#Lost vision in my left eye for a bit though

[dumbsideblogposting]

I need an all of the above button for this one, lol.

Yes, I had it. I got diagnosed quickly, not a huge impact on my life, I am still dealing with it.

This is asking about any significantly life altering or life threatening physical disease, infection, or accident that a medical specialist would have needed to test/treat you for.

Anon had a cancer scare that thankfully turned out to be benign, but some bad info and a long waitlist made for a very stressful time. They're wondering how many others have been there!

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[of-many-fandomss]

if you could, maybe a fic where reader is the youngest on the grid, and has lost her father. anyway, she wins a grand prix (whatever you’re feeling, it doesn’t matter which one!), and just immediately runs to charles because she knows her dad’s not there to see her big win. he’s immediately taken back but then understands why she came to him and is there to comfort her

and maybe she invites him up on the podium with her!!

thanks :))

Proud

summary: your father was no longer there, but your next biggest supporter was

paring: charles leclerc x reader platonic

warnings: mentions of parental death

word count: 0.6k

a/n: in honor of my baby lando getting his first win 🥹🧡

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The blur of your vision no doubt made it borderline dangerous to be driving- but you couldn’t care. Not one single bit.

Not as you pulled into the spot reserved just for you, a p1 resting against the poster right in front of your car that you could barely make out.

A sob raked through your body suddenly and you dropped your hemelt clad head into your hands, breathing shaky and heart rate still accelerated.

You took a moment for yourself, your eyes squeezed shut and your senses buzzing. There were screams of the crowd around you, each one of them celebrating your victory in a deafening roar of pure thrill and excitement.

Finally, you jumped out of your car, ripping the hemelt from off of your head just in time to see an all too familiar Red Bull vehicle pull up to your right and a Ferrari to your left, taking up their respective places by your side.

Whipping around, you paid no mind to the cheers of congratulations from your team, nor the reporters that tried to invade your space as you raced as quickly as you could to the bright red Ferrari.

Charles hopped out of his car just in time for you to crash into his arms, eyes once again squeezed shut as you hugged the man tightly.

The man stumbled back a bit- having already shed his helmet- eyes slightly wide as he looked down at you, but softened as he watched you finally let the tears flow free from your eyes ducts.

He recovered quickly and hurtfully swept you into his embrace, holding you just as tightly as you were holding him, neither of you tuned into any of the hundreds of cameras that were snapping all around you.

After so much hard work- after so much dedication- you had finally done it. You had finally won your Grand Prix- and one on your home track nonetheless.

The tears were partially for the dedication that was finally paying off, but it was mostly for the man that you wish was by your side at the moment.

Your father.

The man that had always been your biggest supporter, through and through.

From your karting days to when you finally signed on with Red Bull just over five months ago when you turned eighteen.

Only two months later, he had passed away from a sudden and quick disease that had left you and the rest of your family utterly heartbroken.

Even before he had been gone, Charles had been quick to take you under his wing. You weren’t his teammate, and yet, he couldn’t help the sense of responsibility that took over him when he had first gazed upon you. He had wanted nothing more than to make you feel welcomed and safe in formula 1.

And that’s what he did.

When you had lost the man that had been your biggest supporter- Leclerc became just as large of one.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured in your ear for only you to hear, listening to the way you were hiccuping against the material of his tracksuit, “Your father would be so proud.”

You squeezed him tighter for a moment before pulling away, laughing slightly through teary eyes at him.

Charles smiled, moving a piece of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, “I’m so proud of you.” He repeated.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

Thank you for saying it. Thank you for looking out for me- for always being there.

Though you didn’t say the words, your eyes shone brightly with them and the man understood.

He nodded before taking his gloved hand in yours, “Come on, let’s get you to your first top spot on the podium.”

When you turned around, you were greeted with the sight of screaming, ecstatic fans, and beaming drivers.

Each and every person in that place was so proud of you, but none smiled as brightly as Charles when you mounted the top of the podium and held your trophy up high.

[joelsrose]

Possession

smut drabble 🤨

When Joel found out your ex lived in the apartment next door in the QZ, something in his brain flipped like a switch. It wasn’t obvious at first—he didn’t say anything, didn’t mention it outright. But that night, when he pressed you into the mattress, his touch was different. More deliberate. More possessive. And every night after that, it was the same—Joel making sure the entire complex could hear every single ragged scream, every desperate moan, every filthy thing he dragged out of you.

“C’mon, baby,” he growled, his voice low and thick as he pressed your thighs apart, spreading you wide beneath him. His hips snapped into yours with a brutal, relentless rhythm, the bed creaking loudly beneath the force of his thrusts. “Let ’em hear you. Let him hear you.”

Your nails raked down his broad shoulders, your back arching as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over again, leaving you gasping for air. “Joel,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on his name.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. One of his large hands gripped your hip, holding you steady as the other slid up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, burning with something primal, and his lips curled into a wicked smirk. “Bet he’s sittin’ over there listenin’, thinkin’ about what he lost. Poor fuckin’ bastard.”

Your cheeks burned, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly as his words sank in. Joel’s thumb brushed over your cheek, a sharp contrast to the punishing pace of his hips. “He ever fuck you this good?” Joel asked, his tone almost mocking, though there was an edge of something deeper in his voice. “Ever make you scream like this, baby?”

You shook your head frantically, your breath hitching as the pressure built higher and higher. “No,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Only you, Joel.”

“Damn right,” he growled, his smirk deepening as he leaned down, his scruff dragging against your neck. His lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he bit down gently, enough to make you cry out. “You’re mine now. Let him fuckin’ hear it.”

Your moans grew louder, your voice pitching higher with each thrust. Joel didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, his rough hands sliding down to grip your thighs, pulling you closer. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice rough and filthy, laced with pride. “Takin’ me so good. So fuckin’ tight and wet for me.”

Your vision blurred, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t hold back any longer. “Joel, I—” you choked out, your voice breaking as your nails dug into his skin.

“I know, baby,” he rasped, his lips brushing against yours as he drove into you harder, deeper, chasing your release. “Cum for me. Let him hear you fall apart on my cock.”

And when it hit, it was blinding, a tidal wave of pleasure that left you screaming his name, your body trembling as you came undone beneath him. Joel groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, his voice low and guttural as he buried himself deep inside you. His hands didn’t let go, his grip firm as he held you close, anchoring you to him even as your chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but still dripping with satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he watched you, his smirk returning. “Bet he’s gonna have a hard time sleepin’ tonight,” Joel teased, his voice low and warm. “Knowin’ what he lost. Knowin’ you’re mine.”

[spatialwave]

LEAVE ME TO DREAM

➸ pairing: arcane survivor!jayce talis x fem!reader ➸ word count: 1.5k ➸ tags: mdni! porn with plot, angst, hurt/comfort, grief/loss, depression, sad ending, rough sex, choking, sorta-dubcon. ➸ notes: wow this was a lot more depressing than i intended it to be lol. my apologies. i rewatched yesterday and felt so much emotion for arcane survivor jayce and wrote whatever came to mind! i hope you like it 🥹

Months had passed, months without Jayce. You remember the days clearly back then, he had been avoiding you – spending hours and hours in his lab after Viktor left. It was fine, you learned to manage seeing him only when he wanted. You told yourself it was fine

It wasn’t, but you managed.

Then he disappeared, as though he vanished out of thin air. Everyone you spoke to brushed you off, no one in the council would even look in your direction. Ambessa made it impossible.

You were a mess, alone in your apartment for weeks. Months.

There were days when you wanted to give up because what was life like without Jayce? There was no life with lost love, it was so painful that your stomach twisted in pain every waking hour. You’d begun to grieve, losing yourself to the idea that he’d never return. That his body had become one with the earth where he might lay dead.

It was late afternoon, your body curled into the blankets, naked and basking in the sun that pooled through the window. You had been in and out of sleep all day, tossing and turning. Having managed to shower, but nothing else but crawl back into your safety and remain there.

You dreamt of Jayce, like you always had. Memories flooded your mind, tears settling in the outer corners of your eyes.

Sleep was taking you over, eyes fluttering when the door to the apartment slammed open. You jolted up, hands grabbing at the blankets that you wrapped around your body haphazardly.

“Who’s there?” You shouted through a shaky voice, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your bare feet padded along the wooden floorboards, heavy as you stomped toward imminent danger with nothing to lose, “My fiancé will be back any second,” you lied, baring your teeth as you turn the corner into the main area of your quaint apartment.

That’s when you gasped, the sound mixed with a strangled scream. Shaky hands covered your mouth.

“Jayce?” You croaked, “Oh my gods, Jayce.”

You weren’t permitted time to greet him, nor comment on the way he appeared. Rugged, a beard and hair that hung over his ears.

The door slammed behind him and the hextech hammer dropped to the ground with a thud heavy enough that the wood cracked beneath. He stepped toward you, earning another gasp as you were pushed against the kitchen table.

“Jayce,” your voice full of worry, fingers touching a beard you’d never seen on him before, “where have you–”

Lips crashed to yours, tongue forcing its way past your lips. You moaned, abiding by his movements as the blanket fell from your body, and you sat atop the table, thighs tight around his hips. Arms snaked around his neck, fingers tangling into his shaggy hair and tugging harshly as emotions flooded you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping down your neck as you whined into his mouth.

“Can we talk?” You forced yourself back, chest heaving with heavy breaths as you looked into his eyes. All you could see was pain and loss, fear – anger. Wherever he was, he had been tormented, left him a shell of a man, “Jayce, please–”

He blinked hard, twitching as if to blink a vision away.

“No,” he growled, face burying against your neck as he sucked and bit with his scarred lips, rough hands groping at your naked hips hard enough you tried to squirm away.

“Stop,” you whined, your body reacting to his touch as your wet cunt rolled against the erection hidden under his slacks, but you yearned for more than this. You had questions that burned your mind, a need to heal whatever hurt him. To tell him that you missed him and loved him, that you were scared he’d been dead.

Your mind was blurry, heart pounding with a flurry of emotions as you tilted your head back and cried out.

“Just… be quiet,” he hissed, biting hard against your neck and causing you to yelp, “please,” he begged against your skin, tongue licking at the bruise that had formed over your skin.

You shuddered, lips quivering as you felt his hands grab at your body with fervor. You obliged, your heart knowing that this was a need. A distraction, perhaps, and you decided to welcome it wholly.

Jayce was back, that’s all that mattered. You had him. You could manage.

The man who was once tender with his touches was no longer here. His hands handled you with a sharp edge, leaving lasting redness and bruises in its wake, wrapped around your neck as you whimpered and tried to cry out in pleasure, but you couldn’t make a sound as his fingers pressed against the sides of your windpipe.

You were hastily pushed back on the kitchen table, dishes, papers and clutter pushed to the floor as Jayce fucked you with little remorse for your own needs. Your body had missed his touch, legs spread apart as his cock left a searing pain deep inside you and his teeth pinched your nipples.

With parted lips, all you could offer was a pitiful attempt at a whimper, eyes fluttering as he stared down at you – eyes full of rage. Lust and love were nowhere to be seen as he shoved two fingers between your lips, forcing your sounds to cease. You sucked as best as you could, offering the little energy you had to spare as your body shook beneath him.

The legs of the table creaking so loudly you were certain that it would break, the wood shaking and squeaking as it scraped against the flooring

Jayce’s breaths were ragged and heavy, moans choking in his throat as his cock fucked you in a tireless pace and he stared down at the way your breasts bounced with each hard snap of his hips. Your heels dug into the small of his back, thighs squeezing as the walls of your pussy clenched around him, silently begging for more.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, and you gasped for air, the hand around your throat moving to massage your tits, instead pinching at your nipples hard enough that you squealed. You caught your breath and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. It was an incessant amount of pleasure and touch, leaving your body weak and near-limp.

Tears stung your eyes again, and you lifted a tired arm so your delicate hand caressed his bearded jaw. A gentle touch you had longed for since he stormed through the doors a different man that you’d seen him last.

“I… missed you,” you croaked between his unabating thrusts, whimpering voice catching in your throat with each deep send of his hips.

Jayce cringed back from your touch, flinching and twitching like he had before. His hands moved to your hips, stiffening his body and yours as he stared down at you with widened eyes and a newfound expression, as though clarity struck.

For a moment, his eyes flickered. There he was — your Jayce.

“Jayce,” you urged, moving to sit up as your hands rested on his cheeks, “please. Talk to me. I need you.”

His golden eyes grew damp, pupils dilating until they were blown out.

“I’m sorry,” the words croaked from trembling lips as the tears spilled down his cheeks. Emotions took over as he wailed out a sob, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you into a tight hug, face pressed into the side of your head, “I’m so sorry… sorry.”

You looked at the wall beyond him, your chin over his shoulder, as you listened to his cries and sobs. Your hands pressed against his back, soft and comforting.

He continued to mumble out apologies as you felt his tears stain against your skin.

Under your breath, you shushed him, hand gliding up and down his spine as you allowed him the space to feel. To exist without any negative repercussions, to live through whatever traumas he’d experienced while he was away.

The questions burned deep in your mind, but you bit back the curiosity. Your patience was thoroughly tested, but you could do this for him. You held your lover close and prayed to whatever god that would listen to keep him safe and in your arms. To keep him in your shared apartment, that he wouldn’t leave like he had.

“I love you,” he whimpered, nails clawing down your back and leaving reddened welts behind, “I’m sorry–”

You opened your eyes as he jerked back, watching in fear as he hurriedly put his clothes back on and grabbed the hammer. He was all over the place, leaving you unable to pin down the thoughts racing through his head, “I… I have to take care of it.”

“Take care of what? Jayce? Jayce!” You called out, scrambling to your feet as you chased after him, but your fiancé had already slammed the door in your face.

You whimpered, leaning against the door with your palms flat against the wood. Then you cried and cried for hours – begging that it had only been a bad dream. That the touches and bruises that lingered on your body would disappear much like he had.

You weren’t certain that you could manage any longer. Everything was a mess.

[feex]

So I made a really simple AU of mouthwashing

( does have spelling errors in the actual drawing )

My page: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjTNuGfN/

With this AU, it’s very direct from the title but only THREE of them survive ( Swansea, Anya and Daisuke. ) meanwhile Curly and Jimmy are the unfortunate ones who don’t make it back on earth alive atleast.

[ THE ALTERED VERSION OF IT ]

Pony express didn’t go bankrupt IMMEDIATELY in this universe, instead they were just lowering pay for each member except Curly.

They were all found 3 years later after everything had transpired, due to legal action it was a whole case causing major action in response, it was only a miracle how they managed to escape this ordeal.

SWANSEA - he managed to survive being shot in the eye and head, the bullet barely reaching his brain but leaving a fracture in his skull. losing an eye in the process and left with poor vision with the other. After he went back home he was already put into proper medical care and his wife takes care of him now due to his retirement but he has managed to recover swiftly but he still struggles with mobility, Swansea was a little stubborn to retire and let his wife take care but eventually he gave in. the whole incident does have him shaken up and he feels very conflicted about everything.

ANYA - The baby was immediately terminated by the OD and there would’ve been no chance of it surviving either way by the stress of everything happening on board, Anya is still left with the repercussions of the overdose and leaves her occasionally with chronic pain. Anya has completely avoided contact with Daisuke and Swansea due to not wanting to be reminded of anything that happened on Tulpar. Anya is studying psychology as a new field rather than becoming a nurse at the moment, she is in art therapy courses and she has created things to help her express internal turmoil as she slowly recovers physically and mentally.

DAISUKE - He had managed to survive somehow with a string of luck though having surgery for his face and nose causing a slight curve on the bridge of it. he has no eye on the right ( left if we’re being realistic) with the amount of blood he had lost he has anaemia and lost some of his colour in skin, he appears a bit lighter than he usually is. Daisuke is still trying to grow his hair out, having the side of his head shaved for surgery so now his hair is even more layered and choppy. Daisuke has huge gaps in memory and doesn’t have good memory anymore, he struggles with speech and is now in constant care by his mother who now never leaves his side, Daisuke by this point has halfway recovered but he’ll never be able to work on his own and have a proper job.

Meanwhile with Jimmy and Curly.

CURLY - because of his horrific injuries it was only cruel to keep him in constant agony, Anya couldn’t handle the pressure nor the sight of him in so much pain as he was barely surviving off painkillers. she was aware of the fact he would most likely die eventually, nobody killed Curly of course but he had succumbed to the injuries he faced, the exposed skin and the trauma his body faced couldn’t handle it.

JIMMY - He was spiralling, already he knew that if he ever went back home he’d face extreme consequences and with a cowardly move he’d resort to ending his own life. believing everyone on board was already dead which he wouldn’t know what to do, this was his own way of taking responsibility.

[hyuckmov]

himbo haechan pt.2

first part here wc: 12.9k (!!!) genre: fluff, smut, a little angst if u squint warnings: shower sex, unprotected sex, masturbating, just the tip (!), handjobs, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, fingering, softdom/sub dynamics (haechan doing both), being ignored during sex (!!!), aftercare, creampie a/n: thank u for loving himbo haech and thank you for being patient with me :) this fic took me so long because i originally wasn't going to have a plot, but piecing together scenes didn't feel like it was a sincere effort for how much i loved himbo haech so i tried my best to do more <3 this MIGHT be the tamest thing i've written, if you followed me for filth i promise i will make it up to you in another fic LOL let me know what u think, i hope this is hot, and i really hope you like this !!!

haechan thinks he'll never forget the first time he meets you. 

for him, time slowed and there was no other explanation. his heartbeat rushed loud in his ears, a warm glow spread all throughout his body to the tips of his fingers. you had walked into the living room of the house party, angrily mouthing off someone who had spilled his drink on your sleeve, your voice traveling over to him over the undercurrent of the music blasting from the speakers, and he loved it. the sting of your tone, the way your chest rose and fell, the flush in your cheeks. 

he wanted to stand by you as close as he could and watch each shade of emotion flicker in your eyes, he wanted to hear the ring of your voice through your chest, he wanted every bit of your attention directed at him. for once in his life, he didn't just want to touch — he wanted to hold. 

"renjun…" he whispered, voice reverent and hushed like he was in a church. "i'm in love."  

"um…renjun left an hour ago…?" jaemin shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, leaning over haechan and waving his hand in front of his face. "i've been talking to you for the past 10 minutes about next week's hockey game…" 

absentmindedly, haechan grabs jaemin's wrist and pulls his hand away from his face, eyes still focused on the way you storm towards the kitchen. "okay renjun." 

he sees you walk out, a fresh drink in one hand, the other arm hooked around some guy who he's now forced to acknowledge. but he's nothing compared to haechan, and haechan knows if he tries, if he could just walk over to you, talk to you, get to know you… 

"haechan, no." and now mark has swooped into his vision, what was he doing here? grabbing him by the shoulders, mark speaks loudly and slowly to haechan, as if he was scolding a very small toddler. "she has a boyfriend." 

who? "um…" his brain skids through potential responses, but he can't make sense of anything mark is saying. "sorry to hear that…" he mumbles. 

"this is not the time to be snarky." 

where were you now? eyes searching for you over mark's shoulders, he tries to keep up with the conversation. "if you say so, mark."

"jaemin, what's wrong with him? is he drunk?" 

"i'm fine, mark–" impassioned, he grabs mark by the forearms, catching him off guard. haechan stumbles to his feet, patting his pockets for his phone, so he can save your number when he gets it, eyes sweeping the room again and finally spotting you as you step into a corridor leading off from the living room. even though his legs just aren't moving, his heart thunders in his chest in a way it hadn't for a long time, a thrum he couldn't keep up with. 

his stomach twists when he realises there’s only one explanation for how he feels towards you, as if he was on a rollercoaster about to tip over — a messy tangle of nerves and excitement all at once. 

"mark, i think i've found the one." 

x

"i can't believe i really get to hold you like this…" he murmured, in awe. 

haechan said something along these lines practically every time you cuddled in the evenings, and the words never faded in their sweetness. lost in his own thoughts, he stroked your hair with slightly shaky hands, and placed a gentle kiss to your temple. "i keep thinking i'm going to blink, and then the next second you'll be yelling at me again…" 

you feel a twinge of guilt, and you're just about to apologize when —

"…but also, i kind of miss that too…" 

there it was.

"do you want me to pretend to get mad at you?" you suggest, smiling a little as you climb on top of him. there's something reverent in the way he tilts his head up, never breaking eye contact as his hands instinctively come up to grip your waist and steady you. "or you could make me mad on purpose?"

"wouldn't be the first time…" he mumbles, the familiar cloudy look making its way into his irises, his gaze now unfocused and dazed as his eyes flick up and down your body. 

"really?" 

he nods. "never actually deleted our project, didn't actually submit a draft for the final assignment, didn't really lose your underwear…" 

a laugh rises up in your throat, half part incredulous and the other hopelessly endeared. 

"if you want me to be rough with you, next time, just ask me," you promise him, patting him on the chest lightly. 

"i mean…i keep thinking i want you to get mad at me, so we can fuck like we used to…" he scrunches his nose in thought, lowering his gaze. “but i just… there’s just…”

"but…?" 

"but also i really like making love to you," he whispers. "i love it so much, and i feel like, because we're at the start of our relationship it means more.” holding your hands in his now, he gives them a light squeeze. “and i don’t want to ruin that, you know?”

 your breath hitches in your throat, and all of a sudden you don’t know what to say. 

"does that make sense?" he asks, softly. "did i say something wrong?" 

“haechan….” you’re convinced your heart has melted in your chest, tears threatening to fall from your lashes from how raw and intimate he could be with his words. love was so easy to him, and he showed you time and time again that he wouldn’t change. “i love you so-”

“- so should we try shower sex?” 

you're speechless.

"from your lack of response, i'm guessing no… but-!" eagerly, he picks up his laptop from the side table, and holds it up so you can see the screen, covering his face all except for the puppy-eyes he's giving you. "look! having shower sex twice a week can reduce the risk of heart diseases by 50%!"

"haechan…"

"we have to do it!" he's so excited he drops his laptop on the bed to hold your hands in his, rubbing your fingers gently as he bounces with excitement. "so we don't get heart disease!"

"i don't think…"

"it also increases mindfulness because it engages all 5 of your senses…" he continues, words coming out in a rehearsed rush, and you can tell he's been researching this topic for a while. "didn't you tell me i should try being more mindful?" 

"i kind of meant it more like mindful of your surroundings…" you frown a little. "you still bump into people almost every time we turn a corner on the street…" 

"see, we just said the exact same thing," he breathes. "please?" 

and although you think you should be desensitized to him already, it still catches you off guard when he sits up to lean in closer. the swell of his lips, the flush shining on the tip of his nose and dusting his cheeks whenever he got excited. it shouldn't affect you, the lights reflected in his eyes, the way they're misty for god knows what reason, and the knowledge that if you asked why, his answer would be that it's because he loves you, so so much.  

"haechan…"

"i'll be really gentle…" he says, softly. rubbing hesitant circles on your bare waist with his thumb, he dips his head a little to hold your gaze. "i promise. i'll take care of you."

the words go straight to your gut, a sharp sting ringing high in your nose bridge as you feel a slight prickle of tears in your eyes. he's still looking at you with those eyes you fell for, gentle and patient, the same voice that always soothed and comforted you, with an undertone of fierce devotion that you craved.

melting into his arms, you tuck your head into the curve of his neck. your voice is shaky when you speak. "i'm about to cry," you grumble. "and we're just talking about shower sex." 

his laugh vibrates against your chest — the sound is warm, and it feels like home. "i'll take care of you," he repeats in a whisper, lips pressed against your hair. 

x

it really is every bit as sweet as he promised, when you find yourself pressed against the shower wall, strong arms lifting you up as he kisses you fiercely. 

"is this okay?" he murmurs, rutting against your core in rough pulses. "this way you don't have to focus on not slipping…" 

"yeah…" you gasp as he pushes you against the wall again, adjusting his grip on your thighs. the muscles in his arms tense, and the veins leading down to his fingertips are prominent under his skin. it's so unbelievably hot, the way his chest heaves with need, the soft whine in his breath as the tip of his cock catches against your entrance. 

"i can't wait," he blurts out, forehead pressing against yours as he rubs his cock against your wetness again, the blunt tip nudging against your clit and making you cling onto him tighter. "do you want me to prep you some more or… or can i…" 

you shake your head. "want you now," you tilt your head to kiss him and he surges towards you eagerly, suckling on your bottom lip hard, desperation heavy in the way he licks into your mouth. 

"i'm sorry, i love you, i'm sorry, you're so good to me…" he murmurs, pushing into you with a stretch that makes you tense. his hand soothes down your back, and he shifts you against the wall again. "fuck, i'm sorry baby, just a bit more…" your walls are tight and warm around him, sucking him in as he tries not to buck his hips into you, trying to be as gentle as he promised, mumbling apologies into your skin. 

the steam of the shower coiling around your skin and the feeling of being filled up by your boyfriend was almost too much to bear. thighs clamping around him, your mouth falls open as you grip onto his neck for support, fingers curling around the hair at the nape of his neck. and now he's whimpering, his hips jerking forward and suddenly you're taking all of him, filled to the brim by his thick cock. 

murmuring another apology, he licks shyly at your neck and presses a kiss to your sweet spot, marking your skin. his nose bumping against the curve of your neck making your heartbeat race, a sweetness you can't quite explain. 

"haechan, please move-" 

"i…" he swallows, lifting his head to face you. his pupils are blown out, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers tentatively stroke the side of your thigh. "fuck, baby, you have to relax." 

"i can't if you don't move-"

"i'm gonna cum if you keep squeezing around me like this," he admits, a small whimper escaping from the back of his throat when you only clench around him harder from his words. "please…" he freckles kisses down your throat, hand rubbing soothingly up your lower back as he pins you to the wall with his hips. slowly, you begin to relax into your position, his touch comforting you and slowing your heart rate down. 

"good girl," he praises, softly, with a kiss on your nose. 

your heart soars. 

he pushes forward, slowly setting a rhythm as he angles his hips deeper, closing his eyes as he melts into the feeling. his tip presses against a spot which makes you whimper, each vein and ridge of his length dragging against your walls and pushing you closer to the edge. your clit aches at the feeling of being stretched out, and you reluctantly take one hand off his shoulders to rub yourself with careful fingers. his hips stutter as you tighten around him again with your own movements, and it only spurs him on to chase both your highs faster. 

you start sliding down the wall, smooth tiles warm against your back from the water, but he's too far gone to care – shoving you carelessly higher as he thrusts harshly into you, eyes fluttering open to see the way your tits bounce from his movements, water droplets running down your curves and almost bringing tears to his eyes. 

"i wanna touch," his sounds rising in pitch, scratchy moans broken up by jumbled words and curses. "more, want more…" he jerks away one of his hands holding you up to palm at your chest, but you start to slip and he's forced to hold you up again. he's so frustrated he's half groaning, half begging. "please cum, want you to cum on me…"

you can't help the laugh that bubbles from your throat. "are you begging?" 

"YES-" he moans, loudly, the sound echoing through the bathroom, booming against the backdrop of running water. 

you laugh again, the hand slick at your clit sliding over to his mouth, tips of your fingers brushing his soft lips, and then he's cumming, warm and hot inside you, hips relentless as he all but fucks you into the wall, hands cushioning your hips yet gripping you in a way that would leave bruises of their own. the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you making you cum as well, thighs wrapping around his waist like a vice, body hypersensitive, feeling every single rivulet of water running down your skin. 

it's a while before you both drift back to the present moment, as he seems frozen in his position, chest heaving and eyes unfocused. 

as he lets you slide down to stand on your own two feet, his arms still holding you slumped against him, he groans low in his chest. 

"next time, we're doing this in the tub." 

x

part of being with haechan is getting to know his friends, which is why you're currently sitting in between haechan's legs, in a circle with them around a monopoly board as renjun complains about for what feels like the thousandth time. 

"this is so unfair," renjun grumbles, as he shoves a few paper bills in haechan's direction, crumpling them in the process. 

"the rent is $200. you only gave me $10." 

"i don't HAVE $200–" 

"then drink." haechan pushes the bottle towards him. "one shot for every $50 you owe me," he reminds him, smiling triumphantly. 

it was something jaemin and haechan had thought up together. a drinking game infused with monopoly, where no players would ever go bankrupt, as long as they kept drinking for the money they owed. 

as well as a shot whenever you passed go, whenever you bought a property, and a dozen other random rules designed to make everyone pass out before the night ended.

"haechan always wins," renjun jabs a finger at him accusatorily. "because he always gets y/n's help when the game starts —" 

"how is it my fault for having a smart girlfriend?" 

"if anything," jaemin chimes in, more for the fun of it than the actual argument. "you should pass her around each round, so we all get one chance at winning." 

haechan narrows his eyes, brows furrowed in suspicion. "is that a double entrée?"

"you mean double entendre," you mutter. 

"yeah, what she said." 

"you two need to relax," jaemin waves a hand in the air, dismissively. "no one wants to fuck your girlfriend." 

"why not?" 

"you're impossible." 

"but –" renjun hiccups, finishing the last of the soju. "it's also unfair that the more haechan drinks, the more rational he becomes. why do we still play drinking games with him? if we played monopoly sober—" 

haechan boos him vehemently, and jaemin joins in happily, switching sides in a heartbeat. 

"- haechan wouldn't stand a chance. he'd still be asking me what direction you went in on the board–" 

"that was my first time," he mumbles, self-consciously. you pat him on the shoulder, soothingly, and he takes the opportunity of renjun now yelling at jaemin, to study your face, brushing your hair away from your eyes. 

"are you okay? do you want some water?" 

your pause before answering is all he needs. truthfully, you tapped out after the third time haechan passed go, letting him take the reins as the excessive alcohol miraculously cleared his head. the more you drank, the more you craved skin-on-skin contact with him, getting spacey and quiet. haechan loved it, feeling you pliant and a little needy in his arms, but it worried him just as much when you couldn't bicker back and forth with him. 

helping you to your feet, he hooks his arm in yours and shuffles towards the kitchen, not even bothering to wave to jaemin and renjun, who were at that point heatedly dividing their assets over the game board. 

haechan pours a cup of water for you, his hands moving sure and steady under the fluorescent lights as he holds it up to your lips. you reach out to hold it yourself, but he stops you with a hum, tilting it up to your lips.

"i don't want you to drop it," he says, fondly. "take a sip?" 

feeling shy under his gaze, you drink carefully, dribbling some onto your chin when he lifts the cup too early. 

"messy baby," he teases, softly, his thumb brushing your lips as he wipes your chin carefully. 

 now you're sure the feeling in your stomach is not nausea from the alcohol, but the need to have your boyfriend pressed up against you right that second. a whine rises from the back of your throat – a habit you'd picked up from him, and you bury your face in his chest, making him laugh. the sound is deeper and warmer than you'd ever heard it, buzzing against your ear and making your chest fill with butterflies. you've never seen him like this. something authoritative in the way he guides you towards the kitchen counter, coaxing you to take another sip of water as he looks at you lovingly. 

"you should go to bed soon." sliding his phone out from his back pocket, he flashes his lockscreen at you – a photo of the two of you, taken on jaemin's film camera. 

distracted, you blink up at him. "why?" 

"you have that essay due tomorrow?" mindlessly drawing circles on your waist, he looks deep into your eyes, hoping you're really listening. "you told me you were almost done, but i know you always manage to find some way to make it more complicated…and your proofreading always takes hours…" 

it's a little hot, how clear-headed and coherent he was being, in the dead of night after rounds and rounds of drinks. fuck that, it was making you feel dizzy, the way he slid his palm onto your forehead to check your temperature when you don't respond.

"baby? are you with me?"

"renjun was right…this is so unfair," you mumble. "did you secretly stay sober or something?" 

"i'm hammered, actually." smiling, he takes his own sip of water from the cup. "can't you tell?" there's something tender in that moment, as the tip of his nose brushes against yours, as he pulls you closer and you can smell his fabric softener on the oversized shirt he's wearing. the faint perfume he wears fills your senses, and he smells so good, and his arms are so firm around you…

"haechan," you're a little breathless. "i need you." 

"what?" 

your hands fumble with his shirt, sliding underneath it to touch the bare skin of his waist, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

"fuck." he lowers his head, eyes closing as he takes a shuddering breath. "not right now, baby." 

"i know, i mean when they leave –" 

"i mean not today. not while you're this drunk, i'm sorry –" at the look on your face, he presses a quick kiss to both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and finally your mouth. "i'm sorry," he repeats, softly. "it doesn't feel right." 

"i thought you wanted –"

"trust me, i do…" he bites his lip, and now he takes a step away from you, trying not to let the feeling of you in his arms affect his judgement.  "you have no idea how much i want to." 

"so –" 

"but not like this," he says, firmly. "i don't think we're ready for it right now. hey –" you're pulling away from him too, now trying to leave the kitchen. "i'm still going to help you take off your makeup and get undressed —" 

"yeah?" 

"and then we're going to go to bed." he pleads with you with his eyes. "i'll do everything with you in the morning, after you're done with your assignment, okay?" 

a beat. 

"y/n…" sternly, he tilts your chin up to look him in the eye, and it makes you shrink a little, but god it makes you want him more. "okay?" 

sullen, you nod. 

"use your words." 

fuck. "okay," you breathe, meekly, even though every impulse in your body is making you want to pull his body into yours. somewhere in the haze of your mind, you still can't shake the way his broad shoulders look under the light as he guides you out of the kitchen, your hand held tightly in his. 

x

the gentle morning light and the silence of your apartment is comforting, as you sip your drink and wait for the pain in your head to subside. 

after haechan had rejected you, he had kicked out renjun and jaemin, bringing you to bed immediately. wiping your skin with makeup wipes, and kissing you to ward you off as your hands kept wandering to him was probably the most torture you had ever put him through. you almost felt bad when you realised you truly couldn't spend time with him today either, your mind clearing and focusing on the assignment that haechan rightly pointed out you still had to complete. 

so when he slinks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, you lean into his touch instinctively, curving your body into his. 

it's also why his sudden gasp makes you jump. 

"what–" 

"angel…" he's starry-eyed, voice hushed and reverent as he gently brushes the underside of your boobs with his fingers. "are you not wearing anything under this shirt?" 

it was as if the him from last night had completely evaporated. "um, yeah…" 

"did i do something good?" his big hands shamelessly cup your breasts, squeezing them together as he sighs. "is this a reward?" 

"i mean…you were really responsible last night…" 

hopping up happily against the kitchen counter and sandwiching you between his legs, he kisses you on the mouth sweetly, barely able to contain his smile. "i love you," he whispers against your lips, hands roaming up your shirt and teasing over your nipples. "we're going to have so much fun today." 

"about that…" you place your hands over his own through your shirt, halting his movements. "you can't fuck me today, i'm sorry." 

he lets out a dramatic, betrayed gasp, heart-shaped lips parting and eyes glistening with hurt. "why would you say that?" 

you blink. "because it's true…?" 

"are you…are you finally sick of me…?" his hands drop from under your shirt, tracing a sad circle with his fingertip on his toned thighs. "of my cock?" 

"haechan, it's 8 in the morning." 

"is it your vibrator? has it replaced me?" 

"this has nothing to do with you —" 

"YOU'RE FUCKING RENJUN?" 

you wind your fingers into his hair and tug, harshly. 

it's not your favorite trick, you admit, because the reaction was always 50/50. he would get either even more distracted, or focus up and listen to you — even if for the purpose of discerning when you would be down to fuck next. 

today he lets out a quiet moan, head falling to your shoulder as his hands find your chest again.

"first the shirt, now this —" he mumbles, gloomily. "you're evil." 

"i'm busy." you push at his shoulders so he'll straighten up and face you, but his face is still resolutely nuzzled against your neck. 

"you're always busy," he bites back, frustrated. "last week, and the week before that, and the week before that." 

"yeah, because i go to college?" you remind him. "and you do too?"

"but can you really not spare 20 minutes?" he whines, lifting his head to look at you with hurt eyes. 

there's a pause, as he takes a deep breath. 

"i'm sorry —" 

"no, it's okay," he mumbles. "i shouldn't be pressuring you." biting his lip, he leans in again, resting his weight on yours. 

"how long will you be gone today?" he asks, quietly. 

"i'll be staying at home," you comfort him. 

"i can keep you company," he says, quickly. 

"haechan –" 

"i won't even distract you," he continues, his words a sharp contrast from how his pouty lips brushed your skin, casually starting to pepper kisses under your jaw. his voice dips low when he adds, "i can be good." 

"right." your focus has been ripped to shreds as his movements grow more needy, his touches on your chest making you arch into him for more. when his thumb circles your nipple, teeth biting down gently on the sweet spot on your neck, you can't help letting out a whimper, slumping against him just slightly as your knees start to feel weak. 

he laughs at that, finally straightening and pulling away from you. 

"yeah," he says, proudly. "there's no way you're sick of me and my cock."

x

a few hours later, all his bravado had completely melted away, the signature whine coming back to his voice.

"not done? still?"

"you're stressing me out." 

behind you, the boy lets out a wounded sound. "but i even got you those resources from the library…" 

"those were really helpful," you concede. you didn't know he had it in him, but apparently all the sessions you'd spent together in the library really paid off. "i just have a bit more to write."

the first hour, he'd been content with lying on the bed and watching you work at your desk. the second hour, he moved the whole desk closer to the bed, – almost breaking a lamp in the process –, so he could hold your hand and play with your fingers when you were scrolling through research articles. 

he dozed off when you had to type – a hand splayed firmly on your thigh, and when he woke up, eagerly pulling you towards the bed and hands already teasing under your waistband, you had quickly asked him if he could go to the library to get you a book that could help. 

which led you to where you sat now, between his spread legs in front of the coffee table, his hands holding your boobs as you struggled through your last few paragraphs.

"i'll wait," he says, softly, arms now falling to your waist as he pulls you in for a hug. you lean back on his chest, but you're surprised when he starts to stand, untangling himself from you and gently placing a pillow behind your back for support. 

you feel a little pathetic when you ask, "where are you going…?"

"i don't want to distract you, baby." he squats down and places a kiss on your cheek, his other hand caressing your face. "i'll wait for you in our room, okay?"

"okay…" you say, watching him shuffle to the bedroom, feeling that the room lost a bit of its energy. 

without haechan, you can focus a lot better, and you almost guiltily speed past the rest of your project, feeling bad for neglecting him. you don't even bother to check your writing again as you're submitting it, all your thoughts now concentrated on your boyfriend, alone in his room, waiting patiently for you to spend time with him. 

placing your laptop on the table, you make your way down the hallway, thinking about maybe being extra sweet to haechan as a thank you for being so supportive today, when your footsteps falter and you stop just outside your bedroom. 

because seeping out of the door are sounds of crying, choked sobs and whimpers of your name muffled but unmistakable. 

was he that upset? the forlorn expression on his face resurfaces his mind, the way his voice went quiet, how he begged that he could be good for you. maybe it wouldn't have hurt to indulge him a little in the morning — judging from the time now, you still probably would have made your deadline. 

"haechan?" you knock, hesitantly, but there's no reply, only a low, pained sound of…frustration? sadness? it worries you, so you push open the door gently, eyes immediately darting to the bed where he lays on the sheets.

and you freeze. 

because unlike the weepy, sad, haechan you had imagined, you're faced with something completely different – haechan, shirtless, leaning against the headboard, his legs twitching on the bed as he strokes his cock fast, hips bucking up into his fist as he throws his head back and moans loudly, cum splattered over his bare torso telling you he was overstimulating himself, again.

for how well you know him, you really should have seen this coming.

"i'm sorry, baby," he whimpers, hand still moving slowly despite being caught, and you can see how red he is all over — flushed cheeks and ears, the tip of his cock peeking out from his hand. "i wanted to be good for you, but i just- couldn't- wait…" 

crossing over to the bed, you sit by his side and look him in the eyes, his hand speeding up as he pants, looking back at you. 

"you like me that much? that you could cum just from thinking about me?" 

"yeah," he moans, his other hand now teasing his own nipple, pinching it and rolling it with his fingers. "c-can cum just from, looking at you, even if you're not d-doing anything…" 

"then you don't need me now, right?" 

"no –!" his clean hand darts out to grab onto your wrist, his other halting and squeezing the base of his cock, trying not to cum. "please, i need you so bad, want you to help me…" 

you sigh, pulling away from him. "i don't know, i'm not really in the mood right now," you lie. 

"please," he begs, trying to shuffle closer to you, but you back away. "i need to be inside you right now…" 

"but i'm still sore from last time. it hurts." you try to act like none of this is getting to you, but it's way too difficult, especially when haechan finally manages to kiss your neck, shuddering against you as his other hand gives a careful stroke. 

"what about just the tip?" he pleads, voice small. 

you roll your eyes. "as if you could be satisfied with just the tip –" 

"i'll be good…" he whines, softly. "just the tip, okay? just really need to feel you right now…it'll just be a bit of a stretch…" 

"you won't bottom out?" 

"no," he shifts uncomfortably, his hand squeezing tighter around the base as the thought of being in you, even just the tip, brings him closer to cumming than he would like. "i'll fuck you with just the tip, i promise." 

you barely give him the okay before he's tugging impatiently at the waistband of your barely-there shorts and panties, groaning loudly when his fingers drag through your folds. 

"you're killing me," he pants, shaky fingers rubbing your clit. "i'm gonna make you cum first, okay?" 

"just-" you try to keep your voice level, but when he slips a finger into your hole, your body crumples against his. "just make me cum on your cock –" 

"baby, i want to…" his lips are soft against yours, as he consoles you with short kisses. "but i might cum way too fast if i fuck you right now." 

"with just the tip," you remind him, biting back a moan when he slips in a second finger and starts making scissoring motions. 

"yeah, you want to be stretched out, hm?" he smiles when he feels you clench tighter around his fingers. "you don't mind if i don't fill you up?" 

internally, you start to curse yourself, because fuck you do want him to fill you up. "i don't mind…" you say, weakly, focusing instead on the way he was circling your clit as he crooks his fingers against your walls. 

"so warm and tight," he groans. "you're close, right?" 

"yes–" 

his movements on your clit speed up and your hips buck into his hand, grinding against his fingers. "fuck, that's so hot." his lips wrap around your nipple through your shirt, and you moan as he sucks wetly, lips brushing your chest as he speaks. "you look so pretty riding my fingers, baby." 

you tumble headfirst into your orgasm, body shuddering against his when he applies a sinful pressure against your clit, the way he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes too much to bear. he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, immediately sticking them in his mouth and sighing at the taste, his other hand caressing your hip soothingly. 

"lay down for me," he coaxes, touch gentle as he maneuvers your legs around his waist. running the tip of his cock through your soaked cunt, he lets out a shaky moan, tones rising dizzyingly higher as he presses against your entrance. 

"haechan…" you plead, as he nudges your clit with his cock, making your hips jolt.

he reaches out to squeeze your hand. "i'm right here," he murmurs, kissing your fingertips lightly as he brushes your hole with the pink head of his cock. his words make your chest flutter in a way that has nothing to do with the ache between your legs. "i'm here," he repeats, softly, as he slowly slips the bulbous tip of his cock into you, and you can feel yourself clench tight around him, sucking him in further despite his efforts to pull out. 

"can you cum like this?" his tone is still soft as he reaches to rub your clit, applying light pressure, fingers slipping from how wet you were. "because, i think i can cum like this, feels so sensitive…" he wags his hips a few times, feeling the head of his cock move inside you, and he moans weakly. "is this what you wanted, baby?" 

your legs clamp tight around his waist, trying not to move your own hips, focusing on his shallow thrusts and the slight pain of the stretch. in truth, you wanted him to push deeper into you, craving both the way his thick cock always made you feel full, and the feeling of him pressing you into the bed under his weight. you just had to hold out until he started begging for more. 

"feels so good, haechan," you praise, and he flushes, rubbing your clit even faster as he moves against you. 

"you don't-" he pants. "are you sure you don't want more? you're okay with this?" his voice sounds almost hopeful.

you nod again, tugging him towards you for a kiss, the slight shift in his position making his cock slide deeper into you. he moans low against your lips, breaking away quickly and pulling out entirely. "fuck, sorry–" 

but then he's shoving himself back into you roughly, going past the tip and sinking deep into your cunt as he lets out a satisfied groan, and you can feel his hips flush against yours as he covers you with his body. kissing you harshly, his tongue strokes the roof of your mouth as he moans again, hips now thrusting fast into yours, wet sounds filling the room as he pushes deep into you each time. 

"haechan!" 

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he gasps, although his hips are relentless against yours, hands pushing your thighs up so he can reach deeper into you, "i couldn't, you're so fucking wet and tight and warm –" you can feel him throb inside you as he fucks you, riled up by his own thoughts. "wanted to feel you all over me…" 

his angles his hips again, searching for your soft spot, holding your body tight against his. when he feels you tighten around him, back arching and nipples brushing against his in a way that makes electricity run down his spine, he bucks into you, your sounds in his ear telling him you were reaching your high. 

after being teased with his tip, you much appreciated the feeling of him being sheathed deep inside you, his cock nudging your sweet spot and making you clench harder around him each time. when his fingers find your clit again, it only takes a few seconds before you're cumming hard around him, feeling slick on your thighs with the force of your orgasm. seeing your cum form rings of white on his cock makes him whimper, and your lips brushing against his skin is all it takes for him to cum too, soaking your walls and making you hiss at the sensitivity. 

you lie there for a moment, basking in the feeling of him lying against you, feeling too tired and filthy to move. stroking his back tenderly, you notice his breathing doesn't even out as it usually does, and when you feel hot tears on your shoulder you jolt, alarmed. 

"haechan, what's wrong?" 

"did i hurt you?" he sniffles, lifting his weight off of you so he could check on your body. "i'm sorry, i know i promised just the tip, you said you were sore…" 

your heart flutters in your chest as he pulls out, wiping between your legs gently with his shirt even as tears run down his cheeks. "i d-didn't mean to hurt you…" he breathes. he closes your legs carefully, before running his hands over your thighs. "are you okay? please say you're okay…" 

"haechan, i'm fine, really,"  you sit up to reach him, but he quickly stops you, laying a hand on your shoulder.

"you should rest-" 

"haechan i was just…" you place your hand over his, intertwining your fingers in a reassuring manner. "i was just teasing. i wasn't actually sore." 

a sniffle. "really?" 

"yes, of course –" you squeeze his hand. "thank you for taking care of me." 

it takes a little more reassurance and a lot of kissing to get him to smile, as he prepares a hot bath for you, skidding off to the kitchen to make something for dinner. you eat dinner while cuddling with him in front of the television, your legs in his lap as he pours wine for the both of you, the glasses he bought to 'look smarter when i'm with you' slipping down his nose as he focuses his gaze on your lips for a little too long, watching your tongue dart out as you taste the wine. 

it's times like these – with his arms around your waist and his eyes never leaving yours as you tell him the most trivial thing about your day, — where you cannot imagine ever living a life before you were loved by him, and the very thought of a universe where the two of you couldn't speak to each other was enough to make your breath catch in your throat, and make your chest feel tight. 

"you okay?" he takes the wine glass from your hand, brushing his lips against yours softly. only haechan would think that kissing you would be a way to get you to focus.

"i'm thinking too much," you admit, leaning into him and pressing your cheek against his. 

"about…?" a kiss on your nose. 

when you looked at him again, your worries did seem to fall away. it didn't ever seem possible that he would fall out of love with you, or even think about replacing you, what with the way he was holding you so carefully, eyes doing that deep dive into your own that always left you feeling naked and vulnerable.

"i hate it when i can't read your mind," he murmurs, a little sadly. "i wish i had some way of knowing the right thing to do, all the time, whenever it comes to you." 

"i think you do," you say, softly, meaning every syllable of it. 

"okay…." he tilts his head to the side, thinking hard, lips jutting out into a sweet pout. "i think the right thing to do now…because you're overthinking things…"

you encourage him with a hum. "maybe we can make some tea –" 

" — i think i should fuck you stupid." 

a pause. 

"haechan…" 

"yeah i know, my idea is better." 

and scooping you up into his arms, he carries you, laughing, all the way to the bedroom, and you can admit that after that things do start to get a little blurry, your mind filled with nothing but him, and him, and him.

x

but haechan makes you feel so loved, that you almost forget the whole world is in love with him too. 

it's equal parts of annoyance and jealousy that stings at your chest when you see haechan surrounded at the back of the lecture hall, a group of girls forming a circle around him as he sits on the table, showing them something on his phone and kicking his feet restlessly like a little kid. was he giving them his number? 

"it's been like this every time i've picked him up from this lecture this past two weeks," you mutter to renjun. 

"ooh, i wonder how many of them he's slept with…" he muses at your side, his tone way too cheery. he had followed you as you made your way to pick haechan up from class, wanting to ask him something about the party happening that evening. "i think i recognise a few of them…" 

"renjun, i hope you know that i don't trust you. at all." 

"but i'm his best friend-" 

"you told me to pull on his hair to shut him up and he moaned-" 

"and look where you are now," he folds his arms triumphantly, a smug smile on his face. "happily celebrating your 2nd month with him." 

"to think that all i asked for was advice on how to shut him up," you mumble, but you still feel a warm glow in the tips of your fingers anyway. you always do, when you're reminded of how far you've come with haechan. 

a loud chorus of cooing and giggling comes from the corner of the hall, and you're sharply brought back to the present moment. 

"renjun…" you hesitate, wondering if it's exactly right to be asking this. "has haechan really…um…" 

"fucked a lot of girls?" renjun finishes your question. "how else do you think he gets so good at it?" 

your skin feels hot. "oh." 

renjun looks at you knowingly. "don't compare yourself to them, you know he doesn't do that." 

"doesn't he…?" you wonder out loud. the girls surrounding haechan were in a league of their own, pretty and confident in all the ways you weren't. you had never quite been with someone like haechan before, someone so well-known on campus, and in turn knew everyone's names and faces. you wanted to believe your differences were something sweet, an opposites attract situation where you always brought the balance he needed and could feel safe in, but a part of you would always wonder about whether he would ever get tired of it. 

"he hasn't talked about any other girl, past or present, since he's met you," renjun reassures, softly. "he really thinks you're the one." 

you think about haechan now, and you try to imagine how it would be like with someone else — his world revolving around them, the look of adoration in his eyes. it gives you a bitter taste in your mouth with how easy it is to imagine. "has he really never thought that about anyone else before?" 

renjun takes a moment to think. "if he has, he hasn't told us." 

and if you were honest with yourself, you don't know if that's enough to ease your mind. 

x

"well, i was thinking i would get this…" 

a loud chorus of nos erupts all around him, and he furrows his brow, a pout forming on his lips. 

"why not?" 

"it's a bracelet that's meant to lock in your love," karina warns. 

"so?" 

"it's possessive and claiming," karina advises, and the girls around her nod in agreement. "it's like a message saying – 'you're going to be with me forever-'"

"but i am going to be with her forever…" he protests, and a wave of awws coo all around him. forlorn, he looks back down at the photo of the cartier love bracelet he has saved in an album of gifts he was thinking of buying you. he hadn't even gotten to ask the girls about which color would match your skin tone before they had collectively agreed the bracelet wasn't a good idea. 

"haechan, it's 7 thousand dollars…" 

"she's worth it," he mumbles, the answer coming to him like it was common sense. "i'll get a job…i can always earn it back…"

"why don't you get her something she's mentioned?" giselle suggests. "like perfume she likes, or a book, or…" 

"i don't want to just get her…a book," he huffs. "i want to get her something she can wear all the time, and everytime she looks at it she'll think of me." 

"really?" she presses. "or do you just want her to show everyone she's yours?" 

"i mean, yeah-" he runs his hand through his hair, shaking it roughly to clear his head. "i mean, maybe? i don't know…" 

another round of cooing starts up, as the girls lean in a little closer, patting him on the back or placing a comforting hand on his arm. 

"i guess i've been feeling like i want her attention…maybe…" he kicks his feet in the air frustratedly. 

"you should talk to her," winter suggests. "aren't you the one who's always talking about open communication?" 

"i love communication," he mopes. "but when i'm with her i get scared…i get so scared of losing her i don't know what to say…"

some of the girls clutch at their hearts, others pulling him into hugs. 

"thank you guys…" he says, earnestly. "i'll think about your advice…" 

"ready to go?"

he jolts at your voice, back straightening and head whipping around to face you. 

"hi!" he blurts out, a little flustered and giddy. "yeah, i'm ready…" he grabs a bunch of papers from beside him and shoves them into his bag haphazardly, slinging one strap over his shoulder as he plucks your laptop from your hands, carrying it for you like he always does. 

"say goodbye to everyone, haechan." he thinks he catches something in your tone – you're trying to keep it light, but something sounds off. 

"byebye girls-" he mumbles, obediently, hopping off the table and standing next to you. when the chorus of goodbyes echoes back, he thinks you walk just a little bit faster, making it harder for him to loop his free arm around your shoulder…

it worries him. 

"you're coming to the party later right?" 

you push open the door with a bit too much force, and he shouldn't be distracted, shouldn't be deterred from his mission to find you the perfect gift and figure out why you were upset, but his thoughts flood with the image of you pushing him around too — and it's like he can feel your touch, the way he imagines it, heavy and warm against his chest. 

it's like he's underwater, as you reply a curt "yes" to his question, because he wants you to shove him against a wall and push him, hard, until he's breathless. you're walking, back to your apartment he presumes, eyes fixed on the road ahead and the way you're blatantly ignoring him also makes his heart hammer fast. he wonders what things he can get away with as you ignore him, wonders if you'll ever let him touch you while you're on your phone, or-

"- get ready at my place?" 

what?

you've stopped walking. your hands are crossed over your chest.

"so? do you want to come?" 

cum? 

"yes please," he breathes. "i mean, if you want me to, but i also want you to cum…" 

"come where?" 

cum where? holy fuck. 

"on my face" he answers, eagerly. "we haven't done that in ages —" 

his face falls when it registers that the groan you let out is out of frustration, and not the sound he usually hears ringing in his ears when he curls his fingers just right. 

"haechan, focus." you grip him by the shoulders, choosing to ignore the fact that giving him commands was always a surefire way to get him to lose focus. "do you want to come home with me as i get ready for the party? or do you want to go help your friends set up?" 

"with you," he says, quickly. 

"the party starts in 30 minutes, i don't think we'll have time to do…" you wave your hand haphazardly. "whatever you're thinking of." 

"sit on my face?" 

"yeah, that." 

whining, he links his arm into yours as you cross the street together. "is this becoming a theme in our relationship? you telling me we don't have time and us just fucking anyway?" 

"uh…"

"is it like…your kink? because it's really annoying," he fishes out the keycard to your apartment complex, clumsily tapping it against the sensor and failing to unlock the door in his frustration, shoving against it far too hard and making the glass shake. "ah, fuck–" 

"i'll do it," you brush past him, taking the keycard from his hand. "calm down, please, haechan." 

"it's not just about fucking," his voice is rough. "okay, well, this thing with you ignoring me, it's growing on me i'll admit. i can see us doing something with that in the future –" he's talking way too loudly about this in the lift lobby, urgency in his tone making his voice ring in the space. "but i also need to feel like you want me around, you know?" 

"of course i want you around." you blink, surprised. your voice softens when you cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at your face. "are you serious? is that what you really think?"

"i dunno…" the question 'do you just want to show everyone she's yours?' echoes around in his head, and he winces at the thought of it, possessive and needy. he tries to backtrack, mumbling out, "i don't know why i said that." 

you bite your lip. something was off with him. you were both worried about things you couldn't articulate quite yet, and you knew everything would work out if you just talked about it and came up with ways to reassure each other. 

and usually he was the first one to sit you down and get you talking about what was on your mind (like the time you were upset he kept staying up gaming), or communicate his own thoughts no matter how jumbled (like the time he was convinced your ex was cursing your relationship with 'bad vibes'). 

but today he's quiet all of a sudden, wide-eyes staring up at yours hesitantly, and it hurts. 

"okay," you say, softly, letting go of his face. 

"what?" 

"okay," you repeat, stepping into the elevator. "when you're ready to talk about it, you can let me know." holding open the elevator doors with one hand, you're even more confused when haechan takes a step back, hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he looks up at you. 

"i'll go help set up the party…" he watches your brow furrow, and hastens to add, "if that's okay?" 

and even though all your instincts are telling you to coddle him, to beg him to tell you what's wrong and to kiss the pout off his face, you nod and step back into the lift. 

"yeah, i'll see you later." 

it's pathetic how much you miss him once the lift doors close. 

x

when you arrive at the party, haechan is nowhere to be seen, something renjun is very angry about. you end on the balcony with jaemin, half part ensuring he doesn't do anything impulsive, and the other part…

"so you're jealous because haechan knows many beautiful, confident, and smart women who he could easily replace you with?" 

jaemin was just coherent enough to give sound advice, and just tipsy enough to be very blunt about it. 

"so you think it's a valid concern?" you press. 

"you know what, when he gets here…" jaemin pauses, swishing the contents around in his cup contemplatively. "ask him to take you upstairs." 

"to do what?" 

"fuck, obviously," he looks at you, disgusted. "is this your first day dating him?" 

"why would i do that?" 

"just trust me on this." he takes another sip. "do you think he'll say yes?"

"of course," you roll your eyes. "is this your first day knowing him? we were just fighting about it-" you break off, realizing you said it was a fight. 

"you guys had a fight?" now jaemin sits up, interested. 

"not really, i mean…" was it a fight? "something slipped out about me not spending enough time with him." 

"i can see that," jaemin muses, brown hair falling over his eyes as he tilts his head this way and that. "he's always liked attention." 

"but he usually loves to talk things out…today he just walked away." your voice is small, missing him again as you thought about him. 

jaemin smiles, knowingly. "he's just scared." 

"really?" 

"yeah, i remember when he first met you –" he stops abruptly. "oh, he's here." 

your head snaps up as you look through the glass doors of the balcony, and sure enough, haechan had shuffled into the living room, eyes scanning the room, before disappearing behind a crowd of people.

"what did you say to him?" jaemin marvels. "he looks so defeated." 

"i didn't say anything," you mumble, guilt once again crashing through you. "i'm gonna go now, okay?" 

not listening out for a reply, you slide open the doors hastily, doing a quick survey of the living room to see if he was there. your heart stops when you see him standing in a corridor off the living room, leaning against the wall in the leather jacket he knew you liked. his eyes meet yours, hesitance written all over his features, but also a kind of tenderness and warmth that was so familiar. 

you make your way to him, watching as he straightens, hands reaching out for you before you've even reached the corridor, and the first thing he does is envelop you in a hug. his arms wrap around you and squeeze you tight against his chest as he rests his chin on your head, cradling you in his touch as he sways slightly. 

he doesn't say a word as he gently breaks the embrace to kiss you, holding your face tenderly in his hands, palms sliding around to the back of your neck as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. his tongue slides against yours, and his fingertips tremble just a bit against your skin. 

even when you break apart, he still doesn't speak just yet, eyes staring closely at yours, and you held the eye contact, feeling like he was reaching his hands into your heart as he pulls you a little closer. 

"i'm sorry," he begins. "i shouldn't have walked off. i wanted to talk to you but i was afraid i would say something wrong." 

"it's okay–" 

"wait." he exhales. "i rehearsed this on the way here, could you forgive me a bit later?" 

you feel yourself smile as you pull him into another hug, which he returns. 

"now i'm just thinking about how good you smell," he mumbles into your hair, a little begrudgingly. 

"it's okay if it's not rehearsed," you tell him, softly. 

"but i don't want you to misunderstand," he insists. "i think recently i've been feeling like you don't really have time for me…or that i have to earn your attention…" 

"haechan–" 

"and it's hot sometimes," he emphasises. "but other times…" 

"i'll get better at balancing things," you promise. "i miss you too, you know. when i'm always stuck at the library." he's looking at you with that starry-eyed expression again, and you wish you had just told him all of this sooner. 

"is that what was bothering you?" he asks, gently. 

you could just end the whole thing now, brush past the sick flutter inside your chest and tell him there was nothing else. but the thought of stepping out into the corridor and losing him to the crowd was too much to bear. 

jaemin's advice flits into your head, and you grasp at it like a lifeline. 

"haechan, if i asked you to go upstairs with me now, what would you say?" 

"to do what?" he asks, curiosity making his eyes widen. 

"you know…" feeling a little stupid, why hadn't you pressed for more information from jaemin?, you looped your fingers around his belt loops and tugged him a little closer. "so i can pay attention to you?" 

"um…are you really distracted right now…?" 

"to fuck, haechan." 

his jaw drops and he freezes, melodramatically, for a split second. 

"haechan?" 

spluttering back to life, he grips onto your arms. "is everything okay?" a hand comes up and brushes your forehead, feeling for your temperature. "are you sick? do you want me to take you home?" 

"haechan," exasperated, you roll your eyes and shove him a little so he backs away from you. he's still peering at you with disbelief, eyes scanning your frame, and you just know he's trying to see if your face is flushed, or if you're drunk. "stop looking at me like that," you mumble. "why are you so surprised? as if you've never fucked anyone upstairs at a party before –"

"i mean, yeah," he chokes. "but that's…that's just for fun." 

"so we can't have fun?" 

"no!" he screws his face up in concentration. "that's not what i mean." 

"so…you don't want to take me upstairs?" 

he shakes his head, firmly. 

"...but you were fine with taking girls upstairs in the past?"

he exhales frustratedly, rubbing his temples, words swallowed by his pouty lips as he tries to explain. "you're… you're different to me."

"what-"

"i want everything to be perfect," he says, softly. "i can't do that in some random guy's bedroom. i want to take my time with you, and i want you to know i love you." he takes a deep breath, and his voice drops an octave when he next opens his mouth. 

"i can't do that upstairs, and i've never done it with anyone else before." looking up at you through his lashes, there's a small smile on his face as his hands reach out to hold yours. "that's what you're worried about, right?" 

"when did you get so eloquent?" you ask, quietly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks and light up your body with warmth. 

doe eyes look at you, fascinated. "what does eloquent mean?" and then, eagerness rising in his voice, "does it mean hot? do you want me to take us home now?" 

you push forward and kiss him on the lips, hands squeezing his waist and drawing a whimper from the back of his throat. working your way down to his throat, you suckle on the mole that lies just under his jaw, working your way down and drawing another choked sound from him as he realises what you're doing. he scrabbles at his shirt desperately, unbuttoning the top buttons with clumsy hands just as you finish marking his throat.

"here," he whispers, tapping at the mole on his chest, and you smile, kissing it gently. "and here –" he unbuttons his shirt a bit more, tugging at the sleeve so you can see another mole under his ribcage. "one more –" 

"baby, are you going to take off all your clothes in the middle of this corridor?" 

"if you kiss all of them, i will." he says, determined, hands now going to his belt buckle. 

"let's just go home." when he starts to splutter in protest, hands now pulling the belt off his belt loops, you hastily take his hands in yours to stop him. "so i can see them better, okay? it's too dark here." 

flushed, he nods quickly, bouncing on his toes as he does up his belt again. 

"just so you can see better," he echoes, shyly. 

x

you wake up when haechan gets back into bed. 

he's washed his face and brushed his teeth, you can smell mint on his breath and freshly applied perfume when he presses a light kiss to your cheek, watching him out of your barely-open eyes. it's endlessly endearing that he cares about how he tastes and smells to you, even after months of being together.

"baby," he whispers, the familiar excitement in his tone. hands roaming your skin, he drags down the collar of your shirt with a fingertip, pressing a kiss low on your collarbone, the other rubbing indulgently over your bare stomach. "baby, are you up?"

it had been about a week since the party, and haechan and you had promised to make time for each other in the mornings, waking up a little earlier every day. sometimes you lay and talked about the day ahead, sometimes you would both agree to sleep in. and other times… 

his hand slides into yours, as he presses a few more sloppy kisses to your neck, flicking his tongue against your jaw. he was extra touchy whenever he just woke, seeking your warmth under his palms and tangling his legs in yours. "baby…i need you." 

lying still, you shut your eyes firmly, slowing down your breaths as if you were asleep. it's a moment before haechan gives up, placing one last kiss on your shoulder before you feel him sigh against your skin. opening your eyes just slightly, you see him lying on his back — staring at the ceiling with a pout on his face, one hand rubbing absentmindedly on your hip. 

a week ago it would have been too soon, but now's the perfect time to try it as you slide your hand over to his shorts, feeling the silky smooth skin of his upper thighs as you lightly drag the fabric up. 

his breath hitches. "y/n?" 

keeping your eyes shut and your head turned towards the sheets, you ghost your hand over the front of his shorts, the fabric stretched around his length. tracing over the outline of his cock, you squeeze him lightly, drawing an achy moan. 

"baby…" his voice is hesitant. "what are you doing?" 

you resist the urge to respond, his voice and his heavy breathing the only sounds in the room, amplified in the cold morning. you hear him take another shaky breath when you slide your hand under his waistband, skin hot to touch, and grip the base of his hard cock, feeling it twitch slightly under your touch. his legs slide restlessly against the sheets, hips shifting, trying to get you to move your hand. 

"y/n?" he tries again, before letting out a hiss as your fingers move up to his dripping tip, rubbing at his slit gently. "fuck, okay," he pants, cutting himself off with a shaky moan as you pump his thick length with your fist, fingers barely forming a complete ring. he was leaking so much precum, more than you've ever felt before, cock throbbing and twitching heavily against your palm, making you press your thighs tightly together, trying to focus. his hips buck up into your hand sporadically as he loses control of his movements, and you indulge him by keeping a steady grip, letting him fuck your fist. 

you hear a familiar choke, and you open your eyes wider by just a sliver, to see tears running down his cheeks, the tip of his nose red. his mouth hangs open, lips wet with saliva and tears, drooling slightly from the corners of his mouth. he's been moving his head this way and that on his pillow, his hair mussed up and falling over his eyes, a complete wreck from you fulfilling his fantasy. 

slowly, you open your eyes as you release him, bringing your slick covered hand up to his face and wiping his tears and drool away as best you could. his head snaps in your direction, panting heavily and eyes half-lidded with lust, searching for yours. 

"please don't stop," he begs. "please, i wanna cum–" 

you close your eyes, hand falling to the sheets next to you as you pretend to settle in again, pulling the thin blanket over you. the only sound in the room is haechan's small, achy voice, whimpering "please, please, please" over and over again, punctuated by sniffles. 

and then, you feel your covers being lifted, heavy hands landing on your waist. 

"let's see if you can ignore me through this, angel." haechan's voice is dark, as he tugs down your shorts and panties with an urgency and desperation you know well. you feel the sting of cold air as your thighs, wet with slick, are held open by his arms, a groan rumbling low from his throat as he takes in the sight of your wet core. "look at me," he demands, making his tongue lie flat and wide as he licks up the arousal leaking onto your thighs and the outside of your core. 

with your eyes closed, each press of his tongue on your skin is magnified by the thousands. you've never felt so sensitive, and you swear you could cum just from the way he kitten licks at your clit, breathing heavily against your sopping heat. but you couldn't look. 

"stubborn baby," he mouths against your folds, tongue dipping into your hole and letting out a satisfied hum at the taste. "you look so pretty, pressed up to my face like this," he praises, one hand releasing your thigh and sliding a finger into you. "you're so tight..." he slides his finger in deeper, pressing against your spongy walls. smiling, he presses his tongue onto your clit, applying a pressure that made you clench even harder around him. "always so tight for me, i don't fuck you enough, hm? squeezing around my tip –" he strokes your walls with the tip of his finger, feeling you pulse. "just like that," he mumbles. 

haechan rarely talked so much while he was eating you out, but now he just couldn't seem to stop, loving the way his voice filled the room, covering your little choked whimpers and moans that you tried to bite back. 

"could play with you for hours," he groans, adding another finger. "you look so cute stretched out over my fingers." he curls his fingers towards the front of your walls, brushing past a spot that makes your hips jerk up, and a moan slip past your lips. "you like that?" 

but then he's withdrawing his fingers entirely, smearing your arousal messily around your folds before circling up to your clit, fingers slipping as he rubs the sensitive nub. "you're dripping," he breathes, dipping back to your entrance, laughing cruelly when he feels your hole clench around nothing. "when you wake up…" he says, sarcastically, and the tone makes your stomach twist. where did he learn all this? "you can beg me to fill you up. are you having a nice dream, baby?" 

you feel him sink down to the bed again, his hair tickling your inner thighs as his mouth attaches to your core, messily frenching your folds. "so swollen," he mumbles, now circling your clit and flicking it lightly with the tip of his tongue, a stinging pressure. "i wish i knew what you needed, sweetheart," his voice is sad, and you just know that if you opened your eyes you would see his own, blinking back at yours innocently. "do you need me here?" he presses your clit the way he knew you craved, mimicking a vibrating motion with his wrist. "or here?" three fingers shove deep into your cunt, and your back arches. "both? or…" you feel him rise, hands guiding your knees to your chest, and you finally, finally open your eyes. 

the sunrise is beautiful against his golden skin, stinging at your eyes as you blink back tears fogging your vision. his face is tear-streaked, hair still a mess, your eyes tracing the light illuminating the moles on his neck, his chest, his torso, his thighs. he lines himself up to your entrance, kissing the side of your knee lovingly. 

"good morning, baby," he smiles, eyes crinkling. "i'm going to fuck you now." 

"haechan-" your voice is hoarse from lack of use. "do you want to try it from the back?" 

there's a pause.

"fuck yes," he groans, his hands moving you effortlessly, helping you get on all fours. you arch your back, pressing your face against the sheets as you wiggle your hips in the air, hearing a moan rise from his throat as he fists his length urgently. 

"hurry up," you whine. 

"hurry up…" he mocks, giggling as he runs his hands down your spine. "you're so spoiled, princess." his hands grasp at your hips, and you feel something heavy push between your legs, his tip pushing into you, the initial stretch making you tense.

"fuck…ah–" he bottoms out, feeling your walls pulse around him, holding still so you can adjust. "you're so tight like this, fuck." when you let out another whimper, he starts to pull out, body stiffening. "are you okay? can i –" 

"please move," you whimper, hips jolting as you start fucking yourself on his length, need surging through your body. his hips snap against yours, wet sounds filling the room as skin meets skin. his hand comes around to touch your clit, rubbing it harshly, and you cum instantly, stars blotting your vision as your knees go weak. 

"just a bit more, baby," he whimpers, speeding up to chase his high. "you want me to fill you up? fuck you so full of my cum you can't ignore it?" pulling you up, he grasps at your breasts, kneading the soft mounds in his hands and pinching at a hard nipple. the moan you let out pushes him over the edge as he cums, hard, warmth shooting into you and coating your walls as you milk him dry, sensitivity making you clench around him again.

"i love you," he whispers, kissing you sweetly on the nape of your neck before pulling out, wincing at the feeling. you lie back on the sheets, winded, as he gets a towel from the bedside cabinet and wipes your thighs dry, purposefully pushing some of the cum leaking out of your entrance back in with a gentle finger, your thighs shaking at the feeling. you make grabby hands at him and he smiles, putting down the towel before all but jumping into your arms, kissing you again on the neck and nuzzling against your shoulder. 

"so?" he raises his eyebrows. 

"so what?" 

"it's hot, right?" he gushes, eyes sparkling. "the ignoring thing? fuck, when i kept calling for you and you closed your eyes…" he sighs. "you're my dream girl," he says, sincerely. "do you know that?"

"i'm your dream girl because i ignore you?" 

"we should only do this once in a while…" he's lost in his own world, brows furrowing as he chews on his cheek in thought. "i miss hearing your pretty sounds…" 

"or maybe you could ignore me," you suggest, sleepiness taking over your body again as you curl up closer to him.

"you really are my dream girl," he marvels, planting a light kiss on your forehead as you drift off, safe in his arms.

x

"we have a problem." 

"the problem we have," you correct him, as he locks the bathroom door behind you. "is we should stop coming to these parties."

"he keeps looking at you," haechan huffs, his eyes trained on your body. "and i get it, because i look at you and i want you now but –" frustrated, he tugs a little at the hem of your dress, which was currently riding high on your thighs as you sat on the bathroom sink. "but you're mine." 

"be honest, do you wish you bought me that $7000 bracelet now?" you tease. 

at haechan's encouragement, you had started to befriend karina and her friends, finding their confidence and enthusiasm infectious and endearingly reminiscent of your boyfriend. they had told you that he spent weeks meeting them after lectures, asking for advice on the littlest things – like how to be there for you on your period, how to help you pick out an outfit, and how to choose gifts.

"very much so," he groans, and you pull him towards you, giving him a kiss. it's when he's kissing down your neck, your breaths becoming shallow, hands pawing absentmindedly at his chest, when he suddenly freezes, an idea forming in his mind. 

"do you think i can spell my name on your neck in hickeys?" tracing the letters with his fingertips, he furrows his brow, mumbling to himself. "maybe just the initials? or one letter. or a symbol…" 

"you're so stupid-" you cut yourself off, slotting your lips with his again. when you break apart, there's a softness in his eyes, his tone low and hesitant. 

"you like it…" he runs his tongue over his lower lip, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "right?" 

"haechan…" you wrap your arms around him, feeling him relax into your hold. "i love you," you say, softly, in his ear. you feel him smile against your neck, murmuring back a soft i love you too, the fact that he never let it go unanswered making you feel giddy and lovestruck all over again. 

"i know what to do," he beams, pushing you gently against the wall and letting his body cage you in — and when he starts sucking a mark onto your skin, you have a vague idea of what it's going to be. 

x

when you rejoin the party, the music is still blasting loud as if you've never left, the energy feeds into haechan's enthusiasm as he taps, or rather, hits the shoulder of the first person he sees coming out of the bathroom, who happens to be jaemin. 

"JAEMIN." 

"shut the fuck- oh." jaemin turns, raising his eyebrows when he sees the two of you. "going home?" 

"just bear with it," you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as haechan puffs his chest out proudly, clearing his throat to speak. "he's doing a thing." 

"she's mine," he crows, proudly. tracing one of the marks on your neck, he beams up at jaemin with starry eyes. "i did this to her." 

"cool." the boy flashes him a thumbs up, which haechan returns enthusiastically. voice dropping low, jaemin leans in. "is he going to repeat this to everyone you bump into on the way out?" 

you see haechan waving at renjun, signaling that you were about to be tugged over. "i think so." 

jaemin nods slowly, lips stretching into a smile. "you're a lucky girl, y/n." 

you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. you take in the glow of your skin, the hickeys scattered across your neck and collarbones, your styled hair completely messed up around your face. you take in the arms around your waist, the man next to you peeking at you from the corner of his eye as if he couldn't believe you were there pressed against him, his own hair tousled and wild. 

and you feel yourself smile. 

x

bonus: 

"mark, i think i've found the one." 

"and i told you, she's with someone–" 

"leave it." jaemin murmurs. "he's haechan. she'll probably leave whoever she's with because of him." 

"haechan," but mark's voice is insistent on pinning him to reality as he puts both hands on haechan's cheeks, forcing his head to turn so he's looking him in the eyes. "if you're not serious about it…" 

"but i am." haechan is a little breathless as he sways on the spot, eyes finally focused on mark's. "i really want to talk to her…"

"that's not-" 

"but i don't want to mess up." swallowing, haechan runs his hand through his hair. "what if i say the wrong thing, what if she thinks i'm stupid." his eyes search the crowd for you again, before settling back on mark's round ones. "mark…" his voice is soft, and just a little bit scared. 

"what if she doesn't like me?" 

mark's hands fall away as he takes in the little bit of wild sincerity in haechan's eyes, and the hesitance he hadn't quite seen before. 

it takes a lot of encouragement, to finally persuade haechan to meander his way over into the corridor he's sure you haven't stepped out of. even then, his steps are unsure and faltering, panicked eyes finding mark and jaemin's in the crowd seeking reassurance, and mark thinks when he finally meets you he isn't going to make the best first impression at all. 

haechan was someone who dove into things, who felt emotions as hard as he possibly could, running headfirst into everything in life without knowledge or fear of consequence. 

maybe there was some credit to his the one theory, mark thinks, because you were the one thing haechan couldn't even start to walk towards for fear of losing in the crowd. 

mark had a good feeling about this — something told him that it would all work out eventually. 

taglist: @luafvr @liliansun @hotmessexpress35 @ery-noice @tddyhyck @xenkimmie @ofjunemoment @neochan @acidwon @babyjenono @kittydollzz @smwhrinthehaze

[penny00dreadful]

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

[miange1]

DONNIE DARKO

need a break from smut, breaking up, manipulation, donnie has no shame, manipulation, murder threats, readers parents are homophobic, frank mentioned like once

he didn't know what went wrong. you two were doing just fine— even if it had to be a bit of a secret from some people, he didn't mind that at all. some people mostly being the parents, no one else really seemed to mind and if they did they didn't show it too much.

but something was weird, really weird. you were acting so distant, finding excuses to dodge any affection or any kisses of his when he could give them to you.

what was going on? were you upset with him..? why were you avoiding him so much?

he asked you time and time again, and you swore it was nothing but he could tell that it was something. what were you hiding from him.

"my boyfriend fucking hates me.." he muttered, laying down on the therapists couch while fiddling with his fingers. dr. thurmans eyebrow raised, taking out her notepad as these sort of talks were rare with donnie. "and why is that, hm? why do you think so?"

donnie's nose crinkled a bit, eyes downward and almost as if he was trying to hide the fact he was gonna cry.

"dunno.." but he did know, he knew damn well you lost feelings for him. you no longer loved him. "he jus' isn't loving me anymore, and—" his voice cracked, face plunging into the soft cushion of the pillow beneath him. "i don't know.."

he missed you so much. missed your voice, your smile, your lips when you'd kiss him. and so much more. why did you leave him? this wasn't fair. he was planning on taking you out today, trying to make up for whatever shit he may have done but you didn't tell him.

and you just pulled him somewhere and made it some sort of official break up. "what.. what?" he felt himself disassociate, not even paying attention to anything you may have said to him.

your lips were moving but he heard nothing. his vision felt like a rewinded vhs player, many things flashing at once and loud static played at his ears. "no." he shook his head, grabbing tightly at your shoulders. "no, no. why? don't leave. no." he repeated those things, not letting you go no matter how much you had pulled.

he couldn't remember much after that. all he knew was that you were gone. he couldn't just let this go, he wouldn't. you were the only one for him, the only one he could be with. there was no one else for him, he would go insane without you.

next day he saw you with a girl. holding hands with her and everything. smiling with her and looking so much more happier with her than you did with donnie. the best you two could do was slightly brush fingers when walking next to each other, smile all you wanted too though.

what did she have that he didn't? really. what was it? did he need to become some prissy little blonde girl? loud mouthed and ear piercing voice? is that what he needed?

the entire day he wouldn't stop looking at you, when you looked back you instantly saw him already staring back. his eyes were sad, and filled with anger, guilt, and confusion. he felt like there was more, you wouldn't just leave him like that. for some girl either.

i mean, you were clearly not into women— this all just seemed so fake.

this was stupid. no, not him sneaking out to find this girls house, that wasn't stupid. what was stupid is that you had to choose her of all people. she was no better than donnie, she was like every other girl. she was nothing special.

he let himself slip in between the window of the blondie's room, snickering to himself as he thought. 'dumb bitch left the window open.'

the sharp metal object he held in his hand was being gripped as if he was choking it, his knuckle churning white and aching. he barely bothered being quiet, he wanted her to wake up anyways.

the bed creaked under his weight, a bit of dirt from his shoes staining her sheets whilst he straddled her. he felt the invisible wall blocking him from you, if he just got her away then that wall would leave as well.

her body would squirm a bit before her eyes shot open, and her first instinct would be to scream so donnie harshly slapped his palm to her mouth. "make a sound n'd i'll cut your tongue out.." he made it clear he had a weapon, showing it to her.

"or maybe," he inched the edge towards her eye, her breathing quickening and tears starting to leave her eyes and stain her cheeks and donnie's fingers.

"i can carve your eye out." his lips slightly inched up, almost as a smile yet it was a bit crooked. "frank would like that..he wouldn't be so lonely.." he still had the object in his hand, but moved it away from her eye.

"you're going to leave him alone— don't give me that fuckin' look, you know who." he was getting ready to snap her neck. he wanted to so damn badly. "by the time i leave this room. you will be out of his life."

it was starting to rain, thunder booming and clashing as trees would bang against his window. he was still awake, book in his hand that he wasn't really reading. he was just looking at it, as if he was waiting for something.

a knock came at his window. there we go. he instantly sat up, looking over to see someone— to see you.

he clicked the little lock at it, moment you had stepped inside you forced yourself into his arms and started bawling. barely coherent 'i'm sorrys' reached him, and he resisted every urge to smile.

"i— i should have—" he wrapped his arms tighter around you, shushing you a bit and kissing your forehead. "what..what happened?"

it took you a moment to get yourself together, and when you did you noticed the state you had put donnie in. "shit, i got you all wet." yeah, in multiple ways then one.

"um..donnie first i just wanna say—" he kissed you. he didn't wanna hear what you had to say because he already knew. what's her face told him what he needed to know, called you to "break up" and left.

"don't talk. please." he walked you back onto his bed, leg in between your thighs as he kept the kiss going. the flow of it got rougher and rougher, like the two of you were trying to morph yourselves together.

like you relied on each other, and you would for as long as the two of you could.

[that-hazbin]

Sorta AU/story idea where Alastor's a serial killer but he doesn't... completely realize that he's a serial killer.

He's super mentally Not Okay with a whole load of traumatic baggage, and sometimes when he gets past a stress threshold, he sort of... blacks out. Not faint, exactly, but his body moves on autopilot while his consciousness is just. Not there.

The first time it happened, he was fourteen. His father had beaten him black and blue, and left him limp on the floor to go beat Alastor's mother. When Alastor came to the realization that his mother stopped moving, his vision went blurry.

When he regained consciousness, his father was on the floor, bleeding from the head, eyes glazed over. It looked like he fell and hit himself on the corner of the dining table. Alastor lost both his parents on the same day.

After that, Alastor started having "episodes" a bit more often. A majority of the time, he manages to get home, and when he wakes up, he's hiding under his bed or in his closet, confused as to how he even got home. He doesn't want to be admitted into an asylum, of course, so he keeps quiet about this.

Sometimes, though?

Sometimes, he'll wake up knee deep in water, staring into the dark of a bayou. Sometimes, he'll wake up half-submerged in his bath, red going down the drain, with no clue as to where he's injured. Sometimes, the person who was screaming at him before the episode hit just went... missing the next day.

Alastor keeps quiet.

Naturally, when Alastor dies, he goes to hell. He doesn't remember the crimes, but he did commit them regardless. Of course, when people ask him what he did to end up down there, he can't give a real answer. The truth of the matter is that he doesn't know. Sure, he has... suspicions. Theories. But he doesn't know.

Things happen. He has several black out episodes in Hell before they simply stop happening, because he's stressed all the time and he can't just block every single second of every day from memory. He learns how to consciously survive in hell. Makes a name for himself.

Things roughly stay truthful to canon from there.

Then, one day, Charlie has a brilliant idea for a hotel activity. Part of redemption means acknowledging what brought you to hell to begin with, and what you can do now to make up for those actions! They go around the room, talking about the sins they committed, and what they can do now to improve. Alastor fully intends to stay out of the activity, he's not working towards redemption after all, but... Of course, Lucifer has to taunt.

Lucifer: What, you're just gonna sit around judging us?

Charlie: Er, dad—

Alastor: Hilarious coming from you, your majesty, truly. In any case, your memory seems to be failing you, I'm not here for redemption. I have no reason to participate.

Lucifer: Uh huh, neither is the bartender or the maid, you think you can be exempt just because you're staff? I'm the King of Hell and you don't see me skipping out. And here I would've thought you would have taken the chance to brag about the fucked up shit you did up there.

Charlie: Hey, guys, I don't think—

Alastor: Husk and Nifty are grown adults who are perfectly capable of making their own decisions. I am also a grown adult, and my decisions don't need to reflect theirs.

Lucifer: Oh, I see, you're a coward then?

Alastor: Believe whatever you want to, it makes no difference to me.

Lucifer: Sure it doesn't. Why don't we make this a game, huh? I'll guess your sins, and you stop me when I get it right.

Charlie: Dad, Alastor—

Lucifer: Can't imagine you fucked before marriage or anything, I mean, you scream prude. Bet you died a virgin.

Alastor: Hah, I wouldn't know. Are you done with your childish taunts, or are you going to allow your daughter to continue?

Lucifer stops dead, both because of the reminder that he's interrupting Charlie's activity, and also because he's replaying Alastor sentence back in his head. And, as the father of lies himself, he realizes that Alastor... wasn't lying when he said he didn't know.

Charlie: Great, yes, thank you Alastor! So, anyways—

Lucifer: Wait.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Seriously, wait. Bellhop, what the fuck do you mean you wouldn't know?

Angel: ... Oh shit.

Alastor: ... Charlie, continue your activity.

Charlie: Uh.

Lucifer: Oh, FUCK YOU! No, what the fuck did you mean by that?! What, were you like, drugged or—

Angel: HEY LET'S TALK ABOUT MY DEEP DARK PAST AS A MEMBER OF A MAFIA FAMILY!

Charlie: YES THANK YOU ANGEL LET'S TALK ABOUT IT! I'M VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR VOLUNTEERING!

Alastor gets the fuck out of dodge, and Lucifer finally gets the hint that he definitely stepped on a landmine that he very much should have not touched. Unfortunately, Lucifer alongside everyone in the hotel are left with a misunderstanding regarding Alastor's history.

[nottsangel]

artrick who end up blackmailing camgirl reader that they know and will tell all their frat bros if she doesn't let them join on a live hehehegehehehejdjd 🔮

— artrick and camgirl!reader

ugh i love dark stuff like this…. patrick and art would be so sneaky with it though, you wouldn’t even realise they’re basically blackmailing you. they’d be so sly and manipulative, each in their own way.

like imagine getting ready, with roughly an hour left before going live again as you were finishing your make-up, already clad in a red lingerie set— a viewer favourite. staring at yourself in the mirror, lost in thought, you clumsily dropped your lipstick when loud knocks resonated through your dorm room, making you flinch momentarily. fuck. you cursed at yourself, instantly knowing it was your two best friends on the other side of the door, as they were the only ones you hung out with but god, their timing couldn’t be worse.

and when you opened the door after quickly putting on a silk robe, the atmosphere immediately felt… different? both patrick and art eyed you with dark, intense eyes, in a way you’d never seen before, and it made you extremely nervous.

“uhm… what’s up? sorry, but i don’t have much time…”

“we know you don’t.” patrick began as they both casually walked into your dorm room as if it was their own. “what? what does— what does that mean?” you gulped. what if they…

“what patrick is trying to say, is that, uhm… we know about your… how do i say this… side hustle.” your eyes widened in an instant, heart pounding in your throat, making each breath a struggle. all the worst-case scenarios flashed through your mind, causing your breathing to quicken and your knees to weaken.

“oh… my god.” was all you could utter before both patrick and art rushed over to you when you began to panic, an expression of faux empathy on their faces. “hey, hey, it’s okay. it’s just us that know... for now.” patrick reassured you, muttering the last part under his breath as they both gently set you down on your bed, one on each side of you and both their hands resting on your bare thighs.

“how do you…”

“doesn’t matter how. what matters is that, others might see it, you know? like, our friends? i mean, you know how they are…” patrick moved his hand to your face, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, meeting your glossy eyes as tears welled up. “yeah… we all share the same laptop and we might, you know, forget to delete the browser history and they all would see the stuff you do on there…” art added, his hand inching closer to your cunt, causing you to instinctively spread your legs slightly wider as you tried to control your fast breathing.

“bet they would jerk off while watching you like fucking creeps. hand wrapped around their cocks as they watch you undress… or worse… they might share it with everyone. and soon the entire school would know about the things you do late at night, all alone in your little dorm room.” at this point, panic overtakes you completely as your hands clutch the edge of the bed so tightly that your knuckles turn white and you firmly bite your lip to stifle your sobs.

“shhh, baby, don’t worry. you know we won’t let that happen, right? i mean, we got a plan… but you gotta calm down for us, okay?” art cooed as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek to calm you down and wipe your tears. meanwhile, outside your vision, patrick eyed you lustfully as he bit his lip, feeling his boner grow at the sight of your red lace bra peeking out from your robe. you sniffed, feeling yourself gradually calm down at his reassuring words before nodding, desperate to end this nightmare.

“so uhm… how about you let us join, hm? that way we’ll make sure it’ll never get leaked. i mean… if we’re also involved, we’ll work extra hard to make sure no one else gets to see it, you know?” patrick explains, squeezing your thigh as his eyes shift from yours down to your lips. “yeah, yeah, then it’ll be just as much of a risk for you as it is for us… what do you say, baby?”

and without thinking twice, you nod eagerly while hurriedly wiping your tears with the silk sleeves of your robe, feeling happy and grateful to have such caring best friends who always look out for you… <3

ੈ♡˳

[makelemonade]

Would you fall in love with me again?

It’s been four years.

Four years since Diluc kissed you goodbye in the very living room you’re currently sitting in.

Four years since you begged him with tears in your eyes to stay.

Four years since Diluc abandoned you

You hated this house, this stupid, huge, lovely house. Every room, every step you took, just reminded you of him. Every maid, every carve in the walls or the untouched wine cellar was all a reminder of him.

It was your own fault either way, for choosing to stay in the dawn winery, because even though everything reminded you of him, that was it, it reminded you of him.

Forgetting him was something you promised yourself each day not to do, because you loved him too much, and even trying just made you want to slap yourself because how could you ever think like that?

But also, how could you ever think like that? Forcing yourself to stay in this home, to remember the man you loved because you don’t know if he’ll ever come back, and because you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him in your heart.

Even though you had lost him, and you were alone.

Aside from the maids, Kaeya would sometimes come and spend the night in an old room of his, and you didn’t know if it was because he just chose to or he also thought of his brother often. You hoped it was the latter- so you weren’t alone in these self depreciating thoughts of yours.

He had even brought a vase, an ugly one which completely clashed with the colours, but what was inside that mattered. The vision. His vision. The one he threw at Eroch before coming home to you, then leaving it all behind.

So the Vase sat on its own pedestal by the stairs, just a few feet away from the door. If anyone were to walk in they’d notice it, maybe even comment on it, whether choosing to lie and compliment it or berate you on it.

But all that mattered is that you knew the truth about it. That’s all you cared about.

It was your last hope that maybe he’d return, yet why couldn’t you think in a way that he would return for you instead of his vision.

Eventually, your questions were answered.

It was a rainy, stormy night. You found yourself laying on the couch in front of the fireplace, book open and snuggled into your blankets. You tried to ignore the lingering touch of his arms, because it wasn’t perfect. You were starting to forget how he felt.

With the noise of thunder came a muffled sound of a knock. You assumed it was Kaeya- maybe coming to shelter from the storm after a mission and didn’t want to make the full trek back to the city.

And yet there you were, standing and staring wide-eyed into the fiery eyes of your past lover- or current? He was drenched, and his hair had grown just a bit longer from when you last saw him. It was messy and uneven.

His breath was shaky, and you didn’t know if you should let him in or just stare at him shocked.

“You’re back.” You breathed out, your voice a mix of all the emotions you could feel; Happiness, disbelief, and anger

“That I am.” His voice almost made you shudder- maybe it sent you some shivers though. It was so rough- it had been so long since you heard it, but it brought you a warm feeling in this cold air. “But I’m not the man you once knew.”

“Wh- what are you talking about? Don’t be so ridiculous…Diluc.” Even saying his name was foreign.

“I left a trail of blood in my wake,” he admitted, his voice raw. “After my father died, I abandoned everything I once held dear, including you, and I hunted down the people responsible. It was the Fatui… I hunted them down one by one. I didn’t stop. I became a weapon of vengeance. I became a monster…I killed without hesitation, showing absolutely no mercy. And when I had nothing left to destroy, I realized I lost myself just for vengeance, and in doing so, I lost everything, including you.”

He paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I needed to come back to you.”

You laughed in disbelief, but you too, just wanted him back. “How could you say this? It’s been four years. You- you think you can just come back into my life?! Do you even understand what you’re saying.”

Tears mixed in with the rain running down his face. “I know. I know I’m unworthy, undeserving of your life after everything. I just needed to try, even if you cannot forgive me, or if you don’t love me anymo-“

“Don’t.” You immediately cut him off. “Don’t you dare.”

“Then…would you fall in love with me again? Even if I am no longer the man you once knew, now that you know what I’ve done.”

Each word sent cracks to your heart if it hasn’t already dropped and shattered. The man you looked at was scarred, traumatized and hurt. Yet under it all, it was your man. The man who was so deeply in love with you, just like you were in love with him.

“If that’s true, then do me a favour.” You walked back, finally letting him come in and shelter from the rain.

You pointed to the vase, and he didn’t dare comment on what the hell it was and why it was in his home. “That vase. Get rid of it, take it far away- destroy it.”

He blinked, confused. “It’s just a vase?”

“No.” You shook your head, grabbing it and bringing it to him. “Kaeya brought it a while after you left. He told me there was something you left in here.”

His breath hitched, and taking a glimpse in from his angle, he could see his vision glowing. “My vision.” His voice trembled.

“It sat here forgotten and abandoned. Just like me.”

He looked away. “I-I can’t. I had to leave it behind. It just reminded me of everything I failed to protect.

”Only the love of my life knew that. So I guess it makes him you.”

Diluc froze, his eyes moving back to yours from the vase. Multiple emotions flickered through as he was in disbelief, but also felt hopez

“Me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands were trembling, and his attempts to calm down were not working. “After everything I’ve told you, everything I’ve done, you still see me? You still love me?”

You smiled, finally letting the tears fall. “I will fall in love with you continuously. I don’t care how, where or when. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been or who you are, because you will always be mine. Do not tell me you have changed, because you will always be the love of my life.”

He couldn’t control himself before immediately wrapping his arms around you as you both uncontrollably sobbed in each others arms, the two of you falling to the ground. The way you held onto him was as if you were so scared he’d leave you again, and the way he held onto you was a reminder that he was still him.

He was yours, and you were his.

“I’ll fall in love with you everyday, Diluc.” You whispered, before your lips met his.

Inspired by “Would You Fall in Love With Me Again” from Epic: The Musical

[pickingupmymercedes]

A thousand times over - Lewis Hamilton

request: Hii! Omg, I just saw a comment on instagram that was so cute it made me think a Lewis fic would be so much cuter. You're my favourite writer for F1 so I know you'd eat this up. So a guy commented that when his wife takes off her wedding rings for baking/gardening/painting/etc and he finds them, he waits til she's done then gives them back to her by proposing to her again. - @happy-golden-hour

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: pure fluff

wordcount: +1K

a/n: The three times Lewis reasks y/n to marry him, and the one time the roles are reversed.

a/n.2: Thank you for the idea bestie, took me a while but I couldn't decide on a single scenario, so there's 3 and a surprise one. Hope you like it ❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The Gardening Proposal

The morning sun made the garden golden, its rays filtering through the leaves and casting long shadows from the pine trees across the lush grass. Even though it wasn’t even 8 am yet, you were already lost in the peaceful new flower bed you had been working on for the past week. The air was crisp and fresh, a bit of fog still lurking deep in the woods that surrounded your country home, adding to the serene atmosphere.

Lewis looked over from the porch at the scene, his ever-attentive eyes lost in thought as he admired you. His fingers played with the golden band of your wedding ring he had found on the kitchen counter just minutes ago. The soft glint of the ring caught his eye, reminding him of the love and commitment you shared.

Before you could even feel his presence, he cleared his throat to catch your attention. Your vision as you turned was him, in only his basketball shorts, kneeled in the grass by the flower bed. In his hand was the band you had left in the kitchen the previous day, placed carefully so it wouldn’t get amidst the dirt.

"Love, would you marry me, again?" Lewis said softly, holding out the ring between his fingers, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. His voice was gentle, carrying a hint of playfulness that always had you melting.

Surprised but delighted by his heartfelt gesture, you accepted the ring, feeling its familiar weight as he slid it back onto your finger. The metal felt cool against your skin, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared. "Thank you," you whispered, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. "Well, is that a yes?" he began, his voice filled with warmth and humor. His playful tone made you laugh, easing any lingering nerves.

Tears of happiness welled in your eyes as you nodded, your voice filled with emotion. "Yes, a thousand times over" you replied, sealing your promise with a passionate kiss. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air around you, a perfect moment in your blossoming garden.

The Workout Proposal

The early night lights danced around in your bedroom windows as you read your book. You had just finished an intense workout in your home gym, the exhaustion and exhilaration leaving you feeling both drained and sleepy. So, after a shower, you had wrapped yourself in a plush robe, seeking comfort in your bed for a bit before thinking about dinner.

A while later Lewis found you, curled up in bed. A smile tugged at his lips as he admired your relaxed demeanor, his fingers playing with the ring he had found placed at tv console in the gym, now safely tucked in his pocket. Scooting closer to you on the bed, he gently pulled you into his embrace, his warmth enveloping you. His touch was gentle, and with a contented smile, you nestled closer to Lewis, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. His arms wrapping around you protectively.

In that intimate moment, Lewis gazed into your eyes softly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

“I love you” You whispered back as you looked up at him, although not without a questioning look, as to why the sudden confession.

He let out a chuckle and reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the ring, his features full of adoration as he asked you for the thousandth time "Will you marry me, again?" his voice barely above a whisper.

Overwhelmed you took a moment to gather your words, your heart pounding just like it had when he asked for the first time. “Yeah, always”, your voice steady and certain. As he slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your renewed commitment, your hands reached for the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours.

The Candles Proposal

The aroma of a Sunday roast filled the air, mingling with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. You were in the kitchen, focused on preparing a delicious meal for Lewis's family. His mother was by your side, offering her expertise and sharing cherished family recipes.

As you started making fresh pasta from scratch, you carefully removed your new wedding ring, placing it in Lewis's hand for safekeeping. He smiled, understanding the gesture, and pocketed the ring, promising to keep it safe.

The meal was a success, filled with laughter, stories, and the warmth his family always provided. As you two got back home late at night you headed for the shower, to clean up and decompress.

When you returned to the living room, you were greeted by the soft glow of candlelight. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, and soft music played in the romantic and intimate background that Lewis had created.

In the center of the room, Lewis knelt on one knee, his eyes filled with love and determination. The ring you had entrusted to him earlier glinted in his hand, catching the candlelight. "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me?” Lewis asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection as he held out the ring to you.

"Yes, Lew" you replied, your voice filled with love and gratitude. "I would be honored to marry you, over and over again." Surprised and touched by him, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. The love and thoughtfulness he had put into this moment a reminder of the lengths he would go to show the love he felt.

The Surprise

As you entered the newly painted nursery, a smile spread across your face at the sight of the lovingly decorated room. Your heart swelled with anticipation at the thought of welcoming your baby into this home and to finally start your own family.

As you admired each detail, your eyes fell upon the wedding band resting on the dresser. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the ring, a tender smile playing on your lips as you realized Lewis had left it behind, probably had taken if off when he was painting.

Knowing he must be in his study, you made your way there, your heart fluttering with excitement. Entering the room, you found Lewis absorbed in his work, surrounded telemetry and car part’s designs. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head against his shoulder.

He turned to meet your gaze, a soft smile lighting up his face as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands automatically resting on your 6 months-bump. "You know, I can't physically kneel like you always do" you teased, a playful glint in your eye, "but there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Lewis chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he waited for you to continue. With a grin, you reached into your pocket, retrieving the wedding band. Holding it up between you, you met Lewis's gaze, your heart overflowing with love and joy.

"Would you marry me?" you asked, your voice filled with warmth and affection. Lewis's eyes shimmered with emotion. Without a moment's hesitation, he nodded, his voice filled with love. "Yes, I’ll marry you, every day if need be"

As you slipped the ring onto his finger, sealing your renewed commitment, you knew that no matter what life had in store, your love would always be the guiding light that led you through every joy and challenge.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Playlist Love | Jungkook | Slow Down | Chase Atlantic

Play it again...and again and again and again.

Summary: Jungkook's party isn't exactly how he had envisioned spending his birthday so sneaking out with you was the only way he wanted to end his night. Based off of Chase Atlantic's discography. Specifically 'Slow Down', 'OHMAMI', 'HEAVEN AND BACK', 'Meddle About', 'Friends', 'Now' and I think that's it 😅 Pairing: Sunshine f!reader x Grumpy Jungkook established relationship (Written in Jungkook's pov) Word Count: 4k~ Warnings: Smut smut and more smut and explicit language ofc cuz it's Chase Atlantic. Jungkook is low-key a dick and hates everyone but has a very soft spot for the reader.

The music that seemed deafening on arrival has become nothing but a hum in the back of my mind, vision focused only on her. Watching the way she speaks, the way she smiles and specifically how tempting she looks in that dress.

"Aye birthday boy, you wanna beer?" one of the many guys who suddenly thinks they're my best friend tonight asks yet again. "Nah man I'm good" I say, scooting over when he goes to sit on the couch next to me, now stuck between him and the couple who have been sucking face for the past ten minutes.

This party although for me hasn't entertained me in the slightest. It's harsh to say but when my best friend is the one who decides to throw it it's more or less just another one of his usual ragers that have become less and less my style since I left college.

"That your girl?" the guy who's name I haven't bothered to learn asks, following my line of sight to her, dancing in a circle of girls that are just as intoxicated as she is, if not more.

"Yeah, she's mine" I mumble, loving the way those words taste on my tongue. "Nice" he drags out, clearly overcompensating for guy talk. He's drunk though so I guess I can't expect an original or coherent thought to come out of him.

As I tune out whatever else he's saying I opt to listen to the lyrics of a familiar song I've heard her play ad nauseam when we're together and I realize I had never fully digested what they're saying.

I don't know if you already know how But girl, I got the feeling that you know now You're buried in the pillow, yeah, you're so loud But I'm about to show you, baby, slow down

Visions of her with her face buried in a pillow entertain me. Back arched and ass up, the pleasure too much yet not enough, begging me to go faster but all I do is slow down. Pressing down between her shoulder blades to muffle her cries of protest since she's being way too fucking loud. Nothing stoping me from keeping a slow stroke going, denying her her release again and again until she's broken.

"Aye Jungkook" the guy calls out, knocking me out of my fantasy and bringing me back to reality.

"What?" I answer curtly, already sexually frustrated from those thoughts alone, leaving me ticked off. "That guy is trying to make a move on your girl" he say. My eyes although hadn't left her, fogged over with the illusion my twisted mind had created leaving me blind to the pitiful interaction in front of me.

I get up from the couch wordlessly and stalk towards the dance floor, weaving through the crowd haphazardly just to get to her and once I do I grab her wrist and pull on it a bit, making her stumble, her back now pressed up against my chest.

"Who's this?" I whisper in her ear, showing a sense of intimacy enough to make the man who had clear plans with her in mind uncomfortable.

She giggles at the ticklish feeling and leans into me once she's realize who it is. "Oh um, I dunno" her speech cutely slurred making me laugh at how much she actually didn't care to learn anything about him.

"Oh! Um what's your name?" she asks, no doubt feeling a little embarrassed and asking just to clumsily remedy the situation. "Jake" he replies dryly, sizing me up now instead of paying attention to her, knowing that he's lost the battle and the war.

"Well Jake, I suggest you find another girl" I say, turning her around so her focus is on me but in true drunk y/n fashion she never wants anyone to be left on a bad note. "It was nice meeting you" she says over her shoulder, his eyes going between her and I, my eyes in response wordlessly telling him to walk away and he does, eyeing the crowd to find another girl who might bother giving him the time of day.

"Hi Koo" she say happily, running her hands up my biceps and shoulders before locking her fingers behind my neck, trapping me in her hold. "Hi baby" I say softly, caressing her face for a second and noticing how warm she's gotten.

"You wanna come sit?" I nod my head towards the area I just came from, the couple from before gone, no doubt getting that room they should've gotten half an hour ago. "No, dance with me" she slurs, dragging out the first word, pulling me closer to make a point. My hands now placed on her hips while she gets lost in the music again.

Girl, just scream it out Tell me what you're thinking No, I wanna see you undress now I wanna hear you confess now

"You having fun" I ask, amused at how adorable she's acting, a dazed giggly mess. "Mhm so much fun. Are you?" she asks, not wanting to be the only one of us enjoying ourselves since technically it is still my party. "I am but I'd rather get outta here" I confess, having had fun at the beginning but this past hour or two has been excruciating, nursing my water to make sure I'm good to drive us home while watching her tease me without even knowing it.

"But my friends just got here" she says, gesturing to some people who had been here for long enough. "All of your friends have been here for so long. Which means we've been here for way too long " I argue and she shakes her head before realizing how bad of an idea that is, clearly having made herself dizzy from the way she stumbled, resigning to a pout instead.

"Don't look at me like that" I chuckle, kissing her pouty lips which she responds to right away, her clumsy kisses tasting like the many drinks she's had tonight. "What are my friends gonna think if we leave so early? It's your birthday" she asks, not realizing it's well past two am.

"I'm sorry to say this babe but I don't give a fuck about your friends right now" I whisper in her ear, my words making her shiver. "I'm sure what I've got to offer you tonight is a lot better than what they can give" I say, kissing her neck to prove my point leaving her humming in contentment.

"Lemme finish up my bottle then we'll g-go" she says and I chuckle while pulling back to look at her. "Do you even know where it is?" I cock a brow and when she opens her mouth to respond her brows soon furrow in confusion. "That's what I thought" I say and when she goes to protest I cut her off.

"You're not drinking what's in that fucking bottle y/n even if you did find it" and she closes her mouth, her pupils dilating just the slightest bit telling me that she's fully ready to listen now.

"Go get your stuff" I say patting her ass twice before spinning her around and encouraging her to lead the way. She refused to give me her things at the beginning of the night, claiming she needed her lipstick or whatever so she better know where it is or we're leaving without it.

I don't have time to fuck around right now when I notice how high her dress had ridden up her thighs, leaving me following very close behind.

She finds her purse and double checks for her phone that's luckily in there too and before she can start saying goodbye to anyone I'm dragging her out of the house. "You guys sneaking out of your own party?" one of the guys who's smoking a cigarette by the front door asks.

"Yeah can you tell everyone we left? If they even bother to notice" I ask, helping her clumsily walk down the front porch steps. "I'll tell em, Happy Birthday dude" he says and at that we're walking to my car with y/n slurring out a goodbye for the both of us.

"Why do you wanna go home early?" she pouts, dragging out the last syllable while I help her down into the passenger seat. "I don't like partying like that anymore. Plus it's already two am so I'm pretty sure we've stayed long enough" I inform her but she's still not one hundred percent convinced.

"But it's your birthday! I thought we were gonna take an Uber home?" she asks, now confused and a little concerned. "I stopped drinking a couple hours ago so I'm fine. I'd never put my girl in danger like that" I assure her, caressing her cheek for a second when she leans into my touch, retracting it and putting her seatbelt on a moment later.

"You okay?" I ask, checking her out...for safety reasons of course, but those bare thighs are making it so much harder to keep my thoughts to myself. "I should've let you have fun" she sighs, regretting not offering to be the DD this time.

"It's okay baby, let's just get home yeah?" I say and she nods, her lips still very much pouted in remorse for her choices. "Better suck that lip back into your mouth or I'll make you suck something else" I warn and she listens right away, knowing I'll make good on my promise and I smile when I see her rubbing her thighs together. "Good girl" I rasp and close her door before rounding the car to my side.

~~~~~

"Did you have a good birthday?" she asks after we've been driving on the highway for a while, taking sips from the water I bought her. "It's not over yet" I smile, looking over and seeing she's starting to sober up...barely. "But it's past midnight" she says and I shake my head. "It's not over yet since I still haven't gotten to unwrap my gift yet" I say scanning her body but she tilts her head at me.

"But I already gave you your present" she says, brows furrowed and completely oblivious to what I'm thinking. "Yes you did baby and it was a very nice gift but I'm not talking about that" I say, thinking she'll understand this time but with her still coming out of her drunken state she's not the sharpest tool in the shed just yet.

"What do yo-" she starts but cuts herself off when she feels my hand that's been on her thigh slide just the slightest bit higher and she flutters her lashes, sobering up just a bit more at the implications of my action.

"Is that okay with you" I ask, rubbing circles on her inner thigh to reassure her that it's her decision. We're both comfortable having drunk sex together but she knows she can always say no.

She stares down at my hand for a while, no doubt lost in a similar daze I had been in at the party not too long ago. "It's okay you don't have to answer now. Drink some more water and you can decide when we get home" I say, sliding my hand to rest just above her knee so she don't feel too much pressure.

After a couple of minutes of her contemplative silence I glance over and see that she's smiling to herself, a clear sign that we're both getting what we want tonight but I decide to take my hand off of her leg, opting to grab my phone and put on her playlist, the one that I've realized leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once we hit the first chorus I realized that this is the perfect one to get her to realize what I've been thinking about since we got in the car. From the way she changes her posture and glances over at me I know it's only a matter of time and when the second verse hits she's rubbing her thighs together again.

Bend it over slow 'cause daddy I know how you like it Backseat of the 'Rari pullin' over just to ride it

"You okay?" I ask her, noticing how she's bouncing one of her legs up and down, a usual nervous habit of hers but in this case it's to give herself some stimulation and we both know that. She nods and clears her throat to get rid of any nervous tone that no doubt would've come out of her and opts to nod.

"Okay" I smirk, going back to driving but I place my hand on her thigh again, stopping her ministrations and making her just as impatient as I've felt since that fucking song at the party...literally.

Hit one-fifty on the dash, I bent the corner Then she bent it for me sideways, uh I might have to fuck her on the highway, yeah

"Pull over" she mumbles and I smirk, thanking the artists on this song but making her say it again. "What was that? I couldn't hear you baby" I taunt, sliding my hand further up her thigh and squeezing it to reassure her since I know she's embarrassed.

"I said pull over" she commands which takes me by surprise but I do as she says, opting to take the next exit instead of the very reckless suggestion from the lyrics.

Once I get off the highway I find a secluded parking space in an otherwise completely vacant lot and turn off the car.

"What was it that you wanted to talk about?" I tease, turning my whole body to face her and the next second she's unbuckling her seatbelt and yanking on my collar to smash her lips against mine. Lips, teeth and tongue clashing, kissing each other breathless until she has to pull away, chest heaving and her bottom lip already starting to swell.

"We can wait until we get ho-" "No!" she interrupts me, her eyes opening with a glazed over look from arousal and her slightly intoxicated state. "No I wanna do this. Here. Now" she says, pulling me in for another kiss and I reciprocate it, my hands feeling for my own seatbelt to get it off of me.

I hold her face in place with one hand while the other is grabbing onto her forearm, pulling her over to to sit in my lap and when she gets the message I start pushing my seat back to make room for her but she still ends up landing her ass on the horn, making her bite my lip in surprise.

"Shhh" I chuckle, guiding her hips to sit on my lap instead, "You sure you're okay?" I tease, sliding my hands up her bare thighs, my fingers just barely slipping under the hem of her dress in case she says no.

She wanna fuck me, okay? She wanna know how it tastes

"Yes" she groans, clearly frustrated with me asking her again, shutting up any questions of doubt when she starts to unbuckle my belt.

"Someone's extremely impatient huh?" I say while she unbuttons my jeans, leaning back in my seat and lifting my hips for her so she can slide my jeans and boxers down, spitting on her hand afterwards and wrapping her hand around my dick, stroking it up and down at a lazy pace and taking control.

I hum and lay back, my eye half lidded and watching her as she takes special care to pay attention to what she's doing. "Feel so good" I encourage her, wanting to get her attention so she'll look at me, her lashes fluttering before she does, her bottom lip between her teeth from concentrating too hard.

"Come here" I say, caressing her face and tugging her lip free before kissing her, this time at a slower more sensual pace that matches the way her hand is stroking my length up and down, up and down.

"Fuck you're so good to me" I curse when her thumb runs along my tip, pulling away from her lips and kissing down her jaw to pepper kisses along the column of her neck, sucking marks into her skin when her hand tightens on my length and starts picking up the pace.

I groan against her skin and bite down to muffle the sound of any others coming after that but once I get too close I tell her to stop. "S-shit wait, wait" I say and she does, taking her hand off and looking at me, concern written on her face but I clear my throat and answer the question that's clearly written all over her face.

"Wanna fuck you" I say and slide my hand all the way up her dress, going to press against her clit and realizing there's no barrier. "You're not wearing anything under this?" I ask, raising my brow and getting the answer myself when I'm able to put a finger inside her. 

I pump it in and out until she starts to ride my fingers, adding another one but making her do the work. She shakes her head, resting both of her hands on my shoulders to keep her balance.

"T-took them off when you got me the w-water" she stutters, admitting to what she did when I went inside of the gas station. "You little minx" I chuckle, adding another finger and making her clench around them, a yelp coming out of her when she sinks back down, not expecting the stretch just yet.

"Thought it would be easier for when we got h-home" she explains, the innocence in her tone contradicting the way she's using my fingers to get off. "You we're trying to make it easier for me to fuck this pussy as soon as we got home. Didn't know you were as eager to get fucked as I was to fuck you" I hum, loving the way I've trained my girl.

I take my fingers out of her and she whimpers in protest. "Patience Princess" I scold, grabbing her hips so she'll hover over my length, taking one hand off to help line up with her entrance. She looks at me and my eyes flicker down to where she's hovering and when she starts to lower herself down she rests her forehead against mine, squeezing her eyes shut while her nails dig into my shoulders.

She lets out a whine and I can tell that the stretch is starting to burn from the way her walls are sucking me in. I hiss when she clenches around me, sensitive from denying myself of an orgasm in favor of prepping her to fuck sooner.

"It's okay baby, s-slow down" I stutter, nudging my nose against hers and grabbing her hips to stabilize her, gripping them so hard that my fingers will have left bruises for her to see in the morning. Her breathing is shaky when she takes in more, her pussy wrapped around my dick like it was made for me. 

"Just like that, doing so good for me" I say, brows pinched together when she clenches around me again, praise always having this effect on her. "Gonna be good and ride me on your own or you want me to help you?" I ask, tilting her chin up since her eyes have been focused on where we're connected, me being balls deep inside of her while she controls her breathing until she's comfortable. 

"Wanna be g-good" she stutter, her hands bracing herself on my shoulders before lifting her hips a bit, sinking back down on me before repeating the motion, her movements getting more bold as she finds her rhythm. 

Her tits bounce in front of me, adding another layer to this erotic scene but I need to get this dress off of her so I can see them, the top part basically slipping off already because of the strapless nature and the rumbled state it's in from not having more space to move around.

I slide it down and immediately place my mouth on one of her tits, grabbing the other one and toying with her nipple making her yelp in surprise, her mind focused on keeping a steady rhythm and forgetting that I'm able to explore her body while she does so. 

"It's okay baby keep going. Doing such a good job riding me" I coach her, placing a kiss on her open mouth, her face looking so fucked out already. "Fuck you're gorgeous" I groan, pulling her back into a deeper kiss, her gasping against my lips when I buck my hips into her.

"J-jungkook" she stutters, my name sounding so forbidden on her lips, little sounds of pleasure following, soon replaced with sounds of frustration. "Does baby want some help now?" I ask, running my thumb along her bottom lip, her lip gloss replaced with the swollen color sucked into it. 

She nods her head and shyly admits her need for me to take over, the sight endearing if she didn't have my cock buried deep inside her.

Gripping her hips again and urging her to move I lend my strength to keep the momentum going leaving both of us unable to hold back sounds of ecstasy. The squelching sound from the way her dripping wall suck me in making it hard for me to keep going. 

The thoughts of my cum dripping out of her and making an even bigger mess as she rides me being too close...too attainable to hold back for much longer. 

"Just like that, you're doing so well. Riding me and giving me such a pretty view. The only gift I fucking care about" I curse, the sight of her with her mascara running and her lashes damp from the pleasure being too much for her, mouth letting out unrestrained moans as she gets closer being just enough for me to hit that climax. 

"Baby you c-close? Fuck" I groan feeling her clench again, the sensation almost being my undoing. She nods her head and smashes her lips against mine, bringing me into a sloppy uncoordinated kiss, making me swallow her moans as the both of us finally come undone. Pleasure washing over us in waves as her walls flutter around me, the feeling of my cum dripping out of her being so disgustingly forbidden it's making me want more of her again. 

"Did so good for me" I soothe while rubbing her back as she lays against my chest, her mind no doubt still up on cloud nine from the way I felt her body reacting to me. "Made me feel so good" I whisper, kissing her temple and waiting for her to come back down to earth. 

"Baby?" I ask while feeling her relax into me, nuzzling her face into my neck. She hums in response before sitting up, making me hiss from the sensation, still sensitive from how well she rode me, my dick still very much buried inside of her. 

"You ready to go home?" I ask, wiping off some of the black tears that have almost slowed to a stop off her cheeks. She hum again and starts to fix her dress, getting off my lap and making herself whine from the loss of feeling full.

I tuck myself back into my jeans and then reach into the backseat and grab the hoodie I had back there and place it on her lap. She smiles sheepishly and slips it over her head, her body now enveloped in my scent with hers still very much all over me.

"Drink some more water" I say, picking up the bottle I got her so she can hydrate some more after the number she did on me. I put her seatbelt on her while she does as I ask, making sure she's fully secure before I fix my seat and put mine on as well. 

"How do you feel about your birthday now?" she rasps once we've gotten back on the highway, a lazy smile on her face while she admires me. "Like I said...it's not over yet"

Series masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater (Rest of the tags are in the reblogs 💜)

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

[eggtargaryenii]

EAST OF THE SUN | PART V

Aemond leaned down then, looking at the man as if he were a pest—a stain beneath his boot. “My justice is not a lenient one, ser,” he murmured. A red glow pulsed on his left periphery, in the spot where he was blind: a phantom vision from his missing eye, the absence of which he felt everyday. “The next time you lay your hand on my lady, I shall cut it off myself.”

6k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for sexual harassment/misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

X. JUSTICE

Aemond had never liked the way men looked at you.

He noticed this from a young age, watching as his brother’s eyes roved over your body. Aegon looked at you as a man would view a decadent feast or wine rather than a human being. Something to be owned. Something to be devoured. Aemond did not know entirely what it meant until after that day in the tourney stands, listening to his brother explain what a whore was, and what his brother wished to do with you—to debase you as he would a woman on the Street of Silk.

As soon as he understood this about Aegon, he understood it about other men as well. You were aware of it too, had likely been aware of it your entire childhood. You never did explain to Aemond, growing up, why you were so often upset, but he pieced it together eventually. You always ran to the dragonpit after some lord eyed you too hungrily, after some squire or guard or knight tried to put his hands on you, after Aegon did put his hands on you to squeeze at whatever part of your body he could. And of course no one helped you. His mother could not stop Aegon’s impulses to dishonour you, his father was too neglectful to care, and Aemond—

Aemond had been too weak.

It incensed him beyond thinking. He had been a powerless child, unable to defend himself, so of course he could not defend you either. He would be patronised by the grown men he ordered to stop, who always smiled politely at him and claimed that they were only being friendly. Aegon was worse—Aegon did not feel the least bit ashamed of his desires and repeatedly told Aemond that he would do the same to you if he were a real man. (Never, Aemond always thought viciously, never would he touch you like that, never would he make you cry like that.) He felt a vicious anger in those moments that he could barely contain. It was nearly as terrible as it was after he lost his eye and he realised that he could not defend his mother from either Rhaenyra’s manipulations or his father’s wroth.

While Aemond was weak though, you eventually began to retaliate. First by kicking his brother in the shin, then by throwing things at him. It already shamed Aemond that you had to do this for yourself, but what made it worse was that his mother punished you for defending yourself, lecturing that your family should always show unity before others. It was not so different from how she advised Aemond to tolerate his brother’s mistreatment of him in both public and private.

Aemond was never upset with Alicent over his own misgivings, but your hardship was something else altogether. It was easy to for Aemond to swallow public humiliation for himself, for he loved his queen mother and considered himself a loyal son—but for you?

He could not swallow it for you. He could not bear to let you suffer the indignity of being treated like an expensive cut of meat by the entirety of the court.

Aemond resolved to put an end to it when he was older—just as he resolved to put an end to his own torment, and just as he resolved to put an end to his mother’s worry. She had a precarious position with a King who did not love her or her sons, and you had a precarious position with the men at court who felt entitled to touch and insult you as they pleased. It was natural that he wanted to protect you both, and he could only do so if he gained power.

So power he did obtain. Aemond honed himself into a weapon, and he did not hesitate from using his blade’s edge. His presence around you became constant, imposing. Whenever men demanded your presence, he made sure to smile sharply and make it known that you were under his protection: “Return her to me once you are done,” he always commanded. Return her to me whole and unharmed, or else face my wrath if she is hurt, he always left unsaid.

When he was only newly a man, having seen ten-and-six name days, there were occasionally those who chose to defy him anyway. The most egregious was a visiting lord of the Stormlands who made it known that he found you quite comely. “No wonder kings and lords often go to Lys to find their concubines,” the lord had said, his eyes greedy upon you. “The women of their pillowhouses appear to be quite beautiful.”

You could not afford to offend him, for you could not afford to offend Otto Hightower. You only smiled stiffly, taking the hand he'd offered you. “Thank you, my lord,” you replied. “You flatter me too much. I was born in the Red Keep, and I was raised among the noble houses of Westeros. I am, in truth, as Westerosi as you.”

It did not matter to the Stormlands lord, just as it never seemed to matter to any other man. He took you to dance, and Aemond saw what he did to you, what you could not defend yourself from in the middle of a banquet hall filled with oppressive, heavy gazes. Stinking of Arbor gold and perfume, the older man openly grabbed you, pressed his body against yours, manhandled you like the Great Hall was a pleasure house and you were his preferred whore.

You were going to strike him, Aemond saw. Your brow twitched and your arm wound with tension, the way that it always did before you slapped Aegon. You were going to hit this lord and the consequences would be dire, for it would be a disgrace to House Targaryen for one of its ladies to conduct herself with such violence and inhospitality.

But Aemond was a man—and men are not so easily punished for violence.

He moved quickly, serpentlike. Not even Ser Criston, who had begun to cut a path toward you, could match Aemond’s pace. He placed a hand on the offending lord's shoulders, and suddenly the oaf was thrown like a ragdoll, body sliding across the marble floor as the crowd parted around him. Aemond’s boot crushed the chest of the drunken fool, pinning him down. Screams teared from several throats; an angry yell from the lord.

“How dare you,” he snapped. “Is this how House Targaryen comports itself to other nobles?”

Aemond only smiled. Steel flashed like lightning under the chandelier, and the edge of his blade pressed neatly against the wrist of the lord, drawing a thin, red line across his skin.

“House Targaryen,” Aemond declared loudly, “does not tolerate dishonourable behaviour toward any of its princesses or ladies. I imagine that your liege lord would not either, nor any of the other nobles in the Stormlands.”

He leaned down then, looking at the man as if he were a pest—a stain beneath his boot. “My justice is not a lenient one, ser,” Aemond murmured. A red glow pulsed on his left periphery, in the spot where he was blind: a phantom vision from his missing eye, the absence of which he felt everyday. “The next time you lay your hand on my lady, I shall cut it off myself.”

Ser Criston escorted the man out, and the lord departed from court the next day. Suddenly every lecher who had ever pestered you kept a wide berth from you, and every man you encountered was nothing but polite. You moved with so much more ease after that: less tense, less small, less sombre. You were no longer afraid of existing in the presence of others, Aemond observed. You even seemed to laugh and smile more openly, the sight of which he would never tire.

“I am grateful for what you did,” you said after the fact, “but I still think it was very extreme. Your mother was quite unhappy with you, you know, and your grandsire was displeased as well.”

“Alicent was indeed startled,” he admitted, “and the Hand prefers to keep his relationships cordial for the sake of his own plans, but this was the only way to ensure your safety. If men do not fear, then they do not obey. Sometimes it is necessary to demonstrate one’s might for the sake of order.”

You gave him a long look. “Such is the way that our ancient house thinks, but I am unsure that it is always true. Sometimes it helps to exercise self-restraint.”

Aemond’s mouth curled. He wondered if you knew how gentle your disposition could be, how naive you could be.

“My lady,” he replied, “I was exercising self-restraint. I was even being merciful. He kept his hands when he should have lost both, did he not?”

XI. THE STAR, REVERSED

Alicent seemed apprehensive on the night before the tournament, just as Aemond thought she would be.

He sought her out in Maegor’s Holdfast: one of the few places in the castle free from eavesdroppers by way of servants and listeners within its walls. If any whispers came from the tower, it was due to the folly of the people residing there, and Alicent would not err in this matter. She would stay tight-lipped to everyone but him—for he was his mother’ son, and he knew how to appeal to her weaknesses.

“You intend to wed my cousin to Ser Arthur Tyrell,” he said. His voice was soft, a statement rather than an accusation.

She swallowed. “Yes. The Tyrells are a great house—a match nearly unimaginable. And you met Ser Arthur: the man is dignified, handsome, and cares not for the girl’s origins. She will be treated well.”

“It may seem that way outwardly,” Aemond said, “but I must inform you of some devastating news I heard from Ser Criston.”

“News?”

“Yes. It seems that Ser Arthur is a raper—Ser Criston saw it for himself during his time in the Dornish Marches. Acts that were an affront to the Seven. Crimes to the Mother, Maiden, and Crone alike.”

Alicent was almost certainly aware that he had deduced she'd already known this. The flicker of doubt in her eyes and tension in her body gave it away. Still, she quickly donned a mask of surprise and revulsion. “A raper?”

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth turned down. “You must know, Mother—I worry for my cousin. You know how dear she is to me.” Everyone in the Red Keep seemed to know it except for you, Aemond thought dryly. “I would not be able to live with myself if I did not plead for you to stop this match.”

She breathed in deeply, tried her best to look reluctant and fretful. “I know how much this must worry you, but the matter has already been settled, Aemond. We cannot offend the Tyrells by dissolving this betrothal. But your cousin is quite resourceful—I am sure she will find a way to stay safe. Doubly so, since the Tyrells will not want to offend us.”

“But my grandsire has a greater wish not to offend them,” he said softly. “He needs their support when we claim the throne, and he intends to trade her body to secure it. It leaves her without any leverage.”

It was difficult to keep his voice gentle when the thought drove him mad. Always, always—people wished to buy and sell you, to treat you like a bed slave to be used. He would cut off the hands of every man in the Red Keep if it meant that no one would ever try that with you again. Sometimes, he even believed that he would cut off even those hands belonging to his own brother.

Alicent would never consent to such violence just to protect you, but she sounded earnest when she replied, “It is not easy for me to do this to your cousin.”

“I know it is not.” Aemond kept his face solemn. “It is already difficult for you to turn a blind eye to all those maids that fall victim to my brother’s impulses”—except it was not difficult for her at all, he thought, for Alicent staunchly needed her family to maintain the appearance of unity—“but I imagine it is unbearable to watch it happen to a girl you raised and cared for as your own. You were practically a mother to her.”

A subtle frown. “I am hardly anything like her mother.”

Are you so blind as to think you are not? he thought. For Alicent tried to teach you the values that she taught to her children, and she struck you for your disgraces as hard as she struck Aegon, and she told you to swallow your humiliations as often as she did Aemond. And she resented you as much as she resented all of them—for giving birth to them when she was still yet a child, for being saddled with the responsibility of raising them, for doing it all alone because his father did not love her nor any of them.

Aemond considered himself a loyal son, but he had no delusions about any of this. It was so obvious that not even Aegon was fool enough to miss this fact: his mother did not love either of the sons she had raised.

And just as equally, she did not love you.

“But even if I am not a mother to her,” Alicent mused, “you are right in thinking I mislike this. I find it unbearable… but sometimes we must do unbearable things to protect the people important to us.”

“Yes—truer words than any. Sometimes we must do the worst to protect the ones we love.”

His mother knew him well. He watched as Alicent’s eyes flickered with understanding. She took a deep breath and regarded him as if he was something to fear: a threat or a monster, rather than her own son. The moment was brief, but Aemond noticed it just as he had noticed it all the times before. He could not help the sharp knife of disappointment in his heart.

“What are you planning, Aemond?” she asked.

His mouth curled, and he did not answer her question. She likely already knew.

“Do not resent me for this, Mother. You have said it yourself: this marriage isn't something you want, either. Allow me to do what you cannot.” And let me free you from the guilt that will burden you should you condemn your daughter to this match that Grandsire has orchestrated.

Alicent gave him a long look. “You ask for me to allow it, but I cannot stop you.”

He hummed, still smiling—guiltless. For Aemond considered himself a loyal son, and that meant that he must do all the things that his mother was too gentle to know she should do. It meant that he must make men fear their family when she was not capable of it. It meant that he must show might when she was weak.

It meant that he must maintain order when no one else would.

“No,” he agreed. “You cannot.”

XII. KNIGHT OF CUPS

You were not fond of tourneys when you were younger.

Social pariahs do not do well at social events. While tournaments and feasts were a source of joy for everyone else, they—like every other celebration—only served to highlight how friendless you were. At first you tried to enjoy them with Helaena, but her mother eventually forbade it, so worried she was about your influence on her daughter. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. You then tried spending the time with Aemond, but Aegon was always made to sit near him, meaning that he also sat near you. It quickly became intolerable: Aegon’s hands would always curiously end up on your body—your lower back, your thighs, your bottom, and so on.

Aegon’s behaviour used to make you cry from the discomfort (privately, for you would have rather died than showed weakness before him), but after a time you grew tired of the crying and you started to kick him in retaliation. While this effectively kept his hands off you, it also meant that Alicent eventually also forbade her two sons from sitting near you. She could not have Aegon making a fool of himself during every tourney, yelping as you defended yourself.

In the end, you were left to sit alone in every tourney, which was simply uncomfortable. You loved a good joust as much as anyone else, but it was not nearly so fun when you had no one to spectate with or speak with between rounds. You would only sit there alone, with a favour that the septa had forced you to make, for which no one would ask, acutely aware of the gazes of other people. You always squirmed in your seat, trying not to think of the judgements being passed upon you: how lonely you were, how pathetic you were, how few people of noble standing would ever want your company except to touch you as if you were a bed slave like your mother.

All of this changed when Aemond grew up.

As soon as he was old enough to have the freedom, he began to accompany you during any festivities, sitting next to you in the stands. And when he began to join the listings, you always looked forward to seeing him cut down his opponents, knocking them brutally off their horses or making them yield to his sword. Even though you sat alone, you were never lonely, for Aemond spent the idle time between rounds with you, smiling in genuine amusement as you leaned over the barrier to jest and speak with him, once so deeply that you nearly fell over.

Eventually, you got into the habit of sitting in the front row, not hoping to bless anyone with a favour, but simply so you could speak more easily with him. You sat now in the same spot as always—but for once, you were not alone. Jacaerys was next to you, and Lucerys next to him. It was their first tournament in King’s Landing, and their excitement for it was evident.

You could not have asked for a better day for a tourney: the sky was a rich blue and the wind tempered the heat of the sun. The banners and shields all seemed so vivid in the bright daylight, stags and bears and towers and wolves emblazoned across them all. Jace and Luke recognized every house sigil, of course, but it did not stop you from pointing out every knight in the tiltyard. You gave a particular pause to the knight that carried a green shield blooming with a golden flower. “My betrothed,” you said. “Ser Arthur is apparently quite the splendid knight.”

“Ah.” Jacaerys’ expression was unreadable, his tone neutral. “I'll need to keep an eye on him.” He glanced down at the favour on your lap: a ring of golden blossoms with a green silk ribbon woven through it, obviously inspired by the Tyrell coat-of-arms. “Did you prepare that for him?”

You nodded. “No one ever asks me for my favour, so I stopped making them long ago, but I made one this time in case he thinks to request it in courtship. It was the Queen’s recommendation.”

“A good one,” Jace admitted, though he looked neither happy nor approving. “What do you think are the chances that he’ll win the crown of love and beauty for you?”

“None at all, I hope. I’ve bet quite a bit of coin on Aemond,” you said neatly. “Tyland Lannister will lose a great deal of money today.”

Jace’s mouth was slanted with something that might have been amusement. “Are you always so confident in my uncle’s victories?”

“Well, he does always win,” you replied, grinning.

“So I've heard,” he said, sounding exasperated, and you had to stop yourself from feeling embarrassed. Over the years, you had mentioned occasionally in your letters about how much time Aemond put into training, and which tourneys he had won, and all the things you were learning about warfare from him. You did not think that Jacaerys would have minded it, but he currently looked distinctly sour.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's all right.” He studied the yard carefully. “I look forward to seeing what sort of fighter my uncle has become.”

His dark gaze landed upon Aemond then, a silhouette of night-black armour chased with gold. His helm was off, revealing his silver hair and sharply carved features. You did not often think about how handsome your cousin was, and typically you thought of him too frightening to be gallant, but you could not ignore it today: Aemond Targaryen was a very beautiful man. You had to remind yourself that he was Alicent Hightower’s son, which was a fact that never failed to stop you from admiring him. If ever you should lose your wits and find yourself besotted with Aemond, the Queen would instantly banish you from the capital. Though Aemond, himself, was far too ambitious to enter a marriage as politically useless as yours would be.

Rather than lingering on your undesirability, you instead turned your focus to the two knights about to joust, a Tarth and a Dondarrion. You'd seen both the year before, and you were unsurprised when the Dondarrion brutally unseated the former. Every house of the Dornish Marches had fierce warriors forged by true battle, and Dondarrion was no exception. The nobles around you clapped politely; the smallfolk in the commons cheered.

More rounds. Caron against Frey, then Tully against Stokeworth, then Dayne against Lannister. Then, finally—Aemond Targaryen.

As a prince, Aemond was allowed to choose his opponents. Never one to be craven, he stopped and pointed his lance at the knight carrying a brown shield with three stalks of wheat: the emblem of House Selmy of the Dornish Marches. Their knights were on par with the Daynes, and just as battle-hardened.

Though Aemond was skilled, he had never seen war unlike his opponent, and you could not help but feel anxious as you watched him guide his courser into the lane. He was starting out with Ser Selmy on his left. No matter how many times you watched Aemond joust, you always felt a sense of apprehension about his blind side. You did not know how he saw without his missing eye; you only knew how much he struggled after losing it, training with Ser Criston day and night, determined to regain his balance and aim, determined to take back what he'd lost…

Both warriors readied themselves. Selmy did not hold his reins, but Aemond did, so certain of his victory. Their lances were in hand, the ends rounded but no less dangerous.

The horses cried as they began.

Your heart pounded nearly as loud as the hooves beating against the ground. They race past one another and their weapons glanced against steel: Aemond’s lance on Selmy’s shield, splintering and bursting on contact; Selmy’s on Aemond’s arm. Neither faltered. As soon as your cousin was given a new lance, they resumed, with Selmy now charging on Aemond's right.

This time, Aemond’s lance crashed right into Selmy’s neck, just beneath his chin. The knight’s destrier screamed, nearly toppling over as Selmy was thrown off. The commons roared with delight, while all the nobles clapped politely—except for you. You could not help but stand on your feet and cheer in a distinctly undignified manner. When you looked down, Jace was studying you with amusement, and you could only grin.

Aemond, as always, rode over to where you sat. He looked up at you, mouth curled into a satisfied smile. You waved at him, practically hanging over the edge of the balcony.

“Well done, my Prince!” you exclaimed. “A splendid show as always! And against such a fearsome opponent, too!”

“Thank you, my lady, but you need not congratulate me yet. Other opponents equally fierce await me.”

“And you will best them as well,” you shouted, “for I have a great number of gold dragons staked on you! You are not allowed to lose!”

Aemond seemed amused. “If my lady wishes for my victory, then I would ask her for her help.”

You gave him a quizzical look. “My help?”

He held out a hand. “Your favour.”

You stared at him.

The nobles around you went quiet. You could feel the gazes of Queen Alicent and the Hand boring into you. Aemond One-Eye had never once asked a lady for her favour. To think that he was now asking for it—and asking it of you, a woman betrothed to another man—was pure scandal.

You glanced at Ser Arthur, whose gaze on Aemond was nearly piercing. This could only be part of Aemond’s play, you determined—an attempt at humiliation, and perhaps a feigned declaration of his intent to court you? The Tyrells could hardly ignore a Targaryen prince competing with their offer, even if he was doing it without the consent of his queen mother. If Aemond challenged Ser Arthur for your hand, it would complicate matters for them. You were unsure, though, if such a complication would deter them.

But Aemond told you to play along, so play along you did. You tossed at him your ring of blossoms and ribbon, and felt something in your chest twisting oddly as he caught them. No one had ever asked you for your favour before, and even though Aemond was doing it only as a ploy, it still made your heart pound to see someone wear your flowers.

“I don't imagine Ser Arthur will be happy about that,” Jace remarked after you sat down.

“Aemond is trying to slight the Tyrells.”

“I figured. Bold of him.”

“As is his disposition.” You settled back into your seat, trying to seem normal. “Well, now he has to win. I’ve bet a hundred gold dragons and my favour on him.”

“A hundred gold dragons?”

“I have inherited enough money to own half the city of Lys. A hundred gold dragons is nothing, especially when I will double it. A Lannister always pays his debts, you know.”

“You seem to have your father’s gift for making coin.”

“I only know when to hedge my bets.”

You both went quiet as several more rounds of jousting occurred. Ser Arthur was as fierce as the whispers told; he knocked a knight of Swann clean off his destrier, and even unhorsed the Dondarrion. Aemond eventually rode against Dayne and sent the great warrior crashing into the stands. They drew swords following the unhorsing, steel dancing and clashing violently. Aemond eventually forced the Marcher knight to yield.

The next time Aemond rode, he chose Ser Arthur for his opponent.

The commons cheered raucously, and every eye in the audience was heavy upon them. All throughout the stands, you heard people making their bets, and you sent Tyland Lannister a smile in reminder of your own. All the while, the two frontrunners for the tournament positioned themselves on opposite ends of the tiltyard. Ser Arthur was on Aemond’s left, you noticed, and your heart raced as the horses galloped.

Ser Arthur was formidable, and while Aemond was renowned for his skill, all the knights he'd chosen had still challenged him. He required two, three rounds to unseat most of them. Everyone expected a fight, an equal match of several rounds, perhaps even a swordfight—

But in a single, savage motion, Aemond’s lance speared right through Ser Arthur’s neck.

It took several moments for people to realise what had happened. Once they did, chaos gripped the crowd. Deaths happened occasionally during tourneys, but typically during melees, for the jousting lances were intentionally designed not to kill. And rarely was a death so stunning nor swift. Several women screamed at the sight of the bloodied lance, at the corpse that was falling from its horse; many of the men roared and cheered. Across the stands, you noticed Lady Tyrell sitting still and quiet.

You did not react yourself. You only sat there, numb with disbelief. You could think only of one thing:

“Did”—you swallowed thickly—“H-how did he do that? Was that on purpose?”

“I don't know,” Luke replied, voice trembling, but Jace sounded confident when he replied, “No. It was an accident.”

You turned to him. “How are you so certain?”

He seemed stoic when he replied—not cold or cruel, but solemn. Dignified in the face of death. “Aemond has a habit of aiming for the upper chest or neck when he jousts,” he explained. “You saw it for yourself, didn't you, with that knight of House Selmy? It is a brutal move, but not fatal. The gorget protects the opponent. But”—Jace frowned—“did you see the gorget on Ser Arthur? It wasn’t fastened correctly.”

You did not know what a gorget was or how one would see that it was loose, but you trusted Jace. “And Aemond would not have noticed?”

Jacaerys looked troubled. “I might have. But Ser Arthur was on his left…”

Aemond’s blind side, you realised.

“Then,” you asked, “who exactly is to blame?”

“I did not think the day would ever come that I would defend my uncle, but I don't believe that Aemond is at fault. It would be Ser Arthur’s squire, if anyone were to be held accountable—though such blunders are not unusual for an inexperienced squire. It was strange that Ser Arthur himself did not notice. He is—was—an experienced knight. He should know how his armour feels.”

“Aemond goaded Ser Arthur to anger,” you said, thinking not only of the favour, but their incensed conversation the night before, “so he was likely too distracted to notice. People are stupid when they're angered.”

The thought unsettled you, but Jace seemed unbothered. “You're speaking true. That is precisely why anyone would try to anger their foes before a battle—a stupid opponent is a weak one. It is not foul play that Aemond did so.” He gave you a pitying look. “Still, this is a tragedy. I am sorry for the loss of your betrothed.”

“You need not be,” you said, and you nearly added I had no desire to marry a raper anyway, until you remembered that you were in a crowd. “It is no one's fault, as you said,” you recovered. “I cannot blame anyone. I only mourn for Ser Arthur and his family.”

You tried not to wince as you remembered them. It was an accident, Jace had explained—but the death of a Tyrell son at the hands of a Targaryen prince would still be cause for strife and offence. You dreaded the consequences, and they loomed over you for the rest of the jousts.

The crowd, however, moved quickly past Ser Arthur’s tragedy. They cheered as the last several rounds finished, and by the time Aemond Targaryen unhorsed his final opponent, it was as if he had not just killed a knight. The commons cheered for him raucously, the nobles clapped and nodded in approval. It felt like you were alone in your discomfort—the only one suspicious of the incident.

You were so deep in your musings that you nearly did not realise it when Aemond was given his crown of winter roses to bequeath upon his chosen queen. The crowd murmured in curiosity as he drew toward them, though you watched almost with boredom. Aemond was utterly disinterested in the pageantry of tournaments, and nearly skipped the crowning the first time he won one. It was only at the urging of the crowd that he crowned his sister in his first year, then his mother in the next—with the least enthusiasm possible both times. Doubtlessly, he would crown one of them again.

You almost thought he made a mistake when he stopped in front of you.

“Who else should I crown as the queen of love and beauty,” he declared, a nearly roguish smile on his face, “other than my lady cousin?”

Although the crowd gasped in equal parts shock and delight, you only stared at him, aghast. “Me?”

He raised a brow. “Are you so surprised? You are the loveliest and most beautiful here to my eye, my lady. The title suits you well.”

You were stunned. Dumbstruck. You could not match this bold flattery to the Aemond you knew: a man who focused only on duty and politics, and who seemed utterly dispassionate about both marriage and women. Staring at the man before you, you wondered if he had been replaced by a changeling—or perhaps he had been possessed by some kind of demon?

But where you were confused, the younger girls around you seemed only excited. Cheers and giggles erupted around you. Ladies who had never in their life wanted to speak with you were now suddenly enamoured with you—or perhaps enamoured with Prince Aemond, who was known for his cold behaviour and complete disinterest in matters of courtly love. But right now Aemond was the very image of a gallant prince rather than a terrifying killer, and all the girls around you must have been excited by it.

Several of them urged you forward:

“Go on, my lady! Go on!”

“You can't turn down a prince!”

“Especially not Prince Aemond, of all people!”

“Who knew he was such a romantic!”

“Who knew! He must be serious in his intent to court you, my lady!”

“Yes, yes—he is always seen with you, is he not? Oh, I know the whispers were false, but he must truly wish to be your lover!”

“It is as they say, my lady. He wishes so badly to crown you, just see how he is looking at you! Do not keep him waiting!”

Never had you gotten so much approval from strangers. It was as foreign and unfamiliar as the experience of receiving attention from a man that was not absolutely repulsive and violating. You had never once imagined in your life that someone would ever want to crown you at a tournament or display such gallantry toward you, and it deeply affected you. Rather than feeling the butterflies of a newly discovered love, however, you were so overwhelmed that you only wanted to throw up.

Giving Jace a mildly terrified expression, you made your way down the stands. You tried not to look at Queen Alicent as you did, trying to avoid what you were sure was a gaze of complete wrath.

When you were finally on the tiltyard, facing Aemond, he dismounted from his courser. Even standing before him, you were convinced that he was confused, that this was some kind of error, that he was unwell or mad or had some other lady cousin you did not know of. Nevertheless, he laid the crown of roses upon your head, its blooms so blue and rare that the crowd exclaimed at their beauty.

Even though the masses were unrepentant in their delight, you could only give Aemond a blank look.

“What are you doing?” you asked in Valyrian, and he replied in kind.

“Courting you—was that not obvious?”

“Of course it is obvious. I am asking why.”

“It will be difficult for another house to request your hand if it means angering the Targaryen prince who rides the largest dragon in the world.” He looked self-satisfied. “Our family is known for madness, after all. People generally do not want to provoke it in us.”

You felt a headache coming on, disbelieving that this was his brilliant plan. And it still remained to be seen whether he had meant to kill Ser Arthur—for despite Jace’s staunch belief in his uncle’s innocence, the thorns upon your head led you to doubt him.

“You are mad for doing this, cousin,” you said.

“Perhaps. But have I not solved the problem of your betrothal?”

“For now. But we will be forced into this ruse of courtship, and once we stop, we will once again face the same problem.”

He smiled. He took your hand into his, and even though this was not his first time doing this, you were still startled when he pressed his lips to your knuckle. This time, your heart pounded in reaction and there was a mildly concerning flutter in your stomach.

Aemond replied only once he returned your hand to you, his expression as amused as it was cunning.

“Why need we ever stop?”

END PART V

hiii thank you for reading <3 i hope everyone enjoyed aemond's freak behaviour in this!

now that this chapter is out of the way, I would like to discuss a major shortcoming of this story. I did not have the foresight to write the earlier chapters in a way that expanded on the psychic damage that years of gendered microaggressions and sexual harassment has had on the reader. it was something I didn't want to focus on because I just wanted to have fun writing about some court politics and romance lol, but I've realised that it's going to play a very big role in the future of this fic (rip).

I've tried to introduce some of it here through aemond's pov, but I do want to emphasize how much of an influence it has had on the reader's mentality. it actually has even passively influenced the narrative even though I was actively trying to avoid writing about it - for instance, it's partly why she has zero expectations for ever having a romance, why she has no romantic/sexual experiences even though she gets a lot of attention, why she is very pragmatic about marriage, why she has no plans to have sex beyond a purely political marriage, etc... the trauma response does run even deeper than all of that though!

anyhow - thanks again for reading! please let me know if you enjoyed this. reblogs are greatly appreciated too! ^^

[thatfreshi]

Hi! Can I request a story about Tav having trouble fighting cause Astarion just fed on her and so he gets worried and protective ofc. Maybe they were ambushed at camp or something? Thank you so much for your work! I really like how you write Astarion

Tw - animal attack, lots of gore, themes of death

Recommended Song: Seek and Destroy - SZA

Against better judgment, you let Astarion feed on you almost every night. It's just one of those things, a sacrifice you make, an act of love. After decades of disrespect, scavenging for next to nothing, you thought it'd be nice for him to have something better than animals. While he always insists it isn't necessary, he never passes you up on the offer. A ritual before bed every night, like a lover's embrace, you've come to adore the feeling of his teeth.

This evening in particular, he took quite a bit. You don't mind, considering you go to bed almost right after. Light-headed, woozy, you're wrapped up in his arms.

"Thank you darling."

His embrace almost feels warm when you're this drained. You almost drift off, but he keeps you awake.

"Tav, you need to eat something first."

You groan, absolutely exhausted, trying to keep him in the bedroll.

"Nooo, I'll just do it tomorrow."

He smiles, moving your hair out of your eyes.

"That's not how it works my sweet. Now, let me get up so I can-"

Goblin war drums. The sound of the percussive rhythms bouncing off all the trees, they're not far off, and Astarion knows they're on the way. Karlach starts making her way to every tent, telling your companions to get their asses in gear.

"Tav, Astarion, let's go!"

"Shit."

Astarion whispers to himself. You're still not fully there, in and out of sleep.

"What's going on?"

Double vision, you see two of your vampire lover get up and start rummaging around for his daggers.

"Just- just stay here Tav. It's alright."

You try to rub at your eyes, desperately wanting to figure out what's going on. Before you can ask again, he's gone, and you hear more war drums outside. You quickly realize it's goblins. They must've found where you've been hiding, but your head is still spinning. Trying to get up and grab your blade, you almost fall back to the ground. Steadying yourself for a moment, you try your best to listen to what's going on outside. It sounds deadly, metal, screams. You hear Shadowheart casting left and right.

When you manage to stumble out of the tent, you're tackled by one of their dogs, or whatever wretched things they are. A scream rips out of your throat, trying to hold the thing off. It bites rabidly at your arm, leaving numerous gashes, until it's thrown off of you and stabbed to death, relentlessly.

"Gods damnit, I told you to stay in the tent Tav!"

You're too worried about your arm throbbing in pain to care about the validity of his argument. He's angry, and perhaps both of you aren't entirely certain why. It's your dominant arm, you can barely move it. Astarion goes to wrap your arm, but is quickly overpowered by the numbers again. They must've sent a large party after the lot of you. Halsin and Shadowheart are running out of magic, already drained. It's bad, but it'll end soon. With a couple more fights and a thunderwave from Gale, the rest of the goblins scurry off, knowing they're fighting a losing battle. Astarion doesn't even stop to loot their corpses, running to your side.

"You're a fucking idiot Tav, you know that?"

Gods, he could sound so mean when he wanted to. You know he says those things out of fear, but they still hurt. Despite how angry he is, he starts ripping pieces of cloth from his shirt, wrapping your arm, which is bleeding far too fast. Shadowheart and Halsin come over to supervise, both out of arcana until they get some rest.

"Yes, the two of you standing over my shoulder is quite helpful. Might as well cheer me on while you're at it!"

His movements are ragged, furious, only making your arm hurt more than it does. He's lost though, somewhere in his head, unable to hear the cries of pain as he's wrapping your arm. You're even more lost than before, your blood leaving rapidly.

"Aster, I-"

"Hush."

He then realizes you were going to tell him you were about to pass out, because you almost immediately fall over.

"Damnit!"

He holds you in his arms, your limb still not fully wrapped.

"If the two of you want to be helpful, get me some actual bandages instead of gawking at me!"

Sure, Astarion hates doing things that require hard work, but he knows how. How many times did he have to do something like this to himself, when no one was there to help wrap his wounds? Shadowheart quickly returns with all of the bandage wraps she has.

"We have to clean it or it'll get infected."

"Well, Shadowheart, I don't know how you think you're going to clean it if Tav bleeds to death."

The two healers decide it's best if he handles this himself. While he obsessively wraps your arm, the rest of the camp watches on, knowing he's too possessive to let them help. He doesn't trust them like he trusts you.

And I trusted you to stay put.

There's no way to give you more blood, not in a way that would work for you. For a moment, he simply thinks that he'll feed you some of his blood, and then he remembers. All he can do is hope you retained enough, that he didn't preemptively kill you by feeding on you tonight. Your pulse is still going, but it's slow, and you're paler than usual.

Astarion begins to think to himself, asking why he ever fell in love, why he ever let himself think twice about you. It's easy to play the game when you have nothing to lose. Second thoughts, always, he's always thinking for two people now. It's been his survival, for as long as he can remember, and now you're lodged in his brain.

"Damn you Tav, I can't do this. I can't lose you like this."

He begins to sob as he holds you, still unconscious. This beckons Gale to come over, often a voice of reason for the vampire.

"You've done all you can. Perhaps we should get Tav back inside? Away from the elements?"

Astarion is too distraught to argue, helping Gale carry you back into the tent.

"The second Shadowheart is awake, she'll be back to check on Tav."

"Yeah, if they don't die from blood loss in the middle of the night."

Gale simply sighs, knowing there's no point in fighting with him. He leaves your pale lover to wallow in his misery. Hours pass, you're still clinging on, and Astarion watches over you, panicking every time he can't see your chest rise and fall, constantly checking your pulse. You're cold, your heartbeat dangerously slow, and he keeps wracking his brain about what else he could possibly do. But there's nothing, only fate, only the gods. He sadly chuckles to himself at the thought of even trying to pray, knowing there's no higher power out there, at least one that cares about him.

"W... what are you... laughing at?"

You ask weakly, oblivious to the horrific stress he's been through. Astarion whips around quickly, wondering if perhaps he's imagining your voice. When he sees your eyes fluttering, lost somewhere between dreams and reality, he rushes to your side.

"Oh gods Tav... you- you really scared me there."

He tries to hold back tears, failing miserably. You try to speak again, but groan in pain as the feeling in your arm starts to come back.

"I know, I know it hurts. It's okay my darling, you'll be alright."

He begins fully sobbing, and you have no idea why, without being awake enough to comprehend the situation. Astarion always tries to be strong when you're weak, but watching you teeter on the line between life and death, it was simply too much to bear.

"You can't pull that shit, ever again my love, I'm so serious. I know I'm normally quite serious, but ever more so right now."

Then, a joyful, tiny laugh. Happiness. Happy that you're alive. The memories of the fight slowly start coming back, the beast that ripped up your arm, Astarion yelling.

"Aster...?"

"Yes my dear?"

You start to tear up a little, still a tad delirious.

"I'm sorry."

And then remembers as well, the things he said, the tone he spoke to you in.

"No, no my love I'm sorry. You weren't yourself, I was being entirely unreasonable. I just..."

He almost can't finish his sentence.

"I'm just happy you're okay. That's enough for me."

Your lover slowly and carefully lays down beside you, pulling you into him, being sure not to let your wounded arm drag on the ground. He holds you for a long time, until Shadowheart wakes at dawn, fully rested and ready to fix your wounds. Astarion vows silently that he'll never let it come that close, ever again.