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fioiswriting · 1 year ago

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Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread.

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness.

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again.

Haven't you given enough?

Could they not show you mercy?

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers.

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further.

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too.

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please."

And you know he never begs.

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity.

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals.

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket.

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel.

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white.

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire.

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact.

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum.

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath.

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity.

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well.

You can't stop your body from aching for him.

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours.

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes.

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant.

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood.

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed.

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion.

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him.

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass?

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands?

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite.

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons.

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down.

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty.

Now you are plunged into doubt.

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair.

"What are we going to do now?"

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself.

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream.

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost.

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust.

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two?

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance.

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words.

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it.

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was.

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier.

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor."

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice.

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark.

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you.

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished?

You don't know, but you accept the risk.

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing.

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly.

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

"And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead.

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences.

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything.

Where you were that night when you didn't come home.

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you.

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support.

You know it wasn't his fault.

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder.

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you.

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door.

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time.

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her.

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up.

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again.

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him.

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course.

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time.

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired.

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe.

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks.

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face.

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too.

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt.

You know he is there.

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him.

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried.

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world.

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward.

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him.

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family.

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this.

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate.

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago.

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?"

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed.

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence.

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old.

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach.

You no longer blame yourself.

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago.

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

"This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there.

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought.

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away.

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory.

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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joelmama · 2 years ago

Text

The Fisherman's Wife | Oneshot

no-outbreak!AU, no-Ellie!AU (😞), (basically it's pretty much devoid of anything canon, I'm sorry 😭 I just was desperate to see Joel as a fisherman.)(also don't ask what time-period this is set in i have no clue)

pairing: fisherman!Joel, soft!Joel x afab!fem!Reader content: arranged marriage, angst, fluff, smut. summary: The free-spirited Reader is arranged to marry a divorced Fisherman named Joel Miller. And although she protested this at first, she soon wonders if maybe she could be happy with her new husband. word count: 28.2k (yeesh) warnings: NSFW 18+ - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. mentions of death, age-gap (reader is 27, Joel is 48), smut - oral (f receiving and m recieving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, reader is inexperienced (meaning loss of virginity), lovesick Joel, and not beta'd! (if i left anything out please let me know :))

(oh and an obscene use of Y/N bc i write in third person 😩)

Ao3 Link

A/N: Hiii~!!! so usually I write fics for a completely different realm of content. but I haven't been able to continue my most recent fic bc this idea has been stuck in my mind for fricken weeks!!! and it wouldn't get out of my head until i actually wrote it down. TLOU has just been on my brain constantly these days i guess 🙄 (🥰). anyways i thought i'd write it, post it here, and then disappear back into my usual corner of the internet, never to be seen again 😈. i hope you enjoy my story!! ILY <3

Far out from the rainy coast of the Pacific Northwest, sat a small island, always caught in the throes of an aimless sea. It was called the Isle of Ardor. Named after the burning passion of love. It was a peculiar name for the island, as it was always embedded within dark, curling swirls of stormy rain clouds; As well as the sour emotions that came with the storm— provided, of course, by the residents of this Isle. So the island was often left without the feeling of love. Neglected, for lack of any other words. Far from the symbol of love that was known by the world.

Sure, there was the love that was bestowed by marriage, when a man first sets his sight on his arranged lover dressed in white. Or even love passed between a parent and a child, when a mother first hears the first laugh that tumbles out of her sweet childs lips. Or the fumbling platonic love that creates itself in whispered secrets during sleepovers between friends. But none of it was burning. None of it was passionate. It was a simple form of love. A perfect representation of the simple life that was often led on the Isle of Ardor. Despite its exciting name.

A more fitting name would perhaps be something more simple. Unembellished. Basic. Ordinary. Sturdy. Something to match the uniform march of the adults in this town, as they traveled along the cobblestone roads in early morning light. Headed towards their humdrum jobs that kept the economy of this island churning like a slow cog in the machine. Meanwhile, the children were taught about this monotonous life in school. Sat rigid in their seats, the stiff collar of their uniform scratching at their necks. Forced to listen, forced to learn that there was only one path for them to take. All signs pointed, roads led and everything suggested that these children— Just as their parents, and their grandparents— were destined for a life of simplicity.

It was the exact opposite of what Y/N wanted. She abhorred the idea of simple. She wanted excitement. Yearned for passion. Craved the burn of love that left scars on your heart and bruises on your lips.

Her wants and desperate needs were proven in the way she grew up. There wasn’t a day that went by where she wouldn’t step out of line. Her wrists would be sore from the snap of her teacher's ruler. Her ears would grow tired of the constant reprimand from her father. And her knees would bleed freely from the times she would escape the horrid monotony of life, out into the nature beyond. But the island was small, and her feet could only take her so far, so she would always easily be caught. She would return home with her sore wrists, tired ears and bloody knees, and sit by her bedroom window, hoping for something greater to take her away.

It never came.

Eventually, she grew older. She matured, and she learned how to stay in line. For the most part. But as she aged, her tongue grew sharper with wit, and she soon often got in trouble for using words that could rival a sailor’s. By the time she was of marriageable age, no one on the island wanted anything to do with her. This all of course was to the dismay of her father. Who at this point thought that he would never be rid of his rambunctious daughter.

He loved her with all of his beating heart, of course. But on the Isle of Ardor, all fathers wanted the same thing for their daughters. By the age of eighteen, they wanted their girls to find a satisfactory suitor to take care of them so that the fathers didn't have to worry as they faded into their old age.

By now, all of Y/N’s classmates were already married. While at the age of twenty-seven due to her wild nature, no one had brought any offers to their household for her hand in marriage. Her father grew weaker and weaker as worry settled into his bones.

Y/N on the other hand was ecstatic by her lack of prospects. Being a spinster meant she didn’t have to worry about some silly husband, wife or partner she didn’t truly care about. If people thought she was crazy? So be it. It was all worth it for the price of her freedom.

And now as she had no other burden brought on by school or a job, she would oftentimes be found by the raging ocean. Her toes deep in the blackened sand, skin salted by the sea and her hair tangled by the mischievous winds. And this is exactly where she was the minute she found out about the news that would tear her world apart.

Her father had found her a suitor.

The news was brought to her by the young messenger boy who would carry the most recent word of mouth with him on his rusty bicycle. Her father had flagged him down, offering a bill or two to find his daughter and bring her home immediately to meet the man she was destined to marry.

The poor boy. He didn’t deserve to be met with the rage of a mad woman, but that was what he stumbled across when the news of her arranged marriage escaped from between his lips. At the sight, he suddenly understood why she was considered the town spinster. She was angered and chaotic, screaming into the wind when his words finally registered. She looked like a feral animal, the way she gnashed her teeth, yelling about the unfairness of it all.

Him being no older than ten years old, couldn’t really understand why she was so upset about this news. She mumbled a few things— Something about her loss of freedom and self expression. But it was all very strange. He was used to the usual reaction from young women whenever they heard the news of their engagement. They were always… ecstatic. Squealing like pigs as they clutched onto their nearest friend, family member or even just a stranger. Or if they were unhappy with the prospect of marriage— just as Y/N was now— they were always able to hold their tongue until they were alone.

Her reaction was all just very… strange. Very different.

And different, it was. She now sat, stewing in her anger, refusing to even spare a glance towards her future husband.

A celebratory dinner, made carefully and happily by her aunt, sat on the wooden table stretched between them. It was all the distance she needed to ignore the man she was meant to be betrothed to. But even though she could avert her gaze, there was no getting past listening in on the conversation that flitted between this man and her family members.

She had learned that he lived on the other side of the island. So now it made sense that she didn’t recognize his surname when the messenger boy first told it to her. She barely got to know the names of her neighbors, let alone those on the windward side.

He was known as Joel Miller, only learning his first name when her father greeted him at the beginning of the evening, with a sturdy handshake at their front door, the casual name falling from his tongue as they exchanged niceties. As she stood behind her father’s shoulder, she refused to look at him even then, her eyes steady on the toes of her boots.

Now at the table, the topic of his occupation also arose during the conversation. He spoke of his adventures out at sea, and what he encountered in his life as a fisherman.

Typical. A fisherman. The most sought out job on this island as they were mainly considered as gods since they provided the island with prosperous amounts of food and good fortune. The people that held the title of ‘fishermen’ were always the most sought after when it came to marriage. Y/N wondered how her father was able to find a man like that for her.

But as the dinner went on, the secret was soon revealed. Because she soon learned that his wife had left him. Many years ago, late in the night as a stowaway on a cargo ship headed towards the mainland. The only thing worse than a spinster was a man whose wife had left him. And now the puzzle pieces were fitting together.

They were a match made in heaven. The crazy woman and the unwanted man.

Y/N felt nothing but sympathy for his first wife. Surely, she was just the same as she. The only reason a woman would leave her partner was if she yearned for freedom beyond the tassels of marriage. Maybe eventually, Y/N would make the score two for two. Leave him behind just as his first wife did. The thought brought an overwhelming onslaught of anticipation that burned within the girl's core.

But she had to be patient. She couldn’t just leave him when all eyes were narrowed in on their engagement. The whispers on the street all revolved around her, and how she was finally able to snag a man after all these years. Even more speculation was offered when they found out who the man was. Apparently these two were a circus act around the Isle of Ardor. A horrific accident that none of the residents could tear their eyes from.

Maybe that’s why their wedding was so crowded.

A few weeks had past, and she had yet to grant the man with her gaze. All she knew of his looks was the quick glimpse of silver she saw scattered amongst the brown in his hair, and the hard set of his jawline, clenched in an anger that seemed to always be present. So as she walked down the aisle, her fingers clenched around a wilting bouquet of daisies, she kept her eyes pointed towards the horizon that lingered in the distance.

Traditional Ardorian weddings were always held in the same place. On the cliffside, hanging over the tempestuous sea that always danced near the shores of the Isle. The same clergyman, performed the same ceremony, spoke the same gentle words every single time. She has been to countless versions of this very same wedding throughout the duration of her life. Though, she never thought that it would be her who was forced to stand under the wedding arch. Especially in her late-mothers wedding gown, in front of the entirety of the small town that sat on the coast of Ardor.

The most surprising part of it all was when she exchanged her ‘I do’s’ effortlessly and without any complaint.

Maybe that was what also surprised most of the wedding-goers, as they began to whisper to one another. The crowd seemed disappointed, almost as if they expected a spectacle from the woman they deemed a recluse. From the rumors they’ve already heard through the grapevine, maybe they were expecting her to grow reckless with abandon. To stomp her feet and scream out to the gods. So when they were met with this quiet, timid version of the woman, who spoke her vows with no contradiction, they all stood and left the wedding. Completely missing out on the part when the man was told to kiss his bride. Which he didn’t even do.

A very strange wedding indeed.

It all came to a head when the man called Joel finally brought his new wife towards the threshold of their (used) marital home. It was a few hours after the ceremony, and usually this part of the evening was paired with bright, eager smiles as newly-weds were finally allowed to consummate their love. However, as we already know with this couple, the night went very differently than the norm that is usually presented.

As soon as he had unlocked the door for his established home, the woman stormed through the front entrance, her eyes darting around each corner as she took in each aspect of her new home. Trying to find something to dislike. But it was an agreeable home. Comfortable and cluttered with trinkets that must’ve meant a great deal to the man. It was… interesting. So after finding nothing she could truly complain about, and be the disastrous wife she planned to be, she whipped towards him in an unexpected flurry, her arms folding across her chest.

Her eyes finally landed on him for the very first time. And she stilled.

He was older. Much older. But she already knew that from the information she learned from her father. What she didn’t know was how good age looked on the man. He was handsome... And so much larger than she had thought. His shoulders were wide, emphasized as he stood in the doorway. His hands looked strong and calloused, obviously capable of working against the aggression brought forth by an unforgiving sea.

Then there were the features she had only caught glimpses of, but yet she was overly familiar with— due to the flashes of her memory that blared across the dark of her eyelids whenever she tried to sleep. His brown curls were unruly across his forehead, despite his attempt to manage them with gel, most likely trying to look put together for the wedding. They were painted with faint hues of gray, evidence of the twenty-some years he had against her.

Her eyes tugged towards his familiar jawline. Strong— just as she remembered. But it wasn’t clenched in anger, or anything else of the sorts. His features were molded in a form that looked to be like curiosity. Maybe this was the first real look he had of her as well…

That’s when she met the deep brown irises of his eyes. The sight of which was a drastic contrast of anything else she had known of him. They were almost… warm and forgiving, bordered by the faint outline of crows feet, formed over the years. His gaze was soft in the way he considered her features and dragged over the curves of her body. So different from the harsh lines of the rest of his body.

She held her arms tighter against her form. Feeling vulnerable under his stare.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to happen…” Y/N finally spoke the first words she ever said to the man who was considered to be her husband, “But I can assure you that it’s not what you’re thinking.”

The man simply stared at her, his eyebrows raising at her words. She took a step back as he took a step inside, but felt foolish as he only did so to turn around and shut the front door behind him. The familiar sea breeze now lost to them.

When he turned back around, he spoke the first words he ever said to the woman who was considered to be his wife.

“I wasn’t expectin’ anything.” He replied, his sentence simple and his accent faded.

She had heard his voice before. When he was speaking to her father and reciting his vows. But now that it was directed towards her, it finally dawned on her how deep it was. How it rumbled through his chest in such a way that it settled deep within Y/N’s bones.

She was perturbed by the sensation. So much so that her next argument was lost on her tongue.

“Follow me.” He said, in the absence of her words.

Since there wasn’t much left to do, she did just that. The small house shifted under the weight of their footfalls as they ascended up the creaky stairs. Y/N’s eyes were trained on the sight of his broad back, taking up so much space as he ventured through the hallways of this two-story home.

Her eyes were soon torn away from his form as she took in the decor of the rest of his— their house. It matched what she saw downstairs. Everything was nautical themed, something common within the homes that littered this island. But the way this house was decorated was different. Instead of the manufactured ocean aesthetic that Y/N was used to, everything about this house was… natural. The way she felt in this house felt exactly how she felt on the beaches that ringed around this tiny island. She never thought she’d ever meet anyone who was able to capture the essence of the natural world so effortlessly. She began to soften, similar to what she felt when she saw that look in his brown eyes.

She squared her shoulders against the thought, forcing her resolve back to the forefront of her mind. This was the last place she wanted to be. She had to remind herself of that.

“This is your room.” Joel muttered in that deep voice of his, stopping at a door sat at the end of the hall. His large hand twisting the golden doorknob, it swung open as he pushed against the wood.

“My room?” Y/N questioned, as she stood on her tiptoes, staring into the confines that were now revealed from over Joel’s shoulder. She took in the sight of a wrought-iron bed, a vanity and a wardrobe built out of dark-stained wood. Furniture to call her own for the first time.

“Your’s.” He nodded in confirmation. And then he stepped aside, letting her venture further into the room. She breathed in the fresh air that was granted by the windows that still stood open against either wall, crickets calling through the crevices, seeping in from the dark of the night.

She ran a hand over the handmade quilt that covered the mattress, cool against her palm, unslept in for months— maybe years.

The floorboards squeaked under her feet as she turned quickly towards where Joel was standing. But the doorway was empty. Her words of gratitude fell flat against the air now that there was no one to direct them to.

He must’ve snuck off as she was admiring the room, assuming she wanted to be left alone. Which she did. But no one had ever respected her privacy before. She definitely wasn’t expecting the courtesy from the man she was forced to marry.

A weird feeling wormed its way into Y/N’s heart, one she had never felt before. She chose to ignore it as she plopped onto the mattress, springs squeaking under her weight, staring at the vacant space where Joel once stood.

Weeks passed by, and neither one of the newlyweds tried to make any contact with one another as they resided in their separate bedrooms.

Since Y/N was now destined to be a doting housewife, no one had any expectations for her beyond the household she currently lived in. And since Joel was avoiding her just as much as she was him, it was easy to dismiss his heavy footfalls that rang out against the house in the early hours of the morning. All she had to do was wait until they faded off the steps of the front porch, and then she was free to roam the house that was now half hers.

Though after her exploring was finished, most of her days were spent in the garden, overgrown from lack of maintenance, but Y/N happened to like it that way. She was elated to find it, as she stood on the precipice of the backyard that very first morning. And now Y/N could be found curled on the antiquated porch swing that sat among the weeds, a book cradled in her lap, stolen from the office she also discovered on her second day of living with her new husband.

However, as she relaxed in the garden, sun shining over every inch of her exposed skin, guilt would soon riddle her bones. It was another feeling she wasn’t used to. But now that she was married and now that she knew that Joel wasn’t the horrible intrusive husband she thought he would be, she decided he deserved to come home to a warm meal. So eventually— after a few of her days spent basking in the sun, the guilt becoming too much— she would one day venture to the market nearest their marital home and pick up ingredients to make the man some dinner after his long day at the docks.

She would never actually eat with him, of course— only leaving the homemade food in a ceramic pot stationed in the middle of the kitchen table. But she hoped her gesture proved enough that she wasn’t exactly angered by his newfound presence in her life.

Despite the fact that she still planned on her escape.

It was obvious that Joel wasn’t a bad husband. And of course, that brought pause to the woman. She wondered what exactly it was that drove his first wife to leave him when he wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought. But the mystery still couldn’t counter with the fact that Y/N was desperate for her freedom, and desperate for a love that would set her heart on fire. Surely she couldn’t find that sort of thing on this tiny insignificant island. She had to escape. Didn’t she?

The topic stayed constant on her mind as she perused the books in Joel’s tiny library (library being a generous term, it was actually just one shelf tucked in the corner of his office). One day, in the living room, she even stumbled upon a great big atlas that Joel had left behind, turned open on a page that showcased an image of the world. All the little squiggles and lines that made up the map of their great big earth, her soulmate must have resided within one of those faraway places. He couldn’t have been so close, on the tiny dot that represented the Isle of Ardor, it seemed impossible.

Now lost in thought about chances and percentages, the young woman paid no mind to the time that passed as she flipped through the large pages of the atlas. The sun was dipping low beneath the horizon, painting the skies with pinks, and oranges. She had yet to even make dinner when Joel had walked through the front door.

She stood quickly from her spot on the couch. As a habit, her tongue fumbled through the words that would leave her mouth whenever her father would return from work.

“Welcome home.”

Joel paused in the doorway. His brows furrowed in confusion since by this time the woman was usually found locked in her bedroom. And typically, when one welcomes you home, you’re supposed to reply with some form of gratitude, at least this was custom to the Isle of Ardor. But Joel was at a loss for words. To have his new wife, ready and expectant of him was unfamiliar. Especially since she had granted no interest in him for the past few weeks.

“I forgot to make dinner.” She told him, seemingly desperate to fill the silence. Her tone was soft with apprehension, she looked like a timid little rabbit. “I’m sorry.”

Taking in her words, and the sight of her— chest heaving as she stood by the couch, almost as if she were caught in the act of something despicable— Joel soon realized that this was all an accident. He wasn’t meant to find her like this. She had only gotten lost within whatever activity she was currently indulging herself in.

He caught sight of the atlas he left on the couch late last night. It was there since he was currently making plans for his upcoming fishing trip, but it was quickly forgotten once the threat of sleep had forced him to make his way back towards his bedroom. Was that what she was looking at? His lips parted with even more realization, if that was the case. He had a sneaking suspicion why she would be interested in a book like that. But he wasn’t about to ask her any incriminating questions.

“That’s alright.” He breathed, shutting the door behind him and foregoing any accusations he could potentially throw her way. “I can make something.”

“No, please.” She begged, as if guilt forced her back into the role of a doting wife. “You’ve had a long day. Allow me.”

She moved through the small living room of the house in long strides, headed towards the kitchen. She was determined to be the good wife she promised to be when she made her vows. Even if it was a lie at the time. Even if it still was as she planned for her escape.

As she brushed past Joel, her wrist was suddenly encased in a pool of unexpected warmth. His calloused fingers were wrapped firmly against her skin. In the month that they had been married, this was the first time he had ever touched her. Her heart lodged itself in her throat. Her gaze shifted so that she was staring wide-eyed up at her husband.

“Let me help you.” He murmured, his own eyes pleading her for something she was unsure of.

“Okay.” She whispered, nodding her head slightly, since there was nothing else she could do.

Now here they were, standing in their humble kitchen, stove hot and burning as they both stood over the swirling pot of spices, vegetables and fish. This form of intimacy was unfamiliar to them. It was the closest they’ve been in weeks, and it felt far more vulnerable than it did when they stood across the aisle as they spoke their vows. Joel’s hand was gripped harshly against the wooden spoon as he stirred the contents of their stew. Y/N’s fingers were latched onto the salt shaker, her eyes trained on the little grain of bitter crystal that was lodged in one of the holes.

“Here.” Joel practically whispered, holding up the spoon for his wife to taste. She glanced up at him through her lashes, hesitantly, before slowly leaning forward.

Her supple lips formed around the wood as she slurped at its contents. Joel shivered at the sight. He knew that his new wife was pretty, but seeing as she took his requests so willingly, was a sight to behold. Her lips seemed so plush, and the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she blew cold air across his offered taste, almost had him down on his knees. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed harshly against his dry throat, mind littered with filthy innuendos.

“How’s it taste?” He asked, his voice strained, forcing away the provocative thoughts that forged to the front of his mind.

Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held the flavor on her tongue. But soon a small grin flickered across her features. Joel’s stomach dipped at the sight. A feeling he hadn’t felt in years— maybe decades... maybe ever.

“It’s good.” She replied, wrapping her own smaller fingers around Joel’s hand as she brought the spoon up for a second taste. The touch of her hand was a shock, to say the least. It was only their second instance of skin contact and yet it was so much different than before. Only because it was her that was touching him. Willingly— no, purposefully. Embarrassingly enough, the surprise of it all was somehow too much for the older man. The spoon slipped from his grasp, clattering against the tile, splashing stew across the lower half of the surrounding cabinets, as well as the long hem of Y/N’s skirt. Joel took a large step back, the heat of shame licking up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry— I— Sorry.” He stammered, finishing his words somewhat lamely. He felt like a shy little school boy, he couldn’t even meet her gaze. It was humiliating.

That was until he heard the sound of her laughter. Soft and tinkling, with no hint of malice. She wasn’t laughing at him, she wasn’t even laughing with him. It was more like she was laughing at the entire situation, or maybe at nothing in particular. He finally braved a glance up at her, to see those supple lips curled into a bright smile. His heart lurched at the sight.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t acknowledge his fumbling apology, instead she shook her head slightly, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater, a smile still apparent on her face as she got to her knees and began to clean up the mess. She didn’t even worry about the splotches of blooming red that was scattered across the white fabric of her pretty skirt. She let it stain. Lasting proof of the very first dinner they shared as man and wife.

He served it up in heaping spoonfuls. Steam lazily swirling up from the hot meal, confined in ceramic bowls that Joel had pulled from the cabinets. After Y/N’s laughter had faded from the air, the only sound that graced their ears was that of spoons scraping against the stoneware as they savored their last bites.

No words were spoken as they sat at the kitchen table. And the woman couldn’t decide if it was awkward or not. She was never one to be deterred by the presence of silence, but she was curious if the man who now sat across from her was.

Not that he was a man of many words. He was silent in the very way he lived. His actions were always careful and well thought out. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t heard of him before their betrothal. You don’t turn the cogs of the rumor mill if you keep to yourself. Which is what Joel seemed to do.

So maybe he liked the silence. Y/N decided she did as well.

Though it was finally broken when they stood at the kitchen sink, Joel was washing the dishes while Y/N dried— All serenaded by the sound of running water and clanking utensils. That was all it was until his words filtered in through the white noise.

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.” He told her, eyes trained on the tiny soap bubbles attaching themselves to the skin of his hands. They were iridescent in their color. The distraction of it left the furrow between Y/N’s brows unknown. She wondered where on earth he could possibly be going. But the question was soon answered as he continued.

“It’s the first fishin’ trip of the season. Gonna be gone for a week or two.” He explained. Her mouth formed around a silent ‘ah’ as understanding dawned on her.

Fishing expeditions were always a big spectacle in this little town. Caught in glimpses on her way to school, Y/N always observed the teary-eyed farewells passed between the fishermen and their families. Hands up in the air in enthusiastic waves of goodbye as the ship drew further out to sea, becoming a small insignificant dot and then turning into nothing against the horizon.

She liked the return days far better. They always seemed much happier when loving arms wrapped around trembling shoulders, a warm embrace to signify how grateful the fishermen were to be brought home safe and unharmed. It was one of the few times this island lived up to its name.

And now the woman was left wondering if Joel expected her to become one of the teary-eyed family members waiting down by the docks.

“What time are you leaving?” She asked, carefully setting down the bowl that resided in her hands, it clinked against the wooden countertop.

“Early.” He replied, his large fingers hooking around the faucet lever, shutting off the constant stream of water. In its absence, the silence was louder and the same could be said of that deep voice of his. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to wake you when I leave.”

So now the question was answered. He didn’t expect anything from her. Just like he said that very first night. It was still a foreign concept for her. She wasn’t sure if she truly believed it.

Though the belief finally found her when she woke up late the next morning, the sun deep in the sky, shining bright over her bed and warming her skin. She laid there for a minute, staring up at the ceiling as she considered the quiet state of the house. It was silent now more than ever. Left without the sound of Joel’s familiar footsteps as well as a final goodbye.

The time spent alone in the little house was surprisingly dreary.

At first— once the realization that she had the house to herself settled in, the woman was ecstatic. She had never been left to her own devices before. Usually she would have to cheat her way out of the ever-present company of her family, just for five minutes of precious solitude. Now she had hours of it— days of it. It was exhilarating. It was freeing. It was… lonely.

And maybe just a little bit scary, as she curled under her sheets at night, unable to explain away the creaks that filtered in from under her door now that Joel was gone.

Joel.

The absence of him presented Y/N with the unexpected discovery that he was a form of comfort that surrounded the walls of this house. Almost as if he were the protector of this hearth. And now that he was gone, the little noises she heard at night shifted into dark threatening creatures within the confines of Y/N’s overactive imagination.

She cursed herself for her sudden lack of backbone.

However, the daytime was somehow worse. Because at least during the night, her fear would soon subside once the calming tendrils of sleep coaxed Y/N back into her dreams. But during the day, when she was sitting on that squeaky porch swing, boredom would be the next thing to burden her. And there was nothing she could do to alleviate herself from it.

There were only so many books in Joel’s collection. Only so many rooms that were left to explore (excluding the master bedroom of course). And only so many activities that she could think to do to distract herself. So as she sat there aimlessly, swinging back and forth under a late afternoon sun, it dawned on her that she was most entertained when navigating this new delicate life that she shared with Joel.

Which eventually brought her to the greater realization that it wasn’t fear or boredom that caused the ache that burned low in her stomach. No, it was the fact of the matter that she had simply missed Joel. One might describe that ache as yearning. But Y/N would definitely not be the one to do so. So she ignored the feeling.

She ignored it until it was replaced with the growing buzz of anticipation when the day of Joel’s return finally arrived.

Excited whispers were passed from mouth to ear as everyone spoke about the ship's return. Y/N had caught a conversation while perusing the pitted-fruits at the market, relaying the information that the boat was set to dock later that evening. And as she quickly returned the contents that resided in her basket— replacing it with enough ingredients for a meal made for two rather than one— Y/N wondered if she was perhaps sharing in the excitement that took over the small island.

Which would be very odd, for she never once felt united with her fellow townspeople, and she could hardly believe that she was excited to see the man she was forced to marry. Though the oddest thing was, (and this was still unbeknownst to the young woman herself) was that she hadn’t thought of her underlying desire to escape, whatsoever. Not even once while she was left alone for the past two weeks, which by all means would have been the perfect time to plan her getaway. But the notion was completely lost to her mind as she hurriedly made her way back home so that she could start on dinner.

It was a sight to behold.

Later that evening, as Joel stood in the entranceway, limbs overtired from his harsh venture out to sea, he thought he was hallucinating. The last thing he expected when he walked through that door was to be met with the image of his wife, looking oh-so pretty in a light blue dress, waiting eagerly by a table full of food. The whole scene of it was washed in a golden light from candles set across the room. It was set to look like a dream. Was he dreaming?

He had thought their dinner the night before he left would be the last one. In fact, he had thought that would be the last time he'd ever see her.

Joel wasn’t an oblivious man. He knew how she felt about this whole arrangement. It was obvious in the way she would avoid looking at him when they had first met. And even if he couldn’t see the hatred she harbored for him within her irises, the woman wore her heart on her sleeve. He could see her indignation in the way she huffed around the house and stomped her way into the garden. Which was all made much more confusing when she started leaving him hot meals after his work was finished by the dock. He didn’t anticipate such a kind gesture from her.

She was a mystery. But he supposed she leaned more towards the side of completely hating his guts as she was still bent on avoiding him those first couple of weeks into their marriage.

Not that he could blame the woman. He only said yes to her father’s proposition because the man looked so desperate. He was practically down on his knees. And Joel couldn’t say he wasn’t enticed by the idea of not having to return to an empty home any longer.

But Joel wasn’t attached to the idea of their marriage.

So if she wanted to avoid him, he would grant her the space she needed. If she wanted to huff at him in anger whenever their paths did cross, he would take the onslaught. And if she wanted to escape into the night, never to be heard from again, who was he to try and stop her?

In the meantime, he would enjoy the meals she left for him.

Then came the night when she decided to share it with him. Sure, it was an accident. And the entire encounter was fumbling and awkward. But it sparked a small bout of warmth deep within his chest.

He supposed that feeling was hope. Or at least that was the conclusion he came to as he was rocked to sleep by the ebbing waves underneath his ship. He had felt hope before, it’s been a long time, but he knew what it was. That’s all it could ever be. But what was he hoping for?

Hope that this could be something more than a marriage certificate? Hope that she would stick around, at least for a few more weeks? Hope that he would see her face amongst the crowd as their ship pulled back into the dock?

When he didn’t see her, the warmth was lost to him. And in its absence that’s when he knew that’s exactly what it was. Without that flame of hope, he was now shrouded in darkness just like he knew his house would be when he returned under the setting sun.

So he was not expecting this. Not at all.

“You’re here.” He said, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. A little line appeared between her two brows as confusion riddled her features.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, head tilting with the question.

“I don’t know. I just… thought that maybe you’d be gone.” He replied, shaking his own head slightly as he admitted his suspicion out loud.

Busted.

Y/N’s shoulders tensed as the words hung in the air between them. She should have known that he’d catch on to her plans, she wasn’t usually the type to be subtle with her grievances. But there was a twinge in her stomach at his admittance. The one thing he expected of her was exactly the one thing she wanted. And he would’ve let it happen. The hidden honesty in his words coerced the same thing from her own lips.

“I thought the same thing.” She confessed, a small bashful smile forming on her lips. The corners of Joel's mouth twitched up into a fleeting smile. It was gone within seconds. But the gleam of it still shone within the depths of his brown irises.

Then he offered her a small understanding nod. And that was all that was needed. The flame of hope flickered on.

They both took their seats and ate the homemade dinner in comfortable silence.

The same fragile routine had now taken place every night since then. As soon as Joel would return home from the docks, he would be greeted by the sight of Y/N chopping up the chosen vegetable for that night. If he came home early enough, there would still be certain tasks that needed to be finished, and she never complained when he would step in beside her with freshly washed hands— the sleeves of his flannel rolled further up his forearms— ready to help.

He liked those times the most. There was something serene in the way they moved around the kitchen together, as if they were living proof of perfect harmony. So most days, Joel would finish the menial tasks at work as quickly as he possibly could to return home before she finished cooking. He was greedy for more of these interactions to hold under his belt. And he would always be slightly disappointed whenever he found the table already set. Though that grievance wouldn’t last long as he was soon greeted by Y/N’s smile, that seemed to be getting brighter with each passing day.

Unfortunately for Y/N, she was not granted with the same reassurance.

As it turns out, Joel was a brick wall of a man, which was a fact he was completely unaware of. So his expressions of contentedness were lost on the woman. She wasn’t observant enough to notice how he would return home from work earlier and earlier each day. Or to catch on to the way his eyes would linger on her while they silently ate their dinner.

What she did notice was how he never smiled. It was as if he never learned how to. Maybe he had been a sad little baby from the moment he was born. Or perhaps he did know how to smile, and he just never had a reason to. Not even now. Not even with her.

Which, to be honest, was a punch in the gut for the young woman, since she had been finding so much joy during the times they shared together.

She tried to be rational, because Joel had always been a very unemotional man. But Y/N’s brain always kicked into overdrive whenever she was left alone with her thoughts, and it always boiled down to the conclusion that perhaps Joel just didn’t like her very much.

Oh, how the tables have turned. One minute she detested the man she was betrothed to and in the next she lapped up any attention he had gifted her like a small pathetic puppy. She was desperate to know more about the man. What was it that made him smile? Who was he? What were his interests? What was he like as a child?

And why on earth would his first wife ever leave him?

She had found out the answer to that— as well as caught her first glimpse of the surprising range of his emotions— all in the same night.

There was a storm that evening. Dark and unrelenting as the onslaught of rain pounded against the roof of their quaint little house. Big bolts of lighting hung low in the sky, illuminating the world in small fractions of time. The thunder rolling deep on its heel.

Joel was hours late. The dinner that sat on the table was ice cold. Though that fact was unnoticed by the woman, as she paced the distance of the kitchen, her bones wracked with worry. This was the perfect example of how her mind kicked into overdrive in times of distress. She assumed the worst.

She imagined Joel dead, left unbreathing, body lost under treacherous waves.

Panic quickened the beat of her heart. Any efforts she made to calm herself fell flat. Reason and rationality were lost to her completely. All she could do was to keep moving her feet.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Until her feet took her further. Soft footsteps rang out against the floor of the living room and then up the stairs. They paced the length of the hallway a few times until the woman found herself stationed in front of the door to the master bedroom.

Her hand had somehow found itself gripped around the cool metal of the doorknob.

When she twisted it, the door swung open with ease.

It was easy for Y/N to dismiss her worries when it was replaced by a burning curiosity. She stood at the precipice of his bedroom, eyes flickering over every surface.

There was a large bed that sat in the middle of the room, left untidy by the man who stumbled out of it early that morning. The image of his large form tangled in the sheets flickered to the front of her mind, before she forced herself to focus on the next part of the room.

There was a bay window, looking out over the back garden. The bench underneath it was adorned with countless throw pillows, a detail that must have been added by his previous wife. Joel didn’t seem to be the type to appreciate that type of decor. A weird surge of jealousy was added to the other emotions she was already riddled with that evening. It burned bright behind her sternum.

But then her gaze roamed over the bookshelf that towered over the rest of the room. It resided next to a door, but what could potentially be hidden behind it wasn’t what had her feet moving deeper into the room. (Since it was most likely a bathroom, anyways.)

It was a picture.

Sat on one of the middle shelves of the bookshelf. It was framed in an intricate engraved pattern of gold-painted wood, a happy memory captured in black and white.

Frozen in time was the image of a young girl— most likely not even reaching double digits in her age. Her smile was bright and somewhat stubborn as she grinned up at her from the frame. She had dark skin and soft eyes that reminded the woman of Joel. Her hair framed her face in disorderly curls, tousled by the seabreeze. Y/N smiled softly at the wild look that sparked in the girl's irises, as if ready for any adventure that would be thrown her way. She ran a finger over the smooth glass, like she could caress the girl's face in her own hands.

“What are you doing?”

It wasn’t the words themselves that caused the woman to drop the picture, but rather the rage that was intertwined within them. Her eyes snapped up to find Joel standing in the door, backlit from the light in the hallway. His brown hair was matted against the skin of his forehead, soaked by the heavy rain. The rest of it dripped off of his clothes as they clung to his skin, creating a puddle around his boot-clad feet.

The glass of the frame shattered once it hit the floor.

“Who told you, you could come in here?” He seethed, reaching her in just a few long strides. She cowered against the bookshelf in his advancement but the collision never came. He bent towards the ground, large hands shifting through the broken glass.

“I-I’m sorry.” Y/N stammered, dropping down to help him. He pushed her hands away.

“Don’t.” He snapped.

“Why would you do this?” He then added, his words were harsh. He looked up at her, his eyes were dark with his wrath. A small pathetic sound squeaked out of her throat, she shook her head, unable to find the words.

And then the next thing she knew, she was running. Was it the anger that caused her to run? Or perhaps her own embarrassment. She didn’t know. But the sudden invasion of his unconventional display of emotion had become all too much. The same feet that carried her towards the master bedroom brought her out into the garden.

Y/N barely realized where she was until she registered the harsh rain that bombarded her skin, her hair and clothes instantly soaked as she ventured out among the overgrown weeds. Her legs didn’t stop until her palms wrapped around the familiar wood of the porch swing she spent so much of her time with. Her shoulders shook with shame, cursing herself inwardly for her intrusiveness.

And then… Somehow, through the howling wind, Y/N had heard her name.

She whipped her head towards the house to see that Joel had followed her. He charged through the storm, through the vegetation that whipped wildly in the wind, until he reached her. She expected more of his anger.

Instead she was met with two large hands cupping her cheeks.

“Are you hurt?” He asked over the raging of the storm, before she could make any questions of her own.

“I— what?” She faltered, her hands instinctively moving up to caress the skin of his wrists.

“Are you alright?” He repeated himself with new words, his brown eyes flickering over each feature of her face, as if he was making sure each part of her was still there.

“It’s only rain. Of course I’m alright.” She answered, a bit impatiently. Did he really think so little of her and her competence?

“You certain?” He asked, and that’s when Y/N took notice of the panic that resided in his brown irises. His breathing was dissonant and in a sense, frightened. This was something else entirely.

“Joel.” She said her tone shifted drastically from annoyance to something much softer. But his movements were still frantic as he searched her for any injuries.

“Joel!” She said again, louder this time, hoping to gain his attention. When she didn’t, Y/N tightened her grip around the wrist of his right hand, and shifted it towards her beating heart. She hoped he could feel the proof of her life that thrummed against the skin of her chest.

The evidence of her heartbeat calmed Joel down, his breathing evened out.

“I’m fine.” She murmured, tilting her chin to kiss the palm of his left hand. She was unsure of what brought her to do it, but it seemed to help as Joel then pulled her into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders. He sighed once he felt her weight against him.

“I’m alright.” She reiterated into his soaked flannel. His arms wound tighter around her.

And then they were back inside. To her objection, he had made her take a shower, to extinguish any chill that the rain might have instilled in her bones. She almost got away with not taking one until her chattering teeth proved her otherwise. He had given her such a demanding look that she had no other choice but to do as he said.

So once she was showered and dressed in warm pajamas, (and once he did the same). They were now sitting in the living room. Her knees were curled up to her chest as she sat on the couch, Joel’s feet were solid against the patterned rug that sat beneath them, in an armchair angled directly in front of her. Their usual silence had found them again. Was it comfortable or not? Y/N had yet to find out. Joel broke it before she could.

“I’m sorry.” He told her, his cheeks pink with shame and his eyes averted to the ground. She shook her head in defiance to his apology, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

“No, it was my—” She tried to counter. But he pursed his lips, causing her to promptly keep her mouth shut.

“I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that.” He said after a brief pause.

“It was well deserved.” Y/N admitted, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “I shouldn’t have entered your room.”

Joel shook his head the same way she did, only slightly, but Y/N caught it.

“It was about time, anyways.” He commented. She resisted the urge to pry for more, cause she knew that eventually he would indulge in her curiosities. And he did.

“She was my daughter.” He murmured, knuckles white from his grip on the arms of the plush leather chair he was sitting upon.

“The girl. In the picture.” Joel clarified when he was met with her silence. But Y/N already knew that. Her silence to his explanation was due to the word he used. Was.

She repeated it out loud, in the form of a question.

A sigh escaped Joel's lips, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He still wouldn’t meet Y/N’s gaze.

“Do you remember that storm twelve years ago?” Joel questioned, his palm running over his forehead as he prepared himself to tell this story. Y/N responded with a soft ‘yes.’ It was a horrible, outrageous storm that caused so much damage to their little town. So much loss and heartache that hung over the island, even to this day. She was fifteen years old. The fear of it all was still present in her memories.

“Well, my daughter… Sarah. She…” His voice cracked, he dragged in a shuddering breath. “Somehow she got outside. Debris from the old farmhouse across the street was picked up by the wind. Pierced right through her—”

A sharp sob interrupted his sentence. Y/N wasted no time. She pushed up from her spot on the couch and was on her knees, sitting in front of him in a moment's notice. Her hands were splayed across his own thick thighs, she squeezed her digits around the muscles in reassurance. He didn’t need to say anything more. The picture was painted.

“She was nine years old.” Joel whispered into the hand that was still hiding his features, finding the courage to speak more about it once he felt her touch through the fabric of his pajama pants. “Nine years old, and she lost her life.”

And now everything was clear. It made sense why he was so scared for her life out there in the garden. He had experienced a loss like that before. A cruel twist of fate that took the life of his daughter. Right in his front yard.

“I wish every day that it was me instead of her.” He admitted, more sobs wracking through his body, large shoulders shaking.

It was peculiar to see him like this. Usually he was such a vision of strength, but now that these emotions were presented to Y/N, everything made so much more sense. He was hiding himself. Scared of more loss, if he opened his heart up to anyone else. This was only more confirmed as he continued.

“My wife— My first wife, she couldn't handle the loss of our daughter.” Joel relayed, “I don’t think she was happy with me. Not until Sarah was born. And once she was gone… She didn’t have a reason to stay…”

His words died in the air after that. But yet again there was no need to continue. Y/N understood. And all she could do was shift her hands so that her arms were now wrapped around his neck. She pulled Joel in as close as she could, her waist now fitted between his thighs. He clutched onto her in return, fingers gripping into her nightgown. His head resting in the crook of her neck, mouth pressed against the tendon.

“I won’t leave you.” Y/N whispered into his hair, still damp from the recent shower.

She wasn’t exactly sure what brought her to say those words, but once they were hanging in the air she knew them to be true. And she knew he did too once she felt his lips form into a distinguishable kiss against her skin. It was faint, but the spark of it lingered, and it changed everything.

A few months had passed since the night of the storm and a lot had changed for the woman, at least inwardly. But their routine? It was all the same. They would make dinner, share in their comfortable silence (sometimes punctuated with lighthearted conversation) and then they’d return to their separate bedrooms. Every. Single. Night. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a bit frustrating to say the least.

And then he would leave every few weeks, on a venture out at sea. Where he would be gone for days at a time. And of course, she would miss him terribly. But would Y/N accompany him to the docks whenever he would leave? No. Would she ever be there to greet him home? Also no.

So it was safe to say that the blame was partially on her. Which frustrated the woman even further, because now she couldn’t even rely on the fact that the indifference was all one sided. Her actions apparently proved otherwise.

But what was it that she wanted to change? Maybe she expected their conversations to be much lengthier now that they had crossed the boundaries of hidden grievances. Or maybe she expected him to extend an invitation to sleep in his bedroom, now that they had participated in small instances of physical touch. Whatever it was, Y/N only knew one thing.

It had seemed they were still stuck at square one.

And with every one step forward there were three steps back. Not so long ago they were so close, lips against skin in the quiet of their living room. Safe in each other's arms as the storm raged on. But now? There was nothing.

She resented the fact that she was falling into the wants and desires of the common Ardorian townsman. It all seemed very mundane against the aspirations she held close to her heart before she was married. But as she stewed in these feelings— especially during the times that Joel was away— she wondered if these desires were just part of the human experience. Perhaps they were even the desires that came with the burning passionate love she yearned for…

Now that she knew what it felt like. It all seemed so natural. You meet the one who befuddles your heart and soul and all you want is… more, more, more.

Would she ever get what she was hoping for?

Maybe she could, if she was brave enough.

The opportunity presented itself the eve of Joel’s next expedition.

He had gotten home early that day, so he was around to help finish up dinner. Y/N remembered being unable to look away as his large hands sliced each potato that needed to be added to the pot. He was attentive with his actions, just as he always was. She was jealous of the knife that resided gently in his grasp. Heat burned under her cheeks at her desperation.

Of course every detail of her wants and needs went unnoticed by Joel. Everything about their usual marital customs went off without a hitch, why should he think anything different could happen?

They ate their meal in silence. They cleaned up after themselves, as always. And then they slowly made their way up the stairs, just like they did every night.

Joel stopped on the landing at the top. Y/N followed his actions. This wasn’t unusual, the same thing happened on every eve of his long departures. He stood, towering above her, she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up.” He told her, his voice gruff. She nodded, once. Simple and to the point. Just like always.

Joel nodded back in confirmation and then turned to go, like a captain dismissing his subordinate. It was all very formal. Almost passionless, which was such a great contradiction to what the young woman was feeling inside of her chest. She was just about ready to burst. So even though she wasn’t exactly intending on doing so— she wasn’t surprised when her hand shot out to clasp her fingers around his wrist, stopping him before he disappeared into the secret confines of his bedroom.

“You okay?” Joel asked, once he was facing her again. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, but that wasn’t the way she wanted him to look at her. She shook her head, but it wasn’t an answer to his question. It was more like she was trying to tell him that that was the wrong thing to ask. Or rather, the wrong thing to do.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired.

As it turned out, Joel was not a mind-reader. And since Y/N was too afraid to speak out loud about any of her desires, she did the next thing she could think of.

Her hands moved to grasp firmly against the lapels of his flannel. The floorboards beneath her creaked as she shifted onto her toes. She pulled Joel closer— closer than he’s ever been. She squeezed her eyes shut— almost like she was terrified when really this was all she wanted— and then before either of them knew it, she slotted her mouth against his own in a fervid kiss.

Joel stilled under the soft touch of her lips, surprised by the action, heart thrumming in his chest as he wondered if this was real. But the hesitation only lasted a split second before he reciprocated her kiss, leaning into her. The eagerness of which had caused their bodies to shift so that Y/N’s back was against the wall. She gasped against his lips, the grip on his shirt loosening.

He pulled away, but only slightly. His nose brushed against hers as he searched her eyes for any protests. He only found her pupils blown out with lust, paired with an indiscernible nod, a concession to keep going.

In an instant, his large hands were now cupping her face, calluses rough on her skin but she didn’t mind— in fact she relished in it. Her fingers twisted into his shirt once again as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, pulling another soft gasp from her. He used that to his advantage, slipping his tongue against hers. She whimpered at the taste of him, earning a groan that rumbled deep in Joel’s chest, each of her sweet sounds causing an involuntary twitch from behind the zipper of his pants.

Joel was becoming more eager, selfish for more of that saccharine sound, his hands started to inch downwards. Smoothing over the curve of her neck, following the path of her shoulders, trailing down her arms, until his hands rested near the small of her back. He pulled her in closer, away from the wall. His fingers clutched onto the fabric of her dress. In a haze, he gathered more and more of the cotton within his hands, unknowingly exposing Y/N’s skin as he did.

She shivered as the back of her thighs met the frigid air, and soon almost the curve of her ass. It brought more attention to the heat that was pooling between her legs— A more intense version of a feeling that she’s only felt a few times before. It was harsh and greedy and it only grew stronger as Joel detached himself from her lips.

A whine spilled over her tongue at the loss, but all was forgiven when he began to press ardent kisses to the skin of her neck. She arched her back into his large frame, bringing notice to her nipples pebbling under the lace of her bra, another moan escaped her lips. He returned the noise with his own grunt of pleasure as his beard scratched against her supple skin. Suddenly she was aware of every single part of him.

His lips sucking softly at the skin just below her jawline. His flannel-clad chest was strong and solid underneath her hands, heartbeat pulsing into her palms. His own larger hands pulled her closer between every groan that vibrated through his throat. And then there was the hard heat of him pressed against her lower stomach.

The sign of his arousal had caused an ache so deep within her core that it shocked her. It was new and exciting, but it was overwhelming and it made her afraid of the strength that her desires possessed. The burn of shame licked white hot against her skin.

Joel— unaware of her inner turmoil as his lips kissed against the tendons in her neck— was given quite a shock when her hands pushed him away with surprising strength. He stumbled backwards, back hitting the other wall of the hallway. His eyes were wide and fearful that he did something wrong. Cheeks splotched a pretty color of pink and his lips swollen from her kiss.

Y/N covered her face with her hands, embarrassment and immense arousal caused her shoulders to tremble.

“I’m sorry.” She squeaked between her fingers, “Um, Thank you for… that, but I should…”

She backed away as she spoke, her sentence unfinished as she quickly escaped through the door to her bedroom. It slammed shut, abrasive in the action itself.

Joel stood with his back flush against the wall and a harsh strain against his zipper as he stared dumbfounded at the wood of her closed door.

Her humiliation kept her within the boundaries of her room the entire morning that next day, refusing to step even one foot out into the rest of the house until she knew Joel was gone. The sounds of his footsteps came and went just like they did every time he left for the docks. But Y/N’s dread seemed to have projected itself into the way time moved.

It felt like ages before he was actually gone, almost to the point where it felt like he was dragging his feet, hesitating to go. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

But that couldn’t have been the case, because Joel had his morning routine down to an art. So Y/N was convinced it was her own hallucination that caused time to move at such a snail’s pace.

Once the sound of the front door swinging shut rattled the foundation of their home, Y/N finally allowed herself to breathe. Just his very presence within this house— even separated by walls and other rooms— had such a strong effect on her that she couldn’t let herself recount the events of last night until she was certain she was completely alone.

And once those images returned to the forefront of her mind, she immediately pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Though that only made the memory of it stronger through the stars that burst behind her eyelids from the hard press of her hands. A frustrated whine escaped her lips as she squirmed in her sheets. The movement of it caused her to take notice of the slick pooling in her panties, ever present since the first touch of Joel’s lips.

She rubbed her thighs together, trying to relieve some of the ache (though of course her efforts fell flat).

How was this at all possible? How was Joel able to pull such aggressive lust from just one single heated interaction?

Maybe it was because no one had ever touched her like that before.

The awkward, clumsy kisses she had shared with others in the past couldn’t hold a candle to what Joel had done to her. Forgotten was the memory of her very first kiss, which was frail and timid like a wounded bird. Or those later in life which were nice and gentle, but nothing special. Those moments of her past were now replaced by a roaring beast of want and desire. Joel had made her feel like the world had shifted on its axis, that he shifted it himself with his own two calloused hands. Just for her. And that was only with the touch of his lips. What else was he capable of doing?

The sheets rustled under Y/N’s weight as she quickly sat up in bed, regret stirring deep in her belly. She just realized— what with the way she reacted last night— she may never be able to find out. It was such a monumental milestone for their steady forming relationship and she had ended it by pushing him away and leaving him behind in the dark shadows of the hallway. She hadn’t even spared a glance in his direction, his reaction to her abrupt dismissal will remain forever unknown.

Or at least until he returns home.

But that wouldn’t be for another three days. Sure, luck was on the girls side since it was on the shorter side of his usual expeditions. But seventy-two hours left a lot of room for her overactive imagination to run rampant.

And she was now stewing on the outlandish conclusion that based on her reaction Joel would never want to touch her again. The frustration of that notion followed her throughout her morning.

It prickled at her skin as she stood in the shower, the hot water not doing enough to wash it away. Her skin was practically rubbed raw by the time she stepped out into the steamy bathroom, her hopes to scrub away her humiliation going down the drain, along with the lavender scented soap bubbles.

It caused her hands to shake, as she tugged the soft green fabric of her favorite dress over her head, the skirt of it swirling around her ankles as it fell into place. Y/N had thought if she wore her favorite clothing item that she might feel better about the whole situation.

But it didn’t help.

In fact, none of the aspects of her usual morning routine had helped her calm her beating heart, or her racing mind, or even the arousal between her legs— that, yes, was still there despite her forcing away any reminder of how it felt to have Joel’s lips on her skin.

She now stood at the kitchen counter, her eyes clenched shut as she begged her brain to conjure up any other image. But that just brought up a confusing mixture of childhood memories intertwined with the heavy sound of Joel’s breathing in her ear. Which made her feel shameful as she felt so much more different than the young restless girl she was back then. Was this the loss of her innocence? She supposed it was.

But then again, she was married to Joel. And these feelings were quite expected for a wife to feel towards her husband. There was no reason for her to feel ashamed by these thoughts, especially if they seemed reciprocated— brought forth by the evidence she felt last night pressing against her stomach.

The reminder brought heat up to her cheeks and that very same ache deep in her core when she had first felt it.

Y/N breathed in the air around her, dragging it into her lungs, pushing it out in a heavy wistful sigh. A flash of Joel’s hands flitted across her mind. Goosebumps littered her skin as she recalled the way his fingertips felt on the skin between her neck and shoulder.

Subconsciously she brought her own fingers to that very same spot. Tilting her head, she dragged her fingernails over her skin in slow circles, causing shivers to run up and down the length of her spine. She imagined how Joel’s hand was soon replaced by the soft touch of his lips, and her hand moved to her collarbone, a place she wished he had discovered with his tongue. Another sigh left her lips as her imagination replaced her hand with Joel’s. Her eyes were closed again, softer this time as she conjured up the fantasy.

Lips against skin. Hands wandering. Breathing heavy.

Though the tantalizing image soon vanished into the air like a bubble popping, when the sound of the front door slamming shut rang out through the tiny house. A gasp slipped from between her lips as she whipped around towards the intrusion. Her palm flush against her chest to calm her beating heart.

The sight of Joel standing in the doorway knocked the air out of Y/N’s lungs. It was as if her improper thoughts had manifested him to be standing right there in front of her. The curls of his hair were askew, as if he had been running his fingers through it, over and over. His large chest was heaving with slow heavy breaths, the same way her own chest was moving.

He swallowed, the adam's apple in his throat bobbing. He shook his head slightly, his brows furrowed, and then he looked back towards the door he just walked through. As if he hadn’t realized where he came from or what he was doing.

“Joel?” She questioned, her tone was breathless, desperate for something to fill the silence and tension that was slowly forming between them.

“’m sorry.” He breathed, when he turned back to her, his eyes shining with something that Y/N couldn’t quite place. Was it surprise? Curiosity? “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked, somehow feeling brave enough to take a step forward. “I thought you were leaving on your trip?”

“I was— or I am.” He stumbled through the words. “It just got delayed for a couple hours. There were some last minute repairs needed on the ship…”

“And you had enough time to come back?” She questioned.

Joel paused, swallowing again. His eyes scaled over Y/N, taking in the look that resided behind her irises, the way she was breathing heavily, and how that green dress caressed her curves. She looked like she had just been caught in the act of something inappropriate, despite her just standing in the kitchen. An endeavor that was innocent in and of itself. But— god— the look of her, standing there in the golden light streaming in from the window above the sink, she looked downright sinful. Or maybe that was his own lust taking control and projecting itself onto her.

A lust that had kept him on edge this entire morning. Throughout the night too, when he was restless in his bed— remembering what happened between them— tossing and turning like the ocean tide. It never relented, so much so that when Tommy told him they had a few extra hours, Joel’s feet were already moving back towards his truck so that he could spend that time with Y/N. In this house. And even though he told himself to behave when he walked through the front door, It persisted. Even now as he stood in front of her, taking in the sight of her blown out pupils, eyes darkened with what he hoped was that very same lust.

“I forgot somethin’” He then said, as he realized she was still expecting an answer. “Had to come back to get it.”

“Oh… alright.” She replied, blinking as if she were just pulled from a trance. “What was it? I can help you look for it.”

Joel shook his head, deliberately this time. He took a step forward, the tension growing thicker as he did. His brown eyes held her stare. “I know where it is.”

His words were soft as they rolled off his tongue, causing an involuntary shiver to forge its way through Y/N’s bones. It was much more forceful than what she had felt under her own touch, only a few minutes prior. Joel must have taken notice of the effect that his voice had over her body, as he dragged in a low shuddering breath.

He took another step forward. And then another. And another, until he joined her in the kitchen, standing right in front of her, their chests only centimeters apart. Y/N had to tilt her head up to be able to look him in the eye. Which she was shocked she was brave enough to do, considering how he looked like he wanted to devour her.

“What are you doing?” She whispered, her eyes flicking down to his mouth as Joel dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. The sight of it was magnetic, pulling her in so that her chest was now brushing against his with every breath.

“Tell me to stop.” He said, his voice in that same hushed tone. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Y/N, defiant in her own nature, replied. “What was it that you forgot?”

“I didn’t forget anythin’.” Joel told her, honestly, his fingers moving to pinch at a piece of her flowing skirt. As if the small action would keep her right there in front of him. Where he was desperate to have her. Hoping that it would keep her in place instead of having her running away like last time.

“It’s more like…” He continued, tilting his head down so that his forehead rested against hers. She gasped at the skin contact, relief flooding her form as she quickly realized his touch wasn’t lost to her like she had feared. “Somethin’ I regret not doin’.”

“And what do you regret, Mr. Miller?” She murmured, her eyes averted to the floor beneath their feet. The surname fell out of her mouth unexpectedly, as if garnering his respect would grant her the knowledge of his secret.

“Well, Mrs. Miller…” The reminder that she shared that very surname with him by holy matrimony caused a jolt of surprise to coarse through her veins. But it was replaced with satisfaction soon enough. She marveled at the fact that she wasn’t exactly bothered by the concept, in fact she almost relished in it. And then Joel said his next words.

“I can show you exactly what that is… if you’ll let me.”

She didn’t have it in her to speak. Any reply that she could’ve had was lost in the back of her throat. All she could do was to nod eagerly, any shame she could’ve had at her desperation was tossed out the window.

“I need you to use your words.” Joel said in response to her movements, his voice hoarse as if he were holding himself back and the action of doing so was terribly difficult.

“I— Yes… please, Joel.” She whispered, her breath fanning across his cheeks. “I want you to show me.”

This time, Joel was the first to bring their lips together in a zealous kiss. The green fabric that resided between his forefinger and thumb was soon shifted to be gripped by his hands as he pulled her in. Their bodies were now flushed together. The softness of her breasts pushing into the solid form of his chest. Simultaneous sighs of relief intermingled on their tongues when they finally let themselves melt into one another.

Y/N gasped into his mouth when his teeth nipped at the plush skin of her bottom lip. She had already known how brash he was with his movements from their kiss last night, but now it seemed as if all of his inhibitions were lost to him, his hands now smoothing over the curve of her ass. Joel’s fingers gripped at the supple flesh through her dress, pulling her waist into his own.

She moaned at his touch, as well as the sign of his arousal digging into her hip. Her arms shifted to wrap around his broad shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles on his back, urging him to move closer, if that were even possible.

And in this instance, she wasn’t disappointed by the loss of his lips, because he was quick to replace them somewhere else on her skin. It was as if he had to kiss every inch of her before he moved on to undiscovered territory. Joel’s lips were kissing at the corners of her lips, and the apples of her cheeks before he moved down to her jawline.

Though this was where he became more selfish in his actions, nipping at the skin so he could hear the sweet little whimpers that would waver from between her lips. Then he would lick over the bruised skin, soothing her of the slight pain he might’ve caused, heart hammering at the soft sighs of satisfaction she gifted him. Joel groaned at the sounds she made, relishing in the glory of every moan, whine and sigh. He could feel as he grew harder against the strain of his pants, the pain of it almost too much to bear. But this wasn’t about him. Instead, it had everything to do with the woman arching into his lips.

Thick fingers curled around the square neckline of Y/N’s lovely dress, knuckles brushing against her sternum as he tugged down at the fabric. A sharp gasp rang out into the air as her sleeves slid down her arms, allowing the exposure of her nipples to cold morning air, already hardened by her arousal to the man committing these actions. The flesh of her breasts bouncing slightly from the momentum in which he moved.

Joel pulled his mouth away from her, eager to get a look.

Y/N could feel herself flush under his stare, suddenly shy as he drank in this new image of her. She wanted to look away and hide in her self-consciousness, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of his dilated pupils and the endearing shade of pink that tinted his cheekbones. A burning need was flashing across his brown irises, the sight of it sparking an odd sense of confidence in the woman. She straightened her shoulders, letting him look at her. Because he would be the only man who would ever get to see her like this.

He groaned again, at the sight of her perked nipples paired with her newfound boldness.

“S’ pretty.” He mumbled, smoothing a large hand up over her breast, he could feel the pebbled skin pricking into his rough palm. She hummed at the compliment as well as his touch. Though a second later it was replaced with a harsh ‘ah’— pulled from her lips when his hand shifted so that he could pinch at her nipple.

It was the most torturous form of pleasure she had ever felt in her life. That was until he guided her body until she could feel the kitchen table digging into her lower back. His free hand gripped at the flesh under her ass, lifting her up and making it so that she was now sat against the surface. With her now stationary on the table, he was able to bend over, lips finding purchase on the nipple that wasn’t trapped between his fingers.

A high pitched moan was ripped from her throat as she subconsciously spread her legs, Joel’s hips fitting perfectly in the space between her thighs. Her hand splayed out on the wood behind her as she arched into his tongue that was now currently swirling lazy circles around the sensitive bud. And though she had never done anything like this before, her hips started to move in the only way that seemed natural. The only way that seemed to relieve the ache that pulsed between her legs.

Y/N rolled her hips up into Joel, the hardness of him firm against her clothed center, soaked from her constant arousal since their first kiss. She wondered if she would make a mess of the pants he was wearing, but the thought was fleeting once Joel pulled away from her skin.

“Fuck.” He stammered, resting his forehead in the valley of her breasts, his brown curls tickling her skin. “D-don’t do that, darlin’.”

Y/N stilled. “Why? Did I hurt you?”

He laughed breathlessly, the air of it fanning over Y/N’s chest. “No, nothing like that… Just feels t’ good.”

“Oh.” She said, a bit bashfully, but a small smile tugged at her kiss-bruised lips. Pride started to swell deep in her stomach at the admission that she made him feel just as good. And that idea was too precious to pass up on. “Then maybe I should keep doing that.”

She grinded her hips against him again, forcing him to remove himself from her chest, sucking in a harsh breath. His hand shot out, gripping onto the supple flesh of her inner thigh, now exposed as the skirt of her dress had shifted during their hectic movements.

“Please, sweetheart.” Joel begged, his nails digging into her leg. “You gotta stop.”

“But I wanna make you feel good.” She pouted, hips stilled by the brace he instilled upon her. Joel released a shaky breath, moving his forehead to rest on Y/N’s once more. His gaze was averted to the green fabric bunched up under her breasts, his brown eyes lost to her.

“You have no idea how much I want that— how long I’ve wanted that.” He murmured. “But I came back here for a reason.”

His voice sounded more determined by the end of his sentence. In doing so, it made the woman’s tone that much smaller, but she was still quite the contrarian to his words.

“I thought this was the reason.” She countered, sliding her hand up behind his neck, fingers toying with the curls at the base of his hairline. This time it was him shivering under her touch.

A soft smile curled upon Joel’s lips, he shook his head against her forehead, in slight laughter. “No. It’s close to what I was picturin’... but not quite.”

“Then what were you picturing?” She asked.

Joel leaned back, finally gracing her with the sight of his eyes, He didn’t answer her question, only holding an excruciating form of eye contact with the woman. And then, the once rough fingers that had tugged at her clothing and groped at her flesh were now trailing soft patterns into the skin of her thigh. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as they started to move closer to the spot between her legs. The ache she felt for him was now burning with great white heat.

Her own hands were gripping in their respective areas, meaning one was tugging at Joel's hair, pulling satisfied groans from his lips, while the other was locked around the edge of the table. Her hips jutted forward by their own accord when his fingertips skirted around the edge of her panties.

“Joel.” She whined, frustrated by his featherlight touch, though strangely enough also reveling in his gentle caress.

“I know.” He whispered, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “I know… I’ll give you what you want— just let me…”

He splayed his large hand onto her thigh, pushing against it so that she’d spread out wider for him. There was no resistance from her, only eager relinquishment. There was a harsh twitch of his cock at the thought that she would let him do anything with her, along with the idea that her body was all his for the taking. A covet he never thought would come into fruition.

“Please, Joel.” She urged again, and Joel realized right then that he was just as much hers as she was his. He would do anything for her. His body ached to give her exactly what she wanted.

So he did.

Y/N gasped when his thumb pressed firmly against the darkened spot on her panties, a similar gasp falling from Joel’s lips when he finally learned how wet she truly was. And it was all for him.

He moved his digit at an agonizing pace, moving in slow circles around the most sensitive part of her, not even sparing a fleeting touch to the bud of nerves. The torture of it all was exquisite. Y/N’s head fell backwards as she moaned, the tendons of her neck stretched out in front of Joel, the sight of it too enticing for his own good. He leaned forward, touching his lips against her skin.

Now having to focus on two things at once, his movements against her core became sloppy, and his touch harshened, slipping over Y/N’s clit. An embarrassing squeal forced its way from her throat as she jutted her hips fiercely into Joel’s thumb. He grinned against her skin.

“Oh, you liked that, didn't you?” He chuckled, placing more kisses down her neck, his beard scratching her skin as he moved. Y/N had a response to his teasing tone, perhaps it was even quick-witted, but it was stolen from her lips and replaced with another desperate moan when his tongue swirled around her nipple.

It was all becoming too much with every tiny ministration he committed on her skin. She felt as though she could burst into flames. Little did she know that it would all come to a head when Joel would kiss his way down her body, heavy knees dropping to the floor. There was no patience left within him when he practically ripped Y/N’s panties off of her body, hands roughly pushing her thighs apart.

“J-Joel, what are you doing?” She questioned, forearms braced against the table, being pushed back further up the furniture as Joel started nipping at her inner thigh, goosebumps following in his wake

“‘m doin’ what I came here for.” He mumbled into her skin, teeth grazing the malleable flesh. She was about to ask exactly what that might be, but the question was answered when he licked a long stripe through her slick folds.

Curses tumbled out of Y/N’s lips as he used his mouth on her. Never in a million years would she imagine that he would do something so… obscene. And she never would have anticipated how much she loved it. Her eyes were wide as she marveled at the sight of him. His brown eyes were staring back up at her from over her mound, drinking in every little reaction he spurred from her. His hair was wild, the look of it brought on by Y/N’s fingers as she ran them through the tendrils, forcing him closer and closer. And then there were the noises of him slurping and groaning and relishing in the taste of her.

At the beginning, Joel was slow with his actions, his tongue going up and down the length of her slit. Again he would frustratingly avoid touching her clit, tracing big circles around the bud, building up anticipation deep in Y/N’s stomach. But as he continued, every so often he would flick over it pulling more whimpers from Y/N’s throat. He would moan against her folds in satisfaction, the vocalizations causing slight vibrations to run through her entire form.

Y/N’s head fell with a soft thump against the table, her back arching up into the air, squirming under Joel’s actions. A hand snaked up from Y/N’s thigh, placing itself on her sternum. His palm was rough against the skin between her bare breasts, holding her down and keeping her in place.

Finally, seemingly deciding that the woman had been through enough torture, Joel wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it harshly. She all but screamed at this new sensation overcoming her, her right leg slipping over his left shoulder, unknowingly trapping him in place. They were locked in a heated tryst, his hand still braced on her chest, her calf pushing into his back and Joel’s mouth and tongue were still unrelenting.

She couldn’t help but to twist her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer against her cunt, she grinded her hips into his face, any tribulations that she might be hurting him lost in her pleasure. But if only she knew how much Joel adored her desperate nature as she chased after her high on his tongue. In fact he had never been this hard in his life. He could feel himself dripping inside of his pants, making a mess of his boxers as precum spilled from his tip with every twitch of his cock. His hips were thrusting into the air beneath the table in his own desperation. The seam of his zipper was rubbing firmly against the length of him. Joel honestly would not be surprised if he ended up cumming without even having to touch himself.

And as it turned out, eventually he would.

Joel’s name was now falling freely from between Y/N’s lips in broken fragments. The movements of her hips were becoming clumsy, stuttering as Joel continued to lick at her clit, groaning everytime she pulled at his hair. The heat burning low in her stomach began to grow hotter and more incessant. And with one more deliberate move of Joel’s tongue against her clit, it all began to burst.

The sight of Y/N cumming was the prettiest thing Joel had ever seen. Her head was thrust back against the table, supple lips drawn open as more of her moans escaped into the air, along with the sound of his name. Her whole body was tensing and shaking as the waves of her orgasm washed over her body. Joel’s mouth was ruthless on her cunt, drinking anything she had to offer him as the proof of her orgasm splashed over his tongue. The sight of her, as well as the taste of her, was all too much to bear as his own hips involuntarily jutted into nothing, the confines of his pants working against him in a way that had him finishing. He shuddered at the sensation, his shoulders trembling as he could feel his own cum spill into the fabric of his underwear. He whimpered into Y/N’s cunt, breathing sharply out of his nose, still trying to coax her down from her own orgasm as her body became limp and her breathing heavy, until finally everything started to slow down.

Searching hands groped around until they finally found purchase on Joel’s shoulders. She tugged at his shirt, forcing him away from her oversensitive core and out from between her legs.

She was met with eyes blown out with lust and a fading orgasm, red lips parted in amazement and beard shining with her cum. His clothes were askew and his brown curls were all over the place. He looked completely out of it. Though she probably couldn’t say she was much better.

And Joel admired the image of it as he stood above her. She blinked up at him, leaning back on her elbows, a look of pure wonderment painting her features. Her green dress was bunched around her middle, nipples still perked in the cool air of the kitchen, her chest stuttering with every breath. He smiled softly at her, leaning to snake a hand around her waist, pulling her up into a sitting position, her hands instinctively looping around his broad shoulders.

“You alright?” He asked gently as he stood her on shaking legs, the skirt of her dress now falling back in place. She shivered when she felt the touch of his knuckles on her chest once again as he shifted the top of her dress back in its proper position.

“I— um… yeah.” She said breathlessly, words lost to her in her post-orgasmic state. Joel couldn’t help but grin at her flustered demeanor, bringing a hand up to her cheek. She was grateful for his touch, leaning into his hand as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to her lips causing Y/N to taste herself upon his skin.

“Did you… get what you were looking for?” Y/N questioned, once they pulled apart. Earning soft laughter deep from within Joel’s chest. The sound of it quirking up the corners of Y/N’s lips in a shy smile, pride swelling in her belly since she was the one who caused it.

“That I did, sweetheart.” He smiled, running a hand over her hair, his eyes sparking with contentment. Her shy smile morphed into that of a bright grin, pulling him back in towards her to share a deeper kiss. He groaned into her lips, unexpected for the both of them as another surge of lust sparked between them, seemingly unsatisfied by what they had just finished. She whimpered back into his mouth as tongues started probing and teeth nipping once again. At a particularly boisterous moan from Y/N, Joel had to pull away.

“W-wait.” He breathed, “I— We can’t, we don’t have time. I have to go back.”

Y/N deflated at his words, but ultimately nodded her head in understanding. She took a step back from him, needing the distance to quell her need to melt into him once more. Though Joel’s fingers quickly wrapped around her own, stopping her from moving away any further.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, yeah?” He asked, the question causing Y/N’s heart to drop down to her stomach. As she looked at him she found insecurities scrawled across his features. Maybe she hadn’t done enough to convince him that she wasn’t going anywhere. Or perhaps this was leftover from pain he endured in the past. She brought his hand up, brushing her lips across his knuckles in a sweet kiss, and then covered that spot with her free hand.

“I promise.” She whispered, her gaze locked on his searching eyes, flickering over her features, trying to find the truth. When he found nothing but her earnest smile he felt brave enough to go, but not before leaving her with one more breathless kiss.

Y/N had watched silently as he got ready to leave, washing his face with the bar of hand soap left on the side of the kitchen sink. She didn’t say anything as he readjusted his clothes and threw his bag over his shoulder. And she didn’t beg him to stay when he finally placed that final kiss upon her lips. All she did was sink further and further into the throes of missing him, despite the fact that he was right in front of her.

It only grew stronger as he whispered more promises of continuing when he returned three days later. She held onto that promise, close to her chest like a dying flame, watching as the view of his truck disappeared over the horizon.

She prayed to the gods above that time would fly quickly.

Though perhaps she should’ve been praying for something else entirely.

Because later that night and hundreds of miles out from the shoreline, a little ship bobbed at sea. The workers on deck scrambled in preparation. Worry stiffened their brows. Prayers to Poseidon fell from their lips. A soft pattern of rain began to sprinkle over their heads, it was unassuming in its very nature. But that was just the first sign of the oncoming danger as they headed into the eye of the storm.

Three days came and went.

Joel had yet to return home.

Y/N knew that the life of a fisherman was dangerous and unpredictable, she had heard many stories, most of which when she was younger, whispered to her by her classmates as they relayed the most gory details from the sad news of a shipwreck. Some were overheard at the local pub, traumatic events recounted around a bottle of brandy as fishermen tried to top each other's stories.

Frankly, these stories hardly bothered the young woman like it did to others in town. She couldn’t indulge in the disturbance of it all because the way these stories were told, relayed like an unattainable fairytale. It was all folklore in her mind. She was certain that nothing like that could ever affect any aspect of her life.

She was eating her words now.

It was on the sixth day that Joel was gone when she heard that it was a storm that delayed their ship, knocking it off its course.

The information was brought to her front doorstep by her very own father, who in his old age made the trek across the island to do so. This left Y/N’s stomach unsettled, for he would never go to such great lengths unless something truly terrible had occurred.

She was reminded of the day her mother died. He adorned the same face that painted his features now. Eyes downcasted, lower lip trembling, hands twisting around his patched cap. He was sitting on one of the wooden chairs strewn around the kitchen table. Y/N was leaned up against the counter, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“We didn’t get the message until early this morning. Radio was down, they barely got it workin’ when they reached us...” He said quietly, to the toes of his boots.

“And?” Y/N urged, knowing her father had more to say.

“They lost a few men.” He said quickly, as if he couldn’t stand to have the words left on his tongue. Y/N sucked in a breath. She turned around, facing the window over the sink. She braced her palms on the counter, vision blurring as tears pricked the corner of her eyes.

“Did they say who?” She asked, words choked between her tightening vocal cords, constricting from her tears.

“No, couldn’t keep the signal for long enough.” He murmured, she could hear him stand, the legs of the chair squeaking against the tile. “But they did say they’ll be returning by this evening.”

Y/N whipped around at that, her features twisted in vexation. The lead buried so much deeper than it needed to be. She would have to keep her annoyance left unsaid, however, as now there was no time to waste.

She brushed past her father hastily, ignoring the way her name was called after her as she staggered around the living room, clumsy in the way she tugged her boots over her feet. Her jacket was long forgotten on the hook by the door as she hurried outside, the thought of it only coming once the cool winds whipped at her exposed arms and cheeks. But she wouldn’t turn back for it. Her adrenaline kept her warm, anyways.

It was a two hour walk to get to the docks. Beads of sweat ran down her spine, blisters pinched at the heels of her feet, her breathing was labored as she pushed her anxiety out of her lungs. Though none of that mattered. All she knew was that she had to get to the docks. She had to get to him. If he was even there…

She swiped angrily at the tears that now carved pathways down the skin of her cheeks. Never in her life had she ever been able to keep her emotions at bay, she was always willing to scream at the sky and cry til her throat was raw. That fact was unchanging even as she grew older. So she let her tears fall. They didn’t distract from her current mission, anyhow. Her eyes were set on the small town that appeared over the horizon.

The whole town congregated at the docks. Passersby stood on the cobblestone streets, their inherent nosiness ill-concealed by their feigned looks of concern. Whispers flitted between them as if this were all just a dramatized show to keep them entertained. Y/N let no apologies slip through her lips as she pushed her way through them, knocking into their shoulders and earning glares as she did.

When her footsteps rang out on the wood of the dock that's when she was surrounded by the people like her. Family members worried for their loved ones lost at sea. They all stood silently as their eyes were set towards the ocean, hands clutched in prayer, whispering hopes that it wasn’t their spouse, parent or child who lost their life to an unrelenting sea. Y/N was too impatient to do the same. She just stood and waited for any kind of sign that Joel would be home soon.

It came only thirty minutes later. When a small boy at the front of the dock screeched in anticipation, pointing out a small dot wavering in the distance. Y/N’s stomach swooped down in a mixture of hope and apprehension. She was terrified to learn the truth of what happened.

But twenty minutes after that, the truth had arrived as the ship pulled in with the tide. Everyone advanced closer to where the fisherman would eventually unboard. Y/N stayed behind, her feet frozen to where she stood. Maybe she was trying to delay the inevitable.

Relieved cries and overjoyed calling of names soon swirled into the evening air as loved ones were reunited. Warm embraces and fervent kisses were exchanged between them. But it was all backtracked by the ones who received news of a death, heartbreaking wails mixing in with the sound of reunion.

It was an unsettling cacophony of sounds. The way love and loss intertwined within one another. Two sides of the same coin. And Y/N still had yet to know which one she was on.

Her hands were shaking. Her sight was restricted by the many heads that stood in front of her. She scanned each face, none of them holding the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to. Her stomach sank deeper and deeper, her throat started to constrict again, a sob threatened to burst out from between her trembling lips.

She couldn’t hold it back once she registered a mess of brown and gray curls making its way through the crowd. The sob released itself, though not in anguish as she had thought, it was instead paired with the most intense form of relief she had ever known. Her feet started to move by their own accord.

His name fell desperately from her lips.

Joel stilled once he heard the sound of it. Brown eyes wild as he searched frantically for where it was coming from. When they found her through a split in the crowd, Y/N was met with the same look of relief she knew was apparent within her own irises.

His stride lengthened as he worked fast to cut the distance between them. As she drew nearer, he registered the tear stains on her supple skin, fresh ones following the same path. His heart lurched at the sight, the overwhelming need to hold her burning his skin. Burning hotter as she drew nearer. Setting him ablaze when she was right in front of him.

He tossed his bag to the side in favor of wrapping his arms around her. He relished in the way she sank into his arms, curling into his chest. He felt how her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, beating in the same pattern as his own. Joel held onto her even tighter.

“You scared the hell out of me.” She cried, tone muffled by his cable knit sweater as she hid her face in his warmth. A large hand smoothed over the back of her head, bringing her in even closer if that was even possible. His nose dropped down into her hair, the scent of her invading his senses, comforting him. He was back home. Safe. And she was here waiting for him.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” He murmured, the nickname falling freely in his solace.

She didn’t seem to mind.

They returned home just as the sun dipped below the horizon, losing the orange hues of the sunset to a dark velvet sky littered with stars. The journey was much easier on the way back now that they had Joel’s old truck that was waiting for him down by the docks. As well as the fact that the reassurance of Joel’s return replaced the heavy feeling of fear that had haunted Y/N for the past three days.

They were greeted by a homemade meal, left behind by Y/N’s father. A gift either of consolation or celebration. She was grateful it was the latter.

And once their bellies were full and the pain of the day was washed away in soothing streams of hot water, the two of them stood in the hallway once again. Y/N was unsure of what to do. Less than a week ago they had crossed a boundary she hadn’t even dreamed of. Now they were standing at the precipice of something even greater. And since Joel was safe at home once again, the anticipation to act on it was dripping from the walls.

Was she ready for such a feat? Was Joel expecting something like this to happen? Nerves brought a tremor to her hands.

Meanwhile, Joel could feel the tips of his ears burning at the memory of what happened the last time they were alone together. Her moans had him weak in the knees, her skin was soft to the touch, things he only knew since Y/N had made the first move in this very hallway. A bolder woman than what stood in front of him now, as her eyes stayed glued to the floor, her breathing fragmented from timidity.

His gaze softened as he took in the sight of her.

“I don’t know what you’re expectin’ to happen...” He breathed, a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “But I can assure you it’s not what you’re thinkin’...”

Y/N’s eyes flickered up at the teasing lilt to his words. She was met with a mischievous gleam in those brown eyes as he repeated the very first thing she ever said to him. She couldn’t help her own grin that bloomed across her lips.

At her smile, he felt brave enough to bring a hand up to her cheek.

“You have nothing to worry about, darlin’” He then murmured, stroking his thumb over the soft skin. She leaned in his touch, peering up at him through her lashes. “We don’t have to do anythin’.”

“I want to.” She whispered back, her words causing his breath to hitch in his throat. “Eventually… but tonight…”

He nodded, removing his touch from her face. “I understand.”

The floorboards creaked as he took a step back. But surprise shot up his spine when she moved to clutch his fallen hand with both of her own.

“But tonight could you just lay with me?” She quickly added.

She looked up at him expectantly, the plush of her bottom lip dragged between her teeth. He let out a low labored breath.

“Y-yeah.” He nodded, the word weak on his tongue. He was afraid that if he spoke any louder he might scare her off. Though the grip of her fingers locked around his palm proved to him that she was there to stay. A reassurance he was always grateful for.

Y/N tugged at his hand, urging him to follow as she guided their way into her bedroom. It was an odd choice, considering the master bedroom was just right there and the bed was bigger. But to be invited into her private sanctuary was an opportunity he would never pass on. So his feet followed eagerly.

It was dark in the room when they entered and it stayed that way as no one made a move to turn on the light. Unfortunately, what she had done to make the bedroom her own was lost to his eyes, but that regret was soon forgotten as he heard the squeak of mattress springs and the shuffling of blankets.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found Y/N’s form on the bed in front of him, he stood on the side, basking in the glory of this moment.

“Come here.” Her whisper found him through the dark. His stomach swooped at the sultry sound of her voice. But he ignored any provocative thoughts that wormed its way into his brain. Instead, he obeyed her command, the mattress dipping as he slid under the covers beside her.

In an instant, his senses were invaded by her scent as well as her warmth. There was only an inch or two of distance between them. Both lying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

A sharp intake of breath rang out from Joel when the touch of her fingertips smoothed over his open palm in the space between them. Naturally, his own digits curled around hers. He heard as she sighed happily from his reciprocation.

And somehow— despite how fast his heartbeat was when he had her writhing under his tongue only a few days prior, it was nothing compared to the small gentle act of holding her hand.

Joel was up before the sun.

As was the case every morning, since his body's internal clock was intune with the demanding schedule his occupation thrusted upon him. So he was used to opening his eyes to a darkened world, not yet warmed by rays of sunlight.

Though today was slightly different. He wasn’t woken by the natural fluttering of his eyelids as his dreams from that night slipped away; Instead it was the press of another person’s form against his body, an arm draped over his torso, legs intertwined between his own, head resting on his chest.

He stiffened once he remembered where he was and who it was.

Y/N.

She was warm through the fabric of their pajamas. So much so that Joel didn’t even miss the warmth of the sun like he usually did during these dark and frigid mornings. A deep contented sigh pushed through the structure of his chest, Y/N’s head moving in time with his breathing. The movement elicited a small whine from her lips.

The sound had his heart racing yet again, reminding him of the other noises she was capable of making.

Those noises had been replaying over and over in Joel’s mind ever since he was blessed to hear them— even better, to create them with the touch of his own hands and lips. He brought the memory with him when he was on that small boat, miles out at sea, restless in his cot as he ached to return home to her.

When they were caught in the throes of that storm all he could think about was her. The drive of it kept him alive throughout the chaos.

Now here he was, sharing in her warmth, despite the awkward navigation of their newfound forms of intimacy. Anticipation surged through his muscles, pulling away the last dregs of sleep that had plagued his limbs.

Joel cursed under his breath as something else began to stir to life.

This was a young man's game. He was in over his head with the feelings she evoked from him. Never in his life had he experienced anything quite like this. The way every part of his body begged for every part of hers. Everything he’d felt for those before her was just a crude imitation of what he felt for her at this very moment. It was almost an insult to compare. Nothing could ever compare..

And he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Which was funny. Because this woman was his wife. She was the one person he should feel this for. But with the way they had started Joel wasn’t sure what he was allowed to take what he wanted. Was he allowed to be selfish the way he wanted to? Everything surrounding the two of them was delicate. And Joel was terrified of breaking it with his large and clumsy hands.

For now he would just have to hold himself back. Be gentle in the way that he navigated this unknown territory. Which meant he had to do the hardest thing in the world.

He had to get out of this bed.

Slowly and cautiously he detangled his limbs from the woman beside him. He trained his eyes on her face, searching for any sign that his movements were waking her up. The line between her eyebrows showed itself when her cheek lost the firm foundation of his chest, but that— and a few incoherent mumbles— was all that occurred as he slipped himself out of her bed. Luckily, she seemed to be a sound sleeper as she curled up into herself without Joel’s warmth.

Joel stood above her, almost caught in a trance from how disgruntled she looked now that he was gone, proof of the effect he had on her as well. A small smile danced on his lips. And then he allowed himself one indulgence as he leaned over to brush a faint kiss over her forehead. He felt her features smooth under his lips, seemingly content with his departing gift.

To wake up alone in a cold empty bed was not what Y/N had expected that morning. There were a few instances during the night, when her dreams took a pause that she would wake up, eyes blinking in the dark. And she quickly grew accustomed to the strong presence that Joel was. The soft steady sound of his snores was a comfort to the girl’s ears as they rumbled through his chest. At some point in the night his strong arms had encircled around her waist, pulling her into his warmth.

That very same warmth, having been taken away from her, was now sorely missed. She stretched an arm out over the expanse of her bed, fingers groping at where Joel once lay.

She supposed she should’ve expected to wake up like this, considering how early he left every morning. But she would have thought she would’ve woken up when the time came. At least long enough to spare a goodbye before he headed off to work.

Disappointment sat heavy over her form like a stormy rain cloud. Y/N tried not to dwell on it, but as always her feelings were too strong to contain, so throughout the whole rest of the day she moved about the house wistful in demeanor. Yearning for Joel despite the fact he would be home in a few hours time.

Was this usually how it happened when you start to feel this way towards someone? Like your whole world stops turning when they aren’t near? Whatever the case, she knew that these feelings were not to be taken lightly. There was a rarity to them that made her heart much more precious to the woman. She felt like she needed to keep it safe, deep in her pocket where no harm would find it, and no one would be able to see the extremities of her feelings.

And that’s where she kept it as her restless feet wandered into town.

But as she walked, something funny happened. Everywhere she looked, everything seemed so much brighter. The people who passed her by greeted her with warm ‘hello’s’ and ‘how are you’s’. Kids were laughing as they played in the street, laughing. There were lovers in front of shops holding hands and exchanging stolen kisses. Birds were singing. The sun was… shining? Everything that used to be dreary about the island, everything that Y/N hated, had somehow flipped to be the exact opposite of what it used to be. Or perhaps… it had always been like this and she just hadn’t noticed, too caught up in her own pretension and desperate need to escape.

Perhaps this island really did live up to its name.

Why was it that she had just noticed this now? What had changed?

She thought of her beating heart, hidden in her deepest pocket. And then froze in her tracks.

She was reminded of something. Something she had only heard in the old sea-shanties her father used to sing while he cooked. In the stories her mother used to whisper to her at bedtime. And that used to worm her way into her dreams late at night, planting the idea that she had to escape in the first place. She had to go find it.

It was love.

And it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Well, not the love part, that made sense to her as the loose ends were finally tied together. What surprised her the most was that she didn’t have to travel to the furthest reaches of the earth to find it. It had been on this very island the whole entire time. And it was fated to be shared with the man she was hell-bent against marrying.

Incredulous laughter began to bubble out of her throat. So much so that she had to brace herself on her knees as she gasped for air. She was definitely living up to her reputation as the crazy woman, earning strange glances from passersby. But she didn’t care. She never cared. All she really cared about was burning passionate love, that’s what she had been yearning for all her life. And she was almost too stupid to realize that it was right under her nose.

Gong! Gong! Gong! Gong! Gong!

The clocktower in town was chiming at the start of the new hour. Five o’clock… It pulled Y/N out of her unexpected fit of laughter. Joel would be on his way home right at this very moment. And without thinking twice, the woman began to run.

Joel returned to an empty house. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as there were some days Y/N would be out in the garden, lounging on the porch swing she loved oh-so much, having lost track of time. He would always find her, caught in the middle of a fascinating passage, one she couldn’t tear her eyes from. The idea of dinner would not have crossed her mind, as it was often lost in the clouds.

He never minded that, though. In fact, he quite liked finding her like that because then it meant that he would get the chance to be by her side while they made their meal together. And he also couldn’t lie about the fact that he enjoyed seeing the image of her, so carefree, with her knees tucked beneath her, skin glowing underneath the evening sun. He would always take a moment to stop and watch her, drinking in the sight of her peace before having to force her out of it.

A small smile spread across his lips at the thought he’d catch her like that now. His heavy footfalls rang out into the quiet household as he crossed the floor towards the back door. His anticipation flickered deep in his stomach once more, excited to see her.

But he was left in disappointment and slight worry when he was greeted with the sight of an empty porch swing. It looked so much sadder without her presence, the loss of her making obvious the peeling white paint and rusted chains that made the furniture what it was. Lackluster without her. A feeling now all too familiar to Joel as he searched the rest of the house, finding empty room after empty room.

He had seen this before. Lived through it. Deja vu in the form of his ex wife whittled its way into his brain. He recalled the day he found her missing. How he felt when he realized she wasn’t coming back. This was so much worse. Because now it was Y/N.

The woman he had unexpectedly fallen for, head over heels. The woman who promised him she wouldn’t do the same and that she would stay right here with him in this house.

It must’ve been too much to ask for. Joel must have wanted too much. Taken too much. She must have come to her senses and realized the potential she was wasting in a marriage with an old man like him. Dread was quick to overtake him, he knew that much. But he had never been a lucky man. Everything he ever loved was always lost to him. Why would anything change now?

Joel found himself sitting on the front step of his porch, head clutched in his hands. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that brought him out there. Maybe he needed the fresh air to rid the panic in his lungs. Or maybe it was that flicker of hope that still burned within his heart. Maybe she would return home to him. If his hopes weren’t for nothing.

“Joel?”

His head snapped up to find Y/N standing in front of him. She was out of breath, a sheen of sweat covering her skin, causing her to glow brighter than she usually did. Her irises sparked with worry as she took in the sight of his hunched form on the porch. Though once he registered that she was really there, standing in front of him, he shot to his feet.

“Y/N.” He replied, his voice riddled with a confusing tone of surprised awe, eyes thick with relief. The girl’s brows furrowed. He took the remaining two steps down to where she stood, his hands bracing themselves on her shoulders.

“Where were you?” He questioned, somewhat angrily, though through that she could see a form of desperation hiding behind it all.

“I’m sorry I was— I just came from town.” She answered, having not yet fully caught her breath, the words were hushed between her overworked lungs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He practically begged out the question. “I could’ve brought you home.”

“I’m sorry.” She said earnestly, wrapping her fingers around his wrists. “I didn’t think of it. I was in a hurry to get back.”

“Why?”

She looked down at the ground between their feet, the distance between them small, soon to become even smaller, she was sure. A bashful smile crept up onto her lips.

“I wanted to see you.” She murmured, eyes still averted as a slight heat pinched at her cheeks. Somehow it was much harder to face him, now that she had put a name to what she had been feeling.

Surprise stiffened her shoulders when Joel let out a harsh breath of relief, his head dropping into the crook of her neck, arms looping around her waist. She soon softened under his embrace, her fingers tangling within his sea-breeze tangled hair.

“I thought you left.” He mumbled into her skin. Y/N’s stomach dropped at the hidden fear behind his words. She now understood completely where this strange new demeanor was coming from. She quickly shook her head, knowing Joel felt as she did when her cheekbone brushed against his ear in time with the movement.

“No.” She whispered. “No, I would never.”

His hold on her tightened with the words spoken. Y/N smoothed her hand over the back of his head, hoping it brought some form of comfort to the man. As his shoulders began to relax, she knew that it did. She continued her reassurance.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N tilted her head towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should’ve come down to the docks.”

“Why didn’t you?” He asked, pulling back from his hiding spot, eyes searching for the answer.

Y/N drew in a deep breath, the heat in her cheeks burning fiercer than before. She averted her gaze towards the gravel pathway, taking a step back so that possibly she could find her words within the created distance. Nerves, fairly quickly, took over her form.

“Well… to start, I think— pretty early on in our marriage you must have realized that I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the whole ordeal.” She rambled as she began to pace, wild with her movements the way she was erratic with her words.

Joel opened his mouth to confirm, but she was speaking so fast that he never had the chance. So he watched on, almost incredulously, eyes following her as she paced back and forth in front of him, avoiding his gaze.

“I mean… I don’t think you were totally happy with it either, considering how we were at the beginning… —Anyways, none of that matters now.” Y/N waved her arms, trying to get rid of any more unnecessary words.

“The reason I was so unhappy— at first— was because I was so desperate to fall in love.” She continued, the last word ringing familiar in Joels ear. A smile perked up the corners of his mouth as realization dawned on him, patiently waiting for the girl to finish her rant.

“And I didn’t think an arranged marriage could have any possibility of that.” Y/N glanced quickly over at Joel, finding him nodding along in exaggerated understanding, strong arms crossed over his chest.

“But then a funny thing happened, when I was walking into town and I suddenly realized…” She stopped moving, facing the man head on as she said her peace. “I think I may be in love with you— No… I know that I’m in love with you.”

As he considered her— standing in front of him, with begging eyes and shaking hands— he bit back a brighter grin. With this onslaught of information he wasn’t exactly sure how he should say what he wanted to say. If the girl would even give him the chance to do so.

“And that’s why I didn’t meet you at the docks.” Y/N finished, quite lamely, hands raised out from her sides as if offering him the floor. Though, her arms flopped back down to their original position quickly after.

“So…” Joel started slowly, killing the woman with every second his pause dragged out. “You didn’t come to the docks… because you’re in love with me?”

“It would seem so.” She confirmed, her voice small with apprehension. “Do you have anything to say on the matter?”

“Just one thing.” He breathed, before taking a step forward, he looped an arm around her waist pulling her against him. A gasp fell from her lips at the eagerness in this action, her hands impulsively landing on his chest. Joel's other hand moved to rest on the side of her face, guiding her lips to slot against his in a deep-seated kiss.

It was as if the entirety of her being were in her lips, like there was nothing else in the world as he pressed soft kisses to the plush skin. Kisses that somehow conveyed the entire range of how he felt towards her. The passion showed itself as he nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. The tenderness shown in the gentle caress of his tongue. The love being presented as he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, it shining in the deep brown of his eyes.

“I love you too.” He confirmed what she saw within his irises, her heart swelling that she wasn’t on her own in feeling this way.

“I didn’t realize that’s what it was until I thought you were gone.” He told her, “I think I might’ve…”

His words trailed off, replaced with a deep breath as he pulled her in closer, as if making sure she was really there in his arms.

“I think I might’ve felt this way for a really long time.” He ended. Y/N smiled warmly up at him, tilting her head to brush her nose against his own.

“Me too.”

And neither one of them really knew exactly when that could have been. Perhaps it was the very first time they laid eyes on each other. Or during one of their many shared meals as they sat across from one another in comfortable silence. Or the distance that kept them apart by raging seas. Maybe it shifted with the constant storms that would rain down over their house. Or maybe it was written in the stars, destined to happen. Whatever the case, it didn’t really matter to them now as they melted back into each other, lips crashing in a great crescendo portraying exactly the burning passion this island was supposed to be known for.

Their next movements were like a white blinding light as they forged through the front door of their home, shoes left behind,— the excitement that should’ve been present on their wedding night was now following them through the living room and up the creaky stairs. Y/N’s grip on Joel’s hand was strong as she pulled him down the hallway towards the master bedroom, but she still wasn’t strong enough to keep him moving when he stopped abruptly. She turned to face him.

“Wh—?” Her question was interrupted when he pressed her against the wall, his lips finding hers once more. A small squeak of surprise from the young woman was muffled by Joel’s kiss, swallowing it down. His hands were firm on her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was hot to the touch.

“Joel.” She moaned against his lips, the touch of his thumb rubbing slow circles into her skin sending bolts of electricity straight to her toes.

His name sounding like that coming from her was enough to have Joel’s entire being on fire. He could feel himself harden with every moan she gifted him, as well as his resolve weakening, patience wearing thin.

Shifting his grip, his hands were now clutching at the back of Y/N’s bare thighs (since she had miraculously had the good sense to wear shorts today). On instinct, using the leverage of Joel’s grasp, she jumped into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. The momentum of their bodies coming together had Joel stumbling backwards, back hitting the other wall. The artwork hanging on aging nails rattled in their frames, threatening to crash to the floor as they shook from the collision. Neither husband or wife paid this any mind as they clutched onto each other, lips still vehemently attached, moans and grunts being traded within their kiss.

Soon, Joel’s feet were moving once again, carrying Y/N over the threshold of his bedroom. Like a man was supposed to do with his bride, finally given the chance to do so. Though his grip almost slackened when she pulled her lips away from his, replacing them on the skin below his ear. He cursed under his breath as she began to suckle against a sweet spot he never even knew existed.

Against all odds, he made it to the bed, falling backwards against the plush surface, springs squeaking under their combined weight. Y/N was not at all deterred by this new position, her forearms bracing themselves on either side of Joel's head as she kissed her way down his neck, hoping she was even half as good as Joel was at this sort of thing.

She supposed she wasn’t half bad as his breathing was soon labored under the touch of her lips, thick fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt. She smiled against his skin, especially so when she finally lowered her hips down over his own, the sign of his enjoyment pressing harshly into her inner thigh. Y/N rolled her hips into him, hoping for that very same reaction she had gotten the first time she did this. With no surprise at all, she prevailed.

“Shit—.” He hissed, hands darting to grip at her hips. “Wait.”

Somehow he was strong enough to still her movements. Or maybe Y/N couldn’t help but obey the words said by this man. In either case, time began to slow down, their frantic movements ceasing. Y/N pushed up on her hands, sitting back on her heels so that she could meet his gaze. Joel’s hands found their home on the skin of her thighs, thumbs instinctively rubbing those soothing circles once again.

He drew in a breath, staring up at her with soft brown eyes. “Have you ever done this before?”

A shy look flitted across the woman's pretty features, her bashful smile weakened as her bottom lip was tugged between her lips. She shook her head, eyes trained to the top button of Joel’s shirt.

He swallowed against a newly dry throat as he realized she was willing to give him everything. Pink swelling up into his cheeks when his cock convulsed at the thought. Surely she had to have felt that, the gasp slipping from her lips proving that she did.

“I… I don’t wanna rush you into doing anything you’re not ready for.” Joel murmured, “We can take it as slow as you need.”

Y/N offered him a sweet smile at his words, her fingers toying with that button she had her eye on. They were trembling slightly, not out of fear but instead a steady form of anticipation.

“We’ve been married for almost a year now.” She responded, her tone soft. “I think we’ve taken it slow enough.”

“Alright then.” Joel responded in that same tone, a small smile matching her own, his heart lurching at what was to come next.

And he could have easily slipped back into the pace they had set when they had crashed into the room. His desires were certainly begging him to do so. But this was their first time indulging in this act as a married couple— her first time at all. So despite the protests of his aching body, Joel would take his time, offer every part of himself to her and hope she would offer the same.

He smoothed his hand up her thigh, carving his way up to rest his fingers behind her ear, thumb against her cheek. Without much force at all, he guided her gently until their lips were touching once again, this time in a slower kiss. She relaxed against him, chest resting on his. A small whimper escaped the back of her throat at the tenderness of it all.

The small noise spurred Joel into rolling Y/N onto her back, flipping the preexisting roles, covering her with the shadow of his form. His hands were braced on the plush surface beside her head, holding his weight above her. His knee was positioned between her thighs. She was a whimpering mess, grinding up into him, desperate to relieve the ache between her legs. Joel couldn’t help the smirk that appeared over his lips. The bold woman who was kissing down his neck just a mere few minutes ago was long gone. A dark part of him took pleasure at the sight of her like this, desperate for him. It didn’t help how pretty she was splayed underneath him, eyes darkened with lust, bottom lip trembling, hips rutting towards the thigh that was too far away from where she wanted him.

He wouldn’t give it to her. Not yet at least. He was going to take his time. He set his hand against her hip, forcing her to stop her movements, holding her in place.

Lowering himself towards her, he brushed his lips across Y/N’s in a quick kiss. He placed another on the apple of her cheek. Another on her temple. And again at the corner of her mouth. He was moving so slow that she could feel the flutter of his eyelashes tickling her skin. She sighed at each kiss, relishing in his attentiveness.

She was cold when he removed himself from her, standing up at the side of the bed. Even more so when his hands lifted the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. Her nipples were pebbled against the white lace of her bra, made more obvious as she leaned up on her elbows. His darkened eyes roamed over her body, no inch left undiscovered. His fingers continued to do their work of revealing more, when he popped open the button of her shorts. The garment soon discarded on the floor with her shirt.

All that she was left in was her undergarments, grateful she had put on a matching set that morning. Joel stood fully clothed in front of her, on unequal ground but somehow the thought excited her. She could feel herself flush behind the skin of her cheeks, turning her head so she could hide behind the back of her hand.

“Don’t hide from me, darlin’” He whispered, catching her in the act, fingers clasping around her wrist. She complied letting the limb fall back to its original position. She dared herself to meet his strong gaze as he continued, another gasp swirling into the air when he spread her thighs, the wetness between her legs more obvious once the cold air contrasted with the heat of her arousal.

“Look at you…” Joel groaned, toying with the hem of her panties where her thigh met her center, the fleeting touch of his fingers causing her hips to twitch up towards him. He watched her restlessness with slight amusement, though he granted her some form of relief as he dipped his pointer finger into her soaked panties. Though he only did so to pull the fabric away from her burning heat, and a second later he let it snap back down, the sound louder than expected as it smacked against her folds.

“Don’t do that.” Y/N whined, squirming under his teasing.

“What? You don’t like it?” He did it again, causing the girl to jolt up further on the bed. She whined once, but she didn’t exactly have any words to argue with him. She sort of did like his teasing. But impatience was taking over her.

“I— I think I’m ready.” She breathed heavily through her nose as his fingers continued to play around with the fabric of her panties.

“Ready?” He questioned, brows furrowed.

“Ready for you to— for your…” She stammered, embarrassment flooding her senses as she couldn’t find how to put it.

“For my cock?” He finished for her. She squeaked at the unexpected harshness of his words, but was pleased by the sharp ache that probed at her core.

“Mhm.” She nodded, shutting her eyes, almost as if bracing herself.

They shot back open at the sound of Joel’s soft laughter filling the room, she was greeted with the sight of his bright smile, his head shaking.

“What?” Y/N asked, slightly perturbed at the fact he was laughing at her. He only shook his head, bending to loop an arm around her waist, shifting her body with ease so that she now lay properly on the bed, head sinking into the plush material of his pillows. She huffed in annoyance, lifting herself up back on her elbows so that he could feel the full force of her glare.

“You’re not even close to ready for me, sweetheart.” He told her, a strong knee propped on the bed. His fingers were working on the buttons of his dark green shirt, revealing a smattering of hair that was once hidden by its confines. Y/N paused as she hungrily drank in the reveal of his skin, but was soon disappointed when he stopped at the third button down. Any complaints she had were lost on her tongue when he swung his other leg onto the bed, trapping the woman between his knees as he sat above her.

He looked like a god in this position. Skin shining under the sunlight that slid into the room in its golden hour, the shadows of his strong features accentuated. She wasn’t sure if she should cower under his might, she was more grateful to be bestowed with this sight of him. Ready to sacrifice anything to him.

“I feel ready.” She murmured up to him, “Want you inside of me, Joel.”

An unanticipated shiver shot up the length of Joel's spine at her admission, his erection growing harsher within the limits of his underwear. He sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head as if he had to deliberately make the move to hold himself back.

“I want that too, baby.” He mumbled, shifting to smooth his hands down the expanse of her stomach, needing his hands on her in some shape or form. “But ‘m too big for you.”

“Too big?” Y/N parroted her eyes widening. He nodded.

“Have t’ get you ready for me.” He relayed, “Especially since you’ve never had anythin' up there before.”

“Yes I have.” She countered, her tone becoming more defiant. Joel stilled at her words, knowing that could only mean one thing.

“Your fingers?” He swallowed against the words. Y/N’s shy demeanor returned, she looked away.

“Yes.” She said, her voice small.

Joel held back a groan threatening at the back of his throat, the image of her playing with herself, cumming around her fingers, forcing its way to the forefront of his mind. He could feel as more precum leaked out of his tip, slicking against his skin. His heartbeat was ringing in his ears.

“It’s not gonna be the same.” He strained, shaking his head.

“Will it hurt?”

“A little… at first.” He told her honestly, “That’s why I need you to be ready for me. It’ll hurt you less and I… just wanna make you feel good.”

Y/N softened at the earnest look in Joel’s eyes as he spoke, her heartbeat hammering in her chest with how much care he was providing for her.

“Okay.” She relented, her hands moving up to grasp at the bottom of his shirt, tugging him towards her. He followed her movements with no resistance, leaning down to kiss her, deep and steady.

“Make me feel good then.” She whispered into his lips.

“As you wish.” He replied, in the same hushed tone.

Joel sat back on his heels, admiring her in the golden light for just a second longer before he started. They held each other’s stare, the love they confessed blooming in the air between them, warming their bones, making their hearts beat in time.

His touch was light as he slid her panties down her legs, losing the piece of fabric somewhere on the bed behind him. He placed a featherlight kiss across her collarbone as he unclasped her bra, her back arching into him so he had the room to remove it. He tossed it in the same aimless direction. And when he sat back, she was bare to him.

“Beautiful.” He mumbled, tracing his knuckles down her sternum to her belly button, she shivered under his touch, or maybe from the compliment.

Then he placed himself gently on the pillow beside her. He brought a large hand to her chin, tilting her head to the side so that she’d meet his gaze. Kissing her lips gently, he slid that same hand down the length of her stomach until his fingers were pressing into her pubic mound. He pulled away from her lips, so he could see every little reaction that she had for him.

Her pretty lips fell open when he dipped his fingers lower, collecting the wetness that was pooling at her entrance. He hummed at how wet she was, the slick covering his two fingers when he brought them back up to rub circles into her clit. A moan was instantly pulled from her, her body jolting at the sensation, breasts bouncing as she did. Joel drank in every minute of it.

And once he knew she was completely ready, he finally slipped a finger inside of her.

Y/N sucked in a harsh breath, she wasn’t expecting his finger to feel so large inside of her. But it was nothing to what she had felt before when she tried something like this on her own. She felt so full with just the use of his finger, stretching her out so resolutely, that she wondered how it would feel once it was the real thing. She was whimpering once again due to Joel’s actions, her hands shot up to grasp at Joel’s bicep, his shirt taut over the flexing muscle.

“You want another finger?” He asked into her temple.

“Y-yes.” She breathed, already wanting more from him. And he wasn’t going to deny her of what she wanted. So he added the second finger, the obscene sound of it squelching into the air. He changed the position of his hand, as well, his thumb now prodding at her clit whenever he thrust his hand back into her.

Y/N’s hips moved in time with each of Joel’s movements, even as he sped up, the sound of his palm smacking against her wetness growing louder and louder. Her moans were now tumbling over her tongue at a constant rate, her head thrown back against the pillow.

Joel’s eyes were still watchful over her, he gaped at how beautiful she looked, coming undone with only the use of his fingers. He couldn’t stop from grinding himself into her hip, moving at the same pace as his fingers, too turned on by her to try and hold back.

His own moans were muffled when he started kissing at her neck, and then down the soft flesh of her breasts, until he flicked his tongue over her sensitive nipple.

That was the beginning of Y/N’s breaking point. Him curling his fingers inside of her, probing at a small spongy spot hidden deep inside of her, was the end.

Her orgasm ripped through her like a freight train, her cum splashing itself onto Joel’s palm. Her legs couldn’t stop shaking, even when he pulled his digits out of her. He chuckled softly as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest. On instinct she curled into him, fingers clutching at the lapels of his shirt, her body still trembling as she floated back down from the sky.

“How was that?” He questioned, holding her tighter against him. She could feel her own slick on his fingers as they pressed into her lower back.

“Good.” She said into the crook of his neck, voice shaky, earning another laugh from the man.

“We can stop now, if you want.” He told her, lips pressed into her hair.

Y/N pushed against his chest, freeing herself from her previous hiding spot. She looked at him with furrowed brows and found nothing but honesty and adoration flickering across his irises. God, he really would stop for her, if she asked him too. In fact, the look he was giving her told her that he would do anything for her. She let out a frustrated breath, surely he wasn’t so stupid to think that she wouldn’t do the same for him.

“I don’t want to stop.” She said, genuine with her words. Maybe a bit too forceful as she sat up.

“O-okay.” Joel relinquished, eyes wide at her eagerness, following her in the action of sitting up, his back now straightened.

“It’s slightly unfair, you know.” Y/N then said, placing a hand to the center of his chest, pushing lightly so that he would rest against the headboard. There was no resistance, he did as she said.

“What is?” Joel inquired, his breathing quickening as Y/N sat on her knees beside his hip. His eyes were trained to the crease between her thigh and waist, relishing in her every curve. It was a cruel reminder of his hardened cock trapped in his pants, twitching at the sight. He didn’t even notice as her hands started to unbutton his shirt. That was until she started kissing at each newly revealed piece of skin. He sucked in a harsh breath at the touch of her lips.

“You always get to see me like that.” She said between kisses. And he could’ve argued that it had only ever been twice, but he didn’t want to know what would happen if he interrupted her wrath. “And yet you always hide from me.”

“I don’t hide from you.” Joel countered, his knuckles white from his grip on the sheets beneath him. “You’re just not the opportunist like I am.”

A surge of pride spread out under Joel’s skin as Y/N’s sweet laughter bubbled into the air. The sound of it doing as much to him as her moans did. He loved hearing her laugh. Like it was proof that she was actually happy with him. Though he supposed the proof was right in front of him, as she continued to leave loving kisses across his chest.

Joel’s shirt was finally discarded, granting Y/N the sight she had been desperate to see for so long. A beauty to behold. He wasn’t exactly all hard lines and jagged edges. But he was strong and large, and soft in the places he needed to be. His skin was tanned and taut over muscles that could only be carved by the waves of a raging sea. But there were scars left behind, probably a result of tragedies endured on his countless journeys. Y/N left a soft kiss over each one.

And then her hands were soon preoccupied by a new task, the metal parts of his belt clanking against each other as she removed the constriction.

Joel waited with bated breath. He had to force himself not to ask if she was really sure about this. Because if she wasn’t, she definitely would not be slowly sliding open the zipper to his pants. Or then tugging them down his thick thighs, revealing the black fabric of his boxer briefs. And she definitely would not now be palming at the bulge between his legs. Which she was.

A groan fell from his lips once she had her hand squeezing at his erection. His hips jutted forward into her palm, his need for her touch too obvious for his own good. His eyes flickered up to find a look of pure wonder on the woman’s features, maybe she was surprised she could elicit such reactions from him.

“Feel’s s’ good, baby.” He reassured, the words falling from his lips between soft grunts of pleasure. Y/N’s eyes snapped up to meet his. He stared back, lids hooded over darkened eyes overblown with lust. His hips were now rolling up into her hand, over and over, unable to stop.

“Really?” She squeaked.

“Yeah.” He grunted out, any coherent sentences lost to him as lust overtook him. Especially when her fingers hooked around the hem of his underpants, pushing them down to follow the path of his pants.

He gasped when the cold air hit his burning erection.

She gasped at the sight of it.

His cock sprang up once it was finally free from its confines, the tip hitting his lower belly, leaving behind a splotch of precum against his skin. And Joel was right… he was big. It was thick, just like the rest of him, with protruding veins running up the side. The head of it was red and angry, shining with the proof of his arousal.

And surprisingly, despite the aggressive look of his erection, the woman wasn’t scared like she thought she’d be. Instead she was drawn to it. Drawn to him. Because she was drawn to every part of him. So there was no time wasted when her smaller hand wrapped around his length.

Joel cursed under his breath, head falling back against the headboard with a dull thud. Just the touch of her hand already had him weak, ready to unravel. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last once he finally felt the tight confines of her cunt fluttering around him. So for now he enjoyed the soft touch of her hand, closing his eyes as her thumb spread his precum over the tip with gentle touches.

She was slow with her movements, which was alright by Joel. It granted him time to breathe, as well as the fact that this was the first time she’s ever done anything like this. He didn't need to move any faster than this if she didn't want to. His arousal sat low in his belly, happily waiting in the anticipation.

Though, his blood spiked when he felt the wet touch of her tongue against the head of his cock.

“W-what are you doin’?” He asked, head snapping up to find her crouched down at his waist, hands splayed out on his thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes, tongue still unyielding against him. It was a sight he had dreamt about and longed for, but he never expected her to do anything like this tonight.

“You did this for me, right?” Y/N said between the tiny kitten licks she administered, “‘m only returning the favor.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He replied, shaking his head slightly. He brought a hand to her jawline, ready to pull her away from his erection, “You don’t owe me anythin’.”

“Okay… Well then it’s because I want to.” She countered, ignoring the presence of his hand and dipping her head downwards again. This time she wrapped her moistened lips over the entire tip.

“Fuck.” He hissed into the air, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair. He tried to be gentle with his grip, knowing she was new to all of this, but it was increasingly difficult to do so. Especially when she hummed in pleasure around his cock, seemingly relishing in the slight pain of having her hair pulled. She swirled her tongue around him, pulling a stuttering whimper from his lips.

She looked up at him at the sound. His head was thrown back once again, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin, he was breathing harshly through his nose, his handsome features twisted with euphoria. And it was all because of her.

Y/N felt as more wetness pooled between her legs and dripped down her inner thighs, she squirmed slightly as her arousal increased once again. As it turned out, she seemed to like having Joel like this, writhing under her in immense pleasure, whimpering from the touch of her tongue. She wondered if this is how he felt when he did the same thing to her. If he was this hard in her mouth because he gained pleasure from her pleasure. The thought spurred her on, moving her mouth further down his length.

Another deep groan rumbled out from his chest, eliciting a sound of affirmation from the woman, the vibration of her vocal chords shooting electricity through his body. He glanced back down at her, watching as she took him in as deep as she could.

“God, you look s’ pretty like that.”

And she did. Her mouth around his rigid cock, tears filling her eyes as he pushed deeper down her throat, her pupils blown out with need for him. He could cum to that sight. No— he was going to cum at the sight. He could feel the coil deep in his core about to snap as she continued. But he wasn’t going to let it end here.

“W-wait. Please, darlin’, you have to stop.” Joel said softly, as he gently pulled her off of him, Y/N’s features held a look of confusion and disappointment.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked as he pulled her into his lap, his burning shaft now pressing nicely against the curve of her backside. He could feel how wet she was as she pressed her center into his lower abdomen, soaking the coarse hair spattered across the skin there.

“No.” He shook his head, “No, you were absolutely perfect, sweetheart. I just… I want to be inside you before I finish.”

“Oh.” Y/N smiled shyly, her head dipping down in slight embarrassment. “Okay.”

“Do you think you’re ready for me?” He asked tenderly, placing kisses onto her cheeks. She closed her eyes against his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and nodding her head.

Soon she was on her back, head surrounded by Joel’s fluffy pillows. The sun had slowly dipped further down towards the horizon, only leaving a little bit of light left in the room. It was soft and gentle, caressing the two of them in dimming shades of blue. Joel braced himself over her, bicep flexing when he lowered himself to leave a kiss against her lips.

“I’ll start slow.” He whispered to her afterwards, leaning his forehead onto hers, a large hand smoothing over her outer thigh. The pressure of his fingertips were somehow soft within his guiding grasp, positioning her leg over his hip. A shock of pleasure erupted in Y/N’s core as she felt the length of Joel’s cock nestle in between her folds at this new position. Joel’s shoulders trembled, breathing growing heavy, his reaction to the same thing.

Y/N’s own breath hitched in her throat as Joel’s hands snaked between them. He wrapped his calloused fingers around his shaft, guiding the tip through Y/N’s slit and brushing it lightly against her clit. Simultaneous gasps intermingled in the air between their lips as they relished in the sensation.

“Joel.” Y/N whimpered, the unsaid words begging for more. He only nodded in return, his attention locked on the space between their hips, slowly growing smaller as he finally pushed the head of his cock inside of her.

Y/N could immediately tell the difference between this and his fingers. Before was barely anything compared to this. Now she was finally full, finally complete. And it was only the beginning as Joel slowly pushed himself deeper.

She whined at the stretch of him, fingernails scratching over his back. Joel wasn’t any better, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, releasing the most sinful of moans as he was slowly sucked in by her tight, wet warmth. The feel of her around him was more incredible than he imagined. So much so that he pushed in faster than intended, earning a sharp gasp from the woman beneath him. He stilled, immediately.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away from her neck to gauge her true reaction. Her eyes were shut, bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“‘m alright.” She replied, her heavy breathing causing her sensitive nipples to brush against Joel's chest, another spark of arousal surged through her bones. Another harsh moan was released from the man above her.

“Shit— baby, don’t do that.” He gritted his teeth.

Unknown to Y/N, when that bout of pleasure had traveled the length of her body, she had clenched around him at the sensation. The instance of which made Joel feel as though he might burst into flames. His cock jerked inside of her, the coil returning, slowly starting to unravel.

“Think you can take any more?” Joel questioned, once he could calm his beating heart as much as he could have.

“There’s more?” She stammered, confused since she already felt so full.

“Y-yeah there’s more.” Joel told her, trying his hardest not to move an inch, the task becoming increasingly difficult. Y/N released a shuddering breath.

“Yeah.” She nodded, “I can take it.”

“That’s my girl.” Joel chuckled airily, the affirmation causing a nice pool of warmth to settle in Y/N’s belly. But the feeling was soon replaced by the head of Joel’s cock as it moved deeper inside of her, the length of him making her believe he was truly proding into her stomach.

Slowly but surely the rest of him was sheathed inside of her, proven by the soft tickle of his pubic hair against her inner thighs. Joel let himself rest inside of her, allowing her to adjust to his size, his breathing deep and heavy as her walls squeezed around his cock.

She started squirming beneath him, desperate for him to do more.

“Please Joel.” She whimpered, “Move.”

“You want me to move, sweetheart?” He murmured, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth, her desperation causing something wicked within him to start teasing.

“Y-yes please, Joel. I need you.” She breathed, squeezing around him again. “Want you to fuck me.”

Joel’s entire body lurched at the words that slipped from her tongue. His heart hammering against his ribcage as it was completely unexpected. It caught him off guard, but he regained his bearings quickly, shaking free from the surprise as he took enjoyment from her dirty language.

“You do, huh?” He mumbled back, feeling her nod into his shoulder. “Is that what you want? For me t’ fuck you?”

“Yes.” She whined, a bit impatiently, more soft chuckles tumbled out of his lips.

“Okay, sweetheart.” He answered, “Anythin’ for you.”

And then he started moving. Slowly, so torturously slowly, sliding out until it was just his head that was left inside of her. Then, just as slowly he would sink all the way back in. He did that over and over again, causing an onslaught of pleasure to rip through the girl as the grooves of his cock carved into her walls so deliciously. She was a mess beneath him, shuddering and gasping with each slow movement he made.

Y/N arched into him, hands grasping at his back as he dipped his head, placing a kiss to her shoulder, moaning softly into her skin. Pleasure radiated throughout her body at every point of contact his skin had with hers, burning the brightest where the two of them connected. Even more so as Joel started to gradually speed up, still making long deep thrusts, but a little faster each time.

The bed started creaking beneath them, mixing in with the sound of their sensual moans as well as their skin slapping together in time with Joel’s thrusts. A cacophony of pleasure swirling around the room and serenading this moment as they finally connected in the way they always wanted to.

The sting of Joel’s size was now long forgotten as Y/N savored in the pleasure of him. Her arms were wound tightly around his neck, holding his head into her shoulder. She could feel his lips pressing into her skin, leaving deliberate kisses after each thrust. Her legs soon followed the same pattern as her arms, looping around his waist, pulling his body in close. Now there was no part of them left untouching.

His own arm soon snaked around her waist, drawing her in even closer if that was possible, her clit now firmly pressed against his pelvic bone. Y/N threw her head back with a deep moan, Joel’s lips attaching to her neck in record time. The heat low in her stomach returned from before, signifying that everything soon would come crashing down in a crescendo.

Joel’s cock twitched inside of her as he felt her walls fluttering around him. His own impending orgasm weighing heavy in his chest. He pulled his lips away from her skin.

“Look at me.” He said softly, despite the fact that his thrusts became sloppier by the second, his pace staggering as he involuntarily thrusted harder inside of her.

Y/N— despite struggling under the onslaught of her own oncoming orgasm, opened her eyes for him, meeting his soft brown gaze as they chased their highs. It was strange to see that gaze in this context, especially since the first time she saw it she would have never guessed this is where it would bring her. But now that she was here she couldn’t ask for anything she wanted more.

Except for one thing.

“Kiss me.” She said in return, and since Joel couldn’t deny her of anything, he did just that, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. The touch of it sending Y/N over the edge.

Joel felt as she came around his cock, squeezing onto him like a velvet vice, her cum gushing out around the base of him, soaking his skin. He moaned deep and heavy at the sensation, his own orgasm on the precipice. He placed his thumb on Y/N’s clit— hoping that will be enough to help her down from her high— as he pulled himself out of her.

He grunted with each spurt of cum splattering itself onto Y/N’s stomach, his free hand tight around his shaft, the length of it jerking in his hand. His thighs tensed as his orgasm shot out from his hips, shoulders trembling from the pleasure of it all, his heart racing.

Then, as the euphoria began to fade, his legs were weak as he sat back on his knees, chest heaving as he looked down at the mess he made on his beautiful wife.

His cum was shining white against her skin, the gleam of it reflecting in the moonlight as her stomach moved up and down with each passing of her shallow breaths. Her limbs were limp against the mattress, eyes hooded as exhaustion took over her form. He smiled softly at the sight of her, sliding a hand underneath her to bring her up to his level. He pulled her into his lap, holding her flush against his chest— not caring that his cum was now smeared across his own stomach.

“You did so well, sweetheart.” He whispered to her, stroking his knuckles across her cheekbone, she leaned into his touch, humming in content. Joel leaned forward, placing a kiss on her forehead.

They sat like that for a minute, savoring the silence between them and the embrace of their lover. But it didn't last too long as Joel spoke once more.

“Come on.” He abruptly said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, taking Y/N with him as he did. She whined when she realized she was being pulled away from the comfort of a warm bed.

“What? Why? I wanna sleep.” She argued when her feet hit the wooden floor beside his own, moving to dive back under the covers. He caught hold of her before she could.

“We gotta wash up.” Joel countered, pulling her towards the door that sat in the corner of the room, the mystery (that was not so mysterious) soon to be revealed.

“And then we can go to bed?” She questioned, as her shaking legs became more willing to follow him

“Not quite.” Joel grinned, guiding her into the shower. When she offered him a look of confusion at his words, he answered the question written on her face.

“We still have to make dinner.”

And soon, after all the proof of their passion was washed clean from their skin, underneath swirling puffs of cedar-scented steam and occasionally interrupted by stolen kisses, the two of them made their way down to their kitchen. And an hour later, as they sat across the table from one another, under the golden glow of their kitchen light. They divulged in their carefully prepared meal, sharing shy smiles and fleeting glances between each bite. The sight of them alone contradicting any statement that the island they resided on didn’t live up to its name.

~~~

A/N: honestly this fic was born because of the smut scene in the kitchen, i can't lie 😩 and then i rewatched the music video for adore you by harry styles so i wanted this oneshot to be something romantic and whimsical in it's nature, so i hope that came across. Is it corny? yes! but I had so much fun writing this so i hope you had fun too!!! thank you so much for taking the time to read my work !! and now i'll be leaving, goodbye forever!! <33

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violetsiren90 · 10 months ago

Text

Make Me

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut; platonic(?) fluff; BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom (and such a good one); MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play if you squint; mentions of wet dreams and sexual fantasies; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling in a domination context; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace but also the absolute best; Hobi in the studio 👀; wrestling (sexual context); spanking (sexual context); p*ssy-stepping; p*ssy slapping; sexual frustration; some initial shame and embarrassment (reader needs to work some things out); reader tries to run away from herself a bit; temporary ghosting; working through new desires and feelings; dirty dancing; ALL the communication; establishment of sexual roles/partnership; talk about birth control and protection; Hobi curses a LOT during domination scenes; leash/collar play; oral sex (male receiving); throat fucking; Hobi slaps Reader's tongue with his c*ck; cum swallowing; aftercare; restraint play (sex swing, heehee 😈); manual clitoral stimulation; teasing; unprotected vaginal sex (reader is on birth control & previously consents); female orgasm from vaginal penetration; very brief implication of a possible brush with subspace.

Word Count: ~16,000 (Double its originally intended length, oops 🙈)

Author's note: HOLY HECK IT'S FINALLY HERE. When I say I had the time of my life writing this...like, wow. I was already under Hobi's spell, but now I am OFFICIALLY down in the worst way. This fic and its premise were completely out of my comfort zone, but I couldn't be happier that I ventured into this world, because the research alone has given me so much respect for the BDSM community, and specifically the dom/sub relationship. I hope I did as much justice to that very special dynamic as possible between these two characters (with whom I have deeply fallen in love). If you read this, I hope so very much that you enjoy it!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Acknowledgements: The biggest of thanks to @orchidyoonkook who not only beta-read this fic multiple times, and is practically the voice of this Jimin, but also gave me so much wonderful insight into the BDSM community from that big sexy brain of hers (which contains an incredible amount of knowledge about so many things, let me tell you!). But most of all, she gave me the encouragement I needed to get this out of my imagination and onto the page, even when I was doubting myself the most. Yoons, I love you! Couldn't have done it without you. 💕

"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.

"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."

At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech.

Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening.

You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.

Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down.

It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

"I told him…

“What?”

“I said..."

"What?"

"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come.

You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried.

Did you just fuck things irrevocably up?

That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit.

Shit.

"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

You don't answer him. You can't.

Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his gray sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

"Is it?"

You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bear.

"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

"...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"

"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -

"When you're a filthy, pathetic little slut."

A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together – whether to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure. When he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes flutter frantically open.

"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?"

Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long – something that yearns to feed.

You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins.

His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want – your friend.

Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

"Y-yes! Yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body.

You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.

"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his saccharine words.

You blink, your mind running up against the sudden pet name – one that he has never uttered in a tone like this before – as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever – okay? You say that. Foxglove."

You nod.

"Say it for me," he whispers, and you shiver again. Fuck.

"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

You scramble to find your voice.

"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

"No, Hobi," you whisper.

And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and absolutely exhilarating.

When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want.

You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

"You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

"Make me."

His eyes go wide and wild.

"So that's how it's gonna be?"

The words are heavy and dark, but you think his mouth twitches up at the corner when you arch a recalcitrant brow in response.

He hums and licks his lips, and you're on the verge of saying something about getting on with it when his hand darts out and fists a chunk of your hair, yanking it back with a force that makes your head spin. He's glaring down at you with eyes so hard and menacing that your rebuttal dies on your tongue. The hand at your nape squeezes and the pressure that seers your scalp is exquisite, spilling a moan from your lips as your arousal becomes more than you are capable of repressing.

"Don't you challenge me, brat," he rumbles from low in his chest as his hand twists against your head and lowers your back to press against the black leather.

You whine in protest, and your palms fly up to shove at him, but his reflexes are like lightning as he snatches your wrists away to pin them above you. Your head spins, eyes losing focus as your whole body flushes with warmth in the wake of his domineering aggression.

You wriggle in his hold, relishing in how his grip tightens and the cold steel in his eyes glints as you resist him.

A knee slides between your legs as he leans over you menacingly, close enough for the padlock charm around his neck to lightly tap your raised chin. Good girl, it seems to whisper in Hoseok's voice, stay put.

Yeah, fuck that.

You snatch the necklace up between your teeth and yank it to the side where it bites sharply into the corner of your mouth.

The sudden motion catches him off guard and he falters, crashing down on top of you with a noise of surprise and losing control of your hands.

You scramble against him, rolling both of you to the floor with a thud.

Your heart is hammering in your chest.

You hear him grunt, his strong hands grappling with your thrashing form, and you catch just a glimpse of his shining eyes and white clenched teeth as he flips you over onto your stomach, hands in a vice grip at the small of your back and your cheek pressing into the cold, hard laminate.

You start to move again but he pushes his weight into the slender fingers splayed over your spine with a low rumble in the back of his throat and you still with a groan.

You're pressed so deliciously firmly to the floor. You can feel arousal soaking your panties as your nerves alight everywhere he has wrested control of you. You can hear him pant, proof of his efforts, and the image of his provoked expression from seconds previous flashes through your mind.

He seemed so cool and collected before. So unbothered. To think that his blood is up and because of you? You let out a trembling breath.

"Fuck," he hisses lowly, then bends to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.

They're soft as they drag over your skin there, feather light. Your whole body shakes, and you feel his mouth pause.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," he whispers cruelly, "But you were right about one thing...you're not a good girl. You're a disobedient little harlot who needs to be taught the rules of this house."

You whimper pathetically as he presses into you even more intensely, restricting the expansion of your lungs.

"Now," he says nosing at your exposed neck as he begins to pull away, "how about we teach you a lesson or two, hm?"

You feel his weight leave your back, and see his figure rock back on his heels out of the corner of your eye. You are just on the verge of retaliating again when you let out a yelp at the sudden shock of your hips being yanked upward by the back belt loop of your denim shorts. Hoseok lets go of your hands and they fly forward to brace yourself as your ass raises into the air and your knees move toward your chest.

And all at once you know what's coming and you feel your pussy clench in the mere anticipation of -

Smack!

You let out a wanton wail as the sharp crack of his hand against your right glute jolts through your body like a lightning strike and ends with a slam at your swollen clit.

Again - harder! Your mind screams. So you press out a whinging moan of complaint.

SMACK!

It has the desired effect.

CRACK!

Your jaw is slack, but no sound escapes as he punishes you. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. As if he's attempting to brand your ass with the shape of his hand. But holy hell is it making you drip. Every slap jolts your body and brings the tiniest friction to where you're neediest. Where you've never been needier in your life.

Please punish my pussy....

You try to mumble the words but all you can do is drool onto the floor as he deals out pleasure and pain from above.

And then he stops. You feel hands deftly and swiftly rolling you to lie on your back.

You blink up through bleary eyes, drawing a hand across your mouth to wipe the spit away. Your shoulders are sore.

He's leaning over you, a hand still on your hip, eyes scanning your face.

"What? Did you say something? You need to speak up."

His tone is still biting but his eyes seem to hold a genuine question. Concern.

Warmth floods your chest as it registers that he wants to be able to hear you if you need him to. If you want to stop. But the light has never been so goddamned green.

"Want..." you murmur, "...more, Hoseok."

He curses, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he leans forward to take your jaw in his hand again. He rakes his gaze over your soft, swollen features, unfocused eyes, and heaving chest.

"Look at you so fucked out and all I did was smack that gorgeous ass."

He licks his lips, shaking his head in seeming disbelief as he releases your chin with a little shove. He leans back, dragging his hands over your bare thighs.

"More, hm?" he hums.

You nod eagerly.

He purses his lips and considers you through narrowed eyes, and you sense that if you want him to give you what you so desperately desire, you're going to have to show him you can take it - and take orders. You lay still, hands twitching at your sides as you look up at him through wide eyes.

He continues to run his fingertips up and down your legs as he breathes out a long relenting sigh.

"Alright," he relents, "You took your punishment well, so you should be rewarded, I suppose."

You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart rate rising again at the prospect.

He tilts forward, looming over you again as he asks the question you've been dying to answer since you woke up breathless all those weeks ago.

"What does my little brat want me to do to her? Let's see if she can use her words."

You blink up at him, unsure if you have permission to speak...or how to put your request into words that won't make you want to immediately melt through the floorboards.

"Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok sneers, pretty, heart-shaped lips curling up at one side.

His hat discarded in your tussle, wavy brown tresses hang down over his brow and his eyes sparkle darkly through them. His features are so beautiful - their loveliness thrown into sharp relief by the flinty pitilessness of their expression.

You're tempted to continue simply soaking him in, if not for the pounding ache in your core demanding that you find your voice.

"I...I want..." your lips tremble as you will yourself to tell him what you need.

Perhaps he senses that you require a little encouragement, because his eyes harden and he digs the edges of his nails into the flesh of your knees, causing you to yelp and moan and then...

"I want you to step on my pussy! Please..." You press out your request with the last of the breath in your lungs.

Hoseok's eyes flutter shut at the last word of your plea.

"Say that again," he commands in a husky whisper, and even without further specification, somehow, you know.

"Please..." You groan, letting your legs drop open demurely.

His eyes are still closed, but he can feel the action with his hands, which have now slipped just inside your knees to your inner thighs. He inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling with a shuddering breath. When his lids languidly raise again the piercing onyx of what they have unveiled is pinning you to the floor with more deadly force than even his hands ever could. Your pulse pounds in your cunt, your head still swimming from your previous position as he pushes himself up to stand.

As you blink up at Hoseok towering over you, standing between your splayed thighs with his midnight gaze boring into the damp denim covering your heat, something inside you long ajar quietly but firmly clicks into place.

"Tell me, brat" he seethes, eyes roving your trembling form stretched out beneath him, "Who makes the rules in this house?"

"Hoseok-ssi," you whimper, so needy the ache is beginning to hurt.

Every cell of your body is awake with a desperate anticipation that only he can satisfy...or deny.

You have never felt more alive.

And then something happens and your brain shuts off entirely.

Everything vanishes: the studio, the traffic outside the western window, the city of Seoul and South Korea and the whole goddamned planet rolling around in the Milky Way. Nothing exists except the tip of Hoseok's Air Jordan ghosting over the swell of your crotch.

Your mouth waters as his foot slowly slides forward, then goes completely dry as you feel it settle with the sole aligned directly with your slit. His eyes flick up to your face, but you can't hold his gaze for more than a millisecond as he begins to apply pressure to your mound.

Your eyes roll back in your skull, head lolling as your neck goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream as the man above you presses down with a low hum over your sex. The seam of your shorts is biting deliciously into the tender flesh of your clit, sending shockwaves through your core like a live wire, and when he rolls his foot in a circular motion you think you see god.

You do scream then, but it's nothing more than a strangled sound in your throat as your fantasies materialize and he leans his weight into his stance, punishing the soft fat of your cunt with the sole of his shoe.

You're going to cum. He's barely touched you and you're going to cum. He seems to see it in the twisted ecstasy of your features as his lids hood his eyes and filth begins to spill from his lips.

"Do you like that, brat?" he taunts, "That's what you get when you're a good little girl for Hoseok - you get your pretty wet cun-"

Click jangle clack - boom boom boom!

Hobi springs away from you, hopping back on one foot with wide eyes as a succession of rapid knocks follow the stilted motions of the locked door handle. You scramble up from the floor, heart pounding and breath coming fast as you toss yourself into the corner of the couch.

Boom, boom, boom!

"Hyung, are you naked or something?" comes a familiar if muffled voice from the other side of the wall.

You fumble for your phone and Hoseok runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before pulling open the door.

The man belonging to the impatient knocks and muffled accusations stumbles headlong into the studio, the locked entrance against which he had pressed his ear and most of his weight having been pulled out from under him.

"Jimi...nie...?" Hobi greets his bandmate and his eyes track the other's toppling form with surprise and a hint of agitation.

Yoongi ambles in casually behind him, sipping a dewy americano through a straw, a beanie sitting atop his ashy locks gnomishly.

Jimin nimbly pushes himself to a stand from where he had crashed against Hobi's desk, not a strand of his coiffed platinum blond hair askew as he spins around face to the dance captain. But before he can get out a greeting or an excuse for his manner of entrance he freezes as he spots you in the corner.

His eyes flick to Hobi's hat on the floor, then to the pink flush on the apples of his friend's cheeks. When Jimin's eyes slide back over to where you are curled into your nook, eyeing him warily over the tiny shield of your phone, his plush lips slowly spread into a sickeningly devious smile.

Hobi scoops his hat up off the floor and tugs in back on before taking a seat, carefully, you notice - thighs pressed together and leaning forward - in his rolling chair. The implication of his posture has you sweating into your shirt.

You need to get it the fuck together.

"If I would have known you were here I'd have brought you a kimbap," Jimin says, wicked grin still plastered on his face as he holds up a plastic convenience store bag.

You blink.

"Oh, uh, that's okay..." you bluster, waving your hand. "I'm not hungry anyway."

It's true. You just lost your appetite for the foreseeable future, stomach a raging sea of nerves as Jimin places the bag on the desk.

Yoongi shuffles over to sit at the other end of the couch, raising his free hand and drawing his mouth into a straight line in greeting. You manage your own tight-lipped grin and flash him a peace sign, hoping you did it quickly enough that the tremor in your hand went unnoticed.

"To what do I owe this visit from my bros?" Hobi asks from where he's turned toward his computer screen to save the neglected file.

His voice is cheerful, but you can hear the strain - how it's pitched just half a tone too high - and Jimin's eyes are still on you.

"I dragged Yoongi hyung out for some fresh air. I took him to lunch and grabbed you a snack on the way back."

"Yah, you took me to lunch? Then why did I pay?" Yoongi grumbles from beside you, his bare features pinched into a grumpy pout that makes him look particularly feline.

"Because you love me," Jimin coos at him and the older musician's mouth quirks up into a smile he can't seem to repress.

"What are you working on, Hoba? Which track?" Yoongi murmurs around the straw between his lips, blinking patiently as Hobi seems to shake himself, pulling his hat off to run a hand through his hair before readjusting it on his head and swiveling back toward his computer screen.

He hits play on the track and Yoongi leaves the couch to join the other two.

This is all so normal, so typical of the guys - the affectionate repartee and chat about ongoing projects. And on an average day, you'd have joined right in.

But today is not an average day.

No.

Five minutes ago, you were spread-eagle on the floor six inches from where Jimin stands, with Hoseok's shoe on your bits.

You have to get out of here.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna head out, boys," you muster, making a beeline for the door as soon as the inertia of your decision gives you the courage to peel yourself from the corner of the couch.

"You're leaving?" Jimin's voice quips in a saccharine whine, with the slightest edge that makes you avoid his eyes as you slip out with a parting wave.

You do catch Hoseok's expression, whose head snaps up at your parting movements. His brows furrow and his lips part, looking as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.

And then you're gone.

Your smart watch trills as your heart rate enters cardio territory. Your chest is heaving, breath coming heavy as the pliant cushion of your couch gives way to the crown of your head pressing back into it, eyes pinched shut and hand shoved down your pants.

The bullet vibrator you have pressed to your clit is doing everything it should, and you feel it coming - your orgasm. 6:12pm on a Tuesday and it's already your third self-love session of the day.

You tense your thighs, urging the building pressure in your core to boil over, and quickly. You groan and grit your teeth as your administering hand starts to shake. You writhe and whimper for a moment. And then it's over.

You stare up at the ceiling of your apartment, breathlessly huffing out a despondent sigh as the empty ache in your chest returns. It has become your loathsomely devoted companion in every waking moment over the last ten days, filling you with an unshakable restlessness and sickly discontent.

Nothing can slake it. Not reality TV. Not Cabernet Sauvignon. Not overtime hours. Not ASMR wood-soup videos. Not yoga. Not Ben and Jerry's. Not midnight runs on your NordicTrack. Not fucking yourself to climax on every single goddamned toy you own.

The little monster you roused the weekend before last in Hope World hasn't returned to sleep. No. She is wide awake. And she seems to grow more ravenous with each passing day.

At first you tried to ignore her, but she kept you up into the long, bleak hours of the night. And so, in a fuzzy, staticky haze some time after midnight a number of days ago you typed some words into a search engine that would probably have your assigned FBI agent doing a spit-take.

The thing is, you'd never seen "50 Shades of Grey", you'd never been interested. It wasn't as if you were a prude - hardly! You have always enjoyed sex, both intimate and recreational. In fact, it has always been one of your favored methods of blowing off steam, and you knew quite well how to please yourself and how to guide partners in doing the same.

You have never had problems in taking what you wanted in life, in taking charge and ensuring that things play out your way – it's what makes you so good at your job, and valued by your peers who know that they can rely on you to take the reins and rise to the occasion.

So when you suddenly stumbled unprepared into the world of BDSM, your visceral reaction to the concept of submission left you wondering...why?

Why, why, why?

Why does this do it for you? Why did your very linear, stable existence have to be completely disrupted by this discovery? And most urgently of all, why, for the love of everything sacred, did all the porn in the whole wide world fail to accomplish even a fraction of the effect of Jung Hoseok's size 9 sneaker? It's all too overwhelming to process.

You let out a frustrated whine as you pull your sticky, cramped hand, still clutching the little purple bullet, from the confines of your pants. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table and you can see the notification is from Jimin. You've been ignoring his calls and pleading texts to meet up, or just pick up. You can't face him. Not after ghosting Hobi.

You feel a pang twist in your stomach as you haul yourself toward the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the guilt you feel for ignoring Hoseok outright. He texted you almost immediately after you left the studio, asking if you were alright. You let him know that you were, with just one word: yeah.

You had typed and retyped that response. "Yeah, thanks" seemed too weird. Like, thanks for what? Almost making you cum with the tip of his shoe? No. "Yeah, sorry" felt pathetic. What were you apologizing for? It seemed to imply...regret? Or fault. Neither of which would have come from a genuine place. And beyond a simple affirmation, you certainly didn't have words. So, "yeah" it was. He tried to call you later that evening, but you didn't pick up. You were already way up in your head by then. It had been radio silence since.

You toss a coconut steamer onto the wet shower tiles and sigh, catching a glimpse of your face in the bathroom mirror as you slide the glass door shut.

"Coward," you mutter as you close your eyes and slip under the cleansing stream.

You're wrapped up in a blanket cocoon and sipping a cup of sleepy-time tea, trying to distract yourself from the messy tangle of emotions waging war across your various chakras with season two of Single's Inferno, when a knock on the door startles you out of your simmering reverie. You heave yourself off the carpeted floor of your living room and scoot toward the door like a fleecy Jabba the Hutt to peek through the peephole.

Your vision is obscured as another eye looks back at you from the other side of the concave glass. You jump back, dropping your blanket shroud in a pile around your feet and let out a yelp of alarm. You slam a hand over the peep hole as giggles erupt on the other side.

"Yah! I know you're in there - so let me in!"

Your entire body sags against the door in relief as you recognize the voice of the would-be intruder. You swing the door open to grant him exasperated entrance.

"Park Jimin, you just took ten years off my life! Creep," you bluster, gathering the blanket up around your body as you retreat back into your apartment.

You plop down again in front of the TV, knowing that Jimin came to either talk you into going out or to just talk, and either way, you are truly not in the mood. Your friend snickers behind you, sauntering into your kitchen. He returns with a beer, bringing the frosty green bottle to his lips before sinking into an armchair and regarding you with an expression that waivers between amusement, pity, and disgust.

"You look awful," he remarks, taking another swig as his gaze roves your unkempt appearance.

Your features twist into a frown, eyes never leaving the television.

"You don't get to barge into my apartment, steal my booze, then insult me, Park," you snip, burrowing further down into the fluffy mass encasing your body.

Jimin raises a brow, a small smile still playing on his lips as he follows your eyes to the television where YouTuber Dex and professional model Lim Minsu flirtatiously splash about in a ridiculously opulent indoor swimming pool.

"Fuck, Dex is hot," Jimin mutters.

"For some reason he reminds me of Jungkook," you smirk, glancing over at him for the first time since he arrived.

He grimaces theatrically.

"I don't see it."

The contestant on the screen flashes his Paradise companion a blinding smile and raises a tattooed arm to cut through the water, content to show off his stroke precision as his date watches on. The resolve on Jimin's face falters .

"Yeah, well...Dex is hotter."

You scoff.

"Yeah, no. Kook-ah is definitely hotter."

"For the love of god, just don't tell him that, okay?" Jimin pleads, "That kid is insufferable enough these days."

"You love him."

He hides a smile behind another sip of Hite.

"Why did you ghost Hobi hyung?"

Jimin blinks innocent eyes at you, as if he hasn't just dumped the last week and a half of silent agony over your head like a bucket of ice water. But the chill is momentary, because the next second your body feels like an oven. You stammer.

"I-I...ghost him? I didn't ghost anyone...I'm busy...I..." you trail off weakly as your friend's unimpressed and knowing gaze bores into your soul.

You sigh and scrub your hands over your face.

"Because I'm a big chicken, okay?" You murmur into your palms.

You don't know why, but you feel like crying. When you pull your hands away from your face, Jimin must see it because suddenly he's on the couch wrapping you in the kind of hug that reminds you why he's your ride-or-die, and in the safety of his embrace the tears begin to fall. Days of being alone with yourself and your conflicted feelings pour from your ducts and onto the front of Jimin's bright yellow flannel. He coos words of reassurance, admonishing your tears, as he strokes your hair.

"Talk to me, you silly goose," he hums with an endeared chuckle.

You sniff and hiccup as you pull away, wiping your puffy eyes.

"I don't even know what to say, Minnie...I don't know what's wrong with me..."

Jimin smiles and grabs a few tissues from the box on the coffee table, dabbing them against your nose.

"Well, first of all, nothing is wrong with you. But second of all, tell me what is bothering you."

You heave a dramatic sigh.

"If I tell you, you have to swear - and I mean swear - that you will not make fun of me or tell anyone else. And I mean not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not anyone, you hear me?"

He smirks, but nods in assent. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Say it. Out loud." You demand warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

"Yah! Okay! I won't tell anyone," he quips mockingly.

You sigh again and draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. If this gets too hard to talk about with eye-contact at least you'll have a place to hide your bashful face.

"I..." you start softly, not sure where to begin except the beginning, "Re-remember that thing I told you when we got plastered a little while back...about...Hobi?"

Jimin's lips quirk at the corners as he nods.

"Well...the thing is...wait!" You cut yourself off, suddenly gripped by a notion that has you prematurely flustered and indignant. "What did he tell you?"

Jimin shakes his head, a small smile still playing on his full lips.

"Nothing," he responds, looking you dead in the eye in a way that has you almost believing he's telling the truth.

"No, really," you press.

Jimin leans back against the arm of the couch from where he faces you, running a hand through his hair and drawing his legs up to criss-cross in front of him.

"Jagi, this is Hobi hyung we're talking about. You think he would do that? He has too much respect for you. He would never. Not to anyone. Not even me."

Your chest floods with relief, affection, and regret. Fuck. Of course he wouldn't. He was too mature of a person for that. Too considerate. Too lovely. And you hadn't even had the gumption to speak to him for the last ten days beyond a mono-syllabic SMS. Jimin watches your expression do emotional acrobatics.

"So..." he offers encouragingly, "something...happened....between you guys, right? That day Yoongi hyung and I showed up? We...uh...interrupted something, didn't we?" He can't help a devilish smile, eyes twinkling as he carefully phrases his query.

You bury your face into your knees and squeak out an affirmation. Jimin lets out a bright laugh and you immediately raise your burning face in a scowl.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't-"

He waves his hands in apology as he attempts to gain his composure.

"Mianhae, mianhae! I'm not laughing at you!" He insists, leaning forward to grab your swatting hands by the wrists.

"Sounds kind of like you are!" You huff, yanking your arms from his grasp.

"So..." Jimin hums, tilting his head to track your gaze as you try again to hide your face, "If he's down, and you're down...what's the problem? Why did you run and hide? Did your feelings change?"

You slowly raise your eyes to his, searching them as you decide just how much you're willing to tell him right now. You chew on your bottom lip as you realize you need to get it out. All of it. You drop your legs to mirror Jimin's posture, lowering your defenses with your millionth-and-first sigh of the evening.

"Okay...well..." you muse, fiddling with the blanket still draped over your lap. "You know how I told you that stuff that I...dreamt...about Hobi?"

Jimin nods.

"Well...something did kind of happen...and well..." you trail off as Jimin raises his brows expectantly.

"Oh, fuck it!" you bluster, exhausted by your own attempts at delicacy. "He dominated me and I liked it. I really really liked it, okay? And it freaked. me. the fuck. out. Like...I've neeeeever felt that way before about fooling around. It wasn't just fun, or, like, pleasurable...it was...almost..." you search for the words as Jimin stares at you raptly. "...Freeing? Like, a relief. Like, a 'where has this shit been all my life' moment."

Jimin hums and nods, interlacing his fingers and leaning his chin against his knuckles.

"Like...I don't know...I'm a very independent person. And capable. And, yeah, things have been crazy stressful at work, and I have a lot on my plate...but I handle it, you know? In fact, I don't just handle it, I kind of...enjoy the pressure of leadership and responsibility? It drives me. I've always been like that, in every area of my life..."

Jimin smiles and lets out a sound of recognition.

"So the one who wears the crown is wondering why it feels so good to be...subjected?" He waggles his brows. You roll your eyes.

"Grow up, dude."

"Am I right, though? I'm right."

You find yourself chewing your bottom lip again.

"Essentially. I like power. I like control. What is this sudden obsession with losing it? It's...scary. And confusing."

Jimin smiles.

"You know, it's actually not that uncommon, from what I understand," he states, reaching for his abandoned beer on the coffee table.

You quirk an eyebrow.

"I mean, everyone is different, and this is a journey you're going to have to take for yourself to get the answers, but from what I know about the BDSM community, it's not unusual for people who are in positions of power to crave a bit of a...reprieve."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nods, reclining back again against the arm of the couch, "The bedroom is a good place to let your walls down. Maybe the only place, for some people. And with a trusted partner it can even be healing to play a different role than you do in other parts of your life."

It's your turn to smirk.

"You talk as if you know," you prod playfully, shoving your toes into his shin. He smiles that wicked smile of his and you laugh.

"What I'm trying to say is, maybe it's not just about the...dynamics. Maybe it's also that it's Hobi hyung. He knows you. You know him, too. You trust each other. Maybe you could get to know each other in a new way. Be something for each other that you both need." He takes the last sip of his beer and twirls the bottle in his hands, gazing at you with a gentle thoughtfulness.

You nod slowly, digesting his newly offered perspective.

"So," you muse, raising your eyes to him again, "You think he needs it too?"

Jimin shrugs.

"Only he could tell you that for sure. But I do know this, he's awfully good at being bossy, and doesn't get a lot of opportunity to run the show - outside of dance practice, that is."

Chuckling nervously at the thought, you try your best to conceal the spark that has crackled to life from the burning coals inside you at the mention of his natural command of authority.

"Hey," Jimin posits with a grin, "Maybe if he's spanking you he'll go a little easier on us when we screw up the choreo..."

"EXCUSE ME THE FU-WHAT?!" You shriek, snatching up a throw pillow to beat him mercilessly as he falls in raucous laughter to the floor.

Turning to glance over your shoulder at your reflection in the mirror, you smooth your hands over the back of the svelte black bodycon number you've donned for the evening. You're a vision in monochrome, having paired your LBD with sleek stilettos and dark smokey eyes with heavy lashes.

Your phone buzzes, indicating that your ride share is close by. Butterflies flutter in your belly as you reach for the finishing touch to your outfit: a velvety black choker with a sliver o-ring studded in colorless topaz. It's just fashionable enough to still look like a necklace, but it gives you a bit of a thrill to know that it's not. To know what's tucked inside your purse to accompany it. To wonder if, going unnoticed by most, it will catch a certain pair of dark eyes.

The drive across town to reach the Jihope residence never felt so long. You try your best to calm your nerves over the last few blocks of distance - it’s just a party, after all, and kind of a silly one at that.

During Jimin's last visit, he mentioned that he and Hobi would be throwing a Black Day party for all of their single friends the following weekend, and after dodging his attempts at socialization so religiously of late, you felt you owed it to him to attend.

Black Day had never been something your group of friends had ever observed before, but it was incredibly chic to do so this year, for whatever reason. And of course, all the organizing duo of the soiree needed was the slightest excuse for Jimin to party and Hobi to host.

Upon arriving at the building, you can already hear the music pumping from the top floor, and the chatter of guests spilling out onto the terrace. You present your ID to the security guard at the front gate, and are escorted to a private elevator that whisks you up to the penthouse. Being quite successful and comfortable yourself, you still find yourself surprised when reminded of the sheer net worth of your humble, down-to-earth Bangtan pals. Hobi is worth the most, and while he is an excellent investor and a generous philanthropist, he also likes to show out, and in style.

You take a deep breath as you buzz the bell.

The door swings open to reveal a handsome young man in a black t-shirt tucked into baggy dark-wash jeans, his fluffy brown hair parted in the middle and his ears glinting with rows of silver hoops. His round eyes scrunch into little moons and he flashes an adorable toothy grin, endearingly lopsided where it stretches deeper against the little orbital piercing at the right side of his bottom lip.

“Noona!" he growls, pulling you into a bear hug. "Where have you been? The last two times we went to noraebang there was no one to sing Through the Night with me!"

"Ah...hah...", you nervously chuckle, pulling away from his embrace as you search your brain for an excuse other than business.

"I'll sing with you, Googie!"

You turn to see your salvation from further explanation in the form of a giggling young woman bouncing up to clutch Jungkook's arm and steady herself as she sways on her platform heels. She smells like soju and fruity perfume.

You smirk and thank her, patting her hand where it clutches your friend's tattooed forearm before she's dragging him away down the hall.

"Make sure she stays hydrated!" You call after him with a shake of your head, making your way through the throng of guests to the bar area.

The furnishings of the residence are a study in classy postmodern minimalism, punctuated with abstract urban art – though you notice that some of the Kaws pieces are missing, likely stored away for safekeeping from rowdy party-goers.

The sleek chrome and granite full-service bar is stocked with liquor and beer, and a commissioned mixologist is crafting darkly colored cocktails. A buffet-style spread offers the traditional jjajangmyeon and an assortment of other delicious eats.

The spacious dining area is littered with small tables draped in black linens, each bearing centerpieces of hellebore, leather leaf, black carnations, and eucalyptus. The living room has been converted to a dance floor, complete with a glittering disco ball. House music booms through the built-in speaker system as guests in groups and pairs move to the beat.

You glance over a drink menu of themed cocktails as a voice sounds from over your shoulder.

"I recommend the Down With Love."

Turning, you flash the speaker a grin.

"Alright, but is it giving Judy or Barbara?"

Taehyung raises a disparaging brow.

"It's a gimlet. Judy, obviously."

You chuckle, putting in your order for the suggested beverage.

"You look good," he remarks, gesturing at you with the unlit cigarette tucked between his first two fingers, his other hand slipped into his pocket as he leans against the wall.

He doesn't look bad himself, you think, in his black satin top and flared Merlot trousers.

"Thanks," you smile as the bartender hands over an inky concoction garnished with a grapefruit slice twisted into the shape of a heart and run through with a toothpick.

You eye it skeptically.

"How do they make it black?"

"Activated charcoal. C'mon."

Tae links your arm through his and weaves through the bustle to a table of familiar faces. Yoongi raises a whiskey tumbler in greeting and you clink your glass with his, sliding into a chair next to Taehyung and reaching over to give Namjoon's arm an affectionate squeeze. It seems that all the members have turned up, save Seokjin, who's been a taken man three years strong.

You fall into easy conversation with the boys, and just when your difference of opinion with Namjoon over Lee Bul's latest installation piece is developing into a full-blown debate, Jimin slides up to the table and spills onto Taehyung's lap.

"None of you are dancing!" He whines breathlessly, poking Tae's cheek as the other man smiles shyly.

"Jungkook is," Yoongi rebuts, taking another bite of jjajangmyeon.

He's not wrong, though to your amusement, the maknae appears to be getting danced on more than anything else.

"Where's Hobi hyung?" Tae queries, prodding gently at Jimin's full cheek in return.

Jimin's eyes dart to you, a smirk spreading slowly across his lips as his gaze rakes up from your heels to the choker around your neck.

"Good question," he hums, rising to take your hand and pull you up from your seat. "Let's go find him."

Jimin heads for the French doors at the far end of space that lead onto the terrace. They're propped open, and cool evening air floods the apartment, keeping the atmosphere from suffocating under the warmth of body heat and the scent of rich food.

"Jimin!" You hiss, as you approach the rooftop patio, "What are you doing? This is the opposite of subtle!"

He laughs merrily.

"You're so cute when you're flustered!"

You don't have any more time to grumble as you emerge under the darkening sky, just beginning to speckle with stars barely visible against the glow of string lights wrapped around the cozy outdoor enclosure. There's a small electric fire pit surrounded by plush patio furniture, and live greenery all around.

The energy is much more relaxed than within, but even so, you feel your pulse quicken as Jimin guides you toward a small group at the corner of the terrace. You recognize a few of the men and women gathered as industry producers, but none of that really matters because all your brain can register is him.

And holy shit does he look good.

He's arresting sophistication and effortless elegance. A silk charcoal dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, ripples along the lines of his torso - save where the top three buttons have been neglected to expose the smooth planes of his toned chest. His lean, athletic legs seem even longer than usual in fitted black slacks, his pretty wrists and fingers sparkling with jewelry where his thumbs are slipped into his pockets. His hair has been slicked back from his face, and his eyes are just barely obscured by a pair of lightly tinted wire-rimmed aviators. That brilliant, warm heart-shaped smile cuts through all the sharp darkness of his garb, and your breath catches in your chest when Jimin calls out to him.

"Hyung!"

As Hoseok's eyes meet yours the grin stretched across his face falters, but he quickly regains composure.

"Eyyy," he greets you, striding forward and wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. Of course he smells as incredible as he looks.

"Hi, Hobi," you murmur a bit shyly, returning his embrace.

"Hyung," Jimin pouts cutely, "Save us! She was putting our guests to sleep talking to Namjoon-ah about art theory."

"Hey," Hobi chides in a warning tone, cocking his head to the side to glance down at you. "Don't enable the poor guy – he needs to get laid."

"Well nobody is going to approach him if she's hanging around looking like that." Jimin gestures casually, a mischievous twinkle glinting for a moment his eye.

Hobi's arm slips off your shoulders to grasp your hand as he steps back. He's never been good at keeping his feelings from his face, and the look trained on his features as he appraises you has you thinking you made the right decision when you put on that dress.

"How about we keep you out of trouble and on the dance floor, hm?" Hobi says with a sly smile, raising your hand and tilting forward in a posture of invitation.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to bite back a smile of your own as you motion for Hobi to lead the way, careful to avoid Jimin's eyes as you let the rapper guide you back into the thrumming pulse of the festivities.

He gently pulls you onto the dance floor and tugs you into him, keeping a hold on your right hand as he slips the other just below the curve of your waist. You settle into an easy step to the lively beat. Hobi's eyes search your face as you tilt it up to him, running a hand up his chest to adjust the collar of his shirt with a sigh. You fiddle with the soft fabric between your fingers.

"I'm sorry, Hobi," you murmur, just loudly enough for him to hear.

When he just smiles a bit sadly you feel your heart squeeze and you drop your head to his chest. You will yourself not to cry as he slows his movements, slipping a knuckle beneath your chin to raise your gaze to his own.

"Hajima," he protests, "Let's talk later. Right now, how about we just have some fun? I missed you."

His expression is sweet and earnest and you feel like your chest might not have room for anything more than your complete and utter affection for this man.

"I missed you too," you admit with a little grin, pressing yourself against him just a bit more firmly and gazing up at him through widened eyes. He blinks for a moment, and then suddenly, there it is again, blooming across his lips - that blinding gorgeous smile, and that heady, infectious laugh.

In one quick motion, he spins you around to face away from him as the music drops to a deep, throbbing EDM number, his fingertips grazing your hips and his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"You did, huh?" he purrs. "Alright, then...show me how much."

You suck in a breath because you don't ever think you'll be ready for how quickly he can turn that dark, deep voice in his chest into something that makes you feel like you're astral-projecting. Your first instinct is to push him away, make him take it from you...but this moment isn't for that. After your exit last time around, you’re determined to make him so incredibly certain that you want him. That you need him.

You lean back into him and, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the goddess of stilettos, press your ass firmly into his groin. You feel the air leave his lips in a hiss against your neck, and his hands slide to squeeze your hips and tug your body even deeper into his. You grind back against him as your body undulates with the hypnotic rhythm of the beat, but it's not long before he's taken over guiding the motion of your hips to match the rolls of his own.

Your eyelids flutter. You've never been this close to him. Sure, in the studio, things had gotten hot and heavy - but you had only been in his hands. He had only touched you to move you, still you, punish you. Now you are flush against his body, and everywhere you touch as he rocks you in tortuous waves against him tastes like the first sumptuous bite of a forbidden fruit.

You can feel him beginning to swell against the plush of your ass, but even that isn't what has a familiar ache throbbing at the apex of your thighs – it's the effortlessness with which he wrests control of your body, your mind...your very being down to its most primal core.

Hoseok's hand skids up your side and slips over your collarbones.

"I like this necklace," he mumbles into your hair.

You turn in his arms, slipping your fingers around the back of his neck as you raise your lips to his ear.

"I'm disappointed in you, Hoseok," you tut, "It's not a necklace, you know."

He doesn't respond, but focuses on bringing his leg to slot between yours, hiking your dress up enough to tease your mound with brushes over the front of his thigh. You swallow a moan.

He's toying with you, but you won't give in. Not so easily. Not yet.

"I guess you could call it a choker..." you rasp, trying to keep the tremor from your voice as your face presses into the side of his jaw, "That is more descriptive of its actual purpose, I suppose."

For one millisecond in the fabric of time and space you feel his pace falter as the words spill from your lips - then he runs his hand up your back, slipping two fingers under the tight strip of velvet surrounding your throat.

For the first time since you started dancing, you look at him. Crystalline beads of sweat have broken out on his brow, and his mouth is set in a stern line, his eyes hooded and dark as tugs his fingers back to command a view of your gaze.

"Are you telling me," he grits out lowly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip so bruisingly you gasp, "...that you showed up to my party wearing a fucking collar?"

You don't answer him - instead you let a wicked smile slip over your lips, refusing defiantly to drop his piercing stare. He has stopped moving you against him, stopped moving entirely. His hands are firm but still where they hold you as his eyes bore down.

"Are you out here trying to finish what we started?"

You tilt your head back, narrowing your eyes seductively.

"What do you think?"

You watch a thousand and one thoughts race through Hoseok's mind as his eyes drop to your neck again and he swallows thickly.

"Oh, fuck it," he hisses, turning and catching your hand to pull you impatiently through the crowd.

You barely have time to wonder what he's thinking or where you're headed when, at the opening to the hall, he spins to grasp your waist and tuck you into a small alcove. He does it so quickly and with such force that you nearly topple the potted plant on the stand beside you.

He pushes himself against you, the tip of his nose brushing yours, and his firm body pressing you to the wall. He holds your wrists in his hands, pinning them to either side of your body. You let out a tiny whimper.

His peppermint breath fans over your cheeks.

"I was going to wait," he whispers loud enough for you to hear him clearly over the music from the room behind you. "I was going to ask you...to stay. After..." he traces his nose along the ridge of your cheekbone as he squeezes your wrists tightly, his nails nipping into your skin. "But you come here with the audacity to tease me like that? Out there, in front of everyone like a desperate little slut?"

His mouth is hovering over your ear as he speaks, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

"I'm not a patient man," he mutters darkly, and you feel your pussy throb.

You struggle slightly against his grasp, and he growls lowly. Turning into him, you press your mouth against his throat, letting your teeth graze his skin as you respond.

"Then don't be."

It's all the permission he needs. He snatches you away from the wall, dragging you down the hall toward the master bedroom at the far end. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as you gaze at the dark mahogany door growing closer and closer with every stumbled step you take to match his hurried pace.

He turns to glance over his shoulder, and you follow the action as he grips the handle, turns it, and...

"What the..." Hoseok mutters, rattling the handle forcefully before raising his fist to pound against the door. "YAH! UNLOCK THIS DOOR!" He booms.

You hear muted voices and sounds of scurried movement from within. He bangs again and again until the door swishes open to reveal a flushed and flustered Jungkook, still fumbling with the button of his jeans.

"Hyung! S-sorry, hyung, I was just...we were..."

"OUT." Hoseok demands icily, pushing the door inward on its hinges to reveal the peppy, strawberry-scented young woman from before hurrying forward to tuck herself behind Jungkook as she draws a hand across her smeared lipstick.

You bite back a grin as you watch them scuttle down the hall before Hoseok shuts and locks the door behind you.

"That kid...seriously," he grumbles. "He knows my room is off limits."

You chuckle, despite his lack of amusement, and he takes your hand again, drawing you toward a small couch at the far side of the large room. You take in your surroundings as you cross the space - similarly furnished to the rest of the apartment. The furniture is sleek and modern, Kaws sculptures and collectible figurines occupy tables and shelves. There are a few live plants, including one hanging from a large hook in the ceiling near a massive, raised canopy bed.

He draws you to sit beside him, a crease still pinched between his brows, likely from having to evict the irksome intruders. You laugh softly and run a thumb over his forehead.

"They're gone!" you chuckle, "Don't let it bother you so much. You'll get wrinkles." You tease, and his face softens.

He catches your hand in both of his as it lowers. He sighs.

"I needed a bit of water thrown in my face anyway," he smirks, and you glance down bashfully. "Before anything really happens, I think we should have…a conversation."

You nod in agreement.

"Can I start?" you interject and he nods in return.

You huff out a long breath.

"I want to apologize for how I reacted...last time."

He smiles wryly.

"It was all very new and sudden to me, and...I don't know...I freaked out."

Hobi squeezes your hand.

"You have no reason to be sorry about that. I should have never initiated like that somewhere that wasn't really private. I just got caught up..." he shakes his head.

"No! Me too! I'm glad it happened. I..." you trail off, feeling your face heat. "Oh, fuck, I don't know how to say this..."

He claims he's not a patient man, but he waits, watching with tender eyes as you choose your words.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it...like..." you take a deep breath as you gather the courage for vulnerable transparency.

You remember what Jimin said. It's Hobi. You are safe with Hobi.

"It was like nothing I've ever felt before. Like a release...more than sexual, you know? Like, freedom. Like, I felt so alive."

He smiles, nodding his head in understanding.

"I..." you continue, still nervous but with mounting confidence as he makes you feel heard, "I would like to...explore this part of myself, this new world," you gesture, "And...well, I would love for you to be the one to guide me."

You raise your gaze to his. His eyes are shimmering. He slowly raises a hand and brushes his fingers over your cheek.

"It would be my honor," he murmurs earnestly.

A smile blooms across your face and your chest fills with warmth. You raise your hand, curling your fingers into his where they rest against your jaw. He drops your hands, still holding on, to his knee.

"Can I ask how much you know about the community?" he queries, tracing his thumb softly over your knuckles.

"A lot more now than I did a couple of weeks ago!" you respond with a laugh. "I know that I'm a sub, but one that likes to...fight back a little bit?"

Hobi smirks, pocketing his tongue in his cheek. His eyes glint.

"A brat," he answers.

"...Yeah."

"Want me to work for it."

Your mouth quirks up in a grin.

"The harder the challenge the bigger the payoff," he hums, glancing thoughtfully down at your joined hands.

"I think," he says after a pause, "Since you're new to all this, we should start slow. I already know some things you enjoy, and vice versa. But part of this kind of thing is about testing your limits. You're going to come across things you don't like, too. I need you to be able to tell me. Without a second thought. Seriously."

He looks at you intently.

You smile.

"I trust you enough to know that you’d stop if that’s what I wanted. I may enjoy being dominated but I do still know what I want. And with you...I..." You tug at his hand, "I know I could say what I...need.”

He huffs out a little breath, his brows drawing together as he regards you in reverence.

"You know you can be that way with me too, right? Needy?" You ask softly. "I want...to take care of you, that way. Maybe we can...take care of each other."

You're not looking at him. You can't. It's all incredibly intimate and strange. When he doesn't respond, you begin to wonder if you said something you shouldn't have. And then your doubts vanish as quickly as they had appeared when you feel his arm slip around your shoulders as he pulls you into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin.

Your heart sings.

After a long, quiet moment, Hobi pulls back to look at you.

"Should we set some rules for ourselves?" he asks.

You purse your lips and nod. Admittedly, you had come with a few in mind.

"I think...we shouldn't kiss. Well, not on the mouth. It's...I don't know. I think it might make things confusing."

Hobi looks thoughtful, nodding slowly.

"Which brings me to my other thought," you chew your lip. "I think this should just be about sex. We're friends, and I want to keep that aspect of our relationship strong and uncompromised."

He smiles.

"Makes sense to me. But..." he says with a raise of his brows, "If we do start seeing other people, I think we should tell each other. Especially if they're going to be people we're fooling around with."

You give an enthusiastic hum of assent.

“I don’t have a partner at the moment,” you shake your head, glancing up at him.

“Me neither.”

He clears his throat and shifts his stance.

“When we’re…together,” he gestures in the space between you. “What about protection?”

You blink thoughtfully.

“I’m on birth control.”

He nods.

“Okay…would you want me to wear a condom?”

You feel heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you wanted you.”

He stares at you for a long moment before chuckling and shaking his own head.

“Ay, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You smile and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh! And we already have a safeword!” you remind him with a grin.

"We do," he acknowledges, his eyes dropping to the glinting metallic ring adorning your throat.

Your smile falters and your heartbeat quickens…and when he looks back up at you it's like whiplash as he sets you reeling again with a dark, hungry gaze.

"If that thing isn't a necklace," he rasps, reaching his fingers up to touch the cold silver, "How about we put it to its proper use, hm?"

You shiver, pressing your thighs together as your heartbeat drops to your clit.

"Yeah..." you whisper, your breath already starting to come quicker as you reach for your bag and fumble with trembling fingers with the clasp.

Hoseok's brow knits as he watches you open the purse, reaching in to produce a length of light chain about three feet long with a velvet strap on one and a claw clasp on the other. You double it up and dangle it from your hand, your heart thrumming in your chest as you raise your eyes to his.

"You can put it on me," you purr, "...But you'll have to take it from me first."

Click.

That ineffable thing, that invisible force he wields that arrests you has slipped back into place. You can feel it, pouring off him in devastating waves...and you're already starting to drown.

It didn't take him long to wrestle the leash from your grasp. Now you're on your knees before him, hands at your sides as he leans forward to affix the chain to the o-ring at your neck. You're breathing hard from your struggle. He stands to his full height, wrapping the links around his hand until the line is taught. He clicks his tongue condescendingly.

"What am I going to do with you now, hm?" he murmurs, tugging at the chain briefly so that you lurch slightly forward. You whine complaintively.

"Quiet," he hisses in warning.

You bite your lip. You need to obey now. Your panties are soaked and you can feel the turgid swell of your clit with every slight motion of your body. If you are good for him, then maybe you will be rewarded. Being a good girl should earn something. Right now, you will take anything.

Hoseok glowers down at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes trail over your features, coming to rest on your pouted lips. He wets his own.

"You like to run that mouth of yours...how about we see what else it can do?"

Holy fucking shit. You feel saliva begin to pool under your tongue, your eyes flicking down to the bulge at the front of his slacks. You start to raise your hands toward his belt but he yanks sharply upward on the chain, the metal ring biting into the underside of your jaw, ripping a mewl of discomfort and impatience from your lips.

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as his lips curve into a cruel smile.

"So eager that she can't even wait for permission?"

You whimper again, biting your lip as he laughs darkly above you.

"My little whore wants something, doesn't she?"

You give a silent nod, letting your tongue slip out to wet your lips and watch his eyes darken as his pupils swallow his deep brown irises.

"Mmm..." He hums in consideration, bringing his free hand to cradle your chin. "I've told you before, sweet thing, if you want something, you have to ask for it."

Your eyes blink languidly as you look up at him. Your head is swimming as you sway on your knees, the dizzy helplessness of being spun between degradation and endearment hanging over you like a heavy trance. His fingers tighten around your jaw.

"Come on..." he coaxes in a chilly whisper, "Use that pretty mouth to ask Hoseok."

You swallow thickly.

"Wan..." you start softly, but his grip on your jaw sharpens.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," he commands reproachfully.

Heat swells up from your neck and sweat begins to tickle your hairline. You know what you want, you've been thinking about little else since he was pressed against you on the dance floor...but the thought of giving your filthy, aching desires shape has every inch of your body trembling.

"Wan...want..." you struggle over his fingers pressing harshly into your cheeks.

He tuts, and the look on his stony features suddenly warns you that if you don't overcome your nerves...

"Wan' your cock!" you choke out desperately.

Hoseok's lids dip slowly and his lips part, as if your words have been injected into his veins, and you think you could fucking cum at the sight. His eyes flutter open again and he gazes down. You fight for patience and composure with each maddening second of silence that passes. You can feel your pussy clench and your hands follow suit. Hoseok catches the motion. A sickening grin spreads over his lips.

"Want this cock, hm?" he hums, releasing your chin from his grasp to palm over the clothed swell inches from your lips.

You whimper pathetically, letting your eyes slip shut. Fuck you want him. You want your mouth around him. You want to choke on him. You want the thick, sticky milk of his release on your tongue.

"So tell me, brat," he hisses, wrapping another loop of chain around his palm so that he holds you on a mere few inches of leash. "How do you want my cock?"

Any shame has been dispelled from your being in the presence of your burning desire, and you raise heavy, lustful eyes to his dark ones.

"Wanna suck it off."

You can see his chest beginning to rise and fall with more effort as he pulls you by the leash, in tortuously slow deliberation, until your lips are ghosting over the zipper of his slacks. He glares down at you, the corner of his mouth curling up in a sneer as he holds you in place.

"BEG."

A violent tremor of arousal jolts through your abdomen and you gasp.

"P-please..." you stammer dumbly against the soft, dark cotton.

"Again."

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please..." you breath shakily, "Will you fuck my mouth?"

You feel him twitch under the vibration of your supplicating words.

"Alright," he relents in a rasp, "But keep those hands at your sides, understand?”

You nod.

“Unless,” he tugs at the chain again,”You need to stop. Then you grab my leg and squeeze.”

“Okay.”

“What are you going to do, baby? If you need me to stop?”

“Squeeze your leg.”

“That’s right,” he hums and the repeated instruction.

You chew on your lip as he pulls off his belt and slips open the button, giving a tug at your collar. As you look up at his hooded eyes, you know exactly what to do.

You nose at the seam, trying for one moment to ignore the throbbing bulge against your cheek as you find the zipper with your teeth and drag it slowly downward, your eyes never breaking his burning gaze.

"Good girl," he hisses, pushing his pants down his hips to reveal a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, a sizable strain pulling at the flexible fabric where he's hard beneath them.

He hooks two thumbs into the elastic and tugs down, his fully erect cock springing free to bob against the side of your face. A sticky streak of precum smears across your cheek as you seek his head with your lips, barely having time to register the smooth tip, or the pretty, pulsating veins as you rush to swallow him whole.

Hoseok lets out a long, deep groan as you suckle greedily around him. Allowing your spit to slick his shaft you pull back, keeping just the crown between your lips as you worry your tongue along his dripping slit.

He's rock hard and heavy on your tongue as you lean in to take him farther down your throat, bunching your hands into your dress at the aching urge to cup and stroke the velvet skin of his scrotum.

"Fuck," he grits out from between clenched teeth, "That's right..."

You bob lower and lower on his shaft, seeking to take as much of him as you are able. When you feel his tip brush the back of your throat, you moan around him. His free hand flies into your hair, and suddenly he's yanking you off of him. You cough and splutter at the sudden motion and he tugs the chain so that you raise watery eyes to him. He releases your hair to absently stroke himself as he lightly pants over you.

"Asked me to fuck that throat. Think you can take it?"

You nod as you attempt to wipe drool pooling on your chin into your shoulder.

"Words," he pushes, snapping the chain around his wrist.

"Yeah," you mock, matching his tone, a spark of defiance reigniting inside you.

Hoseok lets out a hollow laugh.

"So confident. We'll see about that."

He slips two fingers of his free hand into the strap of your collar and tugs you back toward his cock. You open wide, extending your tongue to catch the head and pull him between your lips.

You move to swallow him again, but he halts you.

"Keep still," he mutters coldly, and the fingers at your collar hold you tightly in place as he slowly slides his hips forward in a thrust that has him inching toward your soft palate.

Your eyes water, but you have never been more determined to fight your gag reflex as he pulls back and pushes in again, deeper, his cock tapping again at the back of your throat.

"Goddamn, you really can take it," he groans in a shaky voice. "Such a good little slut for Hoseok. Such a pretty, filthy little mouth."

Your nostrils flare as you draw air through your nose, and you swallow, the muscle of your throat contracting tightly around him. At this he seems to break, suddenly pulling back his hips to snap them forward as he sets a rough, self-indulgent pace.

Your eyes water, spilling over from the brutal stretch and sting, but you dig your fingers into your thighs, determined to take him as long as you possibly can.

You start to feel light-headed, and just when you think you're going to have to tap out for air, Hoseok's pulling you off of him and wrenching your face upwards to run his wild eyes over it.

You gasp for breath a moment, and then you're opening your mouth to him again, blinking up through bleary eyes in a silent, hungry plea. He shakes his head slowly as he gazes down at you, chest heaving.

"Shit, look at you..."

You're a site. Tears and mascara streak your cheeks, saliva and precum slick your chin and neck, your parted lips swollen. Hoseok's fingers twist where they're still hooked into the collar.

"You still want it, don't you? My god..." he smears the tip of his cock along your bottom lip.

Your eager tongue wriggles forward to brush over him again. He swallows, and with a growl he slaps his cock down harshly over it. You let out a little sob as your soaking, aching cunt clenches around nothing.

"Alright," he mutters in a husky whisper, "Gonna fucking ruin that tight little throat. Gonna fill it the fuck up. Blow my load all over that nasty little tongue. And you want that, don't you? Wanna be Hoseok's pretty little cumslut, hm?"

You nod, and then remember the rules.

"Yes," you croak, and open wide for him again.

He grits his teeth and tugs at the collar to pull you slowly over him again with a shudder. You've proven more than capable and it's not long before he's chasing release at a punishing pace. It's sloppy and desperate - the hollow, wet sounds as he fucks your face a pornographic symphony.

Suddenly you think you can feel his cock twitch and jerk as it hammers into your mouth, and when he grows so incredibly hard, you know he's about to reach his peak.

You lock eyes with him through your tears, watching his features strain to maintain their composure. Without warning he grabs the back of your head and slams into you, arching over as he cries out.

And he cums.

Thick ropes spurt down your throat as he quivers and throbs.

The moment he's spent his last drop of release he fists into your hair and roughly pulls you back, letting his softening cock fall free. You gasp for breath, coughing as you choke down the last remnants of his seed. Lips trembling, your eyes search his face for what you so desperately need...and you find it.

His lids are heavy over his eyes, mere glistening slips of midnight visible as they gleam down at you; his beautiful lips are parted as he pants, the honey planes of chest glistening with sweat where his shirt fails to obscure it.

He's breathless and sated and glorious, and you bask under the intensity of his gaze. He releases his hold on your collar and lets the leash clatter to the ground, bringing his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks, brushing his thumbs over the streaks of tears.

"So, fucking good for me," he mutters shakily, his brow drawn, "Such a pretty, perfect little brat."

Your eyes slip shut under his words of praise. You could move mountains if he asked you to, you were certain. In this moment, in this space, anything for this man. Everything.

You feel his hands leave your face as he moves to help you stand, before tugging his briefs back into place.

The heat of the moment past, you become acutely aware of the stinging soreness in your knees as you struggle to your feet – and the sticky ache of persistent hunger throbbing between your thighs. You teeter on your heels as blood rushes to your lower legs.

Smiling, he reaches out and pulls you to him gently by the waist, swiping a thumb over your chin.

"You were a good girl, baby. So, so good," He coos in a husky whisper. "You remember what good girls get, hm?" He's still calling the shots and demanding answers, but his eyes are soft as they regard you.

"A reward?" you answer hopefully.

He hums in assent.

"That's right, baby. That's right," He brushes at the smeared makeup under your eye. "But let's get that messy little face cleaned up first."

After unfastening your collar he sits you down on the bed, bringing makeup wipes to gently dab away the proof of your efforts, and offers you a bottle of cool water. He comes to sit beside you, eyes tracking you attentively as you drink.

"Want Hoseok to take care of that needy little pussy?" he asks, with a smirk.

"Fuck yes," you breath as you lower the bottle from your mouth.

He arches a brow, and you purse your lips in an attempt not to grin.

"Please," you add in correction.

"Mmm," he acknowledges thoughtfully, turning to gaze over his shoulder at the spider plant hanging from the ceiling a few feet past the other side of the bed.

"Does my little girl want to try something new?" he asks, his eyes still on the suspended planter.

You feel your pulse quicken and stomach twist in anticipation.

"Yes, Hoseok, I trust you," you respond without reserve.

He flicks his eyes to your face, brows drawing together. He wets his lips and huffs out a breathy laugh.

"You have no goddamned idea what you do to me when you say shit like that."

You look away, smiling brightly as you preen under the heat and affection of his gaze.

He reaches for your hand and guides you to rise to your feet.

"Alright, ditch the dress," he orders, gesturing with a flick of his chin as he leans back on his hands and spreads his thighs in a posture of recline.

You step back to give yourself space, already weak in the knees at the prospect of stripping for him. You steel your composure, a spark of boldness lighting in your belly. Taking a few steps away and turning from him, you look back over your shoulder to watch his face as you reach behind to slowly drag the zipper down your back. You make a slow, sensual show of peeling the garment from your body to reveal a lacy black balconette bra and matching thong. Stepping out of the dress and tossing it away, in nothing but your lingerie and stilettos, you stride back to stand patiently before him.

He leans forward and runs his hands up the sides of your thighs until they reach your hips where they slide back to squeeze the meat of your ass.

You bring your hands gingerly to his shoulders.

Tugging your body toward him, he draws himself to the edge of the mattress, pulling you between his thighs as he uses his sharp, white teeth to nip along the soft flesh of your belly. He sucks harshly at some places, leaving flushed little souvenirs of claim in his wake. You don't hold back the proof of your pleasure - repaying his ministrations with gasps and low moans as his hands and mouth explore you.

Hoseok raises his face from your skin, his pupils wide as his gaze settles at your breasts.

"Bra off," he commands, squeezing your ass again as you reach back to unfasten the clasp and pull the straps from your arms.

He hisses and grits his teeth, raising greedy hands to knead at your supple flesh, before pulling them away to twist and slap at your nipples.

You groan and throw your head back, relishing in the shocks of sensation – gushing, as if you could ruin your soaked panties any further. As you press your trembling thighs together he glances down at the last remaining vestige of your modesty, lips spreading into a wicked grin.

"You know I can fucking smell it - how wet you are? My god, want you to wear it like a perfume, fuck..." He runs his right hand to rub against the dampness that has the lace clinging to your slit.

The moan you let out is so needy it's practically a sob. Hoseok laughs low in his chest.

Suddenly he’s standing and spinning you around, leading you to the end of the bed. He places your hands on the footboard and instructs you to bend over, sliding your hips back until your ass is on full display. He runs his hands over the bare flesh of your cheeks.

"Now," he growls, "Can't fuck this ass until it's properly marked, can we?"

You swallow and let out a whine. The blood is already rushing to your head in a familiar surge and in the split second of silence before impact, you know what's coming - the anticipation somehow even more intoxicating when you remember how it feels when he...

Smack!

You whimper, your fingers gripping the bed frame as he delivers blow after searing blow. When he has satisfied himself with the flushed tone streaking the globes of your ass, he gives it a final squeeze, commanding you to wait where you are.

You hear him as he moves to the side of the bed to pull an object from beneath it. He seems to be grappling with something - the clink of metal and soft rustle of leather interrupting the sudden heavy hush. He returns to your side, taking your hands from the bed and bringing you to stand. As he leads you to the far side of the bed, you see it: hanging from the large hook in the ceiling that once bore the spider plant there is a large leather contraption. You've never seen one in real life, but you know what it is.

"You have a sex swing?" you murmur in awe, momentarily forgetting yourself as you reach out to brush your fingers over the soft leather. There are buckle straps at different places and a metal bar running across the top. He lightly grips your waist, turning you to face him again. He dips his head forward and you inhale the cool mint of his breath.

"Gonna put you in it," he murmurs, "You remember our word, right?"

"Yes," you breathe.

“Say it.”

“Foxglove.”

He smirks.

"Good girl. Panties off," he instructs.

You couldn't be more eager to pull the sopping fabric down your legs and toss it aside, but when you reach to remove your shoes, he catches your wrist.

"I didn't say you could take those off, did I?" he reprimands, and your pulse begins to hammer in your throat.

He’s gonna fucking strap you to this thing in your goddamned heels.

You comply with him as he helps you into the seat, fastening your wrists together to a strap that has them raised above your head. After securing your hands, he raises your legs, carefully stretching them so that your feet are on the outside of the wide set cables, hooking your heels to catch on the bar across the top to hold your legs, spread wide, in place. With each restriction he checks in, making sure you’re completely comfortable with his choices.

When he finishes he comes to stand before you, heaving out a sigh through his nose as he trails a hand down the back of your thigh.

"Look at you," he groans as his eyes rake over your body.

You can feel your pussy leaking. Your heart pounds. The muscles in your legs strain a bit from the stretch and the bindings nip into your wrists and feet. You are completely exposed to him...and it is utter perfection. Like you were made to be at his mercy. You blink up at him through the fuzzy haze that keeps intensifying as you relinquish yourself deeper and deeper into his control.

His eyes slip shut for a moment and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head before bringing his lips to graze against the back of your calf.

"Hoseok..." you whisper, trembling.

His eyes open and lock with yours. You hold each other's gaze in silence.

Nothing needs to be said - you both know. You both understand.

He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, and after discarding his briefs he is as naked as you are. With one hand he grips your leg, slipping two fingers of the other to slide through the swollen, sticky folds of your cunt. You cry out, your pelvis shuddering - so ripe to be touched that the contact sends a shock like an electric pulse through your being.

"What a pretty fucking pussy...so desperate for me," he mutters.

You watch his beautiful fingers as they slip through your glistening lips and over your throbbing clit before he pulls his hand up. He lets it hover in the air for a moment before bringing it down with a harsh smack against your mound.

A scream strangles in your throat as he repeats the motion again. Your whole body shakes with arousal.

He clenches his jaw as he trails his fingers down to your aching hole, dipping in shallowly to gather your bountiful slick. He raises his fingers to his lips, tasting you as he watches you tremble beneath him. He withdraws them with a pop.

"You know how much you like that? Getting this little cunt slapped?" His eyes trail down. "You're dripping down your fucking ass."

Shuddering violently, you whimper, tugging impatiently at your restraints.

"Yah," he warns, and you still. "Guess you're ready for me, huh? Just like that day..." He smirks condescendingly. "You're always ready, aren't you?" He hisses. "Need me so fucking badly...all of the time."

You sob as your walls contract again and again. He takes his cock into his hand and slides it through your folds, teasing the tip over your clit.

It's euphoric, but it's not enough. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you fight your own desperate need until the copper taste of blood seeps across your tongue. Somehow, it doesn't even hurt – you can't feel anything past the need for him to fill you. You feel his tip prod your entrance and you gasp.

“Look at me," he rasps.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs are shaking, vibrating the entire apparatus as he finally, slowly, sinks into your wet heat. The stretch of him is exquisite, and your eyes roll back in your head as he groans, steadily pulling back to push into you again.

“Shiiiiiitttt…” he hisses through his teeth, “Fucking made for me. Does my little brat like that? Hoseok’s cock stuffing that tight little cunt?”

“M-more…p-please…” you mewl, nearly unable to even form the words as his ridges drag deliciously along your taught walls.

You're so incredibly worked up that already you can feel a climax building in your belly, and he's only just started to fuck you. Unable to touch him any other way, you squeeze around him tightly.

He lets out a grunt, picking up his pace as he uses the mobility of the swing to pound you onto his cock.

You cry out, your head rattling against the leather as stroke after stroke sends you hurtling toward your high. Your mouth hangs open, and your vision begins to blur at the edges, the position of your arms making it harder to breathe. It’s going put you over the edge. He catches your glazed stare.

"Don't you fucking cum until I say," he grits out breathlessly, and you let out a wail, head falling back.

You can feel yourself barely holding on as he slams into you, teetering on the edge as you hear his voice.

"Whose little whore are you?"

You try to speak but the words won't rattle out of your chest.

"Whose?" he booms.

"Yours!" you press out in a sob.

"Who do you kneel for?"

"You!"

"Who owns this pussy?"

"Y-you!"

"And who the fuck am I?"

"HOSEOK!"

"Cum, slut." he growls.

...And you free-fall through time and space.

The summer evening air is warm against your skin as you step out under the rose gold twilight. Behind you the chic dining venue is still abustle, and you wave coworkers a fond farewell as they head off to continue the evening with karaoke. It's been a big day for you, and there's someone you've been waiting to talk to.

You press the green call button and wait as the line rings.

"Yeoboseyo?"

The warm voice on the other end has a smile blooming on your lips.

"Hey, Hobi-ssi!" you hum.

"Hey hey!" he chrips, "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," you respond casually, "Just got done with a company dinner. Someone got a promotion, so we all went out."

There's a pause on the other end.

"Oh," answers slowly, "That one you put in for?"

"Mhm."

You hear him scoff in amusement

"Well, at least you seem to be taking it well."

"I'd say I'm taking it extremely well, which is only natural, considering I got the job."

"Yes, well...wait, YOU WHAT?!"

You pull the phone momentarily away from your ear as his joyful, raucous laughter blasts through the speaker.

"You're gonna make me go deaf!" You chide. Your smile is brighter than the setting sun.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Hobi."

"You should celebrate!"

"I did go out with my work friends...but..."

"You should come over," he interjects.

The register of his voice has changed. You recognize the new one.

"Yeah?" you swallow, as your heart rate quickens. "Well...what if I do want to go to karaoke?"

You wait for his response, watching your ride share pull up to the curb.

"Yah - you gonna be a good girl…”

You hold your breath.

“...Or do I have to make you?"

-FIN-

#hoseok fic #oneshot #bts oneshot #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hobi x y/n #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: make me

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ahsxual · 8 months ago

Note

Could we maybe have a smut with doug like maybe he billys the reader but decides to fuck her and leave her alone after

Dark Fear & Pleasure

Pairing: Doug Van Housen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI +18!!, rough sex, extremely mean Doug, fear play, pain kink, reader gets bullied, CNC, cumming inside w/o permission, heavy degradation/humiliation, name-calling (verbal abuse), mentions of stalking, cursing, mean!Dom!Doug x sub!Fem!Reader, possessive!Doug, spanking, dacryphilia, fingering, p in v (w/o protection)

Genre:(Heavy) Smut

Word Count: 2,2k

PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THIS FIC HAS DARK THEMES, IF YOU'RE AGAINST ANYTHING MENTIONED IN THE WARNINGS, DO NOT READ IT!!!

A/N: This is definitely the darkest and nastiest fic I've ever written... I was absolutely drooling over this request!! Doug turns me on sm and that's so alarming, but Idc. Please, be aware that this fic contains extremely heavy themes! Anyway, I hope I wrote Doug right and that you guys enjoy this 🤭😈 tagging: @aliceblxck @twelvelevens @unidentifiablesubject <3

"Leave me alone, you freak!" you couldn't take it anymore. You'd had enough. Ever since Doug laid his eyes on you, he wouldn't stop stalking you and humiliating you in front of his group, reveling in the fear and vulnerability you showed towards him. It made him feel powerful, like he could control you like a small, fragile bunny whenever he wanted to or felt bored.

This time, he crossed all your limits, invading your house while your parents were away. And this time he came alone, not bringing his friends to join in his "fun" with you, as he call it. How could he know you were home alone? Why was he so obsessed with you to the point of knowing your routine and discovering that your parents were going to spend the weekend away, leaving you unsafe for any creep who wanted to assault you? And now there you were, trapped between a pair of a psychopath's arms against the wall of your bedroom, his face so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath on your cheek. His grin was filled with malice, like a venomous snake analyzing its prey, ready to strike at any moment.

"And what fun would that be? I like tormenting you way too much, little bunny. You're so easy to scare... It actually turns me on." then you felt a warm tongue lick your wet tears running from your chin, while he moaned at the taste of fear in them.

You felt disgusted once you felt him get hard against you, so you impulsively spit on his face. You immediately regretted your bold action the moment you saw his blue irises darken so much until you could no longer see its color anymore. You'd never seen him so furious, as his jaw clenched so hard so as not to fall into the temptation of killing you right there.

"That's enough! You need to learn some manners and not disrespect who's in charge of you, you pathetic bitch!" you then felt his strong hands throw you harshly onto your bed, making you groan in pain. You were simply relieved that he hadn't thrown you to the rigid floor.

"Please Doug, what do you want from me...!?" you were feeling desperate by now, your fresh tears blurring your vision from the man who was about to destroy you.

"What do I want from you?" he chuckled, clearly mocking you like he always did. "I wanna be the one who's responsible for corrupting that cunt of yours. I bet you're not as innocent as you look... I bet you're tighter and wetter than any girl I've fucked before. And I'm gonna turn you into my sex slave for whenever I feel my balls full and want to warm up my cock. Are you more clear about my intentions with you now, huh?" he grunted before he forcefully grabbed your hair, forcing you to look at him as you winced in pain.

"No Doug, please don't... anything but that!!" you would be lying if you said that his words didn't make your panties wet and empty pussy clench around nothing, but you would never admit it to the man who's been tormenting you for months.

"Do you really think you can make a decision here?" he laughed at you. "Unfortunately, neither mommy or daddy are going to be here to help their sweet daughter from getting fucked by someone who just wants to abuse her slutty cunt. What a shame..." he slapped you across the face, purposely causing your cheek to burn and sting in pain. "You're so pathetic... and it makes my cock so hard." he said confidently, with pure danger evident in his words, before licking the top of your sternum all the way up to your chin with his long tongue.

"Why are you doing this...?" it was barely a whisper, but Doug could hear you perfectly. You looked away from him while he was pinning your wrists, restraining you with the weight of his body, while his free hand gripped your breasts and nipples roughly. He was way stronger and intimating then he looked, and the thought of being at his mercy absolutely terrified you.

"If you're a good girl for me and don't fight much, maybe I'll have pity on you..." he laughed as he said those words, making you believe he was lying with every tooth he had in his mouth. "But on second thought, I'd actually like to see you fight back." was all he said, before turning you over and shoving your face into your pillow to prevent you from breathing properly as he unbuckled his belt.

"Nooo, Doug!!" You screamed and tried to push him off you as you begged for his mercy, but that only seemed to turn him on even more, since it was completely useless. In one abrupt movement, you felt him pull your shorts and panties off, as he stared at your glistening pussy.

"Holy fuck, look at this... You're enjoying this as much as I am, you freaky slut. I knew I could corrupt you... This cunt is my fucking property now, you understand me?" you felt a hard slap on your ass, leaving a red handprint from his big hand. It hurt like hell, yet you couldn't ignore the pleasure that ran through your spine until it reached your core.

He kept spanking you until your ass was all red and sore. Once he got bored of it, he decided to check one more time if his actions turned you on even more, soon realizing that his suspicions were absolutely correct.

"You're even wetter now, little bunny... you should be ashamed of yourself for enjoying this. You do realize now that I'm not gonna stop ruining this pussy whenever I want to, right?" you moaned as you felt two long fingers enter you without any care and fuck you hard as if it were his dick.

"Stop it Doug, please, it hurts! It's too much!!" you whimpered loudly, no longer able to distinguish pleasure from pain. You'd never been intimate with a guy with hands as big as Doug's, and it hurt so good.

"Good." was all he said before speeding up his pace. He grabbed your hair so you could breath, and when he pushed you back against your pillow, you came and screamed from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Look at that... after all the bitch likes me to humiliate and hurt her." he whispered with a clear smirk on his face, as he looked down at his cum-covered fingers, before grabbing you by the hair to make eye contact with you.

"Open. Now." not wanting to test him any further, you opened your mouth hesitantly as he shoved two fingers in forcefully, making you gag around them.

"You better suck my fingers clean or I swear I'll make you choke on them until you pass out, you slut." you did as he said, afraid to face the consequences of his promises. When you finished, he took his fingers out of your mouth and put them in his own while staring deeply into your eyes.

"Doug, please..." you no longer knew what you were pleading for: for him to let you go or for him fuck you like the wild animal he was. You began to feel your body, especially your pussy, craving his cock and touch, making you feel slightly dizzy from the adrenaline and pleasure coursing through your blood.

"It'll feel better if you want it too, trust me. You're wet enough not to hurt your pretty pussy too much, so don't worry. I'll be gentle with you." he promised with blatant lies and fake enthusiasm as he brushed the pieces of hair from your face that were sticky with sweat, before laughing and mocking your face.

He then pushed you down hard so that you were lying on your back, while he ripped off your top to expose your tits and erect nipples, leaving you completely naked and vulnerable for him and his hungry eyes.

"No bra, huh? You're making this so much easier for me, little bunny. Now... don't even think about fighting back, because I promise you it will hurt." you couldn't stop crying, yet you couldn't stop craving him either.

You'd probably just discovered a new kink of yours that was unknown to you until then, or you'd only noticed that moment how profoundly attractive you were to Doug, even though he bullied you and made fun of you almost every day. It was extremely bizarre, however your dynamic was something you felt very addicted to, like a sweet poison that you couldn't stop drinking no matter how deadly and poisonous it was.

He was still fully clothed, which made you feel even more humiliated about the whole situation you were in. But as soon as he pulled down his black pants and boxers... you wished you could still see him fully dressed and not come face to face with the monster he was hiding between his legs.

"Holy shit..." you cursed wide-eyed, praying that you could take him all without being ripped apart from the inside out. You saw his proud, wide grin reappear, making you realize that he enjoyed watching your fear and horror at taking him inside you way too much.

"Scared? I'll make it all fit no matter what, so you better be."

The moment he penetrated you, it was as if the entire world had collapsed on you. You felt like you'd been drugged, since you could no longer think or see straight. To your surprise, it didn't hurt like you thought it would, your wetness and lust for him causing your pussy to immediately adjust to his huge size. However, it did hurt when he started pounding into you, his long cock slamming into your cervix at a fast, rough pace. Your screams were mistaken for moans of real pleasure, making him groan too at the feeling of your tight, welcoming cunt. When he changed position to fuck you deeper, you grabbed the bit of skin of his back that wasn't covered and dug your nails in until he grunted in pain.

"Fuck, I've wanted to destroy this fucking pussy for so long..." he whispered to himself with his eyes closed, loud enough for you to hear him. His confession made you clench around him as you came on his cock, since he was hitting your g-stop over and over again.

"No no, you're gonna look into my fucking eyes as you cum and ask for my fucking permission!" he shouted at you with an angry face, before slapping you as reminder not to dare desobey him. He didn't stop until he made you cum a second time with his cock, this time doing as he told you, which deepened the intensity of your last orgasm of the night.

"That's it little bunny, that's how I like my girl... Obedient to her owner like a well behaved whore."

"P-please, don't cum inside me! I'm begging you, please!!" you implored him the moment you felt him reach his orgasm, but as you expected, he did exactly the opposite of what you wished for.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I'll cum wherever I want and you'll thank me for that, you ungrateful slut." these were his last words, before cumming deep inside you, his thick sperm coating your walls so deliciously.

When he pulled his cock out of you, still half hard, he stared at you with pride. You were looking like a mess: naked and covered in dark hickeys, your sweaty hair all messed up, your face covered in black mascara while your eyelids were half shut from exhaustion and your chest heaving rapidly from your deep breathing. When you felt some of your energy slowly being replenished, you covered your naked body with your arms and knees as you looked out of the window, while reliving what had just happened in your mind.

"Hey, you came three times with my fingers and my cock. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it too. In fact, I did you a favor, so be grateful. I bet no other guy will fuck you this good." he said while buttoning his pants.

Before climbing out of your window, he stopped halfway and looked back at you, lying in a fetal position while you clutched your legs to your chest. He slowly approached you and knelt down to your level, watching you carefully before one of his hands tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

"I promise I'll leave you alone from now on, my little bunny... But I can't promise I won't come back to taste that sweet pussy of yours again." he chuckled darkly, as you felt him kiss your forehead firmly, before getting up and leaving your bedroom through your window.

And just like that, he disappeared in the middle of the night, as if the devil himself had paid you a visit to remind you who you belong to.

#doug van housen #Doug van housen x reader #Doug van housen smut #matthew lillard fanfic #matthew lillard imagine #matthew lillard smut #matthew lillard x reader #matthew lillard characters #matthew lillard characters x reader #animal room 1995 #Animal room smut #heavy smut #smut fanfiction #smut requests #matthew lillard fic #Animal room #matthew lillard #the animal room #Animal room movie

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n3ptoonz · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do hdcs on MK1 men pushing the reader to a wall while kissing them?

randomly selected mk1 men hcs: how raiden, rain, smoke, shang tsung, reptile, and kung lao go about pushing reader to the wall while kissing them

warnings: suggestive (y'all horny freekie fucs) reader being a monster fucker mentioned 😈

these aren't bullet points. they're like lil blurbs for each character cause the bullets would've been awkwardly placed. otherwise, enjoy! part two here

Raiden

Raiden's kisses were always so gentle and sweet, like him, but when your moans poured into his mouth as your back hit the wall, a flip switched in his mind. His calloused hands roamed your body so carelessly, yet with such thought. Rough, yet with a soft touch. Fervent, yet patient. His hand was wrapped around the nape of your neck with such care like his lips weren't just at war with yours, but clearly that was no issue the way you pulled him even closer and tried your best to stay quiet. Who knew the Wu Shi Academy was a great spot for lowkey make out sessions?

Rain

You always knew Rain was a passionate lover. The same efforts and care he put in his magic and knowledge, ten times more went into you. So when he had you against the wall in his office, surrounded by his own creations and scrolls only you knew about, it was make out city. The way his lips molded to yours should've been illegal with how mesmerizing it was. His hands were no stranger to your hips; you were like a shiny antique on his bookshelf he cherished. If you dare to run your fingers through his hair while you kissed, you can and will get taken on this same wall.

Smoke

Smoke was always the kind of man to start slow/gentle and gradually become more aggressive in his ways. However, some things just drive him crazy. You drive him crazy. His patience went just like that, and now here you both are groaning and whining into each other's mouths. Your lips just looked so soft, they were calling his name in a taunting manner. Now, he's not so aggressive that you hit the wall harshly, no, the contrasting feathery touch of his hands gliding along your body to the hunger in his kiss was just enough to get both of you to the next level of passion.

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is only ever gentle with you. His aura was just so powerful in itself, all he had to do was walk you into the wall. He didn't need to push you against it to assert dominance. His eyes never dared to dart from yours, especially when you looked so cute trying to hold his gaze. If it were a third person point of view they'd think you're under hypnosis. One face caress and your lips locked with his. If you thought he was power hungry individual before? You haven't seen anything yet.

Reptile

Syzoth is a mystery. On one hand he's a romantic lover and on the other, his Zaterran instincts get the best of him. His abnormal strength always lead to him picking you up in some way shape or form, so here you were on the wall and straddling his waist all because he got excited. Being a monster fucker had its perks since his lizard tongue didn't change with his human form, and that didn't bother you at all. In fact, you welcomed it every time you kissed; once he figured that out he used to his advantage every time.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao is the type of man who was driven by pride, so he was bound to tease you to no end anytime soon. His kisses were usually feverish and slightly aggressive with a touch of a sweet side. Once he gets you on that wall from all that teasing and shit talking it's no different. Only the sound of heavy breaths, lips smacking, and clothes rubbing against each other filled the room every time it happened. He smirks into the kiss every. single. time. He refuses to let you slip away from him even for a moment. His hands have to always be on you, which especially isn't hard to do when you literally have nowhere else to go. But hey, any objections? Didn't think so!

a/n: if y'all want a part 2, you know what to do! (haha that rhymed)

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #raiden mk1 #rain mk #smoke mk #mk smoke #shang tsung #reptile mk #syzoth #mk x reader #mk1 kung lao #mk kung lao #kung lao #mk headcanons

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iid-smile · 2 months ago

Text

waterfall , tomioka giyuu

x gn!reader ! giyuu using his water breathing, he asks for permission to confess and impress you!

author's note: im having writers block with kny specifically (future sunny: thats a bad excuse btw... i just dont because idk what to write for majority of the characters) so literally everything these days is jjk. justice for kny!!!!

double author's note: hi... future sunny here. this message ^^ yeah, that was FOUR WEEKS AGO now its just laziness rather than writers block... thats why the dialogue has literally no description half the time and i really did not want to finish this

triple author's note: ahaha i bet you've never seen three in a row 😈 anyways i forgot to post this after i proofread it half asleep so here u go

"do you like rivers?"

"mhm."

"what about lakes?"

"i like anything to do with water, tomioka. you don't need to worry so much about what i like."

"i'm not worried." giyuu's gaze turns away from you, like it always does, and he looks straight ahead. "there's just something i want to try."

though slightly wary of his intentions, you know that giyuu isn't the type of guy to put you in situations where he doesn't have your consent first. and quite clearly, it's something to do with water, because he's been awfully chatty about different bodies of water, fishes, and just nature in general. it's difficult to make a guess of what he's planning, because sometimes he can just be so unintentionally unpredictable. and weird. he's a weirdo.

you walk behind him so he's able to lead the way. now that he's gone all quiet again, you can't help but furrow your eyebrows a bit. something he wanted to try? what could he possibly want to try in the middle of the night? let alone in a forest...

finally, he comes to a halt. obviously, you're a bit... confused, being stopped in front of a large, and deep body of water surrounded by rocks.

"hold my hand."

"why?"

as if he knew you were going to ask that, he turns to face you with not a single change in his expression, neatly holding out his hand to you. "i'm going to do something, and i don't want you to slip." something. there's that something again.

your eyes flicker from his hand to his face just a few times, then to the surroundings, looking out for anything odd. he wouldn't be the type to prank you, would he?

"do you not trust me?"

"i do. it's just this something that you mention..."

"don't worry. i won't do anything bad."

would it be bad to say that he immediately soothed your worries? he was already speaking more than he usually would, and you noticed his free hand was always on the handle of his sword, so he's vigilant. no worries at all. you take his hand. it's cold, and unexpectedly smooth. "what are you going to do?"

no answer. he takes a step closer to the edge, just one little tip toe away from the surface of the water. "by any chance.." giyuu remains quiet, head bowed to the water below before his eyes move back up to yours. "do you have a significant other?"

"no..."

"then," for a beat, he looks off to the side, and then turns his head back to you. "can i ask for your permission for me to... attempt to court you?"

"ah, is this why you brought me all the way out here? you have feelings for me?"

"...you found me out."

"you just told me that?"

"i didn't mean to."

the back of your hand comes up to your lips, poorly silencing your giggles. "you're a bit silly sometimes."

no response. "come."

giyuu takes a step down from the rocks, and into the body of water. from above, it was difficult to tell how far down the bottom of the lake was. "my clothes—"

he cuts you off. "don't worry. they won't get wet."

maybe he's telling the truth, since his aren't either. one last time, you look down at your covered feet, a nervous twitch running through them as the chill breeze suddenly became so apparent.

immediately, you're met with dreamlike arches of water and splashes surrounding the two of you, frozen in time and unmoving. for the first time, it feels like you're genuinely seeing his breathing technique visually, the sight similar to a vivid lucid dream. except this... this is way better. right in the climax, streams shoot up into the air, curving and twisting to form a heart in the center, then dispersing just as quick, the drops of rain disappearing into nothing as it touches skin.

it was beautiful, but beautiful wasn't even a word good enough to describe it.

"tomioka—?" but as you turn around, giyuu is nowhere to be seen. "huh? tomioka?"

you look left, and you look right. nobody's around: not a single life in sight. the trees are quiet, only the splashing of the waterfall fills in for the lack of noise around. and when you look down at your feet, you only see your legs submerged in water, all the way up to your knees. your haori steadily soaked up the liquid, the material darkening and growing heavier on your shoulders. "my socks!"

yes, you did have to walk home with wet tabi socks and zori with an uncomfortably damp surface. and yes, you did walk home with a constant flutter in your heart, not even knowing when the next time you'll catch a glimpse of him will be.

#kny imagines #kny drabbles #demon slayer drabbles #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu giyuu #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #giyuu x you #giyuu headcanons #giyuu drabbles #giyuu imagines #kimetsu no yaiba imagines

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years ago

Text

All I wanna do is go the distance

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Hey guys, I'm super excited to give you guys this next chapter 💕 I have big things planned hehe

I would reccommend reading this oneshot, but as I am not jon favreau, you don't have to read extra stuff I make to understand the main stuff. Enjoy 😈

Part 7 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

It had taken a few weeks for your head to get completely right again after the concussion. On some days you worried that you’d never get through the fluorescent infested hallways of the base without jamming your fists in your eyes ever again. Sometimes you’d catch Price staring at you with those concerned world weary eyes of his in the worst moments, when the headaches were screaming outwards, bursting through your skull. Though with enough time, and a lot of pain killers, the pain died down and dulled until you were completely back to normal.

It was a good thing too. For one, getting Price off your back while you were continuing to sneak around with König was a must, being under the microscope was only making the head trouble all the worse. And for another, which you were sometimes shocked to think was the secondary reason, you’d been going on more and more missions again as the 141 and KorTac got ever closer to tracking down Rousseau. Things were getting tense now, Ghost had been falling under a lot of pressure to perform and his temper was all over the place. Oftentimes you’d be the lucky one that had to chase him and calm him down.

In the months and missions after you’d come back you’d put away three of Rousseau’s men behind bars, including a very high level man that acted as his consigliere. Apparently he’d been worked on quite a bit since his capture. 141 weren’t privy to the intimate details of course, that was up to the CIA and KorTac, but as far as you’d all been told he’d given over a wealth of information on Rousseau’s location and even some limited blueprints of his hideout.

Price had told you all in advance that intelligence would be confirming your next mission in a matter of days, so you should all stick close to the base. You were actually getting ready for an upcoming training exercise, Rousseau’s man revealing the details on his base meant that command were adamant that you did a run through first and came up with a successful strategy for the big boss’ take down.

Luckily for you, because of the stay close order, that meant more time in your little airbnb paradise. The place was starting to feel like home. You were both etching yourselves into the apartment, carving your living narratives into it.

You could identify marks where König had been clumsy and dropped things or scuffed his boots against the wall. There was a tiny stain on the couch from where you’d come and sat after a mission. Lastly, but not least of all, was the curtain that had been sneakily stitched up to the railing after you and König had accidentally pulled it off several of its hooks when you’d grabbed it a little too enthusiastically one night. And on top of it all was the lingering smell of the room spray you’d bought a few weeks into renting the place, preferring the smell of ‘violet rain’ over the faint notes of tobacco that clung to the walls from other renters.

Sometimes you and König even liked to tell each other ‘see you back at the house’. It was becoming all so humdrum to you both.

You smiled as you glanced over at König one night, ruminating over your little routine. The warmth of you could’ve lifted the apartment into the air. It just felt so good to know that you had something that was yours, something that wasn’t your job, something that wasn’t a material thing, you had a life with König. It was most apparent to you when you watched him, when he was free of his hood and his armour and plates and he lay on the bed on his phone, unburdened from rules and duty. He undressed himself from the myth and lay comfortably as König the man, lounging in his boxers and T-shirt like any boyfriend would act with their partner.

Though that night, his brows were knit together in concentration and his lips were pursed, he was adamant that he be left alone for a minute to do whatever it was that he was doing. It intrigued you because he was rarely so mysterious, normally he’d tell you if it was a work thing, but this time he just waved you off and told you not to be nosy. That being the case, you were watching him closely trying to see if he’d give you any hints or signs of what was so captivating on that screen of his.

“I can feel those doe eyes burning a hole into me,” he chuckled, finally gracing you with his attentions.

“Can you blame me? You’re being all suspicious,” you shrugged, tilting your head a little to see if he’d explain himself.

“I’m not being suspicious, I just asked for some quiet.”

“You said ‘Sneaky, I have something I need to do, but don’t look’ and then when I asked if it was work stuff you said no. That - is suspicious.”

“Well it gave you an excuse to imitate me, so that’s something isn’t it,” he scoffed.

“Well, you know I do it so well,” you grinned, watching with delight as he rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you repeated, feeling as if you were copying him perfectly.

“If you think that’s how I sound then I'm surprised you have any kind of attraction to me,” he laughed.

“Well some days are a struggle more than others, but-”

You weren’t given the chance to finish your sentence, he’d forgotten all about his phone and thrown it from his lap, launching himself at you faster than any RPG you’d seen. In a matter of seconds you were pinned to the bed and fighting for your life, tears pouring from your eyes as he tickled you and trapped you underneath his annoyingly unyielding legs.

“What happened to the Sneaky that cried when I told them that I was bullied for my accent in school, hm? Now you’re making fun of me? I’ve got to say, that hurts me Sneak,” he said, an overdramatic fake upset lacing his tone. “You deserve every bit of this!”

You cried out and tried to protest, making a grab for his hands, but were merely shoved away when you made any kind of headway in distracting him. You wriggled and squirmed and screamed, but it was all for nothing. There was no way to make him stop until he wanted to.

“Kö- K…König, please!” you yelped, struggling to breathe. “Enough!”

You were beginning to feel like a struggling furnace as you endured his torture. Your lungs were burning from their failing efforts and you only screamed more as you grew tired of trying to fight back. The second he finally stopped his assault, you gasped in a huge lungful of air and laid back, groaning as you looked up at the blaring lights overhead and registered your sweaty forehead.

“Remind me not to bully you again,” you sighed, finally finding your voice again.

“Mhmm. I tell you all the time, but you just always insist on being so mean to me regardless,” he chuckled, unhooking his legs from your sides.

König came to rest beside you and tucked a stray strand of hair back in its place. His eyes scanned over your heaving chest and he laughed as he watched you attempt to struggle into a sit. Nevertheless you managed to wobble yourself upwards on the shaky mattress and looked down at him, then over to his forgotten phone.

“Will you do that again if I try to ask what you were doing so suspiciously on your phone?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he smiled.

His new favourite line. The way he said it, it always had the undertones of a threat, but it was never said outright maliciously. König could affect his voice with so much masked intent it would have your head spinning sometimes trying to work out what he’d do next. Sometimes you’d get lost thinking about how long he’d practised that. The unfortunate people that had come across his path and challenged him, ending up with a far worse fate than just your tickling. Though you never liked to dwell on it for long.

“What were you suspiciously doing on your phone, König?” you said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts before you got too sucked in.

“Well, if you must know…” he trailed off and made a jump toward you, pretending he was going to attack again.

“No! No, no, no! Not again,” you cried out, leaping away from the bed.

You made a mental note to thank Soap and Ghost one day, all their messing with you had made you quick on your feet. Instinctively, you threw your hands up ready to fight and narrowed your eyes, watching his every movement like a hawk. König remained on the bed though and sat up, laughing and shaking his head to himself as he picked up his phone again and scrolled through it.

“Please, Sneaky, you really think I’m going to be threatened by those fists?” he tutted, not even looking at you as you remained in your defensive stance. “Put them away and come sit down.”

“These hands have killed people!” you defended.

“Yes, I know that, you’re a good soldier.”

“Exactly, so you should be threatened,” you retorted.

“If I was anyone else, sure. You’d never hurt me though,” he said, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. “I’m your boyfriend after all.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and immediately covered your face in your hands. Every little bit of you was drowning in the feeling of your thundering heart.

König didn’t much care for that particular title, he usually preferred to say partner, but he knew how it made you feel and he weaponised it as much as he possibly could. Knowing that he was all yours still scattered the butterflies in your stomach and you always felt like a little kid in the face of his teasing. You couldn’t help that him being officially yours still got you so excited.

“Are you ever going to stop using that against me?” you mumbled, finally coming to sit by him.

“No. I like watching you get flustered,” he chuckled. “It’s very cute.”

Before you could protest anymore though, he slung his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, softly releasing all the fight you had left with his teasing lips and tongue. You were locked together for a few moments and sighed contentedly when he broke away, pressing your head to his shoulder and feeling ready to sink down into the bed with him.

Though it wasn’t time for that yet.

“Would you like me to show you what I’ve been working on?”

You opened your eyes and faced him again, watching his nervous smile grow. Seeing him look so sheepish re-sparked your curiosity and you nodded, ready to see what it was. He hurriedly entered his password and the screen flashed open, landing on the homepage screen with a shot of you both from one of your photobooth pictures from an impromptu date months before, before your concussion. Pictures he was adamant that he couldn’t let you keep because he had to protect his image, even if he was wearing his half mask at the time. As if he was somehow a much better secret keeper than you.

You smirked at the memory of all the playful bickering you’d done over those photos and shook your head, eyeing the screen again as König brought up his tabs. He clicked onto the latest one and it opened onto a confirmation email. It wasn’t what you’d expected, not that you were sure of what you even were expecting. As you read it you raised your brows and looked up at him, wondering what was happening.

“This is a confirmation email for renting a hire car from some company in Austria,” you stated.

“Some company has a name,” he retorted.

“I’m not going to insult you by trying to pronounce that.”

“I see you’re restraining yourself now,” he laughed. “Well yes, it is a hire car confirmation for a cheap company in Vienna.”

“And you’re hiring a car in Vienna because?”

“Because, in a few months time, I’m taking you to Austria. Now, wait! Before you protest, I’ve thought it all out and you don’t need to worry about explaining any passport stamps to Price. I’ve found us flights to Slovakia and a train that can take us from Bucharest into Vienna, and from there I can take you around to see the country for a few days.”

He hastily explained himself and you smiled as you watched his hurried hand movements, his body in a flurry of motion. It was particularly fun to see him turn his hand into, what you figured, was a high speed train. He looked at you seriously as he finished, waiting in a suspended state of worry to see what you’d say.

As if you’d disappoint him.

“You sat and booked all that just for us?”

“Of course. I’ve really wanted to take you for a while now, so when you said you had time booked off and the higher ups indicated this mission will be coming to a close soon...I thought, this is the time. So what do you say? Will you come with me?”

“Obviously! I’m so excited, I can’t believe it. I’m getting to go on holiday with my Boyfriend,” you laughed, this time making yourself squeal. “It's gonna be so good! We’re gonna eat so much good food and see so many cool places and oh- I wanna see those mountains you were talking about! Can we go?”

“We will see the mountains, yes. I’ve put time aside for that,” he laughed.

“You’ve planned the whole trip already?” you asked incredulously.

“Sneaky I’ve been planning this for weeks,” he smiled. “I just finished the last arrangements there. I want to keep most of it a surprise, but…I actually have one thing on there that I need to ask you about before we go though.”

“Oh?”

He pursed his lips again and looked away before looking back to you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to Burgenland? To my mothers house.”

Your heart skipped a beat and somehow you managed to reach new levels of excitement. Meeting König’s mum meant a lot more to him that it did for most people. It came with a lot more meaning. Meeting König’s mum meant that he was accepting you as part of his family, it meant that he wanted you to know more of his annoyingly buried secrets. It meant that he’d have to tell you his name.

It’s not like his own mother would call him König.

It had been a sore subject for a little while. The cause of your only serious fights so far. You’d pushed to know a couple times, complaining that he wasn’t letting you in and that it was ridiculous that you were a couple and you wouldn’t even know what to call him if anything should happen. Something could happen to him out in the field and all you’d know is a codename, he could be taken away from you and you’d never know who he was.

Of course König argued that that was ridiculous and you knew more than almost anyone knew about him - excluding his mum of course. He claimed that his name was just a burden, that it was just something that would give people an excuse to take from you. Though you argued about that as well, if someone wanted to hurt you to get to him then they’d do it anyway. It didn’t matter if they believed you knew his true identity or not.

The last time you’d gone almost hysterical because the whole thing was so silly to you. The little airbnb walls felt like they were going to go flying with all the verbal mortars being thrown, like you were going to be swept up like something from the wizard of Oz. You’d both bickered back and forth, forming a dark comedy sketch, two squeaky little cartoon characters that were on the verge of strangling each other as you both held your ground.

“Why does it matter if I know! You keep saying people will come for me, and that it's more dangerous to know you, but it's not that. I know it's not that! Otherwise you wouldn’t be seen with me, you wouldn’t have let me come this close. You just can’t face that all your walls would have to come down. You just don’t want to let me in.”

“It is dangerous to know who I am, how many times must I list the reasons? But you know what, fine, you’re right.You win! I’d love to let you in fully, but yes I am afraid of letting you close! Even though you have no idea how much you’ve taken already. I’ve given you more of me than anyone else has ever gotten, even while it’s been hard. You have no idea how hard all this is for me.”

“Hard for You? I’m in a relationship with someone that won’t tell me their name!”

“Because it's the last thing I have to protect myself! If you leave me, what then? You could decide you want out of all this complication and find someone nice and simple and then where would I be? You’d have taken everything from me.”

“What am I taking from you? Knowing who you are is not taking anything from you König. Besides, I’m not leaving you. Why do you think I’m so hell bent on trying to find someone else when I spend all my time jeopardising my job just to be here with you? You think I like facing down Price knowing that he’d turn on me if he knew what I got up to in my spare time? I put the respect of someone that I deeply care about on the line, just so that I can be with you and you’re acting like I’m ready to run off at the first chance!”

“Because you’ve done it before!”

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

König may as well have turned and stuck a ten foot spear through your heart. You’d felt a tide of tears wash up in your eyes and you’d walked away from him then, not willing to let him see how much he’d hurt you. Not that that was an option. From his widened eyes alone, you knew that he’d known it was a mistake to dredge up old wounds, his sparkling blue irises dimming as he lost his self conviction.

“Wait! Hold on, I’m sorry.”

König raced up to you and stopped you in your tracks. His strong arms wrapped around you fast and held you snugly against his chest as pathetic droplets of tears streaked your burning cheeks. You didn’t bother trying to free yourself from him. You just whimpered and clung to him as he shushed you and apologised for what he’d said, kissing your dampened face like it was nothing.

“I’m so sorry. What I just said was stupid. Will you please come sit with me for a moment… I have something I want to tell you.”

A flare of anger and rebellion flared in you for a second. It was stamped out immediately, but just for a moment you wanted to storm off and tell him that if he wanted to keep you from knowing him then he’d done a great job - that that was it. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to follow through. Even when you hated him at that moment, you couldn’t bear to see him upset again. You knew that you’d hurt him badly already that day you’d run from him in the park outside the base, you knew that you couldn’t bring yourself to do that again.

“Ok,” you’d sniffled.

He’d sighed and taken you to the couch, sitting across from you after propping you up against your favourite fluffy pillow. You held onto it with one of your hands, losing yourself in its soft textures as you threaded your fingers through it. König watched you play with the loose strands for a second before looking you in the eyes, his face a perfect picture of remorse.

“You didn’t really run away from me, that was silly of me to say.”

“I did run from you though, I ran from you that day you tried to explain yourself after the mission” you frowned, not able to help your crackling feebly. “You were right, I can’t act like I haven’t given you reasons to be wary.”

“No. You didn’t leave me then though. You agreed to work through things and I suppose that’s what we’ve been doing…with mixed results,” he said, laughing dryly. “You haven’t really given me reason to be like this. This is what has happened after years of keeping people out and I suppose…I’m just having a hard time adjusting to what it feels like to let someone in.”

“I know. I know that really,” you sighed. “It's just hard sometimes because sometimes it feels like things are as they should be, like everything we have is so normal. Then I snap back to reality and there’s all this stuff with work where we have to pretend to hate each other and then we have missions that don’t line up and we don’t get to speak, like not even a phone call a lot of the time. Then there’s this intrusive voice I have over it all saying- well saying ‘you don’t even know his name, what is it we really even have together’ and I know its ridiculous and we care about each other and I should ignore it all-”

“It’s not ridiculous,” König soothed. “I feel the strain of these things too.”

He leaned forward then and grabbed your hands, making you jump as you were taken out of worrying at the pillow. His calloused fingers rubbed against yours and his warm grip kept you grounded into reality. The scars that scraped up the backs of his arms jumped up at you in the warmth of the yellow lights, his whole body a patchwork of battered skin. You traced your eyes from his rough hands and arms, up to his bobbing adam's apple and to the depths of his ocean eyes and worried face.

König’s jaw was tensed and he breathed as he worked up to what he was going to say. Your own breath was held then, lungs burning as you waited for him to speak.

“Other people have let me down in the past. My mother moved us to Germany for a manipulative piece of shit that hated me and looked to rid himself of me at every opportunity. I grew up with few friends, in a country that wasn’t mine, and fought so hard for so long that I didn’t know how to be vulnerable. I met a woman after I was forced to join the army that told me I was a hollow shell of a man, and that no one should have to be sentenced to dealing with me…There’s times I’ve agreed with her too, I’ve moved through life feeling like half a person some days. Then I met you. None of what I’ve told you is any excuse to treat you badly, but sometimes I’m so set in my distrust that I can’t let myself cross the lines I need to be able to get to where you are….And- and for you…I’m working on crossing those lines, because you’re the only person I’d ever want to give myself to, but for now its a slow process. You’ve seen my full face, we’ve made love and I have given you almost everything that I can give you for right now. All of this is to say…well - to ask - if you would give me a little more time and allow me to keep working on things with you.”

Listening to him then, as his voice crackled and wavered with emotion, was so very difficult. He kept a hold of your hands the whole time, his fingers shaking as he went on. His whole body looked ready to crumble as he explained himself.

Though before he could be brought down by everything you leaned over and held him, winding your arms around him as tightly as they would go. You hugged him close for the rest of the night and whispered to each other in the darkness when you went to bed, giving your affirmations, like a secret promise, that everything would be ok.

As you thought back to that night, your body shook with an icy cold shock of frisson. You didn’t want to go through that again.

“I would love to meet your mum, König,” you said softly, swallowing as you tried to tactfully avoid another horrific argument. “Does this mean…that you’ll tell me your name soon?”

He smiled knowingly at you and nodded, stroking the warm apple of your cheeks fondly.

“I will tell you sometime soon, yes,” he confirmed, speaking warmly.

You felt a beaming smile shine brightly over your face and jumped on König, feeling full force of excitement as things seemed to be heading in a good direction. Everything was lining up. Your mission would be done soon, you and König wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around anymore because the taskforce would have some downtime until you were called upon again for some other earth shattering mission. After that you were going to finally learn his name.

You sighed. It was almost too good to be true.

“You just gotta promise me one thing,” you said, shifting your tone seriously.

“What?” he asked, breaking away from your hug so that he could look at you properly.

“If it’s something ridiculous you have to prepare me in advance.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned, falling comically backwards onto the couch.

“I’m being serious,” you laughed. “If it’s something crazy like Wolfgang or Ferdinand I need to be prepared!”

“Do you really think that that’s what Austrian people are called?” he giggled.

“I have no idea! This is what I’ve been saying, I could see your passport in a few months time and could be having to fight myself not to laugh!”

“You would really laugh at my name if you thought it was silly?” he snorted.

“All I can promise that I’ll try not to,” you grinned, crossing your hands over your heart while he stared back at you with a displeased glare. “All I’m saying is that if I see something mad I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

He rolled his eyes again and sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up into the air.

“I can’t believe I’m being lectured on silly names by someone called ‘Sneaky’.”

“Hey!”

-☠️-

When Price called you all in the next day, nothing could’ve prepared you for the shitstorm that was going to ensue. Though you were feeling the full force of it as you stood in the darkened labyrinth of the warehouse that had been set up to emulate Rousseau’s hideout. The 141 and KorTac had been told to find the best way to clear the base and get to Rousseau, but the problem was that you were taking too long and being overwhelmed by too many of Price’s fake men. There were just so many rooms that were connected to other rooms and it meant that a lot of men could get by each other undetected. It was a nightmare.

You’d run through the exercise around eight times already and the more that Price was making you reset, the more tension was being put on the team. It was only a matter of time till someone snapped. Although, given their quick temper and worn down attitude in the last few months, you were sure of who that person was going to be the entire time.

In the latest reset, you stood next to one of the floppy wooden walls and bit your tongue, watching on with fear as Ghost marched up to König and got in his face. They were almost mask to mask, eye to eye as Ghost took what little gap there was between them and cinched it tight. You felt every little notch in the wood then, backing yourself into it just so that you could force yourself not to get yourself in trouble by intervening.

“Stop fucking around you useless pile of shitting cloth!”

ouch.

“You’re blaming me for the reset?” König scoffed, squaring up his shoulders. “If you would stop lagging through the hallways and would get them cleared properly, then we might be able to get through one of these attempts successfully, Lieutenant.”

“It was your bright idea to split off with Soap and Gaz and leave us with Horangi. So far it’s been nothing but problems with you and your team rushing and getting hasty and now I’m done. We’re doing it my way again. Slow and methodical. Like it or lump it, king cunt.”

“Problems aren’t from me going too fast, they’re occurring because your team isn't clearing the halls properly, Ghost. I need Soap because Fender is out of the country, I need someone to blow the doors so I can breach plus the extra cover. Your idea failed five times already, why don’t we try to execute mine properly, hm?”

“I’ll fucking show you an execution, König!”

Ghost rammed König and sent him back peddling into the wall you were leaning against with heavy thud. You were sent flying forward as the wood bounced and watched as it rattled with the men’s efforts to take each other down.

It was like watching two stags lock horns, they were grabbing onto each other furiously and neither man seemed to want to let the other go. König swung his fist and Ghost dodged. Ghost tried to knock König unbalanced with a kick, and only succeeded in almost sticking his boot through the cheap chipboard.

The rest of you watched on helplessly. There was very little anyone of you could do to pull the two titans off of each other - Not if you didn’t want to get taken out of action in the process.

“Right! That’s enough boys!”

Price’s voice echoed through the warehouse, powerful and commanding as it sailed through the air like a brick. It smashed through the two fighters and in a matter of seconds König and Ghost were standing to attention, looking up at Price from his spot on the balcony. The blue light of the warehouse shone starkly against the white in Ghost’s mask, but it failed to stick on the inky black of König’s hood.

“I appreciate that its been a long day gentlemen, but that doesn’t mean you get the luxury of turning into little school boys that can’t contain their fucking tantrums!” Price bellowed, continuing to reset the temperature. “König, stop pushing so hard when the others are still trying to clear the rooms on the left side. Ghost, work faster and spread your team out. Reset and do it again!”

The Captain’s word was final. Even at the height he stood, illuminated by a few bulbs that flickered like burnt orange like cigarettes, you saw that he was in no mood to be argued with. He’d stood watch for all of the attempts and with every one that failed he grew more and more dissatisfied as your joint teams disintegrated into in-fighting.

Well, that wasn’t going to be a problem on this attempt. Not unless anyone was in the mood to invoke Price’s wrath.

All you marched off without another word, dragging your feet as you made your way back to the start point. Ghost was glaring so hard at König it seemed like all of you were staying purposefully clear of his path; attempting to avoid the crossfire. Soap and Gaz grunted a few words of annoyance toward each other on the way, but luckily you all made it in one piece.

A few tense moments proceeded to ebb slowly by. The clatter of doors and scrape of fallen soldiers and obstacles being reset was echoing throughout the building, the heavy breaths of men around you intermingled and all too eerily you began to feel like you were in the belly of a beast. It certainly appeared that way to your eyes, you couldn’t see much through the darkness. You’d have to position your night vision down again.

In the briefing before training, when you’d had the blueprints and locations revealed to you, you’d been told that your guys would be able to cut the power beforehand. They were sending your two teams in while Price waited with another team on standby. That way if Rousseau tried to make a clever escape, Price would be there to close in on him while you rid his headquarters of his followers.

All of it was easier said than done though apparently.

“If we fuck this up again I’m going home. Fuck the dessertion charges, prison’s better than this,” Gaz muttered.

“If we fuck this up again,” Ghost growled in disbelief. “You mean If your team fuck it up, Garrick.”

“Aw, putting the blame on us, LT?” Soap chuckled. “You’re so sweet. Maybe it's me just looking to spend a little more time with you.”

His laugh still held a little humour in it, even for all the torture you’d all been through. Although he knew for a fact that he had nothing to do with it. It was his big lumbering steam train of a teammate that couldn’t be let off so easily.

It was true what Price said, he had been moving too quickly. König was frustrated. Somehow, despite not even being able to see him most of the time, and at times just barely through the green haze of your goggles, you could tell he was finally feeling the strain of working with your team. He was getting antsy and forceful, trying to power through so that he could escape the stifling atmosphere that the other men created for him.

You wanted to tell him he’d only make it worse by prolonging the day. Though it wouldn’t have been a good idea to speak to him then - not with Ghost feeling the way he was.

“If we spend any more time down here you’ll all be wishing for a nice cosy jail cell by the time I’m done,” Ghost spat.

You flickered your eyes over to König and held your breath. He looked like he desperately wanted to make a comment on the situation, his eyes were narrowing in a familiar way, the kind of look he got when he was about to fight a point. You silently begged him to stand down and cast a wary glance over at Horangi, hoping he’d stop his friend from doing anything dumb.

Though in the end it didn’t matter. Price interjected before König could air his thoughts, entering the scene like a benevolent god shouting from above.

“Alright. Begin again in 5…4…3…2…and…”

The warehouse descended into complete darkness, all lights were off and it was just you and your two teams, huddled together in the lonely gloom. Ghost silently gestured for you all to get moving and with the rehearsed speed of a broadway play, you filed into two teams and braced as Soap got the first charge ready.

You drew in a breath and felt your heart thudding in your chest, it made you tighten your grip on your gun as every booming beat cracked out like thunder. You swallowed and scanned your eyes through the green fog, watching bleary eyed as Soap set the first charge. You looked away and hunched your shoulders, already tensing for the first explosion.

The door broke away and the charge sounded off with a dull boom, soon enough your teams were ‘firing’ on your fake enemy with your fake rounds. The guns clacked and clicked in a foreign kind of way and instead of screaming or disappearing in a spray they took a moment to notice the hits and would drop to the ground like seasoned actors.

Even despite that all though, the adrenaline felt all too real. The soldiers were growing smarter smarter, even hindered by the darkness,they had begun to forsee your oncoming attacks and fought back twice as hard as before now that they'd seen your strategy a few times. It was taking longer and longer to clear the first room.

Nevertheless, determined to stay in the exercise and take it through to its bitter end. You kept down behind Ghost and shot out at the hostiles, doing your duty and hoping it would be enough. Luckily for you the men fell after trading a couple rounds of fire.

“Horangi, stay on me. Sneak when I say the word I want you to move up ahead to the first room on the left. Horangi and I will cover you while you clear it and block the entrance on the otherside,” Ghost ordered.

“Copy that,” you responded, also hearing Horangi sound off similarly.

König had moved up already, but rather than have Soap and Gaz blow the next door, they were all taking cover and helping your team with the oncoming flood of men. Even as two separate teams you were now united in a common purpose - to improve the strategy and ensure you’d never be put through the exercise again.

Most of you hated having to do those sessions, rehearsing for the main event. After All It’s not like you can account for everything that can happen when the real mission goes live. Its not like the men would be expecting you like the hapless new recruits, that was only natural as you reset the mission for the ninth time in a row.

With that in mind, you kept your gun in your hands like it was superglued to you and marched on, following through with Ghost’s plan as he directed you forward. You gulped and sprinted toward the room, taking cover behind the door and angling your head so that you could spot the men that were spraying heavy fire just inches from where you stood. You blinked and took a breath, reminding yourself that you had the edge. You had night vision.

In a flash you whirled around and took out one of the men closest to you, diving behind a desk before anyone else could get to you. Already marking out your next target, you were relieved when you spotted Ghost in your peripheral and shot up.

“Support pillar, LT!” you shouted, marking out your ‘kill’.

Ghost acknowledged you and directed his gun toward the other two, and soon enough you were standing in an empty room, listening to the fire outside. Though you weren’t done, you hustled over to the entrance on the other side and tipped a desk over the doorway, making entry very difficult. Then seconds later another explosion went off and Ghost signalled for you to follow him, covering the rear of team König.

“On me, team!”

Horangi and you followed Ghost as closely as possible, heeding his every command as you cleared the rest of the rooms with slow and steady precision. König battered down every door with Soap’s help and with he and Gaz ploughing forward, you were able to keep watch of the rear as more men crawled out of the woodwork in an attempt to surprise you.

Even with the fake ammo your blood was pumping around your body like white water rapids and your breathing came fast and heavy. The clack of the guns and the sound of feet scrabbling against the crumbly warehouse floors were echoing around your head and before long you were beginning to feel wired, could feel your body shake as you grew ever closer to the end. This was it. An escape from the labyrinth and the endless blurry green of the night vision goggles.

“Ready?” König asked, standing prone at the last door.

Ghost and Horangi took out a couple of stragglers, and once they were down and static silence was ringing all around you, König was given the go ahead.

“One last door and then we’re home free, Gazzy,” Soap grinned, setting the door to blow.

“Yeah yeah, just blow the door, Soap,” Ghost growled.

The last breach felt strong enough to shake the ground you were standing on. Though you’d concede that by the time the charge went off, you were starting to shiver a little. You were full of anticipation, ready to sit down and get some rest before the actual mission. A good night’s sleep was within your grasp.

Once that door swung out, you’d realised that you’d never been so relieved to see a potential hostage.

The new recruit made a mighty effort to mimic Rousseau, he tried to go down fighting and raised his gun at you all. Though with six people on him he didn’t have a chance. All of you shrank back from his shots while he attempted to flee, though when you noticed that the recruits back was turning to run, you took your chance and barrelled toward him.

With every ounce of strength that was left in your body you tackled the man to the ground, landing softly on his thick padding - something Rousseau definitely wouldn’t have when it came time to dive on him. Even with your body protesting, exacerbated limbs crying out for a break, you wrestled his gun from his hands and pinned them to the ground. Fake Rousseau had nowhere to go after that, he was stuck below your body even as you heaved out heavy breaths and soon was surrounded by the rest of your team.

At long last it was game over.

“Alright, very good team,” Price’s voice called, “You can take off the night vision and we’ll turn the lights up.”

You were all too eager to follow Price’s command. You whipped the goggles up and looked around in the sheer darkness for a moment until the blue lights faded on and were then chased up by the stark flicker of the overhead lights.

Everyone was blinking hard, adjusting to the brilliance and grimacing as you all looked around the grotty old warehouse with new eyes. When it was set up with low lighting there was something very intimidating about the training area, though now that you looked at it in the new light you couldn’t help but compare it to waking up the morning after a one night stand.

The chip boards looked floppy and pathetic and the huge towering walls beyond your little simulated maze were covered in warning signs and caution notices. The mirage had cleared, and finally you could look up at Price properly, settling your strained eyes on his terse expression.

“Much better. That’s the sort of performance I expect from you lot, and that’s what I want when we launch tomorrow. Get yourselves cleaned up and get ready to meet in the hanger for oh-four hundred. You’re all dismissed.”

-☠️-

“Fucking Training exercises.”

You lumbered behind Ghost and made your way to the bathrooms, getting ready to wash up with the rest of the team, hearing bed calling out to you sweetly before your early start. Soap and Gaz were unsuaully quiet, meanwhile König and Horangi were their usual type of quiet. Ghost wasn’t satisfied with that though, he was muttering to himself and stomping down the hallway like a man about to fly himself off to Rousseau and end the mission himself.

“At least it’s over now,” you sighed.

“Would’ve been over a long time ago if we hadn’t started improvising with the hired help,” Ghost groused.

“How many times, Ghost. We tried your plan and we failed, we worked mine out and we passed,” König growled. “Doesn’t matter how many times you whine about it, the plan worked and that’s all that matters.”

“Is it? Is that all that matters?”

“Yes. We all wanted out and now we’re out. Job done,” König groaned. “What else is there to bitch about?”

“It’s not bitching when I have legitimate concerns about letting a private contractor shit all over my team’s dynamic and split us up!”

“What dynamic is that? The one where you get them all killed?”

Ghost flew toward König again, except this time none of you were allowing it. You, Gaz and Soap leapt toward your Lieutenant while Horangi acted as a barrier, keeping a steady hand on König’s flaring chest. All of you struggled as Ghost threatened to explode, but in a matter of seconds he calmed enough to see he wasn’t going to be allowed his revenge and broke away, grumbling that he’d leave it.

König watched the exchange between you all and laughed to himself, the little titter escaping the thick fabric of his hood even as he tried to keep it soft. You glared over at him, not appreciating his antagonising just as you’d managed to get a grip of Ghost, though he rolled his eyes at you and walked off.

Only when he was around the corner did you finally feel it was fit to let Ghost have it.

“What the fuck was that, LT?”

“What do you mean what the fuck was that?” he growled.

The way Ghost looked at you, the way his eyes glinted like he was settling on a new target, normally would’ve had you crumbling like brittle harling in a storm but you were resolute in your mission. You straightened your shoulders and walked up to him, not letting the disappointment fade from your face.

In your periphery, you caught your fellow teammates giving you a shared look of fear. Soap and Gaz more than made up for what you lacked in that moment, but you ignored them keeping your mind focused completely on Ghost.

“Price cleared the op to run just as we practised it there, just as it was successfully run and you want to have a go at König because he happened to make a valid suggestion?”

“I’m not having a go, I’m pissed that we’re taking orders from paid guns that shouldn’t even be here in the first place! This was supposed to be our mission, Price assembled our taskforce back together all to take down Rousseau and what happens? The government get involved with KorTac and suddenly we have to play nice with money grubbing slime balls. It’s all not right, Sneaky, and I won’t sit by and take it!”

“It might not be right, but it's the situation we’re in. You might not like König, and things have been…not ideal with all thats happened, but like it or not he made a good call and Price recognised it for what it was.”

Ghost grunted and was about to fire back another load of verbal ammunition, though Soap interjected before he could say anything else.

“Sneak’s right, Ghost. If they’re telling you to let the König thing go, then let it go. Sneak has the most right out of anyone to be pissed about König calling the shots, and they’re not. Fuck sake, Ghost, even Price hates the man. If Price likes his plan, then its a good plan.”

You raised your brows, surprised at seeing Soap opposing Ghost for once. He walked over to you and stood shoulder to shoulder, holding the giant back as he teetered on the verge of a rampage. The warmth of Soap brought a calm to your bones and now that you knew you had someone else supporting you, you let out a breath you’d barely been aware of holding.

You so rarely had to butt heads with your Lieutenant, you’d never get used to the feeling. Your bones felt like they were rattling with the energy it required.

“You don’t have to worry about the team dynamic, Ghost,” you continued, hoping to expel the last of his anger. “In fact arguing with König is more of an issue than anything that he or any of KorTac can do. We get through this mission and take down Rousseau, then KorTac will leave and we can get back to our jobs until the 141 is called on again. If we fuck this up then we’ll be dealing with losses and we’ll have to keep working with them. We just need to get through this and its done…ok?”

Ghost sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor. Silence reigned for a few beats, but eventually he looked back up and eyed you and Soap and Gaz who’d moved to your other side. The blue in his darkened irises could’ve been swamp water with the way they’d been tainted with frustration. Though even with all of his anger at the situation, he had visibly sagged as he recognised he was looking at things wrong.

“You’re right,” he grunted, rubbing his head and furling up his mask. “I’ll go apologise and see if I can’t get through the rest of our time together without murdering the bastard. Like you say, Sneak - not long till he fucks off.”

With that he left to go slink down the hall and catch König, still grumbling to himself even as he retreated. You and the rest of 141 laughed as he turned the corner and eyed each other, smiles slowly spreading across your mouths as if you’d just turned up to a mad hatters tea party. A moment of euphoria shared as you thanked your lucky stars that Ghost didn’t go Godzilla on all of you before he carried on with murdering König just as he’d said.

Though a small part of you still worried for your boyfriend. You’d winced a little when Ghost insulted him, but on the other side of the coin, you realised that with the mission coming to a close soon you’d be able to stop the obligatory concerns that came with König being on base. Soon you could carry on with your illicit affair and not worry one bit that Price would be any the wiser. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, right?

“Thought for sure ma neck was gonna get snapped there,” Soap chuckled.

“I know, I was picturing being the next skull he wore,” Gaz laughed, his nervousness expelled in a low rasp. “Fuck, Sneak. Next time you want to go on a crusade, give us a bit of warning.”

“I’d have loved to have given myself warning,” you snorted, still in disbelief you’d stood up to Ghost. “It just came out of me out of nowhere. If anyone was getting scalped there, it was gonna be me.”

“Well…at the very least, thank jesus,” Soap smirked, “Ghost listened rather than wringing yer little brass neck. But you know what, Sneaky? Next time you decide to have a brave moment like that, leave us the fuck out of it!”

“Yeah, let us get out of the blast radius first, and then go at him,” Gaz laughed, slapping your shoulder.

With that they both walked off to the showers together and you rolled your eyes, following after them so that you weren’t hanging around the hallway by yourself. Your weary boots slapped against the floors and you continued to joke as you rounded the corner, feeling at ease as you got your mind focused on getting ready for the mission and the calm that would ensue after its completion.

When you got to the changing room though, you frowned when you saw König’s things scattered. Normally he wasn’t one for throwing things around, he was usually quite careful to pile things up. However his shirt was sprawled on the ground and his trousers were hung over the benches like a set of bowlegs straddling a horse. Most unsettling of all was when you’d glanced down and saw the wooden bird you’d given him months before laying on the floor just under his upturned pockets.

“Huh, big man must’ve been in a hurry to shower,” Soap noted.

“Probably wanted to try and hurry to avoid Ghost,” Gaz snorted. “Not that I can blame him, I’d hide from the LT too if I knew he was after me.”

You laughed along with the guys because it seemed like the thing to do, but the smile on your face dropped instantly afterward. Something wasn’t right. You gulped and looked over the mess of his clothes one last time and bit your lip, barely feeling the harsh scrape of your canine against your soft flesh.

“You gonna wash up, Sneak?” Gaz asked, elbowing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re standing there like a spare prick, Sneaky,” Soap laughed. “You gonna shower? Or are you cooking up a little pre-mission prank?”

“Don’t encourage that, Soap,” Gaz laughed. “We need to put all that to rest. Like Ghost said, this is the last time we have to see the guy. Let’s just get past it and pray we don’t ever work with KorTac again.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you said, stopping Soap in his tracks just as he picked up the hem of König’s shirt. “I agree with Gaz, let’s leave it, alright? I’m just gonna see where Ghost got to first then I’ll go shower. His stuff’s not here, so he must’ve gone off and I figure I should make sure he got away from König in one piece.”

“Ghost getting away from König?” Gaz snorted. “Think I’d worry more for the other way around…if I gave a shit about König that is.”

You gave another little weak laugh and walked off without anything else to say. You didn’t have anything else in the chamber. Your mind was too busy reeling and wondering where Ghost got to and why König’s stuff was laid out everywhere and all the ways you could combine those pieces of information into horrible conclusions.

You walked through the doorway to the opposite corridor and mindlessly carried yourself forward while your skin burned too hot and your stomach tightened into tiny knots.

Did they have an argument? Did Ghost notice something about König’s things that gave you both away? Had he seen the bird and known it was yours? If so, how? You’d never shown anyone else the bird that you could remember, but then you cursed to yourself as you remembered your less than sound mental state and struggled to try and remember if you possibly had told the guys or shown them the bird at any point.

Why did König have to carry it around with him? Why couldn’t he have left it in his room on base or secreted it away somewhere safe?

Were you being crazy? You reasoned you were being crazy. Maybe he really had just left his things in a hurry. Perhaps he did just want to get through his-

You felt your blood run cold when you heard a low growl tear you from your thoughts and speak your name, your real name.

“You look lost.”

You glanced up after trailing your eyes along the gloomy grey floor and shivered as you finally noticed Ghost towering above you, casting a mighty shadow. He had his eyes fixed on you like a shark, cold and deadly as he surveyed your trembling form. He was glaring hot pits into your skin and from that moment on you had absolutely no doubt that he was onto you.

He’d never looked at you like that in his entire time leading you. He looked furious, distressed, agitated, so many emotions were etched those glaring dark eyes of his and you were losing track trying to figure out how to best appeal to him.

“I was trying to find you,” you murmured, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Why would you be doing that then, ay?” he gritted out, walking toward you cornering you into a wall.

His boots sounded against the floor like canons. With the way he was acting, you worried he’d shove you and crush you underneath them. Though maybe that would be kinder than the fate he had in store for you…

“You.. you- uh, tossed König’s things didn’t you?” you whimpered.

“I did.”

“Why?” you breathed, feeling your eyes welling with tears before you could even attempt to think of calming yourself.

“I’ll admit I got angry at the thought of having to go crawling and apologising to him and I lost it. I knocked his things off the bench. It went everywhere and shit went scattering out his pockets, y’know he left his wallet in his trousers, stupid cunt. Shouldn’t even have personal shit on a training exercise, but I suppose that’s what happens when you hire a bunch of undisciplined mercs… you know what I happened to see when I spotted his wallet though? You have any guesses, Sneak?”

You gulped and all of a sudden, it became all too clear to you exactly how Ghost had caught you out.

“The photos,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” Ghost growled, “I saw the fucking photos of you two poking out of it.”

Next part here

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

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anonymouscheeses · 2 months ago

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Im sorry i have to say it..: Get Your Hands Dirty sounds like a love song.

HEAR. ME. OUTT!! (No i dont mean a love song between Chloe n Ella omg 😭)

What I'm implying here is that it sounds like one of those niche high school love stories when one of the lovers(most likely a goodie two-shoes) goes to their mentor/parent/even the person their loving/etc to ask for advice on relationships. Or more specifically, if this person is worth it or even a good person. From the top of my head: I Won't Say (I'm In Love) and the goodie and the wildchild dynamic is pretty similar to Gabriella and Troy from hs musical, which iws(iil) kinda inspired this post tbh but also ive been thinking about this ever since i first watched the movie. (You plop in ur own songs, i js KNOW this trope exists)

Now that we've established the well used niche trope existing in this niche song made by the niche king that is Disney.... why do i think that Get Your Hands Dirty is a love song, i hear?

Lets analyze THE LYRIICS 😈😈

"Right and wrong, cruel and kind, who's to say?" "There's a code that I believe in."

"Robin Hood" "yeah?" "Awesome guy" "yeah!"

"Every choice, you're gonna find there's shades of grey." "There are rules for a reason!"

"So you could then cross that line, theoretically."

"You'd agree?" "But he stole for the poor."

"The decision's always up to you. When there's only one thing left to do"

"I don't know you anymore.."

Okay, so i shortened and made it tiny for obvious reasons, that bein its too long 😭 so! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS A FEEELIN?? a feelin that this is SCREAMING denial?! Its giving...

Chloe: Ellaaaa.... this girl im talkn to is SOOO HHHOOOOTT and PRETTY and cool and stuff but ugh.... SHE EEEVILLL!!

Ella: oh my gosh.. STFU. Shes prolly not even that evil ill prove it smh..

*get ur hands dirty starts playing. No exaggeration. No cap.*

"Okay, but there's some universal truths you must recognize." "Like?"

"Valiant knights, pure and good, guaranteed" "That depends on what they're fighting for"

"Creepy witches selling potions for evil deeds" "She could have kids she's providing for"

"If your good-good things will come to you"

MORE denial, Chloe wants to be friends with Red SO bad she looks stupid, but she brings herself back by trying to prove to herself that she's evil and they SHOULDN'T be that close. Which also is a big sign of comphet and heteronormativity, i would know 🧍 (which is a post for another day i might make. Prolly 2 prove that Chloe is a lesbian in deep comphet)

"But just how far do you go? How much do you compromise? Oh, tell me, how do you know. Where do you draw the line?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. If my heart tells me it's right. If it's for someone I love. If it's to save a life."

"To save your life."

Further deepening the trope i mentioned. The first line could be interpreted as a double meaning since the song is kind of mostly about Chloe coming to terms with the fact Red isn't really evil or as bad as she thought, plus the argument of where the line between evil and good is. It could refer to Red or Ella, maybe both, but Ella changes the meaning with her own experiences so it drifts off the focus from Red because we cant have ANYTHING 🤧 but i still believe Chloe intended it to be for Red since the entire song is really just for the progress of their relationship n stuff.

Now this could definitely all be in my head, yes, Disney would most likely NEVER canonize or even imply heavily a queer relationship or anything lgbtq on a pre established franchise (cowards.). But there is always a chance.... deep inside the dark heart of the mouse..

Plus, with the subtle hints here and there of Red and Chloe's relationship growing, romantically or not, they are still super close and love eachother alot. Chloe is js (kinda) canonically a girl kisser who cant help but find a girl kissable (same)

And don't get me started on this movie and its obsession with love and proving how it is not "ain't it". Hello...? They set the tone of love, but i see NO person close enough to Red established for this message (other than Chloe) and if they introduce some random guy in the next movies, NO ONE would care nor would they want it unless somehow its 100x better than redcharming, but thats impossible cz wlw 4 life.

So, this entire thingy is me basically finding scraps and wanting to provr that charminghearts IS canon and WILL be established soon! (Im delulu)

#currently watching kylie's elastic music video and i am... hypnotized to sau the least. omg. unmmm.... HHHH 😍😍#glassheart #glassrose #redcharming #charminghearts #red x chloe #chloe x red #descendants #descendants disney #descendants fandom #descendants cinderella #descendants chloe #descendants ror #descendants rise of red #descendants red #d:ror #rise of red #the rise of red

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daughter-lilith · 2 months ago

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❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 2 | Read Part 1 here.

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+ (In future Parts)

CW (For whole story): Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 6.66k😈

*Reminder, this is part 2.

Halsin’s gaze roamed over your face, your hair, and you unconsciously hugged your robe a bit tighter. You weren’t typically a shy person, but something about his visual inspection made your cheeks flush and you had to fight the urge not to swipe a piece of hair behind your ears. Instead, you held his gaze, as best as you could anyway.

“Your hair is styled differently,” he proceeded, “and the top of your ears no longer have their tips. And yet… you are as beautiful now as you were then. Clearly, nature still works its wonders, even in this foreign place.”

You nearly gasped at his words as a wave of flutters tickled your belly. And his smile only further enhanced the prickling goosebumps racing across your skin. Speechless, a torrent of silence stretched between you and the man with the pointed ears. In mere moments, the air felt thick with tension, unspoken words, confusion, questions, and so much more. You were starting to get lost in his intense eyes again, the way he looked at you with such fondness. And you knew at that moment your heart was correct. He wouldn’t hurt you. He was safe. But there was still so much you didn’t know.

As if detecting your thoughts, he cleared his throat and expanded his chest a little, like he was bracing himself. “I get ahead of myself. Now, as I promised you, I will explain all. Shall we sit?”

You glanced at the counter next to you where tall chairs lined up together, and shook your head. Your legs would’ve been a shaking mess if you were forced to remain in a seated position, anxiously awaiting his words. Somehow you felt steadier on two feet, with one hip leaning slightly against the side of the island.

“Standing is fine.”

Halsin nodded. “Very well.”

He took two, calm strides forward, closer to the other side of the countertop, directly across from you. He closed his eyes, his large chest rising and falling. A gold emblem of a leaf on his chest gleamed beneath the warm light, but when he opened his eyes again, he had your complete attention.

“The place I mentioned earlier, Faerûn, where I hail from, is a realm far from here. It can only be accessed by opening a very particular and powerful portal. It is how I arrived in this world myself, through the Astral Plane, and then here I—"

You lifted a hand, stopping him. “Sorry- portal? Astral Plane? Next thing you’ll say is you’ve once seen dragons breathe down fire from the sky, or you have pointed ears because you’re an—

“An elf,” he interjected, smiling. “Both of which you mention are true. Though I’ve been told I’m rather large for one.” A gentle chuckle sounded from his throat, it would’ve been comforting were your face not contorted in complete bafflement.

“You’re an elf?” You half laughed, incredulous. But at your reaction, the trace of humor that marked his face waned.

“Yes,” he simply responded, calm. “The Oak Father warned me that there would be many changes in this world. Your world. I now presume the mention of portals and dragons will be among the many number of differences for all I have to say.”

You exhaled, absentmindedly shaking your head. The longer you looked at him, the more you could tell he meant what he was saying, or at least he believed it enough. Too wrapped up in your thoughts, you couldn’t even conjure up the question of who the hell the Oak Father was. And you got the sense that Halsin, in whatever tale he was about to unravel, was just scratching the surface.

“You’re being serious.” You weren’t really asking, more so stating.

“I am.”

“You’re an elf? How is that even…” you trailed off, speechless. How was that what? Possible? How was anything he was saying possible? As a writer, you were a believer in ‘anything is possible’ but when that anything was a six-and-a-half foot, maybe more, henched elf…

“Are there no elves in this world?” One of his brows was slightly raised.

“No. No elves, no dragons. Just an overpopulated amount of humans.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “That would explain the change in your ears, though I suppose you could’ve become any race on any plane.”

You gasped, blinking rapidly. He was starting to lose you, speaking to you like he knew you, like there was some other version of you.

Halsin must’ve sensed the havoc firing in your brain because he stepped forward, and you heard the sound of the chair scraping the floor as he bumped into it. You raised a hand to halt him, even though the entire island still separated you.

Without actually saying it, he was basically calling you an elf. There was a sudden twitch along the rim of your right ear at the mere thought. There was more to this tale, just hear him through. Closing your eyes for a few seconds, you breathed deeply and silently vowed that you wouldn’t interrupt again, or at least you would try not to. You opened your eyes. “Alright then… continue.”

He nodded, releasing a heavy breath of his own. He took a moment to analyze you before proceeding. “Faerûn is where I met you. You and your companions had saved me from the cruel shackles of a brutish goblin camp.” His mouth twisted in disgust, before smoothing out again. “Then you helped to save my grove, a druid’s sanctuary under my govern- from slaughter and being cut off from the world. I knew then… that you would become most important to me.” A warm smile melted into his cheeks and that fondness in his gaze returned. Yes, you were indeed safe with him.

“So I joined you,” he carried on, “on a journey of high adventure where you and your companions welcomed me with open arms. You became my friends, and soon after, my family.”

He went on to explain the depths of your adventures together and how you faced all sorts of formidable foes and challenges. He spoke of the times you cleansed curses, cut down hags, slayed devils, ended a vampire lord, and destroyed would-be gods. It was all so much, and yet the way Halsin delivered this tale, how he articulated each word so careful and precise in his language, was exceptionally poetic. He connected words in ways you wouldn’t think of, as though he came from a time long past.

And even though he was telling you tales of the sort of things you’d usually read about or see in movies, which made it even more unbelievable, you were extremely immersed. He made it easy to follow along to imagine the landscapes, the campsites, and your companions. No, your friends, apparently.

An interesting group from the way he described them. There were some strange words you caught here and there like githyanki or tiefling, but also very familiar ones like vampire and wizard. He described one who had red skin and two horns, one cut halfway- she was among your first closest friends, he said. After forming your group, before you met him, she had been the one you connected with swiftly, more of an open book than the other women. But in time, they too became like your sisters.

And the vampire was another close friend of yours, a sincere bond that blossomed from such a fragile heart. You once shared a brief romantic relationship with this white-haired elf, but came to realize your bond thrived better in the waters of friendship. You wished you could’ve seen all Halsin was describing, what he was imagining from his faraway look while he recounted this intriguing world. You knew that your own mental images weren’t doing it justice.

“…and our bond only grew stronger, rooted in the depths of the earth.” The more Halsin spoke, the more the leaves decorating his shoulders lowered as he relaxed. Sometimes he spoke faster than he seemed to intend, eager to share all he could with you. “And in battle, you were magnificent as always, the way the crackle of lightning simmered over your fingers, or how your longsword was blazed in fire, smiting your foes with no mercy. I knew to never stray on your bad side.” Halsin chuckled at this, a deep rumble from his throat.

You wished you could return the sentiment, but you could only half smile in return, a dull ache in your gut. It all sounded too incredible, fascinating really. But to your disappointment, none of it meant anything to you. You found yourself genuinely wanting to connect with his story, the world he painted for you.

And the way he spoke about you, there was something so incredibly deep there, raw, pure, powerful. You could feel that he cared for you in ways that went far beyond just friends or casual lovers. He cared for you possibly more than anyone you’ve ever known, or at least cared for whoever this version of you was. Someone fierce, powerful, a leader…and could wield magic?

“You’ve talked about magic a lot,” your voice filled the room, taking the chance to speak while Halsin paused his story, “that all of your—our- friends had it, because of access to the Weave?” You narrowed your brows, glancing at Halsin for some silent reassurance. When he nodded, you continued. “And some were closer to magic than others or accessed it in different ways… so are you telling me that you have this magic even now?”

Halsin grinned. “I do. And I presume that is but another change in your world.”

You hummed. “There is magic, in a way… rituals, spells, but definitely not how you’ve described it. It all sounds like the sorts of things I read and write about.”

Halsin stood straighter, his chest expanding as that proud grin still painted his face. “May I demonstrate?”

Your stomach flipped. “Demonstrate? Right- right here?”

“If you wish?” Halsin raised one hand, letting it hover off to the side as he stared at you, silently waiting for your permission.

You looked up at him, shifting between both of his eyes before settling on his waiting hand. There was no way this was about to happen. Magic? Fresh nerves stormed in your belly, but it was mostly fueled by a wave of excitement, just the tiniest hint of fear lingered in its depths. You had no idea what to expect; maybe a magic trick? Some sort of illusion? You swallowed, meeting his eyes again. With a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

Halsin, still smiling, turned his attention to his hand. You watched him close his eyes, almost lost in the wave of peace that washed over him, finding it easier to inspect his features without his eyes trained on you. He truly was a beautiful man. You watched his lips that seemed to mumble a bit, and random twitches in his eyes like he was searching behind closed lids. He looked at peace, and damn if peace didn’t look wonderful on him.

The scars across his brows did nothing to diminish his appearance, and you couldn’t help but imagine what caused such a wound. Halsin hadn’t mentioned that in his story, at least not yet. You clenched your teeth a bit, suddenly feeling upset that something would dare harm this man in such a way. He was still a stranger, and it even surprised you to feel this strange sense of…protection over him? Whatever caused the scar, you just knew Halsin didn’t deserve it.

Your expression softened, and you felt like you could stare at him forever, fixing his image in your mind. But forever was short-lived as something else caught your eye. From the palm of Halsin’s hand, a tendril of soft, golden light flowed upward, accompanied by two more. You gasped, frozen, completely entranced at the sight before you. You half noticed Halsin open his eyes, but you couldn’t take yours away from the cloudy mist of golden light that streamed and danced in slow, intertwining patterns. The room suddenly felt warmer, comforting, like it was suddenly the safest place on the planet.

“Magic,” you heard Halsin murmur, and you finally looked at him once more, nearly gasping again.

The light reflected against his eyes, causing a warm glow as he stared at you carefully, gauging your reaction. The golden-yellow light danced across his face, shadowing and lighting certain features as it moved. You weren’t sure what to focus on- Halsin, or the orb of energy he seemed to conjure just from his hand. As though sensing your thoughts again, Halsin made it easier to choose. He extended his hand over the counter, directly to you. The tendrils of light slithered away from his hand, reaching for you, lazily flowing towards your hand.

Surprisingly, you didn’t flinch but remained so still, the only thing racing was your heart as a tickle fluttered over your hand on first contact. You watched the golden glow travel up your hand, passing over your cheek and simultaneously spreading across your chest. It was warm, like a soft blanket of protection. It was a strange energy that seemed to be attracted to you, both exploring and revering you as it encompassed you entirely. You released a sudden gasp, overwhelmed by the tingles that crept up your spine and expanded across your chest. A near-weightlessness feeling washed over you. Another sigh as the magic finally dissipated, leaving you with a deep sense of peace as a gift. A gift of…magic.

“Magic thrives where it belongs.” The sound of Halsin’s deep timbre shook you out of your sudden stupor. “It always knows its way home.”

Breathing a bit harder now, you placed both hands firmly on the counter, losing the stillness from before. Your robe loosened slightly but still managed to cover yourself mostly. “That was…amazing.”

Halsin’s smile was just as warm as the magic he recently conjured. “As are you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you were immediately lost in the beautiful warmth of Halsin’s gaze. His hands were also leaning on the counter, with the one he used for his spectacle being placed closer to you.

A million and one thoughts danced in your brain: affection, wonder, intrigue, confusion. The impossible becoming possible before your very eyes. An invisible thread formed between the two of you; a bond that ached to reel you into each other, a magnetic force awakening after finally finding the right field to pull itself into.

Halsin muttered your name, so sweetly from his lips, his head tilting slightly. A chill swarmed up your back at his voice. You decided then that you liked the way he said your name, almost breathy. He sounded so close. You would’ve sworn he whispered it into your ear except you were very much staring at him across the kitchen island.

“Halsin?” you managed to mutter, sensing the faint shakiness in your breath.

“Yes?” He was intensely focused on you, eager for whatever you were about to request. If you could read his mind, you’d assume he was ready to march around the counter to get closer to you the second you allowed it.

“What happened with… us? Why did you come here?” You nearly regretted it the moment you asked as his face fell and his shoulders slumped. But you had to know.

He hadn’t finished all he had to say, and you still had too many questions. From everything he said, it sounded like you had an amazing life together, all things considered, so what went wrong? Why was this man -elf- standing in the middle of your kitchen, in the middle of the night, from a land far, far from home?

Halsin’s hand slipped back, and he glanced away, frowning. Your stomach felt uneasy at his change in tone, in demeanor. But you patiently waited.

Still looking away from you, Halsin breathed deeply. “After we defeated the Absolute, and helped repair the city, we all went our own ways, for the most part.” He spoke so softly, quiet. “You and I returned to what once was Reithwin, where we lifted the curse. We built a wonderful life together. We spent two decades there, in blissful peace, occasionally leaving to visit our friends, sometimes taking us away from home a few months at a time, with your encouragement. Other times they’d come to us, staying for days or weeks at a time. It was a fulfilling life.” He finally met your eyes again, smiling gently but it did not quite reach his eyes.

“We were so happy,” he expressed, a faint lightness in his tone. “There were many moments I feared I would wake, and you would have moved on, ending the dream…. But you were always there, wrapped around me as the rising sun illuminated our room. And you never failed to reassure me how happy you were, with our life, with me.”

There was a sadness laced in Halsin’s calm voice and each moment a flicker of dread occupied his eyes as he stared at you while he spoke. You rubbed your lips together, trying but failing to suppress your fleet of nerves. Tonight had to be a record for how often your heart rate rose and calmed.

“One day,” he exhaled a deep breath, trembling. “We received urgent word from Lae’zel, calling for us all to meet her in the Astral Plane. She and her people were finally so close to defeating Vlaakith once and for all but needed the help of old friends to ensure victory. I was a bit hesitant to take on another such venture after a time of peace… but she was our family. To deny her our aid was out of the question.”

The gravity in his voice expressed to you how serious this choice was. You still had no recognition of who Lae’zel was, only from the brief stories he told. But here on Earth, you did have friends of your own who you would go to hell and back for, and they’d do the same for you. So you admired Halsin’s decision to aid this Lae’zel.

“So we prepared as best we could,” Halsin continued, “calling upon old allies who would be able to lend a hand and once again fight alongside the Saviors of Baldur’s Gate.” He made a gesture with his hands like he was about to introduce someone to a stage. “And before we knew it, we were back in the Astral Plane. It was chaos, magic against magic, dragons against dragons.”

He closed his eyes, his nose scrunched up in disgust as though reliving the memory all over again. It made your heart quicken the more he uncovered about this battle in a space where time did not exist. He told you that Vlaakith may very well have been a god, or was exceptionally close to godhood than ever before.

Halsin exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “We’ve faced formidable foes, as I mentioned, and she earned her place among them.” He looked away again, half turning his body. “We were waning. Vlaakith had great losses, but we were tiring ourselves just the same. Every blade, every cut, every flicker of magic was followed by a strange exhaustion. Perhaps the Astral Plane had unpredictable effects. It seemed to make us stronger but for a limited time and when that effect wore off…”

“She started winning,” you muttered. Not so much to him, but to yourself. You could almost picture it: fighting in a space of endless time, amongst stars, floating rock, and deceased titan-like gods. You emerged from your inner thoughts as Halsin began to speak again.

“But we have been broken before, and we never gave in to defeat. So we fought, and fought, using all the strength our bodies would allow, all the magic our energy could conjure…And we had done it. We defeated the tyrant, together, as we’ve always done, this time Lae’zel delivered the final strike. But—”

A rough breath left Halsin’s mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, fist clenching. You absentmindedly moved towards the side of the island, not completely coming to Halsin’s side, but noticeably closer than before.

Your heart was hammering, anxious for him to continue. But you had no words at the moment, only allowing Halsin to gather himself until he was ready to proceed. A few seconds, then more, and he opened his eyes, obliviously staring at the now empty space you occupied moments before.

“But Vlaakith still drew breath,” he gritted his teeth, a sudden ire dripping from his tone.

It almost frightened you, to sense the simmering rage that crept up his throat. This man who had been so calm, so gentle towards you, and still was, now seemingly fighting back an old vengeance. It was like the room suddenly felt heavier, brought down by a foreign anger that had nowhere to go.

You already missed the occasional smiles that graced his face a short time ago, the warmth of nature in his eyes as he gazed at you. Another breath left the large man’s lips, his broad chest rising and settling into a gentle rhythm. When he spoke again, there was still a taste of an underlying anger in his voice, more hidden now that he was no longer clenching his teeth.

“Vlaakith would not let death capture her without another,” he said, still not meeting your eyes. “With her last strength, she aimed a fatal blow at Lae’zel only to miss…” He finally turned to look at you, sorrow dragging down his face. “She missed because you leapt in front of her instead.”

Even under the dim lighting, you could’ve sworn the color left his tanned face. Your stomach tightened and a sudden wave of nausea lingered in the depths of your belly. You suddenly felt panicked, shocked, and tired all at once; like you were experiencing someone else’s emotions, someone else’s pain. You rested your elbows on the counter, leaning your weight onto it.

“So Vlaakith,” you swallowed, taking a breath. “Killed her instead? Killed…me?”

“Yes,” Halsin answered quickly, as if desperate to move past that truth. He started shaking his head, overcome by emotions. “It all happened too quickly. I couldn’t get to you fast enough. And by the time you fell in my arms, the Astral Plane was already beginning to claim you. You looked at me and…you said, in the most angelic voice I know…in every life.”

A wave of dread washed over you, sneaking into your pores and threatening to drown out your soul. You weren’t remembering anything, you weren’t visualizing this fatal moment and yet it felt like your lungs had the air violently sucked out of it. You clenched your teeth, trying to calm yourself and also feign that you were okay, not wanting to watch Halsin’s face contort to anymore worry. Grasping the edge of the counter, you were acutely aware of Halsin still speaking.

“So I spent the next 11 years without you, until one night, a dream. You came to me.” Halsin’s words pulled your attention back to him, your ears honing in on this new information. “It was unlike any other I’ve had of you before. It was…urgent. Real. You were repeatedly telling me to find you, your voice blending in and out of earshot. And just before I woke, your voice came beside my ear, I could feel your breath tickle my skin, you said but one word…‘Earth’.”

“I…I said that?” you stammered a bit, throat dry, trying to quell the strange reactions undertaking your body.

Halsin nodded, terse. “You did. I did not understand it at the time, for the only earth I knew was the grass and dirt beneath my feet.” He bowed, placing a fist across his chest. “But with the wisdom of Silvanus, and the aid of the greatest wizard I’ve ever met, I learned that Earth was a place. A world. Your new world.” Halsin turned, taking a step along the counter, then another, towards you. But he stopped when he caught your expression, and you silently thanked him for it.

You sensed he wanted to be comforting, to tell you this news as gently as possible, but it was becoming all too overwhelming again. You almost wanted to ask if he could conjure up some more magic so you could get enveloped in its sweet, soothing embrace again. So it could untwist the knots in your stomach and calm the rate of your heart with its golden light.

Halsin lowered his head, sullen, occasionally shifting his eyes from you to the empty space at your side. “It took another year to figure out how to open the right portal and the right amount of magic it demanded.” His voice was softer, lower, like he was losing confidence the more he continued to speak. “I was warned that it may be difficult to return or that you may not remember me. But I had to try… so Gale, Shadowheart, and myself, with the guidance of Silvanus, Mystra, and Selûne at our backs, entered the astral plane once again. There, a portal for me already awaited…”

He stared at you, softly searching your eyes, daring another tentative step closer. “And then I came here, to you… to the greatest love my heart has ever known.”

“Halsin…” you breathed, but he raised his hands, halting you.

“This may not be Faerûn, and elven blood may no longer flow through your veins. But your face, your eyes, your very soul is just the same. I can feel it.”

Another fleet of nerves sliced through you, your heart pumping fiercely in your ears, the beat of your pulse so intense within your wrists. Halsin was almost standing directly before you now, the heat radiating off his large frame reached for you, as eager as the golden tendrils of magic.

But he stopped before closing the distance entirely, not crossing the small threshold of space still between you. You avoided his gaze, but could still feel him watching you, and could hear the quick pacing of his breath, like he was trying his damnedest to calm himself.

Your name left his lips, a gentle plea to guide your attention back to him. An involuntary flutter decorated your cheeks when he said your name that way, the gentleness of it, fueled with decades of love. But even that was not enough to quell your pounding heart. You were stuck trying to understand everything Halsin was telling you, this man, this elf. This elf who was apparently 350 years old when you embarked on this wild adventure together, with friends who weren’t all human, and who could do great and magical things. You could do great and magical things. It was all so incredible, but also, it was too much…

Halsin’s deep timbre filled your ears, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice. “What are you thinking, my heart?”

“Please,” you muttered, startled by his tender words of affection. “You shouldn’t say that…” You dared a look at him, noting the strict narrowing in his brows and confusion in his expression.

So he said your name again, as a question this time, fear accompanying his voice. You sighed, suddenly feeling more overwhelmed with each passing second. His presence was so much, the closeness, his warmth, his words of affection for a love once lost. A love he believed to be you. So, you took two steps back, needing to reclaim the distance between you two, needing to find room to breathe and to think.

Your throat felt dry and you promptly found yourself reaching for a nearby water bottle, hastily swallowing as much of the water as you could. Breathing rapidly, you put the bottle aside and steadied yourself with both hands on the counter.

“Halsin, I…I don’t know…”

He remained still, careful not to further overwhelm you by standing too close. “You are having trouble believing me?”

You half-laughed, bringing your hands to your head, and dug your fingers into your hair. “Quite the opposite. In fact, this would be so much easier if I didn’t believe you.” You started pulling at your scalp, just a little before releasing your grip.

You started moving around the island but remained mindful not to get too close to Halsin, a million thoughts racing in your head. “If I didn’t believe you then I could just assume you were crazy, and that I was crazy for letting you in my house and I’d just ask you to leave and probably call the cops. It would be one hell of a story to tell my friends but—” You stopped pacing, finding the courage to look at him again. His expression was a mixture of emotions, but the worry in his eyes overtook them all.

“I believe you, Halsin.”

He smiled, warm, the expression so beautiful on his face. And it nearly broke your heart.

“I believe that you come from a place of what people here would deem impossible, and you had these amazing friends, and a life with…” you closed your eyes, breathing deeply. “But I’m not her, Halsin…”

You opened your eyes to find his smile falling, the sight nearly ripping you in two. You ignored the incessant nerves that ravaged your stomach, the loud beat of your heart that just could not rest. “I believe that you cared for that part of me... but that isn’t who I am, Halsin. I have no memory of anything you speak of. I have an entire life here.”

Halsin said nothing, silence seizing him. You rushed on, question after question, whatever thought you could pull out of your head from the sea of endless thoughts. “What am I supposed to do with this, Halsin? What was your plan after finding me?”

You waved your arms aimlessly, unable to control the issues spilling out of your mouth. “Am I supposed to go to your world, now? Do you stay in mine? Do you just sleep on my couch and we talk about it in the morning?”

“Perhaps, if you wish to wait for the morning sun, I—"

“No, Halsin. I don’t wish for that. I—I don’t know what to do. But I do know this…”

You regarded him, taking a moment to gather yourself. He stood patiently, so quiet, and yet his eyes said so much. A budding fear was digging its claws into this large elf, right before your eyes. “I’m afraid, Halsin.”

He frowned, taking a step back and you quickly moved forward, throwing your hands up. “No, no!” you exclaimed, halting him. “Not afraid of you, I know I’m safe with you. I just…I think I’m afraid of all of this. I don’t know how to handle it. Maybe I need time or maybe I need…ugh.” You groaned in frustration, unable to find the words, unable to process.

Halsin lowered his head, a deep breath, then another. A twang of guilt poked against your chest, though you knew you had nothing to feel guilty for. He seemed like he was an incredible man. He was gorgeous, calm, a fantastic talker, and above all he managed to make you feel entirely safe despite his foreboding stature.

“I’m so, so sorry you lost her, Halsin,” you were half-whispering, careful with your words. “I have no doubt you were so loved. I can tell you are an amazing man and maybe if you and I met in other circumstances, and we were from the same world… who knows…” You tried to sound as comforting as possible but even you felt a twinge of sadness at your words.

And in that moment, you realized you wanted to be that person that Halsin crossed realms for. To be that person who was so deeply loved, and to feel the same in return. But you found it nearly impossible to mentally handle this. It was all so wonderful, phenomenal, unbelievable, and yet you believed it all, down to the very last word. And it terrified you that it was possible.

“I’m just a normal gal, who loves to write and watch movies, play games, and take walks. I’m not that remarkable, powerful sorceress who wielded a sword as skillful as a fighter. I’m not who you loved. I’m just me.” A long breath left your lips, and your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, defeated.

“I understand,” Halsin said, finally gracing you with his voice again. You needed to hear it right now, more than ever. You needed to know he would be okay. “Forgive me…in my haste to find you, to see you again, I failed to consider what that may mean for you.”

You smiled, meekly. “No, you longed to find your love again. If I was in your place, I would’ve rushed at the chance myself. I wish I could’ve given you the reaction you imagined.” Your head slumped, suddenly feeling heavy, and a sea of guilt swam harshly within you.

Halsin sighed, calm. “No, don’t say that. This was a lot to process, a lot to bear.” He walked towards you slowly, watching your expression closely so as to make sure not to overstep. When you didn’t protest or step backward, he proceeded. “And if it means anything, even if you’re just a normal gal, I know in my heart you are extraordinary.”

A burning sensation simmered in your eyes, and you swallowed, trying not to let your emotions completely consume you. Already too overwhelmed by what to even feel. Tilting your head upward, the closer Halsin came, tears almost threatened to spill when you got a deeper look into his eyes. Maybe you just needed time, time to figure out what this meant for you, what it meant for both of you. But how much time that was, you couldn’t predict. But Halsin’s warmth was hovering near you again as his eyes looked all over your face, smiling sadly.

“Thank you,” he murmured., deep “Thank you for opening the door, for allowing me into your home, for letting me gaze upon your beautiful eyes after a decade of only seeing them in my dreams.”

Your lips parted, but no words sounded from them. Only a gasp of uncertainty. An exhale of emotions you couldn’t define. He was leaving, and the thought made your stomach lurch. But what else were he to do? You had no idea yourself, torn between telling him to give you time and just accepting that you weren’t who he sought.

“I will return to Faerûn.” He shut his eyes, breathing deeply, then reopened them. “But it will bring me great peace to leave knowing that you are safe, that I was blessed with such a chance to be in your presence again, whether you recall the memories or not.”

You almost muttered another ‘I’m sorry’ but decided against it. You sensed Halsin wouldn’t want that, he wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for having done nothing wrong.

You took in his face, the small scar on his bottom lip, the red tattoo, the tiny strands of hair above his head that didn’t seem long enough to reach his bun. Halsin stepped closer, almost completely blocking the view behind him. You watched his eyes bore into yours; scanning your face, your cheeks, your lips, like he was reaffirming his image of you.

“I would only request one thing before I leave you,” he spoke deeply, a heaviness in his tone. Then he met your eyes again. “I would very much like to hug you, if you allow it.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head ‘yes’ despite the blood rushing through your veins. “Sure.”

You inhaled quickly and quietly, turning to face him as he moved towards you, never breaking eye contact. In one full stride, you were consumed by his warm, inviting, woodsy aroma with a touch of sweet sandalwood. And as his large arms curled around your frame, you could’ve guessed there was the faintest hint of…vanilla?

Your heart skipped as you turned your face to the side, tentatively resting your cheek against his firm chest. You heard him release a heavy sigh, feeling the strength of his chest as air filled and left his lungs. Halsin’s heart thumped rapidly against your ears, outpacing your own. You frowned slightly, spreading your arms further around his waist, as best as you could reach, and squeezed gently. Halsin responded to this, his thick muscles tightening around you, pulling you closer until you were almost cocooned in his protective and endearing embrace.

Halsin’s warmth was so consuming, steadily relaxing the rushing blood in your veins. His heart also seemed to calm, though still at a higher rate than what you presumed to be normal. Without thinking, you let your eyes close, feeling the bottom of his chin rest gently near your head.

You began imagining sitting around a warm campfire, under a star-lit sky. You were enjoying the company of faces you couldn’t make out, positive that you wouldn’t get their image right anyway. But you could almost feel the bond, the stories to tell for decades shared between you all. And beside you, a comforting presence. You saw yourself smiling, resting your head on a familiar shoulder as Halsin hummed a soft tune, his vibrations sending enticing chills down your spine. You smiled, both in this imagination, and while you stood wrapped up in Halsin’s arms.

You felt Halsin’s lower half move away from you a little, already missing the warmth he provided, but his arms remained securely around you. The sound of a distant rumble in his throat, almost something of a groan hit your ears, but you couldn’t be too sure if he was just taking another breath. Whatever it was, it made a spark tickle in your abdomen, and you had to clench your teeth to try and quell the sudden pleasurable feeling.

You weren’t sure how much longer you spent in each other’s embrace, or who made the first move to end this moment of peace. But you were both pulling away from one another, still connected by your hands holding each other’s forearms. You paused, staring up at the pools of genuine care in his mesmerizing eyes.

“Will you be okay?” you inquired, when what you really wanted to ask was ‘maybe you can stay?’ But a lingering fear wouldn’t allow you to, despite it gradually waning by the second.

“As long as you are, then yes.” He rubbed his thumb along your forearm, still hanging onto you. “Finding you at all is more than I could’ve ever dreamed of. And I will spend the rest of time being thankful, until my flesh finally yields to nature.”

Your lips parted, eyes darting between his. He left you speechless again, the sincerity in his words, the strength in his tone despite the sadness that made its home there. He stared deeply at you, perhaps waiting for you to completely sever the connection for he lacked the strength to do so himself. You glanced at his lips, how soft they looked, pressed together uneasily as Halsin watched you.

A flutter dashed inside your stomach, your speeding heart anticipating your next move as your gaze lingered on his lips. You exhaled softly, glancing at the scar on his chin, your finger itching to trace it but not wanting to let go of Halsin’s arms. Your gaze rested on his tattoo, where it passed down his cheek. So you leaned upward, pressing some of your weight on your toes. Halsin lowered a bit, assisting you, and slightly tilted his head, exposing more of his tattoo.

And when your soft lips pressed against his warm skin, a fierce electric spark jolted you backward. Your knees buckled and you nearly fell were it not for strong hands already catching you.

Part three!

#halsin x reader #halsin x you #halsin fic #halsin x tav #halsin fiction #halsin fanfic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #halsin imagine #halsin x fem!reader #halsin x oc #bg3 x you #halsin

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justmeinadaze · 2 months ago

Text

Don't Be So Hard Part 5 (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: 😈

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, light spanking, light degrading (good slut), and everything else that comes with these three. FLUFF, they love each other.

ANGST *ballet dances with a baton of angst*: Eddie asks Theo for a favor, Steve is upset with Hopper and screams at him, snaps at Y/N but immediately apologizes, something happens during Y/N's play (think Steven King), The boys defend her and put Martin in his place, cliffhanger ending (because I can :)), I think those are all the biggies. Readers weight is mentioned once but its more Steve talking about what she looks like shouldn't matter. Its really brief.

Word Count: 5452

Series here/Donate to Me <3

“What the fuck do you mean there’s nothing you can do?!”, Steve shouted as you listened from outside of the locker room. “HE HURT…he hurt the man I love, destroyed school property, and let’s not forget assaulted a young woman and you’re telling me he’s just going to get away with it?”

“I’m telling you there’s only so much I can do without proof, son. I did press on him and his father so I don’t think he’ll be doing anything anytime soon—”

“You don’t think?!”, the coach hisses. “How am I supposed to go back to Eddie with you think?”

“Control the attitude, Harrington.”, Hopper growls in a gruff tone. “Look, I know you both have been through a lot. I know; I was there remember? But I have a process I have to follow. Just… keep an extra eye on him and I told the dean if anyone even blinks and sees Martin on campus to call me.”

Steve doesn’t reply and after a few moments the door gently opens as the chief stomps out the door. Quickly, you sneak in and just you enter his office something flies past you, shattering on impact.

“Y/N! What the fuck are you doing in here?!”, he bellows causing your eyes to widen and the little girl inside you to tremble. “Shit…honey, I’m so sorry. C-Come here.”

On instinct, you cower as he steps forward, giving him pause before trying again with a much softer tone.

“It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just upset at Hopper and worried about you and Ed and—”

You promptly cut off his run on sentence as you wrap your arms tightly around him and he does the same, pressing your head into his chest. You understood his reaction and didn’t blame him for it. He and Eddie both had been on edge after what happened and occasionally they would snap at you without meaning to.

With everything they had already been through, you were surprised they were even able to hold themselves together as well as they had.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s ok, Steve.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t be yelling at you like that. Why did you come by, hm? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to check on you and then I was going to watch the game tonight. Theo told me you said he was doing well.”

“He is. Actually, doing a lot better than Martin ever did.”, he chuckles. “Is someone coming with you? To the game I mean…so you aren’t alone.”

“I’ll be ok, baby, I promise.”

“I’ll take that as a no. I want you to sit as close to field as you can, alright? So I can keep an eye on you just in case.”

Smiling softly, you press up on your toes to kiss his lips before turning to leave and bumping body first into the new quarterback.

“Whoa, tiger! I don’t know if you know this but this is the MEN’S locker room.”, Theo laughs. “Come on. Let me walk you to your car.”

Taking your hand in his, he walks with you towards the parking lot to guide you towards your vehicle.

“You don’t have to hold my hand. I can manage to at least stand on my own two feet to get where I’m going.”, you laugh as he beams your way but you see something off in his eyes as they fall to the concrete. “What? What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That.”, you repeat as you gesture absently to his face causing him to let out a little sigh.

“Professor Munson told me not to say anything till he spoke with you and Coach Harrington but…he thought it’d be a good idea to pretend we were dating so some people in the town would get off your back especially with how I defended you at the meeting. They know I’d never let anyone hurt you. You’re my friend.”, Theo grins as he swings your arms between the both of you. “I told him no at first because I didn’t want to seem like…I don’t know…I was coming in between you guys.”

“How so?”

The boy pauses as he tugs you to a stop.

“Y/N, I’m not blind or stupid like everyone else in this fucking town. I also saw the way you held him when he was breaking down.”

“I-I-I have no idea what you’re—”

“Hey, hey, hey it’s ok. It’s consensual right? I mean they aren’t hurting you or forcing you right? When I told that to Professor Munson and he realized I meant well, he said he loved you.”

Your eyes take him in as he speaks but you still pause remembering the promise you made both men.

“No matter what, that secret stays with me.”

Choosing just to nod, he continues as you begin walking again.

“I understand, Y/N. If you ever need to talk or anything I’m always here for you. I think you’re a pretty cool person and you deserve to be happy. If they do that for you then who am I to judge ya know?”

Grinning wide, you give your friend a quick hug as he pats your back gently.

“Good luck tonight.”

Theo chuckles lightly as he holds open your car door, allowing you to climb inside, and slams it shut.

####################

Doing what Steve requested, you took a seat in the row above the field just a stones throw away from the team. As he paced watching his players, his eyes flicked towards the stands, catching your gaze as a small smile flickered across his lips.

“He always looks so sexy right before a game, doesn’t he?” Your head swivels towards Eddie at his sudden voice as he takes a seat beside you. “Steve gets that over concentrated face where his jaw tightens and his eyes zero in. Fuck, I love it.”

“Is it ok for you to sit this close to me?”, you ask in a whisper as he continues to watch ahead while the players run their drills.

“Probably not but I don’t really care right now. With everything going on I’m not letting you too far out of my sight.”

Nodding, you mimic him as you glance towards the field.

“Is it true you told Theo to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes ma’am. I told Steve about an hour ago so that explains the slightly stick up his ass demeanor.”, he breathily laughs but even you could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Eddie, we don’t have to do that…”

“Yeah we do. After the way he protected you at the meeting, I feel like people will know to stay back and if Martin tries something without us there at least with that kid by your side we’ll know you’re safe.”

“Eddie Munson.”, you murmur as you twist your body so your knee bumps his eliciting a little smirk as he finally turns your way.

“I wish we could outright claim you, sweetheart, but we can’t right now. Not everyone is going to be as open minded as Theo and if they or Martin come after you, you’ll need someone close enough to watch your back. Trust me.”

You would give anything to be able to hug him but you know you can’t and it kills you.

After a while, the game begins and the town promptly warms to the new quarterback as he leads Hawkins University to victory. When the game ends the boy runs to the stands with his helmet in hand and his eyebrow quirked as if to say, “Are we doing this?”

Nodding, you tap into your actress mode and smile wide as you lean over the rail to quickly kiss his lips. With a quick caress of your cheek, he’s gone and as you glance towards both men, Steve has his arms folded as he glares at the ground while Eddie had completely disappeared from the stands.

***

Everyone got into their places and the play began like it should. Through the glare of the lights, you noticed Eddie and Steve were front and center, beaming with pride while calming any nerves you had.

“Alright everyone, are we ready?”, Lilah asks as her actors continue to finish getting dressed.

Tonight was the night of the play and all of you pulled your efforts together to rebuild the sets while continuing to rehearse. The student body voted to keep the production and for that you were thankful. Someone was coming by tonight to see your acting prowess and depending on how everything went could decide your future.

As the scene came with you and Theo in the container, however, the energy changed.

Something wet landed on your arm and when you went to wipe it off, you realized the red substance smeared along your skin. Just as your gaze shifts upwards to find the source, you gasp as you and your friend are trenched in red paint.

People in the audience gasped as well before your theater teacher hastily closed the curtain and opened the side door of the container you both were standing in so you could step out.

“I’m going to kill that mother fucking asshole!”, Theo shouts. “Are you ok, Y/N? Y/N?”

The boy turned his attention to you realizing only then you were sobbing as your body shook and you fell to your knees.

“Ok, everyone clear the stage. I’ll tell the audience the production will be postponed and call Hop…”

Eddie skidded to your side as both men appeared with a bunch of rags. While the metalhead tried to clean your face, Steve handed Theo a few who utilized them to clean himself.

“What the fuck happened?”, the coach grumbled trying to control his intense anger.

“I’m not sure but I can give you one guess…’Hey Hop…’”, Lilah replied as she tried to control her own fury.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll take her back to her dorm.”, Theo added as he collected you in his arms and guided you to his car but not before whispering to your professor on the ground beside you, “I’ll take her back to your place. Meet us there.”

###################

“I’m sure they’re fine, Y/N.”, your friend tried to sooth as your leg bounced at the guy’s kitchen table.

“It’s been over an hour, Theo.”

“Maybe, Chief Hopper needed them to go to the station to make a statement or—”

While the boy speaks, the front door opens with a stoic Eddie and Steve coming through with the latter throwing his gym bag to the side.

“Are you two ok?”, your professor asks as his dark eyes scan you both over. “You didn’t want to shower?”

“Uh, no sir. I wanted to make sure she was taken care of first. Plus, I thought it might make you guys more comfortable if you could visually tell…that, um,…”

“That you both didn’t shower together?”, Steve finishes for him. “Don’t worry, son. I’m sure Eddie wouldn’t have asked you to pretend with Y/N if he thought you still wanted to fuck her.”

At the man’s words, Theo stands up straighter as your head ticks to the side. Something isn’t right. Granted things on campus had been crazy and someone had just pulled a Carrie on you while on stage but it didn’t sound like the anger they had been displaying these past couple of weeks. If anything, it didn’t sound like anything.

They sounded…numb.

“Ok, I’ll, um, head home but if you need anything let me know.”

“No problem. Hey, Theodore?”, Eddie called causing the boy to pause with his hand on the knob. “The reason you didn’t shower was because you stayed with Y/N at her dorm to make sure she felt safe, right? We even came by to check on her about fifteen minutes later and the three of us left at the same time.”

You rose to your feet as your eyes locked with Steve’s.

“Yes, sir. You even walked down with me to my car to make sure I got their safely.”

Your professor nodded and as soon as Theo left, he turned to face you as well.

“What did you two do?”, you growl in a whisper.

“Are you alright?”, Eddie asks in a cold tone that has you searching his features desperately to figure out what headspace they were both in.

“What. Did. You. Do?”, you respond a bit more firmly.

“We handled a problem.”

“Answer my fucking question or I swear to God I’ll leave right now!”

“HEY! You don’t fucking talk like that to us, little girl. If you want to leave be our fucking guest.”, Eddie bellows matching your annoyed tone with a domineering one of his own. “It’s best if you don’t know.”, he mumbles as he shifts around you to head for their bedroom.

“Did you want me to take you home?”, Steve asks as his shoulders deflate.

Before you can answer a knock on the door causes everyone to freeze except for Eddie who quietly reenters the living room.

“Go into the laundry room and shut the door. We’ll come get you when the person leaves. Stay quiet.”, the metalhead instructs, their eyes following you as you do what he says.

Hiding in the dark, you listen as the coach answers the front door and allows whoever it is entry to their home.

“You both are fucking stupid. Do you know that?!”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about, Hopper.”, Steve replies as he places himself next to Eddie.

“Oh, you don’t know, huh? You don’t know that Martin Click was jumped about an hour ago? Black eye, broken nose, and his living room was trashed.”

“Hm, well shit.”

“Don’t pander to me, Munson! I’m not a fucking idiot!”

“What do you want me to say, Jim?! I’m sorry the kid got hurt but he assaulted an innocent girl, trashed our offices, and ruined Lilah’s production by pouring paint on two students! I’m surprised someone didn’t beat his ass sooner.”

“Really? That’s the game we’re going to play? So you have no idea how he got hurt?”

“No. We went to the dorms to check on Y/N and Theo. We were there for a couple of hours and literally just got back home. You can check with them both.”, the coach answered calmly.

You didn’t move a muscle let alone breathe as you listen to the Chief struggle to control his angry breaths.

“You both better fucking hope there is no evidence that leads to you because his father is furious.”, he grumbles gruffly before you hear their front door open and slam shut.

Slowly emerging from your hiding spot, you stay in their hallway as both men turn to face you.

“What did you do?”, you ask again in a whisper but there’s something in your tone underneath this time that has them standing up straighter.

“We drove to his house where the little shit was by himself getting ready to go out. He answered the door with a sassy fucking tone…”

“Coach Harrington. Professor Munson. Or should I say Steve and Eddie since I’m fucking expelled?” Both men were completely unamused as the boy laughed in their face. “How can I help you tonight and make it quick I’m going somewhere.”

Steve’s gloved hand connected with Martin’s face, startling him as he fell backwards on the floor and Eddie hastily shut the front door. The former jock’s head tilted as he watched tears stream down his former student’s face.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Click? Thought you’d get away with everything you did without any consequences? Thought you could hurt someone and nothing would happen?!”

“I didn’t hurt anyone!”

Eddie lifted him off the floor just to hit the boy again.

“Have you actually seen the movie Carrie? I know you didn’t read the fucking book because based on your reports you bothered to turn in I’m surprised you can even write words.” At his insult, Martin tries to fight back but Steve kicks him before lifting him to his feet and shoving him against the wall so his boyfriend can continue. “In the movie, after blood is poured on Carrie, the bucket falls and kills her date. Lilah said she found a bucket of paint hanging just above Theo and Y/N’s heads.”

“Nothing happened! It was just a prank to get back at her!”

“For what!? For existing!? For not looking the way you feel like is acceptable!? For physically choking her!?”, the coach screams into the boy’s face as he flinches.

“Nothing may have happened but it could have. The empty bucket could have hit her or even a full one if you didn’t tie it right. Add in the fact that paint is much heavier and toxic. If any of that had gotten into her mouth or eyes—”

“I-I-I didn’t think…I’m sorry…I swear I’ll leave…leave her alone.”

“Oh, Mr. Click, we know you’re not smart. I mean is it a wise idea to destroy a rumored murderer’s office and hang up pictures of his supposed victims? Victims the town believes I hurt with my bare hands? That I…crushed in their eyes and broke their jaws… their arms and legs…”

As Eddie spoke, Martin’s eyes widened in fear as he realized what situation he may currently find himself in.

“Stay away from Y/N and STOP with the bullshit.”, Steve threatened with a rough growl. “If you even fucking think of going near her again or tell anyone we were here and we won’t be so fucking nice. Am I being clear?”

“Y-Yes Mr. Harrington. I-I-I understand.”

Eddie punched him again hard, knocking the boy out before quietly exiting the house.

Your mouth hangs open as they tell the story and your eyes blink back tears as you lean against the wall.

“We understand if you want to leave but we don’t regret it.”

“At least we know you’ll be safe from him.”, your professor follows as they try to gauge your reaction.

“Why do you think that would make me leave?”, you ask with a slight pant behind every breath.

“I may not be a murderer, Y/N, but I’m definitely not a ‘good man’.”

At Eddie’s gruff filled words, you take long strides forward till your chest is against his and your hands are cupping his warm cheeks.

“You are to me.”, you declare as you kiss his lips, his arms remaining at his sides. “Thank you for what you did. Thank you for protecting me, Mr. Munson.”

Your professor’s eyes flutter at your words, thankful for the verbiage you chose.

“We can keep you safe to, sweetheart.”

Crashing your lips to his, you absorbed the taste of him, desperate for more as your tongue mingled with his.

After lifting you into his arms, Eddie carried you to their bed and fell with you as he grinded his hips between your legs. Throwing your (his) shirt off your frame, his mouth promptly latched onto your nipple as his long tongue played with the nub.

“F-Fuck, Mr. Munson, please.”

Flipping over onto his back, your professor manhandled you till your pussy was hovering just above his mouth and your eyes rolled back as his lips sucked a bit aggressively on your clit.

Feeling him moan, you glanced behind you to see Steve enveloping his boyfriend with his mouth, bobbing his head and taking as much of his cock as he could. A palm abruptly spanked your behind getting your attention before you realized Eddie’s other hand was on your waist trying to guide you to move. Biting your bottom lip you, you kept your weight on your knees as you rolled your hips.

“Y/N!”, your professor growled causing you to look down so your eyes could meet his firey ones. “Sit. FULLY sit.”

“B-But I’m—”

A groan mixed with your slight grunt of pain as he spanked you again.

“Sit. DOWN.”

You didn’t see it but you heard Steve chuckling sinisterly behind you at his boyfriend’s strong commanding tone.

Doing as you were told, you mewled as his tongue seemed to push farther into your entrance while his mouth unapologetically made out with your pussy.

“Oh my god.” Your fingers reached down to thread through his hair, seemingly pleasing him as he picked up his pace. “Mr…Mr. Munson…please…”

“Ride his face, honey. Get yourself there.”

As you rolled your hips and threw your head back, neither man could take their eyes off you. To them you were perfect, like a goddess from heaven, and the fact that they were finally able to do something to make you feel safe had them needier than they had ever been.

They wanted so desperately to please you and they knew all the buttons to push.

Your entire body shook as you came and Eddie drank you in, his fingers digging bruises into your waist as he held you to him to fully lick you clean.

Steve backed away as his partner flipped you over onto your back and slapped your clit with his cock eliciting an obscene wet sound before he guided himself inside of your cunt.

“Fuck, baby.”, the metalhead moaned as he did a few cursory pumps to get you accustomed to his size. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me for weeks. I’ll see you fucking wince as you walk into my class and know it’s because we made you feel good.”

Gripping the back of your knee, he pushed your legs back till you practically bent in half and a devious smirk stretched across his face, his eyes widening in amusement as yours rolled.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Mmph—so deep, Mr. Munson.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Pressing as much of his weight on top of you as he could without hurting you, Eddie began thrusting into you at a relentless rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“That’s it, Eddie, baby. Fuck, you look so fucking sexy.”, Steve praises as you listen to him spit into his hand and stroke his cock. “Tell me how he feels, Y/N.”

“Good…deep…can’t…”

“Can’t…can’t wait, honey? Talk?” The coach chuckles when you nod and his boyfriend allows one of your legs to fall so he can collapse against your form to snap his hips hard against yours. “Poor, baby. Eddie’s dick making you dumb? Wait until it’s my turn.”

His promise had you clenching around the other man’s length as your fingers tangled his hair and his lips attached to your throat.

“I…I love you…Mr. Munson. F-Fuck…make me cum. Please… just like that.”

Heavy pants fill your ears as he pounds into you harder.

“Like that, Y/N? You’re gonna cum for me like a good little slut?”

“Yes, sir, yes.”

“Then fucking cum. Cum on my cock, little girl. That’s it.” As Eddie continues to murmur, you shout as your body trembles and the coil snaps. “That’s my good girl. Fuck, your pussy’s so tight when you cum.”

While the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, your professor grunts beside you and with a few sloppy thrusts his release coats your insides.

You’re not allowed one moment to breathe as the other man tugs you onto his lap as soon as his partner rolls out of the way. Clinging to the base of his neck, your tongue dances with Steve’s as his palms softly rub down your back to your waist.

“Can you feel how hard I am after watching you two? Fuck that was sexy.”

When your hand reaches down to take hold of his shaft, you already feel the sticky precum that had been leaking out of his tip. As your eyes lock with his, you slowly bring yourself down onto his length as you run your tongue along your fingers, tasting him along the pads.

“D-Do you like how I taste, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Mr. Harrington.”

“Shit, Y/N, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last so you better ride my dick fucking hard.”, he warns as he slaps your ass for good measure.

While you bounce on top of him, a tussle of hair fills your peripherals and you turn just in time to see Steve passionately kiss Eddie as soon as his back hits the headboard. Your head leans against his shoulder and the man grunts with need as he wraps his arms around you, his palm holding you flat against him as he thrusts up roughly.

“Fuck—that’s it. Take it, dirty girl. You take my fucking cock. K-Keep bouncing…bounce against it…” When you don’t respond, Steve growls as he tugs on your hair and dips your head back. “Wake UP, little girl. Fuck, Ed, l-look at her. She’s fucked out of her mind.”

“Make her cum, baby.”

The coach’s forehead pressed against his partners as he tenderly tilted forward to kiss his lips again.

“You want me to make her cum, honey? You need to see her cum?” As Steve spoke, his hands clung tighter to your hips as he forced you down against each one of his thrusts, hitting that sensitive spot inside of you repeatedly as your head lulled to the side. “She’s so fucking beautiful when she cums. Even better when I’m filling her up.”

Your nails suddenly dig into his skin as the ball drops and you whimper at the feeling of your sore pussy clamping down over his cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Clinging to your trembling frame, his breath warms your shoulder as you feel his release empty inside you.

Steve leaned against the headboard as he tried to calm down, slightly grunting in surprise when you collapse limply against his chest. Your hand reaches out to the side and it takes Eddie a moment to realize you’re reaching for him. Taking ahold of his arm, you circle it across you both and he scoots closer to hold the two people he loves most in his embrace.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me…” Steve’s shoulder rotates to lift your head so he can cup your face in his hands as you speak. “I’m not mad or afraid of you for what you did but…you two just keep getting closer and closer…to losing everything…you worked so hard for.”

As the tears spill down your cheeks, Eddie catches them with his lips as he tenderly kisses your skin.

“I feel bad because…I’m so grateful for what you did…but if you get caught or had gotten caught—”

“But we didn’t and we won’t, honey. It’s not like this is a regular occurrence.”

Noticing your eyes glaze a bit, the metalhead crawled out of bed and took you in his arms towards the bathroom, away from the conversation that was too heavy for you to handle right now in your current headspace.

##################

The next day the university was a buzz with conversations about what could have happened to Martin as they speculated. Everyone had a different theory but both men were preoccupied with you as their eyes followed you through the next couple of days.

You seemed a bit aloof as you starred out the window during class or running on the field with your music blaring so loud that when Steve called your name you didn’t hear. Theo was by your side as much as possible and while that sprung up some slight jealousy at least they knew you were safe.

However, on a day you were supposed to be in class…you didn’t show up.

Eddie tried to focus on his lesson but his eyes kept flitting to your empty seat until he gave up and let his class leave early. After powerwalking to Steve, when his wide worried eyes met his he knew he hadn’t seen you either.

Trying not to seem as alarmed as they were, they went on the hunt to no avail. As they ran to the parking lot to drive around, they noticed you sitting on the trunk of your car with Theo leaning against one of the doors. As soon as he sees them, he glances your way before meeting them halfway.

“I didn’t want to leave her out here by herself. She was in the theater for a while and actually tried to sneak out without me noticing. I asked her if she was ok and she just said she needed to be alone. I offered to stay somewhere off to the side but she kinda yelled at me because I wouldn’t go. I didn’t know what to do so…”

“No, um, thank you, Theo. We’ll take it from here.”, Steve mumbles as he offers the boy what he hopes seems like a confident smile.

“Ok. Hopper didn’t come by or anything to ask me where you guys were by the way.”

“Thanks for letting us know, Kid. We appreciate it.”

Giving them on final nod, they watched as he jogged back towards the university before turning to focus on you.

“You weren’t in my class today, Y/N. I was really worried.”, Eddie conveyed with a slight edge to his tone. “You can’t just disappear without telling us.”

“We’re dating, Eddie. You aren’t my father or the dean. I can skip a class if I want to.”, you replied flatly causing their heads to tilt.

“I’m also your professor—”

The sound of your snort as you laugh sarcastically cuts him off.

“Is that really the card you want to play, Mr. Munson? Because you’re suddenly the morality in ethics?”

While you had been speaking, Steve’s eyes had continually scanned you as he tried to get a read on what was going on.

“What’s going on, honey?” At the term and care behind it, you shifted your gaze to the concrete in front of you as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know you can tell us anything.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Yes, it does. Yes it very much does.”, he countered.

“No, it doesn’t because even if I tell you I already know what your response will be.”

“Try us.”, Eddie growled sternly. “We trusted you with our secret. The least you can do is be open with us.”

“A talent scout came to play on Friday. Before we started out relationship, I had been working on getting into acting programs in California and New York. I never thought I’d hear back. Apparently Lilah knows a guy at NYU and sent him a reel of some of my work. He was interested and flew down to see me live. I thought I had lost it because of what happened but…I guess not.” At your last word, you chuckled as you shrugged your shoulders and shifted your eyes to finally meet theirs more directly.

“He liked me and accepted me to be a part of their theater program. I’d finish my degree up there and have access to places like studios or stages.” As you continue, you try to control the tears that fall as you wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted…but so are you two.”

As they listened to you speak, both men gradually felt their hearts breaking.

“And what do you feel like our response would be to this?”, Steve asks barely above a whisper.

“You told me you couldn’t leave Hawkins. That you had to stay to protect the people. People who call you a murderer, Eddie. People who have so little respect for you both that one of them was able break into your offices and trashed the place. Who told you that you were pathetic, Steve. A town where you both can’t love each other openly and have been in hiding for 10…years…” Shaking your head, you fold your arms across your chest. “What would happen with us? Even when I graduate, you’d still hide me right? For how long? We keep acting like you two being faculty and me a student is the only barrier we have at being together but…”

“What are you saying right now, Y/N?”

“Eddie, I want you both to come with me. We can be safe and happy up there.”

“What if we say that we can’t…”

At his words, your eyes squeeze shut as you suffocate the cascade of tears threatening to numb you.

“I don’t want to leave you.”, you sob as your voice betrays you.

Just like you had with him, Eddie steps forward and pulls you to his chest as you fully begin to let go not caring if anyone saw him trying to comfort you. Noticing his partner struggle to keep it together, Steve pets the back of his head as he wraps you both up in his arms.

#############

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @myherometalhead @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover

here's hoping the tags work correctly this time!

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