson slid over Minho’s card and he scooped it up.

“You good to drive, man?” He said as he slid the waters towards you, which you happily clambered it over to sip on, enjoying the refreshment from the hot atmosphere.

“Yeah, the dancing sobered me up a bit and I didn’t have nearly as much to drink as this little firecracker.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you fell into him, looking up at him with a gummy grin which he returned with a look of adoration, pinching your flushed cheek in the process.

“Okay, man! You two have fun tonight! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Jackson, there’s literally nothing you wouldn’t do.” Minho deadpanned.

“Exactly!” He laughed as he walked away.

You watched as Minho downed his water to catch up with your already almost finished glass and he grabbed you by the waist. “Let’s get out of here, little mouse.”

- - - - - - - - - -

You crashed through the apartment door, lips still latched onto each other while you stripped off your cardigan and shoes, Minho kicking the door shut behind him. Your hands were all over each other and Minho grabbed your wrists to pin you up against the wall. You whined and tried to free your hands as he flexed his thigh against your pussy, sucking and licking your neck in the process.

“What was it you said about convincing you, little mouse?” He was rapidly breathing against your neck and you had to reclaim your mind to remember what he was talking about. His full body pressed against you did nothing to help with your muddled brain.

Right, this was all about the damned crop top . You scoffed at the stupid idea. “I can definitely say I am getting there.” You gasped as he bit your earlobe.

“I guess I’ll just have to try harder.” You shivered at his whispered words. Your hands clawed at him to pull off his shirt and he did the same with yours. You immediately took off your pants as well and his eyes went wide as saucers as he saw your lingerie underneath. “Holy fuck…” Without warning, he lifted you up by both of your legs and wrapped them around his waist, grinding into your soaking panties in the process. The feeling of his rock hard bulge against your sensitive clit was enough to make you cry.

“Min, please. Please ! I want you so badly, baby!” You threw your head back against the wall as he kneaded your ass and pulled your bralette to the side with his teeth so he could suck on your nipple. You removed one of your hands from where it was wrapped around his neck and reached in between the two of you to fumble with his belt buckle, unsuccessfully unfortunately. 

He pulled you off the wall to venture into the bedroom with your writhing body wrapped in his arms, throwing the two of you down on the bed. You finally pulled off his belt and pants and pulled him back down on top of you. You grinded up onto his warm erection through his boxers and moaned at the feeling of only having two pieces of fabric between you and the scorching heat in his pants that you most desired. “Kiyomi… fuck… you’re making this so hard on me, baby… I want… ngh… it to be special…” You could see he was quickly losing his composure.

You knew you were still drunk, but all you could think about was how good it felt for him to be pressed up against you, your vagina cupping around his bulge perfectly through your panties. Your whines only seemed to egg him on further. He growled and glared down at you with fire and passion in his eyes. He jumped off of you and only got your panties down about halfway before he plunged his face in you.

You screamed as he roughly sucked on your clit, fully thrusting two fingers in and out of you while aiming for your sweet spot over and over and over again. It was too much stimulation all at once and you didn’t know if you wanted him to slow down or speed up. Your hands were tearing through his messy hair, but that seemed to push him even further. His mouth moved to your thighs and you gasped and swore at the delicious pain of his biting and sucking.

You screamed at what was probably the quickest orgasm you had ever experienced, drenching his sheets and vision going fuzzy. He didn’t stop there though, he continued to abuse your aching pussy and ran his mouth and tongue over every inch he could reach. 

He kept on and on and on. You are sure you came at least three times, Minho’s hand pleasuring himself underneath his boxers all the while.

Before you knew it, he had ripped off the remaining distance of your panties and climbed back on top of you. He wrapped your legs around his waist and dry humped your clit through his boxers like a mad man.

The oversensitivity to your clit drove you mad and you could feel your juices seeping through his boxers, the tip of his erection peeking out just through the top of the hem of them. “Holy fuck baby, you’re going to kill me…” He shakily said through his desperate thrusts. You squeaked and gasped at the sensation of his heat pressed up against you through his offending piece of cloth and you could tell he was getting less and less controlled. You both fucking lost it when the bare tip of his dick rubbed up against your clit. “F-fu– fuck!”

His semen completely covered both of your chests from where his head was peaking out of his boxers, completely falling on top of you with an exhausted huff. You ran your fingers through his hair as the both of you were panting heavily against each other. Once you regained a modicum of a brain cell, you breathed out. “Minnie… I’m tired of waiting…”

He leaned up and kissed you on the forehead. “I know, baby. I know…”

- - - - - - - - - -

A couple days after that, the group decided to get together one day after you got off work. You were all going to go to Eunsincheo to hang out so everyone could harass the Aussie to serve your every whim. You really didn’t want to go out in your grimy work clothes, but it had been a while since you had all gotten together, so you said why the hell not.

You were going to go to the lounge and then the coin karaoke again once Chan got off work. The first thing you saw when you entered was the unmatched beauty of the man of your dreams, Lee Minho. For some reason, Chan was nowhere in sight. Everyone was ecstatic to see you and jumped out of their sofas and lounge chairs to come hug you.

Of course it was Felix and Hyunjin first, hugging you from each side and brightening your mood with Felix’s sunshine smile and Hyunjin’s natural humor. Changbin almost squeezed the life out of you. Seungmin and Innie - thankfully - gave you normal hugs. And Jisung picked you up and twirled you around, kissing your cheek when your feet touched the floor again making you giggle hysterically.

Minho came up behind him and shoved him away with a glare. “Whaaat? I haven’t hung out with her in ages!”

“Channie-hyung said you and Kiyomi were together the other day though?” Felix questioned Jisung with an utterly confused look on his face. Your body tensed up as nervous ice froze your nerve endings and you had hoped no one noticed.

Jisung looked at you with a terrified expression. “Uuh y-yeah, we did! But we were just watching movies so… uh, we weren’t really ‘hanging out’ if we weren’t talking?” He nodded his head as if he was satisfied with his own lie. Felix thankfully seemed content with it as well.

Minho finally looked at you with a bright smile and wrapped his arms around your waist, you bringing your arms around his neck and burrowing your heads in each other's necks. “Hi.”

You chuckled at his simple greeting. “Hey, loser.”

The two of you pulled back and realized the whole group was looking at the two of you. You and Minho immediately took a big step away from each other and cleared your throats.

“Kiyomi!! I saved you a seat!” Jisung was bouncing on the cushion as he patted the spot next to him. Bless Jisung for dissipating that tension. Again, you were squished between the two best friends on the couch up against the wall.

You ruffled both of their hairs. “Aw, my blueberry boys are together with me again!” Minho rolled his eyes and flicked your hand away and Jisung just snuggled into your touch, leaning against your shoulder.

“Where’s Chan? I thought he was working today?” You peered around the area and he was nowhere to be found.

Changbin spoke up. “He’s in the back, the shitty coffee maker broke again. Which, in all honesty, might be a blessing. The coffee here is shit.” He took a sip of his smoothie he obviously brought from elsewhere.

“Well then you will be happy to hear what I have to say.” You declared smugly to the group. The circle was silent in suspense. “I am working on convincing my boss to let us join up with you and add a small branch here in the lounge. I feel like if we sell our coffee here, you guys will get a lot higher customer flow.”

The whole group exclaimed different levels of excitement from your statement. “Holy hell, that’s awesome Kiyomi!” Little Innie leaned forward in his seat with intrigue. 

“Oh my god I could kiss you right now! I always knew you were my type of girl, Kiyomi. Strong, independent, smart. You have single handedly saved all of our taste buds.” Ji simply stated as he leaned back against the arm of the couch and spread his legs across yours and Minho’s laps. You watched in amusement as your blueberries stared at each other on either side of you. Jisung with a shit-eating grin and Minho with a bone-chilling glare.

“I just have to draw up a game plan and talk to your boss first before I can even think of that dream coming to fruition.” You stole a drink of Changbin’s smoothie and you were grateful that he didn’t even bat an eyelash. He actually smiled fondly.

“I may or may not have mentioned something to the boss man already.” Everyone looked up and saw Chan wiping his hand on a rag and walking up to the group. “He said he is very interested in meeting with you and wanted me to give you his number.” You jumped out of your chair and ran to hug him. He laughed at you and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you up in the process. “Kiyomi, you literally saw me just this morning.” He chuckled as he lowered your feet to the ground again.

You gasped in mock offense. “What? I can’t thank you? Fine! I guess I’m not worthy anymore for the great ‘ Captain Bang Chan’ .” You said with finger quotes. “I guess I’ll find someone else to receive all of my hugs.” You dramatically and wistfully remarked as you turned back to your seat. You felt hands wrap around your waist and Chan squeezed you painfully from behind. Already facing your seat, you saw Minho balling his fists with white knuckles with an unamused face while everyone else was chuckling.

Oh? Is someone jealous? You couldn’t control the smirk that grew on your face and you decided to test your theory. You reached back behind you and poked Chan’s side, making him release you from the tickles. When he did, you turned around and started poking him in all the spots you knew would make him jolt.

He squirmed with a giggle that looked completely ridiculous on a man of his size and muscle mass. He abruptly bent over and threw you over his shoulder, slamming you down on the empty loveseat. You screeched as he jumped on top of you, preventing you from running away, tickling you relentlessly.

“Chan! Chan! Haha! Stop! I’m gonna pee!”

“That’s what you get, runt!” Apparently at some point, Jisung and Minho had stood up from their spot on the couch and lifted Chan off of you, tackling him to the ground and wrestling him. Chan was laughing but he was annoyed that he was outnumbered. “Guys! What the hell?!”

“Kiyomi was sitting with us, you thief! We are reclaiming our honor!” You giggled at Jisung’s bravado as you sat up and walked back over to your place on the couch, making the two blueberries pop up and bound over back to your sides. They wrapped their arms around you, caging you from both sides and shot threatening looks over at Chan. Jisung really looked more adorable than fearsome, but Minho looked down right pissed.

Chan just chuckled as he stood up and then froze when he looked over at you three, instantly putting you on edge. Is he seriously that pissed from just a hug? “Jesus Min! Who the fuck did that to your neck?” Oh. You felt chills down your spine, knowing exactly what he meant.

The marks. The marks you intimately claimed him with. The hickeys that ran all up and down his jaw, neck, and much further down the collar of his shirt than they even knew. Everyone but you and Jisung instantly whipped their heads to look at Minho and they all sniggered. “Is our devil hyung finally getting some action again?” Changbin clapped his hands together as he laughed.

“I knew this would happen again at some point.” Jeongin scoffed and looked down at his hands.

“Hyung, you getting back in the swing of things? Kiyomi! You wouldn’t believe it! Minho-hyung used to take home chicks left and right almost every time we hung out! It was absol–”

“MAYBE I’M DONE FUCKING AROUND!” Minho stood up, cutting off Hyunjin mid-sentence, startling everyone. Everyone was silent and staring at Minho in awe. You had seen him upset before, but he was downright seething now. “Maybe I’m not a fuckboy anymore! Maybe…” He turned around to you and stared into your eyes. “...I found someone worth a damn.”

Your heart ached and you wished you could stand up and wrap him in a big hug. You wished that Chan could accept it. Chan was your beacon of light in your life, but suddenly, Minho was a light in the darkness as well.

Hyunjin stared at him with mouth agape. “Hyung, I-”

“I’ve got somewhere to be…” With that, Minho marched out of the lounge, leaving everyone speechless.

“What the fuck was that about?” Seungmin casually sat back in his chair and you and Jisung looked at each other with worried faces.

“I- I’m gonna go check on him, see if he’s okay…” When Jisung stood up to chase after him, Hyunjin grabbed his arm.

“Can you tell him I’m sorry…?” Hyunjin looked down at his feet and Jisung patted his hand.

“Of course, buddy.” And with that he was off. You wanted to run off to comfort him as well, but you knew Chan would have something to say about it. So you just sat back against the empty couch and numbly accepted Chan’s cuddles when he plopped down on the couch with you as the group started talking about your plans to collaborate with the lounge.

You didn’t engage in much conversation after that.

- - - - - - - - - -

After a very fruitless attempt to enjoy your time at karaoke with the remaining boys, you told Chan you were going to go bring something to Min to cheer him up and hang out with him and Ji. Thankfully, not only did he not protest, but he encouraged it.

You stopped by the store and got some horror movies, popcorn, soda, and some bourbon. And, since you were already there, you got a whole ass cheesecake for Jisung. You hoped and prayed that they were at Minho’s place because you definitely didn’t want to have to get back on the bus with all those groceries again.

You walked up to Minho’s apartment with your arms loaded with bags and knocked on the door with your foot. After a moment, Jisung answered the door when his face completely lit up. “HYUNG! I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU!” He yelled across the tiny apartment as if he wasn’t just a few feet around the corner. You shucked off your shoes and walked into the kitchen to set the bags down on the island. Minho turned around from his spot on the couch and the glower he was sporting turned into a Cheshire grin.

He just about leaped over the couch and pushed you against the fridge, kissing you tenderly with his hands on the sides of your face. His tongue explored your mouth unexpectedly, but fully reciprocated. Your whole body warmed with affection and your arms wrapped around his waist. Shit, PLEASE don’t get turned on with Jisung watching.

As if he could hear your thoughts, you both heard Jisung clear his throat from beside you and you turned your head apologetically. Minho, however, just kept on kissing down your neck and ran his hands down your shoulders. You had to push him away with an exasperated face. “Sung, you’re such a cock block!” Minho groaned.

“Don’t say that about my little quokka!” You shuffled over to wrap him in a hug, which he nuzzled into. “I want to spend time with him too!”

Minho crossed his arms with an unamused face. “Well I guess I should leave you guys alone then. Should I turn on the mood lights before I head out?” 

“Yes please!” Jisung threw his arm over your shoulder as he excitedly responded.

You elbowed him and pointed a finger, motioning at both of them. “Neither of you are leaving because I have planned an extraordinary night for all of us!”

The both of them smirked. “I don’t think I’m down for a threesome just yet, beautiful.”

“Yah!” Both you and Minho shouted at Jisung’s giggly suggestion. Minho immediately tackled him and they started wrestling on the ground. You couldn’t contain the smile of adoration at their stupidity as you pulled out all of the contents of the bags, throwing one of the bags of instant popcorn in the microwave. Their attention didn't waver at all due to Minho having his thighs wrapped around Jisung’s head like he was trying to squash a damn melon.

“BOYS!” You called their attention and they quickly untangled their limbs, standing up immediately, Minho with a smug smile and Jisung with an apologetic face. You gave a satisfactory smile and displayed your assorted items on the countertop, the microwave beeping with perfect timing.

“CHEESECAKE!!!” Jisung dove over to you and wrapped his arms around you possessively. “Hyung, I’m sorry, but I am marrying her. You have no say in the matter.” He kept his arm around you as he lifted off the plastic covering and inhaled the sweetness.

Minho grabbed your arm and pulled him toward you harshly, catching you and snaking his hand around your waist. “Yah, do you want to die, Han Jisung?” He took an aggressive step toward him and the quokka cowered away.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just marry this cheesecake.” Jisung grabbed the container and moved safely to the other side of the counter. 

You pushed Minho away. “Yah! I’m not a ragdoll, you assholes!” They chuckled at your whining and Minho kissed you on the cheek.

The quokka looked down at the rest of the goodies on the counter and squeaked at the movies. “Horror movie night!” He grabbed a fork, cheesecake, and the movies and shuffled to the living room, plugging in a DVD.

“Who uses DVDs anymore?” Minho smirked, taunting you. He placed his hand on your shoulder with mock consolation. “Your age is showing, noooona . We use streaming services now.” 

You punched his shoulder and he fell against the wall and acted like he had been shot. “Maybe the same person who still owns a DVD player!” You pointed to the opening trailers of the movie on the screen.

“Hah! She’s not wrong, hyung!” Jisung yelled from over the edge of the couch.

Minho refused to respond, but instead repeated Jisung’s words with a mocking tone like an adolescent teenager. You rolled your eyes amusingly and poured the popcorn into a bowl. As you pulled glasses out of the cupboard and turned back around to the island, Minho was instantly in front of you, bracketing you with his hands on each side of the counter.

“Are you trying to get me drunk so I’ll fuck you?” He whispered with a menacing tone.

You shivered as he ran his finger down the side of your jaw. You tried to regain your composure. “Maybe I just thought you needed to take the edge off. Either way, Ji is here so I think that would be off the schedule anyway.” You winked at his dark expression and pushed past him, going to pour everyone’s drinks.

- - - - - - - - - -

The three of you were lazing back on the couch, Jisung on your left and Minho on your right, all of you having finished about three drinks each. You were leaned back against Jisung’s chest while Minho was between your outstretched legs down the length of the couch, on his stomach and arms wrapped around your waist. You ran your fingers through Minho’s hair with his head stuffed right in between your boobs, head still turned toward the TV.

Eventually, you realized that your boyfriend had fallen asleep, indicated by his deep breaths and turning his head to snuggle further into your breasts. You chuckled at him and Jisung looked over the side of your head to examine the sleeping beauty.

“You know he really likes you right?” Jisung said in a low voice from where he was positioned behind you. You slightly leaned your head over on his chest so you could look at his face. You smiled at him and nodded.

“I really like him too…” You looked back down at your purring kitty and continued petting him.

“He probably doesn’t want me talking to you about this, but…” You looked back at the quokka. “He had a really hard time a couple of years ago. It made him desensitize himself and he did some really messed up things that he regrets.” Jisung looked down at Minho with sad eyes. “I won’t get into the details of why, but I just wanted to fill you in what the guys were talking about at Eunsincheo.”

“Yeah, um…” You guiltily looked away. Movie completely forgotten. “Chan might have mentioned something… but he was kind of vague…”

He looked down at you with worry. “He doesn’t want to say anything because he is afraid of how you will react, so I won’t say anything other than the fact that that life is behind him. You’re all he sees, he won’t shut up about you.” Your face lit up at Jisung's words. “It’s annoying, really. Especially since Minho is usually broody and distant with people… Out of everyone in the group, I’m glad you ended up with him. But I might be biased.” He winked at you, making you giggle and turn your attention back to the man on your lap.

“Out of everything I’ve done, he should know that I would never be able to judge him.” You looked back up at Jisung. “I’m glad he has you too, Ji.” He gave you a soft smile and gave you a whisper of a kiss on your hair, hugging you gently and laying his head on top of yours to redirect his attention back to the TV.

Again, you were submerged in unexpected emotions of how unreal this new life felt. You still expected to wake up and it all be a fever dream from either being knocked out cold by your dad or fainting from hunger.

The warmth emanating from the men around you gave you the feeling of sanctuary. You closed your eyes for a moment and before you knew it, you were dead asleep.

- - - - - - - - - -

For the next several days where Minho was over to tutor, Chan made sure to be at home. Not only at home, but over on the couch watching TV while you and Minho were across the room at the dining table. Needless to say, it was pretty obvious he wasn’t fond of the two of you alone anymore. It really pissed you off, but you couldn’t really say anything without rousing suspicion, so you kept quiet.

You and Minho would sneak amorous glances and light brushes of the fingers in attempts to show any semblance of affection. For some reason, with the way Chan seemed to want to monitor you around him, it just made you want to jump Minho’s bones even more than usual.

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

Someone is looking sexy today 😉

Little Mouse🐭😘:

I am legitimately in sweats and an shitty T-shirt

 

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

I didn’t say it was u

Chan is looking like a damned snack in that tank top

Little Mouse🐭😘:

Ah yes, how selfish of me to assume

...🙃

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

U do rock that outfit though

Tho I really think I much prefer what’s underneath 😏

Your whole body heated up as Minho texted next to you under the table. You clenched your thighs together and of course the bastard noticed it. You saw a simper form on his face as he side-eyed your dilemma and he turned back to his phone.

Minnie🐱🔥💋:

U like the sound of that baby?

Want me to throw u down on this table?

 Show Chan that ur mine?

I’ll make u cum so hard that u won’t even care if he knows anymore, baby 👅

Your thighs were clenching and crossing so hard it was almost painful. You glared at him as he smugly continued to feign studying. Your hands that were holding your phone moved closer to your crotch so the heels of your wrists could add at least a little pressure on your throbbing sex. You continued to type with your hands pressed against your lap.

Little Mouse🐭😘:

Do u want to die? 

Because Chan would be out for blood

Plus, I’ve begged for u to fuck me

But SOMEONE is too much of a pussy

...🙄

You grinned to yourself as a thought crossed your mind. Maybe he needed a taste of his own medicine.

Little Mouse🐭😘:

Speaking of pussy

Mine is so wet that u could drown a baby down there

It’s a shame that I have to resort to finger fucking

I can’t wait to find out how my soft walls feel around ur dick

Imagine how much of a mess I would make if I came on ur cock

You felt kind of embarrassed talking this dirty, but it was worth it when you could see his face drop as he shifted in his seat and leaned forward a tad bit. Time for the killer blow.

Little Mouse🐭😘:

I want to feel ur hot cum shooting deep in me

Drizzling out of my cunt and down my legs to mix with my juices

His whole form froze, his thumbs that were about to type had suspended above the screen and the muscles in his arms and legs tensed. It almost looked like he couldn’t breathe. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to play with him a bit more.

You scooted closer to him so that the two of your backs created a wall between you and where Chan sat.

“Can you show this to me again, Min? I’m having a hard time with it.” You leaned forward and closer to him and pointed at something in the textbook in front of you with one hand. The other hand, however, glided down to rest on his inner thigh, slowly climbing up to his growing erection.

He slowly turned his head your way, forcing you to look at his bone-chilling glare.

“Hey, I’m gonna take the trash out and run down to the convenient store. You guys want anything?” The two of you swiveled your heads to look at Chan next to the front door with his keys in one hand and a trash bag in the other. Thank the lord and everything that is holy.

“Uhhh, yeah. Do you think you could get me some grape Ramuné, Channie?” You silently applauded yourself. You knew for sure that the nearest convenience store didn’t have any because you spent what felt like ages looking for some last time you went. That should buy you and Minho some time to ‘sort out’ this debacle.

“Will do, sweetheart! Be right back!” Once he stepped out the door and locked it, Minho lunged at you.

He circled his long arms around your frame and lifted you, only to plop you back down again on the couch. “Sweetheart? What the fuck is that about?” He stared down at you with fire in his eyes. He was hovered over you with his thigh between your legs and the other standing him up off the ground, trapping you in his space.

“Why, are you jealous , Minnie?” You taunted him with a raised eyebrow and a condescending tone. You stared down at his bulge and caressed your hand over it, feeling the heat through his thick jeans. “Or was it what I said that got you all hot and bothered?” You were increasingly more bold the more time you spent with this goddamned ethereal creature.

He borderline growled and pressed his body down against you. You bit your lip from the pressure of his thigh against where you most desired him. “You’re playing with fire, little mouse. I’m just itching to expose us with your filthy words.” The whisper against your ear made your back arch and the hand against his bulge palmed him even harder.

He removed his thigh -making you whine- but lifted your legs around his waist, pulling himself flush to you and grinding his erection onto you. You gasped with a smile on your face and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss on your jawline.

He grinded again. “You drive me absolutely fucking crazy, Kiyomi. I’m a completely different person when you’re near.” He whispered with a sound of wanting. There is no way there is another man on this earth that is more perfect than this human being.

You caught his lips in a hungry kiss with your hands on each side of his face and explored each other’s mouths with abandon. It was messy and ravenous and filthy and your panties were surely soaked through. You were loving it.

You wanted him as close as humanly possible and you made that abundantly clear with the way you looped your arms around his back and clawed him in attempts to get him closer.

His hand snaked down your body and dove underneath your drenched panties, pinching and swiveling your clit between two fingers. You yelped in ecstasy and the mixture of the two of your breaths pressed against each other was intoxicating you.

You didn’t even hear it. The sound of your heartbeat and the heaving of breaths between the two of you completely deafened the sound of the door unlocking and opening.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!” Minho flew off of your body like a damned froghopper. The two of you peered over the back of the couch to be met with the mortified faces of Hyunjin and Felix.

You and Minho looked at each other in complete shock and turned to the pair with shaky breaths. Oh, why does this world hate me so?

- - - - - - - - - -

You handed Felix and Hyunjin a cup of tea and sat next to Minho on the couch, eyes glued to your fidgeting hands. “So this has been going on for a while now? And Ji knows already? I would have never guessed…” Hyunjin sounded flabbergasted as he sipped his tea.

“I just don’t understand why you are hiding it from Channie-hyung. He loves you both. I think he would be happy for you…” Felix looked at you with pleading eyes.

You put your consoling fingers on Felix’s hand. “I know Lix, but he has made himself clear. He really hates the idea of me dating anyone let alone someone in our group. I love him to death and he is the only reason I am here, so there is no way in hell that I want to stomp on his wishes.” You looked over to Minho who was faced away with an annoyed face. You placed a hand on his knee and he instantly deflated, his eyes melting into a soft warmth that peered into your own with affection. “But… I really like him… He makes me happy in more ways than I can count…”

Minho laced his fingers into the hand on his knee and kissed it softly. Damn him for being so goddamned sweet and making me melt no matter where we are. Or who we are around for that matter…

“Who are you and what have you done with Minho-hyung?” Hyunjin pointed accusingly at Minho and you giggled. 

Minho quickly stood up and towered over him. “Do you want me to show you where he is, Hyunjin-ah?” He said threateningly. 

“No! No, it’s okay…” He cowered behind Felix to which you and the other Aussie laughed at.

You pulled the hand you were still holding and sat him back down. Felix looked at you with a twinkle in his eye. “Okay… we won’t tell Chan. But I expect you to tell him eventually. He deserves to know, Kiyomi.”

You sighed as you stood to pull Hyunjin and Felix in for a hug. “I know, Lix. I will. And thank you guys. Really.” They rubbed your back and you, once again, swam in your adoration for the men around you.

“Of course, darling. Of course.” The two of them sat back down at the very moment the front door opened again with a very disgruntled Chan walking in the door.

“Kiyomi, I couldn’t find your drink, so I just got you this generic grape soda. I’m sorry, love.” You rounded the couch and gave him a big hug, startling him for a moment but then he dropped his bags and wrapped his big arms around your lithe frame.

“It’s okay, Channie. Thank you, pup.” You pecked him on the cheek and turned back to your friends with a soft smile that was returned by each. You would tell him soon. You wanted everyone to know who you belonged to. Your mind had been made, you just needed to find the right time.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Pst!” You felt an elbow nudge you from the seat next to you. You elected to ignore it to focus on the shading of your self portrait. “Psssst!” Another nudge. “Kiyomiii.” You rolled your eyes and turned towards your annoyance.

“Lee Minho, I am going to fail this class if I keep sitting next to you.” You nudged him back and he just smiled back. Stupid sexy man with his stupid sexy face. “You already ruined my watercolor painting last week from teasing me so much I knocked over my wash cup.”

“Hey now, technically you were the one who tipped it over, not me!” You mockingly raised a fist at him and he just smugly crossed his arms with grandeur. He glanced over at Jeongin that had left his seat across from you guys to go ask the professor a question, though he leaned in to whisper anyway. “All I wanted to say was that I have to go back home this weekend to take care of the cats. Mom and Dad are going to be gone and they need someone to stay at home for them.”

“Oh…” You were a bit disappointed because you really wanted to be with him this weekend, but it couldn’t be helped.

He rolled his eyes and nudged you again. “I’m inviting you to go with me, moron.” You whipped your head up and stared at him in the eyes, gobsmacked.

“Y-your parent’s house? To meet them? To stay the weekend? Alone? Cats?!” He vibrated in laughter and pushed your arm just enough to sway you.

“Yes to all, m’lady.” He gave you a soft smile with a tiny hint of something else behind his eyes. Desperation? “So, will you come with me?” Did he even need to ask?

You nodded frantically and threw your arms around him to which he chuckled at. “Of course! I can’t wait!” You praised the heavens that you didn’t have to work that weekend.

“Can’t wait for what?” Jeongin’s smiling face appeared from across the table.

You rushed to pull away from the feline to think of an answer. “Minho wants to plan a trip for all of us to go to Jeju together one day!” Nailed it!  

“Awesome! Count me in!” Well shit, could have thought that one through a bit better. Jeongin looked genuinely excited and you felt like you might just need to make that a reality now. 

- - - - - - - - - -

It felt like ages before Friday came around, and even then, classes felt like one minute lasted an hour. The last class felt like a day long, the bus home felt like a year long, the time waiting at home and dolling yourself up to leave felt like a century long.

The plan was this, you told Chan that you, Jisung, and Minho were going to Gimpo for the weekend to visit some of their old friends (which wasn’t entirely a lie except for the fact that Jisung wasn’t going and the ‘friends’ were Minho’s parents and cats). Close enough, right?

By the time Minho and Jisung showed up at your flat, you were fully packed and vibrating in anticipation and anxiety. You were going to meet Minho’s parents. He was an only child so Minho was their entire life. No fucking pressure, right?

You wanted to look nice for a good first impression, so you wore a cute, modest red dress with a floral pattern embellished in the fabric. You wore red heels and black stockings with garter straps that the dress was long enough to cover perfectly. And lastly, you had an elegant black choker to finish off the look.

When Chan showed the two of them inside, you felt instantly relieved of your tension at the sight of the two bright faces beaming at you. You bounced up from your seat on the couch and bounded over to hug them both.

“Hah! I just saw you at dance practice a few hours back, little mouse. No need to get riled up!”

You pouted at Minho. “Well I’m sorry Captain Doucheweed, maybe I’m excited to explore more than just this part of Korea!”

He smirked. “More of Korea, huh? Maybe we could stop by up North, I heard they love foreigners.” The cheeky bastard had the gall to wink at you after that. You tried - and failed - to flick him on the forehead as he dodged the contact. Chan wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“Yeeeah sorry Min. That wasn’t quite on the itinerary when I brought her here. I’m sure the northerners would have different plans for her just ‘stopping by’.” Chan also winked at you and you felt an awkward tension in the air as Minho glared at him.

You and Jisung looked back and forth between the two and your blessed quokka spoke up. “So, beautiful, where’s your bag? I’ll help you lug it!”

“I’ll get it!” Minho and Chan said in tandem and the tension returned. Damn it all.

“Guys! I’m not a child! I’ll carry my own damned bag!” You tossed your duffle over your shoulder and wrapped your arms around Chan’s neck. “I love you, Chaaannie. Behave okay, pup?”

He scoffed and hugged you back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Look who’s talking, you’re a magnet for bad luck. Don’t let these two guys get you into any trouble.”

You pulled back and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Where’s the fun in that?” You cracked a smile. He glowered at you and you rolled your eyes. “Chill, man, I’ll be fine! I’m in good hands.” You broke the hug and smiled at your two blueberries.

All of you whipped your heads to Felix’s bedroom door when a very loud and deep moan belonging to Hyunjin seeped through the door.

“Ooookaaay I think that’s our cue to leave! You ready?” Jisung jovially asked, Minho already headed to the door with an annoyed aura. Jealousy looks cute on him.

You amusedly rolled your eyes at his behavior and placed a consoling hand on Chan’s shoulder. “See ya later, pup. Have fun listening to Hyunlix’s symphony!” You waved at the man who was now burying his face in his hands and followed the boys out the door.

Before your foot could cross the threshold, you felt a strong arm hold you back. You turned around to look at Chan’s worried face and gave him a sentimental smile, placing a gentle hand on his cheek and rubbing your thumb across the smooth surface.

Chan had always worried about you. Growing up, unless you had to go home or on a drug run, he was attached to your hip. When he visited during holidays from school, you couldn’t find one of you without the other.

There were so many instances where he refused to let you go, afraid of what was waiting for you at home. The only way you could prevent him from further action was to remind him of his family’s safety. There were many times where you had tried to avoid him, thinking he would be happier and less anxious without you around. 

To say the least, he was not okay with that idea. 

The last time you tried to do that, he had a nervous breakdown and almost went directly to your house. The house where your parents were. Where Chan could be discovered. Where he would be put in danger.

You stopped trying to leave him after that, deciding that it was best for both of you to accept that fate had brought you together. Every part of your being was connected to Chan. The only reason you were still alive was because of Chan. So it only made sense that he would be wary of having you travel in an unknown country without him.

You looked at the desperation in his glossy eyes and instantly wanted to quell his anxieties. You jumped into his arms as he wrapped them tightly around your waist. You whispered in his ear as you stuffed your face in his soft hoodie. “I love you so so so much, Channie. You know that right?” He meekly nodded into your shoulder. “Please try not to worry too much. I’ve been through a lot and I think I can handle a simple trip to Gimpo. I trust the boys to take care of me.”

He nodded again and kissed the side of your head. “I love you too, Kiyomi. Please keep me updated alright?” You released him again and gave him an enthusiastic nod.

“Hey! We’re not getting any younger over here!” Minho shouted from Felix’s borrowed car they just finished loading. You stuck your tongue out at Minho, which he returned in kind. You squeezed Chan’s hand one more time.

“Bye, baby bro! I’ll text you later!” All he responded with was a hum and a meek wave as you jumped in the passenger seat.

You watched Chan through the window as the car drove down the road, feeling guilty in more ways than one as you watched his downcast face turn around and head inside. You felt an endearing hand smooth over your own and looked to the driver's seat to see Minho comfortingly smiling at you.

“It’s okay, little mouse. If you want, you can stay. I don’t mind going alone if you aren’t comforta—“

“No! No…” You grabbed his hand with both of yours. “I want to go, I just… I dunno, I feel guilty…” You hated keeping secrets from him, you never kept anything from each other and it just felt wrong that he didn’t know about this. Even if it was your idea and yours only.

“You said you’re going to tell him soon, right?” Jisung piped up from the back seat.

You felt Minho slightly tense underneath your hands. “Yeah… I think I’m gonna tell him when we get back home.” You saw Minho’s head whip around to face you.

“Really?!” You pushed his face away.

“Keep your eyes on the road, dumbass!” He turned his disbelieving gaze to the narrow, uneven streets ahead. “And yes, I think I’ve had enough sneaking around. I just hope he doesn’t kill you.” You squeezed his hand again. “I don’t want to have to buy a new cat, I kind of like this one.” He scoffed at you as Jisung cackled from the back seat.

The car pulled up to Minho’s apartment and Jisung hopped out. He beckoned you to roll down your window as he rounded the corner. “Stay safe, beautiful. I’ll hold down the fort!” He quickly pecked your cheek and winked as he ran away from Minho’s jealous yelling.

“Damnit what is with all of the fucking kissing?!” He huffed and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

You leaned over the center console of the car and placed a slow, tender kiss on his jaw. “Why? You jealous, kitty cat?” He growled and abruptly grabbed your jaw with one hand.

“The only one who should be giving or receiving any kisses from you is me. ” He crashed his lips against yours and you melted in his firm touch. He was ravenous and there was no control in the kiss at all, only tongues, lips, and spit dancing around between the two of you.

When he pulled back, he stared into your dizzy eyes for a precious moment before releasing your jaw and starting the car again. “Goddamnit Minho! You can’t get me all hot and bothered like that in these situations!”

He just smugly grinned to himself. “Oh well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with it, darling.” You huffed and turned to your window, crossing your arms and legs in defiance. 

You two had traveled to the point where you were mostly on back streets and uninhabited roads and you were amazed with how smoothly he drove around the sharp and narrow lanes. However, you were also horny now and you were pissed . Every bump and curve rubbed your crossed legs together and you clenched them tighter to gain pressure on your sex.

It was quiet for the next few minutes and you thought, fuck it. You uncrossed your arms, leaned back, and snaked one of your hands down your torso to creep underneath your dress. You let out a heavy sigh as you felt the pressure of your fingers rub directly on your pearl over your panties.

Minho glanced over briefly and you looked directly at him, biting your lip when he had to do a double take. “W-what the absolute fuck do you think you’re you doing?!”

“You said I’ll have to deal with it. This is me ‘dealing with it’, baby.” Your left hand snuck up your dress and under your bra to play with your nipple and you deftly slipped underneath your panties with the other. You watched as his mouth watered and he kept glancing between your wandering hands and the road. “Keep your eyes on the road, baby.” And just to kind of milk it, you said it with heavy breathing.

“Goddamnit, Kiyomi.” Minho grumbled.

“ Guess you’ll just have to deal with it, darling.” You mimicked his words from earlier, earning you an annoyed glare. You wanted him to feel as frustrated as you, so you took it for all it was worth. You looked at your surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and, thankfully, you were riding down the outskirts of town, nothing much but empty highways and open fields. Not only that, but it was starting to get dark out too. You took the opportunity to raise your ass and shimmy your panties down to your knees the rest of the way, freeing up some space to spread your legs.

“The fuck, Kiyomi?! Do you want us to crash?” You huffed out a half chuckle, but you were becoming enraptured with the feeling you were giving yourself. You licked your lips and set your sights on the pure personification of sex of a man next to you. His veiny forearms that you could see below the rolled up sleeves of his favorite mint-green button-up, reaching out to grip the wheel with white knuckles.

His grumpy furrowed brow even looked sexy. His blazing eyes focused on the road, with the occasional flickers of looks at your working fingers. He grazed his tongue over his lips and finished with a bite of his lower lip.

You spread wide enough for him to be able to see everything you’re doing to yourself. You moved the fingers that were working your clit further down, skirting its way through your soaked lips. A small mewl escaped your already panting lips and you could see Minho’s black jeans get tighter in his crotch.

You couldn’t help but have your mind slip back to the fantasy you’ve constantly thought of ever since you met Minho. He would feel so fucking good inside me. Minho watched as you slipped your middle finger in slowly, reaching as far as you could and curling up into your sweet spot. You breathed out a shaky moan and Minho snapped.

For some reason he maneuvered one hand off the wheel so he could grab his black sweatshirt from the back seat. He then grabbed the hand that was stimulating yourself and threw it to the side, stuffing his sweatshirt between your legs and under your ass, making you gasp with the roughness of his movements. And, without further notice, he plunged two fingers in your dripping pussy and drove with the other hand, leaning forward to get a better angle.

You yelped in surprise and started whimpering and bucking your hips into his fingers that were relentlessly massaging and thrusting against your g-spot. “Who’s fingers do you like more, baby? Yours or mine?”

You could tell how much he was enjoying this himself with the pure electricity in the tone of his voice. “Y-yours! Oh god!” You closed your eyes and your head fell back against the headrest. God, you could never get enough of this man’s touch. You cried out when you felt his fingers leave your heat and, in frustration, you whined as you looked up in panic, frantically missing the delicious build up. “Wh-what?”

“Suck...” He was holding his slick fingers up to your mouth with your juices glistening on his knuckles. “...and I might let you cum.” You probably should’ve been put off or had a touch more pride than to allow it, but the thought of him being the only one to allow your orgasms made you that much more turned on. You decided you wanted to be good for him just this once, wanted to earn it.

You waited for his eyes to flicker back over to you from the road, then you stared at him as you licked a stripe up between them, wrapping your mouth around the digits and sucking and licking around and between them to make sure everything was collected. You could hear a deep hum in Minho’s throat before he pulls his fingers from you and plunged them back inside you.

You screamed at the sheer force of his thrusts and expert maneuvering to hit just the right spot. “F-fuck Min! R-right there!” Your fingernails dug into the fibers from your grip on the nylon upholstery of the car seat for dear life as he single handedly worked to dig your orgasm out of you.

“See what you get when you behave, little mouse? Such a good girl for me, baby.” He doubled his efforts and you felt the quickest orgasm you’d ever had crash over you. You released your tidal wave of arousal on his sweatshirt underneath you and thanked the heavens he thought of that ahead of time for Felix’s sake. After your high settled down, you slumped back into your seat, wiped out.

Your eyes still wandered to the man next to you as he brought his fingers up to his own lips and sucked off the remainder of your fluids for himself. “Holy fuck, your hands belong to the gods.” He just chuckled and brought your hand to his mouth to kiss it. For some idiotic reason, that is the reason you blushed, not the fact that his hand was just inside your cunt, no, it’s because of his act of being a stupid romantic piece of shit.

He grabbed the soiled sweatshirt between your thighs and wiped the rest of you clean, removing the cloth and throwing it on the floorboard in the backseat. You pulled up your panties and readjusted your dress, but saw that Minho was still hard as a rock. You licked your lips at the sight and reached towards him. “Let me–”

He blocked your hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “Don’t. Or else we will definitely crash.”

- - - - - - - - - -

The car ride was more fun than you thought an almost three hour car ride would be. You and Minho would switch from deep conversations, to singing playfully along to the radio, to simply sitting in content silence - just enjoying the scenery and each other’s presence.

When Minho started to pull into the quaint suburbs of Gimpo, your anxiety made itself known. You started wringing your hands together when you thought of all of the ways you could screw up your first meeting with his parents. You wracked your brain to remember all of the proper Korean etiquette techniques you were taught. When you met Chan’s parents, you were like, what? Eight years old? You didn’t have to worry about that kind of shit at that age! Not to mention you were in Australia.

Of course, you did your research, but nothing could ease the worry that you might miss something or screw it up somehow. You checked your makeup for the umteenth time in the little mirror on the sun visor and took a deep breath as Minho pulled into a small lot next to some condos. When parked, you texted Chan of your arrival and you mentally prepared yourself to go inside, but Minho placed a hand on your knee.

“Jagi, you really need to relax. They aren’t piranhas, they are going to love you!” He chuckled as he, of course, saw right through you.

You traced the veins down his arms with your index finger and kept your eyes down. “Well… what if, like, I forget the correct manners without knowing it? Or I get nervous and mess up my Korean and accidentally call your mom a crazy bitch or something? Or I ending up breaking some sort of hundred year old family heirloom and they–”

“Y/N!” You halted your words and meekly looked up at your boyfriend. “Even if any of that happens, they’re really cool, okay? Do you trust me?” 

Do I trust you? Of course I trust you. You trusted him more than you trusted yourself. It really was amazing how fast he earned your trust, really. After everything from your past, finding someone to trust was few and far between. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would lay your life in Chan’s hands, and now, Minho was starting to be another you could say that about. “I trust you…”

The sincerity in your words made him smile and he pressed a sweet, tender kiss to your lips. “Let’s go, yeah?” 

After Minho’s collected all of the baggage - because of course he insisted on carrying it - you stood at their front door, adjusting every piece of your outfit perfectly. You found him smirking at you and you scowled as you smacked him with the back of your hand.

He snorted as he knocked on the door and your mind was running at a thousand miles a minute. You suddenly noticed every little thing around you. You saw the light just inside the door turn on through the peephole. You heard a rustling on the other side of the freshly painted white door. You watched with anxiety as the age-worn doorknob turned.

You were met with a short, beautiful older woman with laugh lines and a sweet smile. Her skin wasn’t much unlike Minho’s and you could see where he got his beautiful eyes and cheekbones from. “Hello! You must be Y/N! We’ve been so excited to meet you!” Both you and Minho were caught off guard when she pulled you in for a hug, which you happily returned.

“Yes ma’am!” You deeply bowed when she releases you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee. Thank you for inviting me to your home! The neighborhood seems lovely.” Little did she know that you were just about pissing yourself with nerves.

She gave you a sweet smile and Minho spoke up. “Um hello? Darling mother of mine?! The one I haven’t seen in months?! Any hello for me?”

“Oh shush, Minnie. Don’t be whiny.” She just waved him off with a small pinch on the cheek while she whisked you inside with a hand on your shoulder. You removed your shoes as soon as you entered and allowed her to pull you up to round the half staircase and into the living room. A tall, slender man with bifocals and a tired look turned to you after pulling a couple suitcases into the room. You could feel your heart drop out of your ass when you looked at his stern face.

You immediately dropped into a deep bow. “Good evening, sir. I’m Y/N! Thank you so much for inviting me into your home.” You sounded like a broken record. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lee.” He smirked and glanced at Minho. Well I can definitely see where Minho gets it from. That and his intimidating features with a sharp nose and defined jawline.

“Oh no need to be so formal, sweetheart! Feel free to call us eomeonim and abeonim!” Minho’s mother said as she put a shawl over her shoulders.

“Yes ma’am! Thank you, eomeonim!” It felt odd to call her ‘mother’ but a good kind of odd.

“Very lovely to meet you as well, Y/N.” Minho’s father walked up and encased your outstretched hand with both of his, shaking it slightly. “What is a beautiful young lady such as yourself doing with my son?”

“Yah!” Minho protested and his father just chuckled and ignored him.

You giggled along with him. “Well, he seems to be doing well so far. I thought I’d go ahead and keep him.” You said sarcastically with a sly look and a wink at Minho.

“Hah! I like this girl.” His dad guffawed at his mom and patted your shoulder with a force that would’ve knocked you over had Minho not had a hand around your waist. 

“Well, dear. I’m terribly sorry that we have to leave just as you have arrived, but we really need to catch our bus. Thank you two so much for watching the place for us while we’re gone!” You and Minho walked them to the front door you had entered just moments before. “Please help yourself to whatever you like and make yourself at home! I will just have to break out the baby photos when we return!”

“Yes, please–!” “God,no–!” You and Minho said over each other, making his parents laugh.

“Okay, well you two have fun! See you two on Sunday!” Her bright tone completely erased all of your worries and you and Minho waved them goodbye, bidding them with safe travels.

As soon as Minho shut and locked the door, he was all over you. Mouth latching onto yours like you were the air he needed to breathe. One hand tangled in your hair while the other squeezed your breast through the material of your dress. Pelvises slotted together as he pushed you against the wall. You were in love with it all, but something snatched your attention away when you felt something brush against your leg. You broke the kiss as your gaze wandered down and Minho’s eyes followed yours.

A bright-eyed orange cat weaved its way throughout Minho’s legs. “Soonie!” You crouched down to allow the feline to sniff your finger.

“You actually remembered who he is?” Minho seemed flabbergasted.

“Of course I do! You’ve talked about them so much and I’ve seen enough pictures and videos that I feel like I already know them!” Your heart filled with warmth when Soonie rubbed his head up against your outstretched hand in invitation to pet him. Minho squatted down next to you and you could see him watching you through your peripheral vision. You turned to look at him and saw a fond smile on his face, which you returned without thinking.

“C’mon, let me show you the rest of the place.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Dori had briefly shown herself once in the tour, but Doongie was nowhere to be found. “He’ll come out when he’s ready.” You were dejected to hear this, but you knew he was right. The only problem was that you had shit patience.

 You were filled with fondness and adoration for this man as he took you around the house, recounting different stories from his past that he wanted to share. Each story was so expressive and you could tell he was excited to get to share his precious memories with you. It was moments like these that made you really love Minho…

…Wait.

What?

Love? The thought had come to mind plenty of times, of course, but this time you thought without hesitation. Love didn’t come to your head as a question to yourself, it was a fact. Love as in, yes, this is one of the reasons why you are in love with this man. Love as in, yes, there is nowhere else you would rather be right now. Love as in, yes, you want him in your life from here on out.

Your face turned impossibly red as your mind brought the solidarity of your feelings to fruition. He definitely noticed because one moment he was describing how he would always help his mom with dinner while the two of you were chatting on the couch, and the next he was turned toward you, caressing your face. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, gorgeous?”

You could only shake your head as you stared up at him with starstruck eyes. He’s so fucking beautiful. “You are amazing, you know that? How did I get so lucky?” The words naturally rolled off of your tongue and the scoff he let out brushed across your face.

“Trust me, I’m not all that great, sweetheart.” He paused for a beat. “There are things that–”

“I don’t care.” You cut him off. You didn’t even have to cogitate on it. You already knew there was something he was holding back, but you didn’t care. Whatever it was, however bad, it made him the person that he was. And without a shadow of a doubt, you were in love with the Minho he was now . The only thing you did doubt was if he loved you back or not.

You knew it was stupid to ruminate on it, but if you said it and he didn’t love you back? That would make for a very shitty weekend. But damn him for looking like a fucking lovesick puppy with the way he was currently gazing at you.

His thumb glided across your cheek and over your lips. “You’re perfect, Y/N…” He slowly leaned in with his sights fixed on your lips. The kiss he placed there was delicate and chaste, as if you were made of porcelain. When he pulled back, the look he gave you made you break.

“I love you…” It was barely a whisper but you knew he heard you from the astonished look on his face. Well shit. I was just telling myself not to say it and the bastard made me slip! You were internally having a meltdown and the silence between words seemed like an eternity.

To say he looked shocked was an understatement. It looked like he just discovered the taste of cheese or something equally as life changing. His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared down at you with a slack jaw. You wanted to curb stomp yourself and crawl into a hole. But what’s done is done…

“I-I’m sorr–” Your words were cut short by a pair of lips searing its heat all over yours. Sensual and ravenous. Romantic and wild. You almost felt dizzy from the pure intensity and abruptness of it. His hands had grabbed you by each side of your face and you could hear your own heart beating out of your chest.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Another kiss. “So fucking much.” You couldn’t contain your giddy stupidass schoolgirl smile that grew on your face as he continued showering you with kisses. The kisses gradually became more solid and the breaths that mingled between the two of you became heavy and laden with want . Need.

You only momentarily parted before Minho heaved you up with his hands under your thighs and your legs surrounding his hips. He must have had this house read like the back of his hand because he didn’t let up on the assault of your lips even as he shuffled through the hallways to his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him and the only light that illuminated the two of you as he laid you down on the bed was his dim bedside lamp and the moonlight shining in the window.

Minho was slower, more controlled now. Hovering above you, he slowly, painfully slowly, pressed tender kisses from your lips, to your jaw, to your neck, and finally to your shoulder where he slid the seam of your dress over slightly to skim down your collarbone.

You laid there aching, but you waited patiently, loving the careful attention he was committing to you. With the hand that wasn’t holding himself upright, he slid down from the sleeve of your shoulder, around the crest of your breast, down the dip of your waist and hip, all the way to the hem of your dress. His eyes explored your body the whole way.

His hand slipped up your thigh under your dress and he returned to languidly kissing and suckling on your neck as he kneaded your ass, making you mewl with need. You could feel his weight shift to his knees as the fabric of your dress was being bunched upwards by both of his hands. You stopped his ministrations on your neck for a moment so you could rid yourself of the offending piece of fabric.

However, before he could continue, his eyes were glued to what you wore underneath. Red satin and lace lingerie were matching underneath your dress and you wondered how he didn’t notice it with the way he finger fucked you on the way here. He stared at you like you were the finest piece of artwork alive and his hands skimmed up and down the sides of your boney frame.

“Breathtaking…” He laid a sweet kiss on your exposed navel.

“Minnie…” You couldn’t say anything above a breathy whisper as you watched him meticulously unlatch your garters with feather light touches. His fingers hooked under the hem of your stocking and slowly pulled them off one at a time, kissing his way down your legs while doing so.

This was a whole different experience than what you had known Minho to be like in bed. This was tender and patient, an intimacy like you had never experienced permeated the room and made your heart swell painfully. His movements were soft and calculated and the fingertips he ran across your skin left chills in its wake. Your entire body was trembling with nerves and anticipation.

When he had removed your stockings, he breathed his way back up your legs, over your wet panties, up your torso, and to your lips. His kiss was long and languid, moving sensually and when you felt his tongue slip out to meet yours, you could feel it was almost hesitant.

You tried to control yourself but you were so painfully desperate that your hands moved on their own. Your fingers ran through his hair as your kisses made your eagerness known. The light tugs you gave on his blue locks pulled a groan from his throat and one of his hands skimmed around to your back to deftly unlatch your flimsy bralette.

You ran your own hands down the front of his minty shirt and clumsily started unbuttoning him with your shaky fingers while his lips were still savoring your own. Once you had successfully undone the last button, he sat back and threw it off to the side, leaving his top half naked.

You had seen him shirtless many times, but you could never get over the sensation you felt in your gut as you looked at him. You sat up to meet his toned frame that was nestled in between your legs, kissing slowly down his abdomen as he ran his fingers lovingly through your hair. When your lips met the hem of his jeans, you mimicked his slow movements as you looked up into his eyes as you lazily unclasped his belt and pulled it from its loops.

He lowered his hand to thumb at your bottom lip as you unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper, indicating you wanted them off by tugging down the thick material over the cleft of his ass. When he stripped them the rest of the way off and returned to you, he laid you back and pressed into you again. The feeling of his throbbing tumescence against your heat with only your undergarments separating you two made your head spin. I’m turning into a goddamn bitch in heat.

You desperately rolled your pussy down on him and he attempted to suppress a moan as he reciprocated the movement, suddenly more eager than before as he started biting and sucking on your pulse. You threw your head back in ecstasy of the pressure and whimpered. “M-Minnie… I want you so bad, baby.” You reluctantly pulled his head away from his assault on your neck with your hands cupping his cheeks to look straight into his eyes with a dead serious composure. “Please make love to me, Minho… I’ve never been more ready…” 

His glossy eyes searched yours and your heart rate spiked as you could feel his head nod in your hands. He quickly and clumsily stumbled over to his wallet and pulled out a square foil. Really? In your wallet? You didn’t have much time to think about the less than optimal storage space as he climbed back on top of you and tossed the rubber to the side.

His fingers went back to exploring your thighs as he leveled his face to your sploosh-soaked panties and hooked an arm underneath one of your legs. You felt a jolt spring through your body as you felt the white hot pinch of teeth sinking into your inner thigh and then felt the softness of a tongue smooth over the pain.

Your breaths became louder and whinier as you felt his hot breath ghost over your wetness. He slowly dragged his unoccupied index finger up the inside of your thigh and hooked it into the crotch of your panties, pulling them aside so he could delicately flick your throbbing bead with his tongue. You craned your neck as the pleasure overpowered you, the anticipation making everything that much more delectable.

He obviously was starting to get impatient as well as he decided to loop his fingers in your panties and garter belt and slide them off the rest of the way. He gazes at you with desire dripping from his eyes as he lowered his face into your dripping folds and dipped his tongue in, reaching as far as he could and pulling out again. After only a moment, his mouth returned to suck on your clit and his fingers snaked their way into you to work their magic.

“Ngh! Min!” You grabbed onto his hair as he ate you out like a carnivorous animal. His fingers worked with a clear goal. To make you cum as fast as possible. “M-Min! I want to finish with you !” His whole body froze and his fingers inside you stilled.

“Holy shit. Okay, baby. Okay.” He quickly shucked off his boxers and for some reason you got super anxious, even scared almost. It’s like the excitement of getting your ears pierced for the first time, but when you see the needle, you get scared shitless.

You’d already known that he was rather large and could probably split you in two, but to realize you were just a few moments away from it happening made you worry about the pain even more. Whatever, this pain can’t be nearly as bad as what I’ve had to endure before. He seemed to read your turmoil as you stared doe-eyed at him ripping the packet open with his teeth and rolling on the condom. He paused after it was fully on and he kissed your forehead. “Don’t worry, little mouse. I will try to make it as painless as I can.”

Your gaze returned to his eyes and you saw the sincerity within him. You trusted this man so wholeheartedly that all of your worries subsided, only leaving you to dumbly nod at him. You gasped as he slowly pressed his head against your opening, swirling it against your sopping clit around your folds as you keened at the devastating heat and pressure against you.

“You ready baby?” You nodded frantically and wrapped your hands around his nape with both hands, refusing to look anywhere but his eyes and grabbing the fading blue hair on the back of his neck. The two of you groaned in unison as you could feel him intrude your walls, your eyes fluttering violently at the stretch. “Oh, fuck… Shit, you’re so tight.” His words were strained and he looked as if he were about to bust a nut right on the spot.

He paused once only his head was in to let you adjust. “O-oh god!” Well, that was what you tried to say, but really it only came out as a choked squeaking noise.

“You okay, jagi?” You could see he was struggling himself, but he used his free hand to gently caress the side of your head. Unable to release any words, you just nodded your head slowly and wrapped your legs around his waist, imploring him to keep going.

After a minute or so, he was fully sheathed and you could barely breathe. The pleasure and pain of being completely full was intoxicating. “I need words, baby girl.” He breathed out against your neck.

You had to shake yourself back into a conscious state so you could find a proper sentence. “F-fuck… You’re splitting me in two…”

His eyes went panicked and he loosened himself from you. “Do we need to stop?” You almost growled at him once he started to move away and you latched your legs around him impossibly tighter, making him slam back into you. You let out a yelp and he choked on his own gasp.

“I will legitimately kill you if you leave my pussy right now.” He breathed out a shaky laugh against your neck and placed a small peck there. You waited another moment before speaking up. “O-okay… I think… I think I’m ready for you to start moving.”

You felt him start to pull back shallowly before pushing in again, pulling back further the more times he did it. You squinted the pain away and tried to focus on the captivating man above you.

You were entranced by the glistening sheen of sweat that started to form across his forehead and his heavy eyelids consumed with lust. You watched his toned abdomen contract and relax as he pumped into you, and when you looked down to where you two connected, you almost orgasmed on sight as you watched him slide in and out of your dripping cunt, his dick coated in a thick sheen of your arousal. He was so loving and gentle and your heart swelled almost painfully with the tenderness and care he was treating you with. Each thrust was calculated and intimate, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

He abruptly stilled his movements, making you whine at him because you were finally getting past the pain. He stared down at you with wide eyes and brought his hand up to your face. “Y/N baby, you’re crying…” He smoothed his thumb over the dark mascara line of your tears and you were surprised with yourself. You didn’t even know you were crying. “I think we need to put this on hold, Kiyomi. I’m hurting you too badly.”

“No!” You clung onto him for dear life, shoving your face in his neck. “Seriously, Min! It barely even hurts anymore! I think… I dunno, I guess I’m just really lost in the moment…” You lifted his head up and gave him a soft kiss. “I’m just amazed at how I really don’t deserve you, Minnie…” You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against him.

Desperate for him to continue, you rolled your hips up, making him groan. He pushed deeper and you gasped. “It’s me—“ Another deep thrust. “That doesn’t deserve you.” He slowly pulled back and looked directly into your eyes. “You deserve every wonderful thing in this world.” He slammed back into you deep and hard at the same time he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

You moaned into his lips and happily gave him access to your mouth as he collided tongues with you, followed by a long lick across the roof of your mouth. Your kisses started to turn sloppy and you mostly breathed into each other’s mouths as he rocked into you, occasionally colliding tongues as your foreheads mashed together. You started to lose control of your senses when he sat up and strengthened his thrusts, grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up using only pure muscle power to pump right into your sweet spot. His manic movements were causing his old and rickety high school bed to creak and bang against the wall furiously.

“Oh shit! Fuck! Right there Min! Oh god!” You could slightly see the smirk cross his lips from the pride of his efforts, but it was quickly replaced with a look of determination and euphoria. “Please d-don’t stop! P-please Minnie! I’m so close—!“

“Me too, baby—“ He started to replace his power with speed, repeatedly pounding against your delicious bundle of nerves and making your body shake in ecstasy. Your hooked legs around him clenched him closer and deeper with each thrust. You could feel his thrusts start to get sloppy and you dared to look down at his throbbing cock impaling you over and over again.

That finished you. You screamed as you came all over the bed coverings and his twitching dick, your clenching walls causing Minho to empty into the condom himself with a choked growl. His stuttering hips rode out both of your orgasms and he fell on top of you, sticky sweat coating both of your bodies.

The only noise that filled the air was the mingling of both of your heavy breaths and the approaching summer night’s cicadas. You wrapped your arms around your exhausted lover and kissed his shoulder, running feather light fingers up and down his back and through his sweaty hair. It was an interesting sensation to feel Minho’s erection slowly soften inside you.

After a moment he pulled out and tied the condom, disposing it in the bin by his bed. When he returned to your side, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of his chest. He closed the distance of your lips and kissed you languidly and intimately.

You eventually pulled back and rested your forehead against his, breathing into his mouth. “That was even better than I could have ever imagined. I love you so fucking much…”

“I love you too, my little mouse.” You smiled against his lips and left a chaste kiss against his mouth before sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Oh, well I hate to break it to you, but I only stuck around for your dick. I’m actually gonna head back home and find another boy-toy.” You winked at him and he looked furious. He lunged for you and you screech-laughed as he pinned you down.

“You think you’re funny, huh? You’re lucky I only had the one condom or else I’d be making you scream right now.” A delicious shiver ran up your spine and you lost your cheeky smirk from before.

“Well… um… I may or may not have gotten an IUD a month or two back…” His face turned completely gobsmacked. You felt partially guilty for not telling him that the doctor basically said it would be difficult for you to get pregnant at all with all of the previous internal damage you had suffered.

“Fuck, Kiyomi. You’re going to kill me…” His lips attacked you again and, if you weren’t already sore and tired as all hell, you would totally be down for round two. 

You reluctantly pushed him away and rolled him off of you, making him whine. “I need to shower and sleep so I can be alive tomorrow! You big baby. You made me wait long enough, it’s your turn bitch.” The smirk on your face, however, was wiped off when you tried to stand and your legs buckled underneath you like a baby deer.

You flopped back onto the bed and Minho cooed at you. “Aww, is my mouse tired? Too much exertion for her weak little body?” You glared at him and his petulant baby voice. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll help you.” Before you knew it, Minho had hooked his arms underneath your knees and was lifting you into the air. 

“Minho! What the fuck?! I’m too heavy!”

“Tsk. Please.” He said sarcastically.. “I’ve lifted paperweights heavier than you.” He rolled his eyes. “Plus, I've already carried you several times before! I don’t know why you’re only saying this now!”

“I’ve gained weight since then!”

He scoffed. “Ah, yes, very true. Now you weigh about two paperweights.”

You huffed and clung onto his shoulders. “Fuck you…”

He responded with a wink. “Any time you like, darling.”

Once he entered the bathroom, he plopped you down on the vanity countertop and turned on the shower to warm up. You took a few moments to, once again, appreciate his beautiful naked body. All of his muscles were beautifully toned and he wasn’t too buff or sculpted like some beefcake. He looked like a goddamned piece of art, a true personification of a dance statue. His skin was absolutely flawless like chiseled marble and as soft as silk. His ass was the perfect balance of plump and toned.

When he returned to you, you could see hearts in his eyes as he looked at your lustful face. You could never fathom what he saw in you. You reached out to him with a pout and grabby hands and he chuckled. Without any words, he stepped in between your legs that were dangling off of the counter and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“How did I fall in love with such a bratty, badass little mouse?” He said in a low voice as he leaned in to kiss you long and languidly. “You think you can stand in the shower, jagi?” You smiled as you nodded at him, standing up with newborn legs and taking his hand to step into the blissfully hot shower.

You leaned your head back underneath the water and sighed. This has to be one of the best days I’ve ever experienced, you thought as you felt the trickling heat loosen your tense muscles. You melted as you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You leaned your head against his chest and closed your eyes, the two of you swaying under the water in silence.

He was sweet and gentle as he helped you clean your skin and wash your hair for you, delectably massaging you all the while. He was a truly perfect man. You spent most of the shower lazily kissing and embracing each other.

Once the two of you finished getting ready for bed, you thanked yourself (and Felix for buying it) for bringing a lace and satin, mint green camisole. Once you slipped it on and Minho got in bed with only a pair of boxers on, he looked at your dressings and glared at you. “Are you wanting me to ruin you? Because that kind of bullshit is a one way ticket to getting cross eyed screwed.”

You fluttered your eyes and sat on your knees next to Minho on the sheets, slightly emphasizing your breasts (that had blessedly started filling out with weight gain) as you puffed out your chest. “I thought this was your favorite color, baby.” You flourished your sweet words with a slight lilt to your voice. You crawled to hover over him with your upper body to whisper against his lips. “If you want to ruin me, your going to have to earn it, kitty cat.” And with that, you left a peck on his lips and rolled over to lay down, facing away from the shirtless, baffled man.

You suddenly felt a strong arm around you yanking you tight to his chest. “You’re a fucking tease, little mouse. One day, I’ll make you learn your lesson.” You just hummed in response and rolled over to face him, still encased in his warm embrace.

Once you threw an arm and a leg over him and snuggled into the heat of his chest, he completely melted, letting a heavy sigh escape his mouth. “It's weird that I get to tell you I love you, my MeanHoe.”

You felt him squeeze you tighter. “Wow, that was almost romantic.” You giggled into his chest, smelling your freshly brushed, minty breath hit his chest and waft back into your senses. “But I love you too, my bratty mouse.” He kissed the top of your head that was snuggling ever closer into him. “Sweet dreams, jagi.”

You were already drifting off as you heard the words leave his mouth. Fading to black with a smile spread across your features.

- - - - - - - - - -

You couldn’t run fast enough. With every step, you felt him getting closer, breathing down your neck. You could see Chan in the distance, standing outside his house back in Australia and waiting for you with open arms. You desperately wanted to be held by him. You wanted to feel safe again. Wanted to feel loved again by the only person who ever loved you. However he wasn’t the only person now. You could see Minho stand up next to him, both of them exchanging worried looks to each other then back at you.

You were using all of your strength to reach them, but you felt like you were going at a snail’s pace, barely moving an inch at a time. You could feel the fingertips of the man trying to grab you, just barely out of reach, and you thrashed your body away from every touch.

Out of nowhere, you heard a loud crack in the air. A boom that you knew all too well. The boys that were your whole world were no longer in front of you and you could no longer move. You could feel something was wrong. Your hand traveled to your stomach to feel the warm, sticky substance and you looked down to see blood seeping through your thin camisole and onto your hand. You were surprisingly calm. Like you secretly always knew that your past would catch up to you, making you defenseless in the end.

The hand behind you grabbed your arm and threw you to the ground. You watched in silent defeat as your father stood over you and your mother faced the other way. The blood draining from your body made you violently shake. Seriously, you felt your body uncontrollably spasming around on the ground like you were being shaken furiously–

“Y/N!!! Wake up! Baby, please!” You gasped for air as you watched Minho grabbing your arms and shaking you violently. “Kiyomi, baby…” He hugged you tightly. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay…” You hadn’t even realized that you were sobbing loudly until he wiped the tears from your eyes and kissed your forehead. “It was just a dream, baby. It’s okay now. I’m here. I’m always here.”

Sadly, this wasn’t the only nightmare you’d had from your past, but it was definitely worse than others. “I’m so s-sorry Min. I w-woke you up…” You stuttered through your trembling voice.

“Shut up. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m always going to be here for you. Always …” Your heart palpitated with these words. Always. He said always.

You hugged him tightly and silently cried into his chest. There was a long while - you don’t even know how long - where the two of you laid against each other in silence. You, coming down from your panic attack and him, comfortingly smoothing his hand up and down your back. “Minnie?” He responded with a questioning hum. “What if I still haven’t escaped them? What if… what if they are looking for me…”

He stilled his movements and was quiet for a minute. “Then we will protect you. All of us. I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N.”

You looked up at his face with tears in your eyes. “How can you know that for sure?”

He looked back at you and smiled sadly. “Because I'm not the only one that loves you. They all do too, dummy. Their love may be in a different way, but you are one of us. No one will hurt the family we have become. No one .”

You knew it was foolish but, just once, you wanted to believe it.

- - - - - - - - - -

The weekend was full of Minho taking you around his hometown and showing you a whole bunch of places from his childhood. He taught you how to fish, showed you cute little shopping strips, and took you on romantic dates. You met some of his old friends and they were more than complimentary toward you. The teasing of Minho was relentless and you couldn’t get enough of it. It really was the most ideal and wonderful first time going to see where Minho grew to become the man of your dreams.

Sunday morning after the two of you woke up and Minho cooked you a phenomenal breakfast, you wanted to get presentable again before Minho’s parents returned home that evening. “I’m gonna go take a shower, Minnie!” You yelled behind your retreating frame to Minho who was still cleaning up the kitchen.

“Sounds good!” You were beaming with pent up happiness as you stepped in the bathroom and stripped off your clothes. You were all too eager to take a relaxing shower.

The hot water cascaded down your hair and you tilted your head back to take in the exceptional pleasure of the soothing heat. Yesterday had been so packed full of activities that you automatically crashed after returning to the house. You felt disgusting and you sighed at the relieving feeling of getting clean again.

You must have been lost in your own head thinking about the amazing previous day that you didn’t hear Minho come in, because you jolted in surprise when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“Jesus, Min! You about gave me a heart attack!” You slapped his forearm that was wrapped around your waist, to which he just chuckled wickedly and placed a chaste kiss on your shoulder. The two of you stood in silence under the water, happy with just existing in each other’s presence.

After a moment, he removed one of his hands from your waist and ran it over the back of your drenched hair, moving it to the side of your shoulder and tucking his head into the crook of the bare side of your neck. Once he returned his hand to its previous position wrapped around your waist, you could feel the wet heat of his mouth press just below your jaw. His hands dipped down to your hips and he pulled you closer to him.

You let out a long, satisfied sigh and leaned your head over to lay back against him to give him more access. This seemed to spur him on more as he ran his tongue over your pulse and up to suck hard right behind your ear. There was no way that there wasn’t going to be a hickey there later, but you didn’t care anymore. If need be, you could cover it with makeup or your hair. Your knees went weak when he suddenly snuck his left hand down to your clit and started rolling it between his fingers, coaxing a breathy croon from your lips.

Your vagina still hurt tremendously from the other day, but you could feel yourself getting painfully horny again, and you knew he was too once you could feel his hard-on pressing against your tailbone. You figured you could handle a bit more pain. Why not?

You spun yourself around in his arms and smashed your lips against his, tongues and teeth clashing. He seemed just as eager as you as he grabbed two handfuls of your ass and pulled you flush to his erection, squishing and massaging your plush cheeks in the process. You moaned into his mouth and tried to wrap a leg around him. He obviously took the hint as he lifted you up around his waist and pressed you up against the tiled wall.

“Shit, I’m a weak man. You’re too addicting.” He whispered as he frantically kissed down your neck. You started to feel desperate as you could feel him so close to your entrance. Your body moved on its own to try and wiggle around to feel him against you.

“Min…” You whined. “God, please just fuck me.” He looked like he was fighting an internal battle. You were quickly losing your dignity as you realized you were literally begging him to ruin you. 

“Oh yeah?” He slipped his hand in between your bodies and grazed over your clit again. “You want that, little mouse? Want me to fuck you up into the wall?” His fingers found their way through your pussy lips and teased at your entrance.

You tried to grind down on his fingers but his strong hold under your ass kept you firm in his grasp. “Minnie… please…” You looked and sounded pathetic - you knew you did - but the feeling of your walls fluttering around nothing due to him circling your opening was driving you insane. You huffed in frustration. “You can cum on my face if you want, but I just need you in me right now .”

You saw his fiery gaze waver only slightly before returning with a vengeance. “As you wish, my good girl.” He slipped his fingers in to get you nice and stretched, digging right up against your sensitive bundle of nerves and making you twitch and fall apart in his arms. Your squeaks and high-pitched grunts earned an evil grin from Minho as he upped his efforts. Once he felt you were fully prepped, he pumped his erection a couple times before he swiftly lined up to harshly slam into you. You gasp-squeaked and wrapped your arms around his neck, compressing your upper bodies tightly. You wanted him as close as possible, both inside and out. You left open-mouthed kisses against his shoulder between your breathy yelps and croons. He was relentless. He enraptured you into a haze of pain-pleasure as he pounded into you. He fucked you into the wall just like he said he would and his labored breaths fell heavily on the side of your back. “Kiyomi– *ngh* –you feel so fucking good.” 

You could only respond with a choked gasp as he rammed into you with a particularly harsh thrust. “F-fu–” There were no words. As much as you tried, your body and voice were no longer yours. They were his. His to control and mold into immense pleasure, leaving you stuttering like a complete brain-dead whore.

He sped up furiously and you couldn’t even fathom how he had the strength to not only hold you up, but also fuck into you so enthusiastically. You could feel your high quickly approaching as he painfully nailed into your cervix and rolled into your g-spot. After a particularly painful thrust, you borderline screamed as you came all over his cock. “B-babe… I–I’m–” He sounded frantic.

You could tell he was just about to cum from his choppy thrusts and you quickly hopped off of him and sank down to your knees, trying to ignore the throbbing in between your legs. The shower water uncomfortably sprayed the side of your face, but you couldn’t be bothered with it as you were preoccupied with stuffing your mouth with dick to help him chase his orgasm. He fucked deep into your mouth and you tried to hold back your gags as you swallowed his length. Without warning he whipped himself out and jerked himself in your face, painting you white as your mouth hung open.

You watched his face as he rode out his orgasm and you’d never seen or heard anything more beautiful in your life. His breathy, velvety groan when he came was music to your ears and you never thought getting manjam all over your face and hair would be so exhilarating. You stood up and let him get a good look at his artwork. “Holy shit…” He breathed against your cum covered lips. He then promptly ran two fingers across the strings of white fluid and shoved his fingers in your open mouth, making you wrap your lips around them and suck seductively. “Damn, you are fucking unreal.”

You quickly rinsed off his sperm so you could dive right back into kissing him. You had wrapped your arms around his neck and you kissed him with a gentleness that showed your appreciation. He cupped his hand over your cheek as you parted and looked into your eyes lovingly. As you looked back at him with a similar expression, basking in the silent moment, you decided to speak up. “My pussy hurts like a motherfucker.”

His face morphed into one of pure bemusement. “Way to ruin the moment, brat.”

“What?! It’s the truth! Your dick destroyed me! You're lucky that I was horny enough to go again!” You turned around to finally start showering yourself with a proud pout as he chuckled.

He wrapped his arms around you again, similar to his previous position, whispering in your ear. “Extremely lucky. Your cunt feels like heaven.” He pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek as you shivered. You used to hate that word but it sounded so delicious coming from his mouth. Probably your new favorite.

Your libido must have been through the roof that day because as you both showered off, all you wanted to do was jump on him. Thankfully, your body was too weak and exhausted to do anything marginally active.

- - - - - - - - - -

When Minho’s parents arrived back home, they greeted you with open arms again. As promised, Minho’s mom showed you all of the embarrassing childhood photos of him and his adorable, nerdy, high school selcas.

Minho’s dad patted him on the back as he lamented and protested the entire time. You cooed an extraordinary amount of times and gave Minho shit-eating glances, earning you daggers for eyes.

During dinner, just like Minho said, he and his mom worked together to create the most succulent, delicious Kkanpunggi Chicken you have ever tasted. The table was packed with food. Kimchi, pork dumplings, and kimbap covered all corners and you quickly found out where Minho got his habit of force-feeding you. With the three of them combined coaxing you to eat everything and your will to not want to displease them, you ate until you felt sick and your back hurt with the pressure of fullness. It took an immense amount of concentration not to throw it all up with the slightest movement.

Small talk was easier than you thought it would be. You and Minho’s dad discussed how well you were adjusting to the transition to Korea and all the differences and you discussed with his mom how you liked everything at school.

“So, Y/N, what do your parents do for a living?” Fuck. You supposed you should have anticipated this, family was of great importance in Korea and it only made sense that his dad would ask, but still…

You subconsciously wrung your hands together in your lap under the table and had an internal panic attack just thinking about them. You could feel Minho burning holes into you with his eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere but his parents' awaiting faces.

“That’s not impor—“

“Not much, they just run a small family business. Mostly just transporting goods.” You cut Minho off before he could utter another word. It’s not really a lie, right? They technically transport 'goods'... Their contented smiles stayed on their faces and nodded.

Minho’s mom propped her elbows up on the table and rested her head on her knuckles. “How lovely! Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No ma’am, it’s just me.” You said easily with a polite smile. “Only child just like Minho!” You cheerfully said while looking at Minho, hoping to ease his tension. By the look on his face, you weren’t entirely successful.

“Awe, well your parents must miss you terribly. I can’t imagine what it would be like if Minnie was in an entirely different country.” Your heart ached with the realization that you would never have that.

But…

You still had Chan’s parents… 

You would talk to them a couple times a month and they would check on you, tell you they missed you and Chan, and tried to refuse your money every time. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself that you did, in fact, have parents that loved you and missed you unconditionally.

You smiled up at your boyfriend’s parents and confidently spoke. “Yes, eomeonim. I’m sure they do.”

- - - - - - - - - -

You reluctantly bid your farewells to his parents as Minho finished packing up the car. You warmly hugged his parents goodbye and his dad told you to come back any time ‘free of charge’ he said with a chuckle to which you couldn’t help but giggle in return.

You watched Minho’s parents retreating frames as the two of you drove away, heart swollen and contented with your perfect weekend getaway. You turned back to the man in the driver's seat as he silently grabbed your hand to kiss your knuckles. You smirked at him. 

“You’ve been too nice to me. When we get back home are you going to be a pain in my ass again?” A smug smile took place on his lips.

“Only if you’re lucky.” He winked at you from the side and you giggled.

The trip back passed surprisingly quickly and the two of you were almost back home. You were excited to finally see Chan and get everything off your chest.

When your phone started buzzing, you were startled at the irony when you saw Chan’s contact popped up. “Hey, hun! I was just about to call you to let you know we are headed back! Almost home now!”

“Nice, how are the boys?” His voice sounded very flat and almost even pissed.

“Th-they’re great! We had a great time!” For some reason, you were starting to feel anxious and apprehensive.

It was silent for a moment and then Chan spoke up. “Is Sung available? I need to ask him something.” Your stomach dropped out of your ass.

You puffed out a nervous chuckle and Minho gave you a confused expression. “Nah, he’s passed out in the back right now. Eventful weekend, you know?”

More silence.

“Y/N.” Okay, using your first name confirms that he was pissed. “In all of the years I have known you, I have never seen you so shamelessly lie to me.” Your heart sank. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. “It’s funny how you think that I wouldn’t see Jisung around. Considering we work together and I can blatantly see when he clocks in and out.”

You knew that Jisung had to work, but he reassured you that it was nowhere near the hours that Chan was working. This was definitely a factor that you three had overlooked. “Channie…”

“Save it, Y/N. I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, and I know you had some sort of reason—“ You could feel tears build up in your eyes. “—but whatever the reason, I never expected you to lie to me about it.”

The tears were falling more consistently now. “Channie let me—“ your voice was uncontrollably shaky.

“You‘ve been a completely different person lately, Y/N.” He sounded like you had broken him. “If I’m not able to trust you anymore, don’t bother coming back.”

“Channie—!!!” He instantly hung up the phone and you found that you...

...you were suffocating.

You felt like every breath you took was filled with water and your face burnt from the friction of your hands rubbing your streams of tears away unsuccessfully. There was a ringing in your ears and the constant words of ‘don’t bother coming back’ filled your entire being. It was happening again.

You’re worthless .

You aren’t welcome .

You deserve to be alone .

You could feel a hand shaking you but could barely hear the muffled yelling of the man next to you past the overflowing thoughts in your head.

No one loves you.

You’re just a tool.

‘Find somewhere else to sleep tonight, bitch. I want you out of my sight.'

Your father’s words ran on repeat in your head and you wanted to smash in your own brains to escape them. You could feel your body close in on itself and your chest palpitate with hyperventilation. You were minutely aware of the door opening next to you and strong arms lifting your balled up form.

You didn’t care what happened to you anymore. You deserved nothing but to be used and discarded. Your mind brought you back to the nights you would wander the streets all night without any place to go. You didn’t want to burden Chan, and yet, here you were. You were more of a burden to Chan and his family than anything in this world. 

You. Are. Nothing.

Your vision was blurred with tears and the dazed over pain of your mind. You didn’t know what was happening around you and you couldn’t remember anything but Chan’s words.

‘...don’t bother coming back.’

‘...don’t bother coming back.’

‘...don’t bother coming back.’

You suddenly felt warm all over. A pressure consumed your body like a comforting cocoon and you melted into it. The cold, stiff tension in your body subsided and your body allowed you to feel again. You could hear yourself sobbing and realized that you had been all along, along with the repeated words of ‘worthless, I’m worthless’. With this realization, you allowed yourself a breather from the frantic words escaping your mouth.

The suffocating air had minutely thinned to an acceptable viscosity and you could feel your nerve endings returning to a modicum of function. First, you felt the soft embrace of your favorite blanket. Fluffy and thick with the perfect amount of weight to it. Second, you felt arms squeezing you tightly and a body pressed against your front and another from your back in a warm embrace. Lastly, you felt gentle hands comb through your hair and over your scalp, soothing the heat that was coursing through your brain.

You were starting to realize that you were having an anxiety attack. The last time you had one was during the last years that Chan was gone and you rationalized your mind to figure out how to climb out of it again. You focused on the feelings around you, trying desperately to escape the relentless thoughts coursing through your brain. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. You discovered that these words were being told to you by the arms around you. The fog in your vision started to clear and the light blinded you. Your eyes adjusted and you could see tendrils of curly, dirty blond hair in your field of vision.

The tears that were streaming down your face had decreased in consistency and you could feel the pain in your throat from the strain of your sobs. You could feel an aching in your back from being hunched over and you instinctively straightened up, stretching out the dull throbbing. You felt the hands loosen around you and realized you had two pairs of eyes plastered to your ugly crying face.

You allowed yourself to accept the focus of your surroundings. You were in your room, centered on your bed with a blanket around you and two men surrounding you. 

Then you focused on the man in front of you. Chan.

Your brother.

Your savior.

The sanctuary that had always been your beacon of light.

You broke out in sobs again as you clung to him for dear life. Afraid that if you let him go, you would lose him forever. You couldn’t hold on tight enough, close enough. Even though you could feel him hug you back, your body wrapped around him like a monkey, arms and legs circling his entire form. Your face buried in the crook of his neck and you could feel tears and snot rub up against his ivory skin.

“Ch-Channie! D-don’t leave me! P-please!” You were frantic. You were almost screaming out your plea’s to him. “Don’t th-throw me out! I love you! I’m s-so s-sorry! Please! Please !” You were clawing at his shirt as your body begged to cling onto him.

“Shhh shhh, you’re okay, love. It’s okay.” His soothing voice was being drowned out by your sobbing. He smoothed circles over your back with his wide hand. “Don’t be afraid, Kiyomi. I’m right here. You’re not going to lose me, baby girl. I’ll always be here.” You weren’t entirely sure, but you could have sworn you heard a crack in his voice and felt the wet heat of tears settle on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long time had passed. With the gentle shushes and the rocking and swaying of Chan holding you, time was irrelevant. “D-don’t leave me Channie…” You whispered against the soaked crook of his neck. Your throat was raspy and you could feel your eyes were swollen and strained.

“Shhh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. And neither are you… I’m so sorry, baby girl.” His voice was gentle and soothing, even if you could hear the lump in his throat.

You hiccupped back your sob. “I’M the one that’s sorry, Channie. So fucking sorry… I lied… I deserve to be thrown out on the streets.”

You felt him pull back and you picked up your breathing in a panic. That was until he grabbed your face with both hands. “Don’t you ever FUCKING say that, Kiyomi. I’m a goddamned piece of shit for even THINKING of saying that to you. You deserve better than me, Kiyomi. God, I’m so fucking sorry!”

You watched as the tears streamed down his face and by pure instinct, you stopped all thoughts other than wanting to make him quit hurting. “Why are you apologizing, Channie? I’m the one that fucked up…” You wrapped your arms around him who now had his crying face buried in his hands.

“I’m such a fucking idiot! I hurt you, Kiyomi. I swear to fucking god I will never forgive myself!”

“D-don’t you dare say that, Channie!” He popped his head up at your angry outburst. “I did this. I’m the one who fucked up. You deserve to hate me. After everything you’ve done for me, I hid this from you…”

Chan glanced behind you and you realized that Minho had been sitting behind you the whole time. “I can understand why you did, sweetheart. And that’s my fault too…” You looked at him with wide eyes. Did he already know? “Minho told me everything... I was the one who tried to forbid you from being together… I’m the one who made things harder on you…”

“Y-you…” You looked back at Minho with worried eyes.

He offered a sad smile and caressed your face. You were sure you could feel Chan stiffen underneath you, but you elected to focus your attention on your lover. “Come on, my little mouse. We can talk about this later. Let’s just calm down for now.” He held out his hand and you eagerly took it, trading your embrace from Chan, to Minho.

- - - - - - - - - -

“I’m so sorry Channie… I really was planning on telling you…” The three of you were sitting in the living room with the comfort of junk food and anime in the background filling the room. There was definitely tension, but you could tell that it was minimized for your sake.

Chan sighed. “I’m not going to lie and say that I am thrilled with the prospect of you being together, but…” Chan focused his sights on Minho. “Min says he is in love with you… and I am choosing to trust him.” His eyes turned into daggers. “But I swear to god, Min, if you hurt her, you better pray that I don’t find your sorry ass.”

Minho doesn’t scare easily. Hell, he is usually the scariest one in the group. But you could see the panic in his eyes as Chan spoke those words. “I wouldn’t dare…” Minho looked at you like you hung the moon. “She means more to me than anyone in the world…” 

You could feel your doe eyes glue to his as a single tear dropped from your eye. Minho reached his hand out and folded your hand in his. There was a moment of silence before Chan decided to add a meek response. “Kiyomi… I can’t express to you how sorry I am for saying that to you. I don’t know what was going through my head, but I hate myself for it. I hate to know that I am the one that caused your panic attack when I swore to myself that I would always be the one to ease them…” He glanced over at Minho with what looked like a tiny smile. “I suppose I have Minho to thank for taking care of you when I couldn’t…”

You were completely lost. What exactly had happened when you were trapped in your mental confinement? You must have shown your confusion on your face because Minho stroked your hair as he spoke up. “I didn’t know what happened on the phone with Chan-hyung, but I definitely knew something was wrong when you wouldn’t respond or look at me…” His face turned downcast. “You… you started screaming and crying and…” He swallowed dry. “I rushed to get you out of the car and carry you inside.”

Chan piped up from where he was looking at his fiddling hands. “When I opened the door and saw the state you were in and Minho’s panicked face, I knew that I had caused this. What I did to you…” His face lifted to Minho again. “I may not like the prospect of you two together… but I at least know that you are in good hands…”

Minho's face went dead serious as he straightened up. “I will do everything in my power to treat her how she deserves, hyung.” Minho softly smiled at you. “Because she deserves the world…”

________________________________________

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading all three parts! Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

[carcrashscike]

how i wish scott and mike’s dynamic in tdas would’ve been written:

* note: this is given that the plot stays relatively the same, i would change a lot about this otherwise

mike is pissed at scott for what he did to him last season, and with this newfound control of himself and his headspace he isn’t as afraid to say it. he isn’t around scott much early on (being on different teams and generally avoiding each other like the plague) but in challenges mike, often alongside zoey who shares this vendetta to a lesser extent, gets super competitive when scott is around. scott plays this off in his scott fashion (“wow he’s really obsessed, must be in love with me or something”), and while he derives some surface level pleasure from getting mike’s niceness to crack deep deep deep down he feels guilty. he knows what he did last season was shitty, how could he not? it doesn’t help that it seems mike will never let him live it down, eyes burning into the back of scotts head at any and every given opportunity (a gesture reserved only for him). the early episodes show mike and scott generally staying away from each other, with only sparse moments of hatred from mike’s end.

their dynamic takes a turn once mal gets added to the mix. scott doesn’t realize that mike isn’t the one fronting anymore, but he quickly pieces together that “mike” has begun to sabotage others (including his friends), a revelation that fills him with pure glee. he’s been validated, mike wasn’t only mean to scott because he wronged him, rather mike was just as cruel and vindictive as he was all along and he was a hypocrite for pretending to be otherwise. scott misconstrues “mike’s” actions as him revealing his true self after playing the long con, rather then it not being mike at all. mal on the other hand is keeping an eye on scott, as while he isn’t his biggest threat at the moment he knows that he was able to make it far the previous season (that and he holds a tiny vendetta against scott for his previous actions… something something “no one will mess with us with me in charge”). scotts going down like the rest of them without a doubt, but he isn’t mal’s primary focus mid season.

scott sees through all of “mikes” subsequent actions of manipulation. oftentimes he chooses to say nothing as those actions rarely target him (he quietly prides himself on that, it’s their little secret even if “mike” doesn’t know he knows) and also often harm his competition. he begins to interpret “mikes” non focus on him as a sign of possible respect, putting the past animosity behind them like he knows scott is above such obvious manipulation tactics. while he’s still hurt by courtney’s chart when it’s revealed, he’s more curious as to how mike acquired it in the first place. he also doesn’t fall for mikes bid to get him angry at gwen, spinning the line of reasoning back on him again coyly (“you said it’s her fault, but weren’t you the one who exposed her chart?”).

with his newfound perspective on “mike” scott doesn’t expect himself to be a target until it’s too late and he’s dangling by his foot in front of a very hungry shark. maybe he taunts mike, comparing himself to him and finding similarities between their actions or maybe he proposes an alliance with the knowledge he believes he has. either way mal pushes him in front of his worst nightmare, paralleling scotts actions towards mike. its in this moment scott realizes what’s happening, the truth that the man in above him wasn’t mike at all. scott finds plenty of time to ruminate on this as he slips unconscious.

as he awakes he’s swept up into elimination. part of him holds out hope that zoey will do what should be the obviously smart choice, but the rest of him knows she would never betray mike, even if it isn’t really him. scott try’s to expose mal to zoey at this point, faking once it’s clear that zoey has already realized what’s up. scott’s final words curse out mal for wearing the skin of the man he wronged and for making him believe, for just a split second, that they would somehow get better.

[kabie-whump]

✧･ﾟRipe, About to Fall - Part 2 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

✧ Series Summary and Warnings ✧ Masterlist ✧ Chapter Summary: Athos hosts a ball and Onthyes learns more about Ventis's role in the manor. Onthyes and Ventis have their first conversation. ✧ Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, mentioned / attempted non-con (but it is stopped before it gets too far)

* Onthyes does not belong to me. He was created by my wonderful gf @sapphicccici and I have kidnapped him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Onthyes took a special interest in Ventis for the next few days, observing his every interaction both with his master and the other servants. During the day, it seemed that Ventis’s role was to stay by Athos’s side at all times. He’d sit at his feet while Athos was working or reading in the library. He hovered behind him with a pitcher of wine during meals. He took it quietly when a shipment of goods was reported missing and Athos needed something to strike.

Athos didn’t hit Ventis often. It’d only happened once in these few days but the other guards and servants in the room seemed unsurprised when it happened, rushing forward when Athos turned away to wipe away a drop of blood left by a sharp ring and apply makeup to cover the quickly forming bruise. Athos had apologized profusely when he’d calmed, hugging Ventis and kissing the top of his head like one would when they’ve accidentally stepped on the tail of their pet.

The other servants doted on Ventis halfheartedly, constantly adjusting his clothing or polishing his scales or brushing a microscopic tangle from his hair. It became clear to Onthyes that they saw him as just another chore; another piece of furniture to keep clean and pretty for the master.

Most nights were calm and quiet. Athos would finish his dinner, spend some time in the sitting room chatting with whatever acquaintance has come by with a glass in his hand and Ventis draped artfully across his lap. The two would retire to bed later and Onthyes would pretend like he didn’t know what happened next.

The day of a ball arrived, and the manor exploded into activity. Onthyes had never experienced one personally, but Athos was known for hosting spectacular parties.

All of the servants were busy decorating and cooking and polishing the ballroom floor while Athos went about his business, notably without Ventis by his side.

Onthyes saw Ventis later, standing perfectly still on a pedestal while two servants meticulously decorated his body with gold and jewels and two more held an animated debate over what he should wear to the ball. Ventis’s face was unsettlingly blank; not a single hint of an opinion or of boredom. Onthyes had no idea how he managed it.

The manor was crowded by the time the sun set. Every important person in Nimbria had donned their finest clothes and gathered in the ballroom. A string quartet played and champagne flowed generously. Onthyes had taken his place standing against a wall and watching the festivities.

Ventis was easily the most spectacular thing in the room that night, and everyone knew it. The genasi was stunning in a glittering peach and gold outfit that left very little to the imagination. He shone from every angle like an animated crystal statue, and Athos stood proudly next to him, eager to show off his favorite item.

Onthyes watched as Athos greeted a guest and the woman quickly moved to praise Ventis, looking to Athos for permission before touching the genasi’s waist and chest, cooing over how perfect he was and how he must have been so difficult to acquire. Ventis smiled politely and thanked her for the shower of compliments, and he seemed perfectly content even though just watching the interaction made Onthyes’s skin crawl.

It continued this way throughout the night. When the dancing began Ventis was passed from partner to partner with a speed that made Onthyes dizzy trying to keep up with, but the genasi didn’t falter. Drunken guests made comments in front of his face about what they would like to do to him, and he took it with grace.

At one point Ventis was called to the stage by Athos to play the piano for the party guests and he obliged happily, settling on the bench and hovering his long fingers over the keys.

The footman from the first night had said that Ventis was passably talented. Onthyes found that to be a vast understatement. His music saturated the room, not flawless but filled with powerful emotions. For the first time, Onthyes got a glimpse of the sentient being under his facade, his eyes closed and head tilted slightly back as he poured himself into the instrument. The guests were enthralled.

At least, the guests were enthralled until the more inebriated among them got bored.

It started with what may have intended to be whispers - lewd comments about Ventis that were met with stifled giggles. They became gradually bolder until people were talking openly about him, yelling uncomfortable questions at the boy on the stage. Ventis kept playing, seemingly unfazed.

“Athos! How much for a night with him, huh?” A voice called from the crowd.

Ventis stumbled on a note, then kept playing. Onthyes stood straighter, ready to intervene if anything happened.

Athos laughed and waved off the question, downing his fifth glass of champagne. The man’s face was flushed and he leaned where he stood. He wouldn’t be able to take control if things got out of hand.

The inappropriate questions and comments continued and Onthyes watched with despair as Ventis’s shields went back up with full force. He rushed through the rest of the song and then stood and bowed, smiling in response to the cheers that rose from the crowd.

As Ventis descended the stairs from the stage back to the floor, someone reached out from the crowd, grabbing his wrist. He lost his footing and fell to his knees with a gasp, eliciting a round of laughter from the guests.

The quartet music started up again. Bodies blocked Onthyes’s view of Ventis. He moved from his spot against the wall, doing his best to shove his way between the drunk aristocrats.

When he finally caught sight of Ventis again his clothes were askew and a man was grabbing him by his horns. Onthyes had no interest in waiting to find out what the man would do next.

“Let go of him!” Onthyes shoved the man away, putting himself in front of Ventis, who sat on the floor and did his best to put his clothes back in order.

The crowd went quiet, backing away. Onthyes turned and offered a hand to Ventis, noticing how cold his skin was as he helped him to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Onthyes whispered.

Ventis nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

Athos stumbled out of the crowd, walking with a dangerous sway. “What happened here?”

“A misunderstanding is all,” the man who had grabbed Ventis declared. “Your pet fell and I was trying to help him up. Your new guard must have misinterpreted my actions.”

“Ah, I see. No harm done, then. Everyone go back to dancing, please!”

The crowd dispersed and Athos took Onthes by the arm, pulling him down to his height to whisper in his ear. “Next time, know that there is no need to interfere. Ventis is here for the enjoyment of my guests. They are here to indulge, not to be policed.”

Onthyes gritted his teeth. He wanted to argue, to explain to Athos what had really happened, but he knew he didn’t have any power here and he definitely didn’t want to be at the mercy of Athos’s harsh punishments. If he had his hands cut off like the guard who was in his place before him he wouldn’t be any help to Ventis.

The party began to wind down. Ventis stuck close to Athos as guests said their drunken goodbyes and headed home until the ballroom was empty save for the manor’s residents. Servants began cleaning immediately and Athos stumbled off to bed, not even noticing when Ventis didn’t follow him.

Onthyes watched as Ventis took the stage again, sitting at the piano. He restarted the song he had been playing before, but there was something melancholy about it now as if he was mourning the ruined performance. The servants ignored him but Onthyes couldn’t help but approach, sitting at the edge of the stage and watching him until they were the only two left in the room.

The music trailed off and Ventis looked down at Onthyes as if noticing him for the first time.

“You do not need to guard me anymore. Your shift has ended, I am sure.”

Onthyes stood, walking over to stand next to the piano. “I just wanted to hear you play again. You’re very good.”

“Thank you.”

Ventis stared up at him, then sighed and turned his attention back to the piano. “Can I do something for you, Onthyes?”

Onthyes couldn’t help but smile. “You remember my name?”

“Yes. ”

Another expectant silence. Ventis probably wasn’t used to carrying a conversation without someone wanting something from him.

“I’ve been wondering…” Onthyes paused, pursing his lips. “I don’t really know how to put it.”

“There is no need to worry about being polite to me,” Ventis said. “What is it you want to know?”

“What are you?”

Ventis stared at the piano keys in a moment of quiet contemplation. “I assume you have asked others already. What did they tell you I am?”

“They said you’re a companion to Athos.”

“That’s all?”

“They said you’re an entertainer. A decoration.”

“And?”

“A pet. A slave.”

Ventis hummed absently, drawing a few notes from the piano that echoed through the empty ballroom. “They are all wrong. I am a mirror. I show you the reflection of your deepest desires. People see in me what they want me to be and that is what I become.” He turned then, looking up at Onthyes. “I am curious, what do you see in me?”

Onthyes studied Ventis. He’s seen the genasi fill many roles over the last few days. He’d seen him treated like a doll, like a servant, like a sex object. He’d seen him disappear like a silent statue in the background and he’d seen him fill an entire ballroom with beautiful music.

But none of that felt right to Onthyes. None of it was Ventis.

“Just you,” Onthyes said with a shrug.

Ventis’s eyes widened for a fleeting second before his expression fell back into its pleasant neutrality and he resumed the song he had been playing.

“You do not know me,” he murmured.

“I’d like to. And, if you’ll let me, I’d like to free you.”

Ventis’s hands faltered, playing a sour note. “Free me?”

“Yes. Athos shouldn’t keep you here like this. It isn’t right.”

He was quiet for a moment, his face slightly turned away so Onthyes couldn’t see his expression. “You should not talk like that.”

“It’s alright. It’s just us. It may take a while, but I am going to find a way to get you safely away from here.”

“I do not want you to free me.”

Onthyes frowned. “What? Why not?”

A gentle laugh “Look at this place, Onthyes. Look at me. Before Athos found me I had been cast out by my family, left to fend for myself on the streets. I had nothing. Here I have a soft bed and fine clothes and I can practice music to my heart’s content and be praised for my talent. I have everything.”

“Everything except for freedom.”

Ventis shrugged. “Why would I desire to return to a world that has been nothing but cruel to me? I am adored here.”

“Adored? Or used? You’re an object to Athos, nothing more. You must see that.”

Onthyes took a step back as Ventis stood, staring up at him with a new sort of coldness in his eyes. “My master loves me, and I love him,” he said, his voice hard. “He loves me.”

With that Ventis exited the ballroom, his robes sweeping silently across the marble floor.

Onthyes watched him go, regret curling in his chest. He hadn’t meant to offend Ventis by offering to free him. He’d expected the genasi to be grateful, but apparently he had misjudged the situation.

Ventis wasn’t a helpless captive. He was a willing participant.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Part 3

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people who i want to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet

Let me know if you want to be added!

[crushedbyhyperbole]

When the Body Says Yes

Pairing: Vampire Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary:  Your hunt for an authentic Venetian mask in Venice leads to a different hunt entirely... one where you are the prey.

Words: 3.1k

A/N:  I hope you enjoy this little patch of darkness!  And I humbly request your feedback.  If you like it at all please give it a 🧡 and a reblog, If you loved it then please let me know in a reblog comment - I will always respond so long as Tumblr doesn’t toss them into the void.

I was inspired to write this fic on a recent trip to Venice.  Walking around the city - getting lost is often the best way to find unique things - I discovered the “Dutch Pavillion” which had an art show called “when the body says yes”.  This inspired the smut aspect of the fic.

Please note this is not a happy ending...

Warnings: Dark Bucky, Vampire Bucky, angst, hurt/no comfort, stalking/hunting, fear/panic, non-con smut (effectively sex-pollen), explicit sexual content, blood, character death (ambiguous), talk of lost loved ones.

***18 + content - minors do not read or interact***

My Masterlist

The late October air is mild and still.  The setting of the sun illuminates the city of Venice in a different way; streetlights and shop fronts bring life to the night.  Market stalls and street vendors sell tourists souvenirs and tat, and restaurant staff haunt the steps of passers by, claiming the best pasta in Italy or one-time-only discounts.

The streets are packed with people in costume, and street artists entertain the throngs with performance and song.  It is Halloween.  How could you not be giddy as you shop for an authentic Venetian mask on a night when the whole of Venice seems to wear one.

In the mass of bodies, some costumes stand out.  Your eye is drawn to a particularly alluring devil mask; white with gold filigree and a sinister, red-lipped smile.  The person wearing it, certainly a man, is tall and broad-chested, wearing a long black cloak with the hood up.  Besides the mask he may as well be a shadow, and he is looking right at you.

His mask is wonderful and you should really approach him to ask where he got it, but the coldness of his eyes - dark and foreboding behind the mask - warns you off.  You glance around, aware that you are stood in the middle of the pavement in everyone’s way but when you look back he is gone, vanished into the crowd.

The chill at the nape of your neck cascades down your spine and over your skin as goosebumps.  It is probably just the charged atmosphere and the occult connotations that Halloween brings, but you cannot shake the feeling until the smell of fresh pizza fills your nostrils and your tummy growls in appreciation.  Tasting the local offerings is definitely on your to-do list but only after you have bought yourself an authentic Venetian mask, of course.

 Your hunt for the perfect mask takes you away from the busy central area around San Marco.  The streets become less retail and more like narrow alleys between tall misshapen buildings.  High-up balconies with flowering planters give way to shuttered windows and crumbling brickwork.  The air has taken on a sudden chill as mist hazes the air lightly.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristle, skin crawling uncomfortably as you realise that you don’t quite know where you are anymore; the map makes no sense compared to what you are seeing with your eyes.  Behind you, shoes scuff on stone and you whip around only to find the pathway clear. You are alone.

The city hasn’t felt at all sinister until now, but you try to pass it off as a symptom of the night; Halloween is a time for ghost stories and chilled bones, all the more effective to the solitary wanderer.  By rights you shouldn’t be here alone, but you are.  A promise made to a friend recently laid to rest; you had planned to do this together, to cross Venice off your bucket lists together, experience the romantic city on the water.  Lucy. Her bucket list would forever be unfinished, her time cut short, your heart broken in two.  You were doing this for her, making good on all the plans you had discussed, all of the things you had both dreamed of.  She would laugh at you if she could see you now, quaking in your boots because of a little darkness and fog.  The memory of her light laughter carries you forward.

 You were hoping to make your way to the Rialto and use the bridge to cross the grand canal to San Polo, but the huge structure remains elusive.  Instead, you find yourself passing through some of the more dilapidated parts of the city.  You had seen the Cannaregio area in your guidebook and had wanted to visit during the day when shopping for craft and vintage items would be better, but you find yourself on the edge of the old Jewish Ghetto before realising it; a sign of carved stone under an archway tells you Sotoportego De Gheto.  You pass underneath and keep going.

There are fewer people here, and the ones you pass are not dressed in costume.  No one is wearing masks, which makes the dark cloaked figure in a white devil mask all the more conspicuous.  The man from the parade.  He is standing in a dark space between two buildings, his mask pale and ghostly in the shadows.  He is watching you.

For a moment, you are frozen in place.  A step aborted with a slight stumble and a gasp caught in your throat.  That prickling feeling at your nape returns with fervour, crawling over your scalp now, making your heart race with fear. He had not been ominous when you first saw him in the crowd but now you feel like you should not get any closer, and you definitely should not cross his path.

Heading in a different direction, you try to put some distance between you and the man.  You take turn after turn in the dark, closed-in alleys, crossing canal after canal with their bridges made of steps and no railings.  And just when you think you have lost him, the swish of a dark cloak in your peripheral vision sends your panic skyrocketing upwards once more.  It feels like he is everywhere you turn.

Suddenly frantic, you run – crossing small, cobbled squares with strange, covered wells and dodging around corners – just to escape.  Everywhere you turn the shadows seem to move.  Pale masks with sinister red smiles follow every step.  Every time you think you have seen a normal person who you can ask for help, it is another ominous shadow that moves just like the rest.

Your eyes are swimming with tears when you emerge from the alley at the edge of another canal.  The bridge nearby is larger than the few before it and you take the steps at a run, crossing over onto an open square with a large white building that looks to be some sort of church or museum; the rainbow colours in the circular gothic-style window give you hope.

 It is warm as you cross the threshold and a delicate musky scent welcomes you inside.  The atrium is clad in dark wood, carved in the gothic style. Its pointed arches and flourishes are highlighted by the cosy orange glow of lanterns that surround a petite lady in a dark orange robe, her shaved head accenting the beauty of her face. She smiles at you and welcomes you to the Dutch Pavillion, a place to explore one’s inner self and beauty.  You glance over your shoulder and out into the night.  There are no ominous shadows and no pale masks haunting your steps now, and you sigh with relief as you step further inside.

The warm glow of the lanterns leads you to the right, through a large doorway where the wood stops and the same white stone from the exterior continues throughout the rest of the huge chamber.  A sheer curtain made of fine filaments of woven threads hangs between you and the rest of the chamber.  A projection of some film reflects against it, and you see it from behind, bodies writhing in pleasure as the flickering images reveal an orgy in progress on the curtained screen.

What is this place?

The floor around you is covered with shoes, paired nicely and respectfully, and you realise that beyond the fringe curtain the whole chamber floor is covered in cushions and upholstered shapes that rise and fall like waves.  Not just waves, soft peaks and raised platforms too, all comfortable and appealing.

There are people there, watching the film as it plays on the strange fringe curtain.  Couples cuddling and others reclining in this comfortable, care-free space. The scent that welcomed you in is stronger here, reminding you of something you couldn’t quite place, stirring emotion in you that could only be described as desire.

You shouldn’t be here, but you don’t want to leave.  Whoever was following you could still be there, waiting for you outside.  The man in the mask.  You don’t know what he wanted but it couldn’t be good.  The least sinister motive for his pursuit would have been to talk to you but then he would have called out to you, surely? Your skin crawls again as you stand, caught between leaving and pushing through the curtain.

You decide to peek, fingers twitching as they part the fringe, revealing more than could be seen before.  It is a scene in motion, people in various states of undress, writhing and gyrating in pleasure.  The scene in front of you reflects what’s being projected onto the curtain, larger than life and unfiltered.

A quiet squeak and a loud thump startle you and you turn to find the door to the outside closed.  The petit woman in the orange robes passes you with a dark cloak over her arm and something else you recognise held reverently in both hands.  A white devil mask with a sinister, red-lipped grin.

 You stagger back, tripping on the shoes, crying out as you fall to the ground but you don’t land. Instead, you are held up and lifted back to your feet by strong arms that cradle you gently.  That is when you first see him properly.  Styled dark hair that is swept back and piercing blue eyes that smile at the edges.  Dusky pink lips that look plush but firm, all the more vibrant against his pale complexion. The suit he wears is dark, as is his shirt.  His whole demeanour speaks of strength and power, and he looks more than sightly amused by your panic.

“Forgive me,” he says, voice neither too deep nor too soft.  His eyes glint with mischief.

Your panic does not abate. No matter what your eyes and your brain tell you about this man, your gut is telling you something else.  This man is beautiful and dangerous.  A predator.

As he helps you to your feet his eyes never leave yours and you can feel your head start to swim. The musky scent from before is suddenly overpowering and you feel like you can’t breathe.  You stumble against him and he inhales deeply, eyes fluttering closed, mouth falling open slightly as he sighs with pleasure.

“Please,” you beg as your arms start to feel heavy, “please don’t hurt me.”

He smiles softly, tipping your chin up so he’s looking down into your eyes.  The breath he blows gently over you intoxicates you even more and you can feel that irresistible pull of desire once more.

“Who are you?”  You moan, trying to shake some clarity into your foggy brain.

“You may call me James,” he places his fingertip on your forehead, “now, stay.”

You cannot move, no matter how hard you try, you can only watch as he sinks to his knee and removes your shoes one at a time.

“What do you want with me?”

He looks deep into your eyes once more, the blue of his almost black now and you’re reminded of a predator’s prey drive.  Is that what you are?  His prey?

“You’ll see.”

He parts the curtain and walks you through, your feet obeying his pull but not your own need to escape.  The longer you’re under his spell the less you care, your heart beating fast out of excitement instead of fear now as his control strips you of all the emotions that you felt before.  All that was left now was desire, devotion, excitement and a need for this man who had hunted you through the streets of Venice.  James.

 Other hands touch you as you pass carefully in James’ wake, the light caresses neither satisfying nor offensive.  James’ hands, however, they set fire to your nerves and make them sing with adulation. He insists on undressing you himself, glaring at anyone who approaches you.  They recoil in fear, seeing something in him that you have no capacity to comprehend in your altered state, and soon it is just the two of you on a raised part that you accept as his bed.

James’ naked body is as beautiful as his face.  He is sculpted, strong and pale against the vibrant coverings and cushions of his bed. When he lays you down beneath him you can only watch as he settles between your parted thighs, lust-blown eyes devouring you whole.

His first kiss is at your ankles and the tops of your feet where he nips with his teeth and soothes afterwards with tongue and lips.  The path he takes up your body is slow and consuming.  By the time he is at your thighs you are on fire, desperately needing more than what he is giving you.

In the back of your mind, the rational part of you screams to escape.  You know you should be terrified.  You had not agreed to this.  You know nothing about him, nor do you want to after he stalked you through the city, hunted and herded you to this place.  His place.

The nip of his teeth on the inside of your thigh is sharp, a deep ache blooming under the site, drawing your attention back to him.  His lips are sealed around the skin as he moans deeply, lightly suckling and licking. Your head falls back as a wave of light-headedness takes hold of you, just on the edge of bliss, almost like feeling drunk.

James’ face flushes pink and he smirks before he continues upward to your naked core.  His kisses are hot and needy as he trails his lips over the soft hair of your mons and inhales the scent held there.  He moans as he smothers you with his mouth and licks between your lips causing you to gasp and writhe.

The projection on the fringe curtain shows you both together; you lay on your back with a blissful smile on your lips and him lay between your legs, his cock hard and glistening as he devours you.  The red smear on your thigh an afterthought.  You watch your back arch as he slides his fingers inside you, and the feeling is surreal; watching yourself as he works you into a frenzy is beyond erotic.  You feel yourself cresting the wave of pleasure with his fingers inside you and his mouth working its magic, and when you crash on the rocks of oblivion your whole body shakes with the aftershocks.  You pant and moan as you come back into focus and you see James’ eyes on the screen, he looks at the camera with his dark, lustful gaze before returning his mouth to your flesh and beginning the process again.

His teeth nip at the skin of your hips and tummy, lips soothing afterwards as he travels further still, up to your breasts where he lathes one breast with his tongue, flicking and sucking on your nipple until you moan again.  Fingers still buried in your core, he has been massaging and teasing enough to keep you close to orgasm but not quite there.  His ministrations on your breasts tip you over and he supplies an orgasm for each breast, nibbling your nipples then sucking hard until you climax each time.

“You’re perfect,” he sighs above you with his cockhead poised at your entrance, “delectable, delicious and divine.  Just as I knew you would be.”

He penetrates you firmly but smoothly, burying himself in you to the hilt.  The solid stretch of him filling you makes your eyes roll back and closed.  His thrusts rock your whole body as you cling to him, your legs around his hips and hands grasping his shoulders.  It is not long before you pant and beg him to make you feel good again, and he does. He hooks your legs over his elbows and pushes your legs back so you are wide open to him.  Open and more vulnerable than ever, weak and at his mercy.

Leaning over you like he does, his cock is buried so deep you can see it pushing against your tummy from the inside; he is hitting your sweet spot every time now, and your eyes water with the intensity of it.  James looks ravenous as he watches you come apart under him, grinding his hips against you until the spasming of your core brings him to his own end.

Buried deep and pulsing inside you he drops yours legs and falls forward.  His teeth nipping at your neck is harsh like it was at your thigh, a deep painful ache settles where his lips join your skin and his hands are rough as they hold you to him.  You can feel a dual throbbing; in your core where he is still buried, hard and pulsing, and in your neck where he bites down on you.

The waves of your bliss start to fade and when James releases you, you look up at him with black tinging the edges of your vision.  A cold chill settles over your skin as you see that the redness of his lips is not the flush of his orgasm, but blood.  Your blood.  And his teeth are not white anymore but tinged with red, and sharp.

“No!”  You gasp with panic, and wriggle to get free – his spell seemingly loosened now – but he pins you down by your throat.

“Shhhh…” he soothes, the sinister air about him has returned and so has that scent, “you taste so much better feeling pleasure rather than fear.”

He blows an intoxicating breath over you again and you start to succumb.  At the grey edges of your vision you see faces – white with red-lipped smiles – and James doesn’t make them leave this time.  Your fear is replaced by desire once more as James bows his head to your neck and kisses over the deep throbbing ache he left there.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let them have you for long,” James smirks, “you’re mine.”

A sharp pain at your wrist makes your eyes water and you close them against the horror.  Absently you wonder if you’ll see Lucy again soon. You don’t know whether her fate or yours is worse, neither is what either of you hoped for.  Either way you’ll meet again, you’re sure of it.  If these creatures exist then surely there’s a heaven and a hell, an afterlife or another form of existence.

You screw your eyes shut as more bites are added to your pain.  You feel dizzy now, ethereal and warped all at the same time.  Tiredness floods your body and when the darkness claims you, you’re glad.

[blackacre13]

Debbie lap dance pt 2

Part One Linked above! Here's part two!

“Go ahead,” Debbie panted. “You can touch me. I know you want to.”

“God, yes,” Lou nodded, her nails digging into Debbie’s hips as she pushed her down further against her thigh, encouraging her to grind against her more, Debbie’s breathing starting to get short.

“Keep the money,” Debbie whispered suddenly, her tongue darting out to lick Lou’s earlobe as the blonde cursed. “I want you inside me. Come around back?”

“Debbie,” Lou chuckled, shaking her head, only to be interrupted by Debbie’s hand ghosting along the crotch of her pants as Debbie let out a gasp.

“Are you…packing?” Debbie whispered, licking her lips as her eyes grew darker.

“One way to find out.”

Lou didn’t know what the hell she was doing or how she’d ended up at this club.

She couldn’t lie. It was a club she had frequented a few times before, but lurking around strip joints on a Friday night wasn’t her typical scene. Although the “ladies drink for free” was a typical perk. Hadn’t any of these club owners heard about lesbians?

She’d worked a smooth week. Wallet full of cash. Jobs all running like clockwork. But that meant she was bored. She didn’t need to scrape together random cons this weekend to make ends meet. Her time was her own. And that often led her into dipping into her vices: liquor, cigarettes…sex.

There were the usual suspects she practically had on call and of course, the instant regret of a go-to ex or three that could be fun for the night but only end badly in the morning, but she didn’t want to tread down that road.

So here she was. A place where she knew she could tease herself. Practically edge herself. Let herself be flirted with and danced upon, but she could only look. Not touch. And there was a limit. A bill. And an expectation that she would go home satisfied in a way, but most definitely alone.

So she couldn’t believe that she was standing in the alleyway behind the club with her boot against the wall and a cigarette between her lips, eyes closed as deep, brown ones seemed to bore into her soul.

Debbie, Debbie, Debbie.

Who was she? And why could she read Lou so well, even in an instant?

They didn’t need words or hints or instructions. Their bodies were practically calling out to each other. A siren song.

Lou had been nervous. She shouldn’t have been this drawn to a dancer, but she’d caught sight of her across the bar and knew she had to be the one. And when Debbie asked her what she wanted, Lou had to stop herself from saying “for you to take my last name” and settle for a lap dance instead.

It was intoxicating. Lou thought she should be mortified. Doing this. Paying for this. Letting Debbie tease her professionally. But there was something on Debbie’s face that told Lou she wasn’t alone in this. And when Debbie’s hips started rolling and her position switched to very, truly riding Lou’s thigh and moaning like they were holed away in a bedroom just the two of them and not in a corner of a club, Lou knew it wasn’t just her. And she hoped against all hope that Debbie would want something real. No strings or singles attached.

Lou’s fingers had found their place on Debbie’s hips as if they’d settled there dozens of times before, Debbie whimpering as the tips of her fingers ghosted against hot skin.

Debbie whispering “keep the money” was like a dream. She had to be sure she hadn’t made it up and when Debbie’s hand had found the strap Lou had decided to wear this evening—for some BDE and extra confidence—Lou knew she needed to Fuck this woman. Right then. Right now.

“Coming?” A voice asked suddenly, a metal door near Lou opening and swinging shut heavily before Debbie emerged, a wicked grin on her face, wrapping a trench coat around her barely there outfit and swinging her hair out of her face.

“I was hoping that would be your job tonight, actually,” Lou smirked.

[aftermathfanfic]

DnDucks 2

Did this again, this time for Lena, Violet, Della and Magica de Spell! Information is under the Read More thing.

I feel like I should do something with these.

Lena Sabrewing

Floating above you is a duck with a luminescent white and blue costume, her eyes and the tips of her front head-feathers gleaming with magical power.

Age: 18 (mentally) Alignment: Chaotic Good Class/Level: Sorcerer 6 (arcane bloodline) Ability Scores: STR 10, DEX 15, CON 14, INT 13, WIS 8, CHA 18

Once the unwilling shadowy servant of Magica de Spell, Lena Sabrewing is an accomplished sorceress and one of the most powerful allies of House McDuck. Specifically, her loyalty is to Webby Vanderquack, with whom she is practically an older sister to. She has eschewed most of the formal titles offered to her, content with having a normal life – or as normal as one’s life can be in Duckland.

Unlike the other characters I’ve discussed, Lena is not a duck – technically, she is what is known as a “fetchling”, a being crafted entirely from shadowstuff. As a fetchling, she has slight resistance to cold and electricity, and she can blend into darkness to become harder to see and hit. She can use her innate shadow magic to weave illusory disguises, though she is loathe to use these abilities, preferring to use magic unrelated to shadow.

As a sorcerer, Lena can use her magic much more often than a wizard or cleric at the cost of a much more limited spellbook. She only has a handful of spells in her repertoire, which she uses in creative and efficient ways, such as flying invisibly in the sky, unnoticed until she rains a shower of magic missiles down on her opponents. She also uses her magic to mess with people when she’s bored – causing object to levitate, turning your house keys invisible, that sort of thing.

Violet Sabrewing

This indigo-feathered warrioress points her crossbow at you from afar, her eyes cold, calculating, yet curious.

Age: 16 Alignment: Neutral Class/Level: Ranger 3/Wizard 1 Ability Scores: STR 12, DEX 17, CON 14, INT 14, WIS 14, CHA 8

Another friend of Webby, Violet is one of the Woodchuck rangers of Duckland, tasked with protecting the natural world from monsters, magic, and all manner of unnatural creations. They eschew the divine magics employed by rangers in other parts of the world, instead relying on their weapon skills, traps, and their allies.

That, however, changed for Violet when she discovered an enchanted amulet, once wielded by the shadow witch Magica de Spell. Through that amulet, she discovered a world of untapped power, and she began fervently researching the arcane, the eldritch, and the unknown. She even discovered a talent for arcane spellcasting, studying as a novice wizard alongside training as a ranger.

Crossbows are Violet’s weapon of choice, and she has learned to use them with incredible efficiency. She can shoot, reload, and shoot a crossbow again faster than most people can blink, and she specialises in taking down the undead. Her magical focus, in fact, is the art of necromancy, which she can use to weaken her foes and control wandering undead.

Della Duck

This dishevelled duck wears a blue scarf and a pilot’s outfit, with a pair of goggles resting on her forehead. Her left leg is a metallic, roughshod contraption.

Age: 42 Alignment: Chaotic Good Class/Level: Fighter 8/Artificer 4 Ability Scores: STR 15, DEX 15, CON 13, INT 15, WIS 8, CHA 15

Della Duck is the twin sister of Donald, mother of the Duck triplets, and a ferociously ambitious adventurer. She was thought dead for many years after an experiment gone awry stranded her on the Astral Plane for ten years. She isn’t quite as reckless as she used to be, having learned from her mistakes, but she hasn’t lost her adventurous edge.

Della is primarily a fighter, accustomed to fighting blade to blade. She no longer fights with her magic sword Asteria, which is now in Dewey’s hands, but with a longspear built from a meteoric metal, gifted to her by a friend she met in the stars. She also has a few levels in artificer – stranded in the Astral Sea, she had to build a rocket to get back home herself, with very little help, and she picked up a few tools of the trade in the process.

Della is not afraid to leap head-first into combat. She eschews the shield in favour of two-handing her spear, using it to knock aside enemy blows and skewer her foes. Her artificer magic allows her to quickly construct magic items or enhance her gear with power, making her a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Magica de Spell

Cackling above you, this mad witch sports a midnight black dress and has sickly green feathers. In her hands is a black sceptre, with a glowing violet gem at its tip.

Age: ??? Alignment: Chaotic Evil Class/Level: Sorcerer 18 (shadow bloodline) Ability Scores: STR 8, DEX 14, CON 14, INT 14, WIS 10, CHA 20

One of the most feared enemies of House McDuck, Magica de Spell is an accomplished and deadly sorceress whose speciality is in shadow magic. She can bring shadows to life, conjure impenetrable darkness, step into one shadow and reappear from another… her powers are almost limitless. And there is rumour that she now tries to push the limits of her magic even further, in an attempt to cheat death itself.

Like most arcane spellcasters, Magica relies heavily on her magical abilities to get through combat. She has no martial prowess to speak of, but neither does she need it – few have the opportunity to get close to her before being blasted by shadowy lightning, accosted by shadow monsters, or just simply disintegrated by her magics. Her arrogance is almost always her downfall, underestimating her enemies or lacking the foresight to come up with escape plans beyond just teleporting away.

Her retinue of servants consists primarily of shadowy undead that sap the strength from their victims. Very rarely does she enlist the help of more intelligent or powerful servants, and she never makes an alliance with a fellow sorcerer. She knows full well that, like herself, her peers rarely honour sworn oaths when limitless power is on the line.