#honestly none of the leathers in this run are tempting to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yutaholic · 2 years ago

Text

flipside (M)

PAIRING: Mark (NCT) + reader (female)

GENRE: the bet; buckle up buttercup; smut

SUMMARY: When your father moves you overseas for his job, you are determined to hate it until you discover the illegal street races happening after nightfall. Boys are quick to vie for your attention, but none catch your eye like Mark, who takes you on the ride of a lifetime.

WARNINGS: strong language; mild alcohol use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 21k words; listening to flipside by lana del rey

“How long are you planning to sulk out there?”

You ignored your father, chin raised high in defiance. Indefinitely, you replied in your mind. Or until you had come to terms with your new life.

Which, as far as you were concerned, was never.

He sighed in defeat. At least you were wrapped up in your favorite blanket. It would keep you warm in the wintry night air as you sat on the tiny balcony attached to your room, staring with hatred at the city around you.

Busan, you thought with disdain. There was no way you could be happy here. It was too crowded for one, but more importantly, despite how tightly packed it was with people, you didn’t have a single friend.

You had never felt so alone.

When your father received a well-deserved promotion at his job and told you that you would be moving with him overseas, you honestly didn’t believe it. There was no way in hell he would uproot you from the only life you’d ever known to relocate to a different country.

Especially after the death of your mother.

Your first thought was to move out, but you couldn’t afford it. Not when you were fresh out of college and trying to get into a good doctorate program. Your father suggested you take a year off to adjust yourself to Busan and resume your studies when you were comfortable. An offer you accepted out of spite.

Spite had become your dominant emotion of late. You had been close to your father once, but neither of you handled the loss of your mom well and you slowly but surely drifted apart.

It was almost easier that way.

Suddenly, you heard your name called from the door, followed by, “Chungha is here.”

Broken from your reverie, you asked, “Who?”

“My co-worker’s daughter, remember? She offered to show you around and help you get the hang of things.”

Oh, he was serious about that. You snorted back a chuckle. “No thanks.” Shaking your head, you huffed, “I’m sulking.”

“Well, turn that frown upside down,” came an unfamiliar, overly perky voice.

Brow furrowed, you turned around slowly.

A pretty girl with long blonde hair stood in the doorway of your balcony. She was dressed for the bitter cold nights, warmed by a long black coat and knee-high leather boots. You were tempted to ask if she was late for a Vogue shoot, but you held your tongue.

“I’m Chungha,” she greeted sweetly, holding out her hand. “You can call me Chungha.”

The humor bounced right off of you, but you would never be rude to someone that had done you no wrong. You stood, careful to keep your blanket wrapped around you, and shook her offered hand politely, but you gave her your name with complete disinterest.

She tilted her head coyly. “Someone is not happy.”

You absolutely adored her accent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she was American. It was getting harder and harder to stay perturbed at her for interrupting your existential crisis. “What gave me away?” you droned.

Chungha put her hands on her hips, dropping the niceties. “Listen, darling. If you wanna have attitude, I can give you a run for your money,” she said with a hint of warning.

You smirked in amusement and decided that Chungha was to be respected. “You have my attention.”

“Good. Now come inside. It’s fucking freezing.”

You closed the patio door behind you and tossed your blanket onto a nearby chair. Your bedroom was white and bland, with a potted plant sitting in the corner as the only pop of color. Brown boxes covered almost the entire floor. You hadn’t amassed enough motivation to unpack yet.

“You’re in denial,” Chungha quipped, crouching down to look inside an open box.

You asked curiously, “Why are you here?”

Chungha plunked down on the edge of your bed, crossed her legs, and replied, “Believe it or not, I was the new girl once too. Years ago. Someone vouched for me and helped me make friends and I wouldn’t be who I am today without that.”

“Sounds almost too good to be true,” you said, folding your arms.

“You’ve obviously got spunk and you’re super cute. I think you could fit in around here if you would just give it a chance.”

Given how pretty she was, the compliment made heat fill your cheeks, but you were stubborn to the end. “Why do you care?”

Chungha shrugged, but a smile tugged at her lips. She could tell by the softening of your tone that she was wearing you down little by little. “It literally costs nothing to be kind.”

You heaved a big sigh, accepting a temporary defeat. Curiosity was the only thing that could beat your obstinance. “What do you have in mind?”

“You’re in luck. It’s Friday and the gang will be together tonight. I would love to introduce you. What do you say?”

The last thing you wanted to do was go out into the world and all its unknown. You were determined to be angry at your father by locking yourself in your room and refusing to bond with your new city. But Chungha’s invitation gave you an idea. Going to a party and getting drunk and shoving your tongue down a boy’s throat could also be a convenient and effective revenge against your father.

“I’m down,” you told her.

Chungha clapped her hands together and leapt up, asking, “Which boxes have your clothes?”

You gestured around the room like perhaps she hadn’t noticed it looked like a tornado swept through.

Thirty minutes later, give or take, your entire wardrobe was piled on the bed.

Chungha tossed a pair of socks over her shoulder and said, “You should definitely wear something sexy.”

You snorted. “Sure. Let me just whip out my matching lace bra and panties.”

Chungha shook her head, holding up two of your jackets and comparing them, and quipped, “Trust me. Guys don’t want lingerie. They want mini skirts with thigh-high socks.”

“Noted.”

Of course, you were no stranger to what boys wanted. Most of them would settle for a warm body.

Chungha treated you like her new favorite doll and you were surprised by how much it distracted you from your anger. One article of clothing after another, you eventually stepped out of the bedroom in an all-black ensemble. Complete with a mini skirt and thigh highs.

Pulling on a cropped hoodie over your tee, you stood patiently as Chungha layered three long necklaces and slipped them over your head. They would draw attention to your cleavage, she said. Glancing you over, satisfied with her work, Chungha asked, “Ready to go?”

“When you are,” you replied blandly, but you were eager to get drunk. She didn’t need to know that though. She just needed to give you a ride home afterward.

Leading you out of your room, Chungha nearly collided into you when she whipped around and said, “Just one more thing - how do you feel about fast cars?”

It was the very last thing you expected.

The night was alive, the sun long gone. Music was blaring from all directions. Cars revved their engines. The scent of cigarettes and booze filled the air. The chatter of a dozen different conversations buzzed in your ears.

“Now, this is a distraction,” you mused to yourself.

Chungha held your hand as she led you between cars. A few boys whistled at you or tried to steal your attention with lewd noises and gestures, but you were attached at the hip to Chungha, who stuck up her middle finger to them all.

“Don’t worry. They won’t mess with us,” she told you loudly over the noise. “They’re scared shitless of my boyfriend.”

You chuckled at that.

Chungha parted from you to slip into the burly arms of a tall boy standing by an electric green muscle car. He didn’t hesitate to kiss her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and squeezing a handful of her ass. You glanced away awkwardly and waited.

She stole a cute kiss or two from her boyfriend before remembering you, waving you forward and saying, “This is Jaemin.”

“Hi,” he greeted with a broad, charming smile.

“Hello,” you replied, giving him your name.

Jaemin had jet black hair with flames buzzed in his undercut. They matched the designs on the hood of his car to perfection. Which led you to assume that cars weren’t just a hobby for these boys, but a way of life. Jaemin gave you an equally scrutinizing look before turning to Chungha, drawing her flush against him and chiding playfully, “You brought a total stranger to our den?”

“She’s new to town and looking for trouble. She’s not exactly happy to be here,” Chungha told him, giving you a wink.

Jaemin was quick to joke, “Then she definitely hasn’t tried the food yet.”

You scoffed back a laugh. But the vibe of the place was already growing on you.

Boys blew pillars of smoke into the air, cigarettes hanging from their lips or vapes held between their fingers. Alcohol was flowing freely among everyone except the drivers, for obvious reasons. One of them spotted you and your empty hands and tossed you a can of hard seltzer without a word.

Speaking of drivers, some of them were already talking shit to each other over the upcoming race. As you opened the can and put it to your lips for a sip, you chuckled as they squabbled like a flock of birds.

Girls strutted by in their skin-tight jeans and low-cut shirts, despite the cold. It was hard to feel the chill with all the exhaust and smoke and bodies packed together. The lights of the city shone brightly against the pitch black sky, illuminating the old parking lot where the pre-race party was underway.

“See anyone you like?” Chungha asked cutely, nudging your hip with her own.

You shook your head. To be honest, all of the boys that puckered their lips at you or eye-fucked you from across the way looked like they would blow their loads in thirty seconds or less.

And though you weren’t opposed to getting laid, you’d be damned if you gave it up to any of these self-absorbed little pricks.

A clamor suddenly rang out within the crowd and cheers filled the air as a sleek black car turned the corner and roared into the lot. You rolled your eyes at the noise, but did a double-take at the boy that stepped out of the car.

He wasn’t just good-looking. He was fine.

Interested, you leaned into Chungha and asked, “Who’s that?”

“Ah, that’s Mark. He’s on a huge winning streak right now. Super competitive,” she told you offhandedly.

“And arrogant,” Jaemin snipped.

Chungha playfully scolded, “He is not. Don’t listen to him.” She put her hand on Jaemin’s chest and gave him a few sympathetic pats. “He’s just bitter that Mark beat him last weekend. They’re really close.”

Her words faded into the background of noise. Your eyes were stuck on Mark. You couldn’t look away no matter how hard you tried. And you were biting and chewing your lip like you were about to dig into a hot meal after weeks of dieting. You watched him greet some of the other guys, but pay no mind to the girls. Which piqued your curiosity.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Mark noticed you. Staring at him shamelessly.

Despite the distance, Mark locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile. His eyes raked up and down your body, and he cocked his head, probably wondering, Why haven’t I seen this girl before?

You cleared your throat and turned away, asking Chungha some mundane question so you could appear unbothered and ignore the hard thumping of your heart.

The cars began rounding up. A makeshift starting line was drawn on the cracked asphalt with chalk. Jaemin hopped into his car and fired up the engine, catching you off guard with how loudly it roared to life.

Chungha squeezed your hand and told you excitedly, “Just sit tight. I have no doubt someone will ask you to ride with them.”

You waved goodbye as Chungha slid into Jaemin’s car, giggling when you saw her clamber over and press the most aggressive kiss on his lips.

Well, that was one surefire way to wind him up.

Meandering out of the way with the crowd, lining up to watch the start of the race, you searched briefly for Mark, having lost sight of his black car in the commotion. Disappointment felt heavy in your chest. Part of you hoped he would come and sweep you off your feet for the night.

“I call dibs on the new girl,” said Jeno, flicking his lighter repeatedly.

You opened your mouth to decline, but Mark appeared at your side, taking your hand and slipping it to the crook of his elbow. “But new girl already called dibs on me,” he purred.

The surrounding boys erupted into whistles and laughs, a few making sounds at Jeno’s expense. You could only liken them to a pack of rabid hyenas.

But who cared? Mark was even handsomer up close. You kept your composure and let Mark lead you to his car parked at the starting line, a little surprised when he opened the passenger door for you. Very gentlemanly of him.

“So…,” Mark began as he settled in his seat, revving the engine. “How are you liking Busan?”

“I hate it,” you replied without missing a beat.

Surprise flickered over Mark’s face and he chuckled at your blunt attitude. His eyes inevitably fell to your bare thighs. The mini skirt had slipped back a bit and you’d made no moves to adjust it. “Really?” he asked.

You grumbled, “It wasn’t my idea to move here.”

Mark reached over, grabbing your seatbelt and yanking to make sure it was taut. The action made you jolt in surprise, unsuspecting. “Ever been in a street race before?”

You stared straight ahead, heart picking up speed. Having been distracted by Mark and how goddamn attracted you were to him, you’d neglected to fully realize you were about to be a passenger in a very illegal race. “Nope.”

It certainly satisfied your spiteful cravings.

Mark revved the engine again and again, and teased under his breath, “You’re pretty calm for a virgin.”

You finally turned your head, meeting his eyes, and flirted, “You better win. I would hate to have a bad first time.”

Mark flashed a grin of perfect teeth. “Don’t you worry, baby,” he said, voice deepening. “Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.”

You braced your hands where you could when he slammed his foot on the gas and took off, knocking the air out of you.

The feeling was indescribable. You were the tiniest jump away from taking flight into the night sky. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

One wrong move at this speed and you’d be dead. You knew that. But Mark drove with unmatched skill, drifting around turns with expert precision. He was letting you flirt with danger, dangling you over the fire, but never letting you get burned.

The roads were mostly empty at this late hour, but Mark deftly weaved around cars on the highway. You found yourself relaxing, leaning into the movements of his car like you were a part of it. On more than one occasion, you cried out at a sharp turn like you were on the greatest rollercoaster of your life, making Mark smile.

He crossed the finish line ahead of the rest, and rather than stick around and celebrate, he kept going, driving and driving. His car sped over a bridge, along the water and finally - after what felt like hours - returned to the lot.

Mark jerked the parking brake, which made a loud pop, and looked over at you with a snicker of pure mischief. “Better than sex, isn’t it?”

You blew out a breath. “Wow.” Then, you faced him and said, “Do it again.”

Mark smirked, shifting gears. “Virgin to whore in zero to sixty.”

You bit your lip as warmth flared behind your cheeks.

Maybe Busan wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Well?” Chungha asked with a wry smile.

You briefly looked over your shoulder, hoping it was Mark’s eyes you felt on your backside, and sure enough, there he was leaning against his car and watching you walk away with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Chungha saw where your attention had gone and giggled.

“Apparently, I’m an adrenaline junkie,” you joked, running a hand through your hair. You felt exhausted and disheveled, but in the best of ways. Like you’d had mad, filthy sex for an hour and were still riding on the heels of your high.

All without even being touched.

Chungha draped an arm around your shoulders and gushed, “It’s amazing, right? The noise, the vibration, and the sexy guy with his hand on the wheel.”

You tucked your head bashfully. “Yeah, he’s… a very good driver,” you mumbled.

“Among other things.”

You let her take you home, wishing you could have stayed all night.

Curled up in bed, you dreamt of fast cars and cities reduced to blurs of colors. And maybe Mark. He may have appeared for a second or two, but you quickly forbade yourself from thinking about him for too long.

It’s not that you disliked Mark. Quite the contrary. You were undeniably hot for him. It was hard not to be. With that goddamn smile and big, sparkly eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted to kiss someone this badly.

If ever.

But you’d had time to think and everything about Mark Lee screamed fuckboy. Given the state of your heart, you weren’t in the mood to have it broken by a guy anytime soon.

And yet, you found yourself crossing your fingers in the hopes that he would take you for a spin again, driving at such a speed you could escape your problems for a moment.

You slept well into the afternoon, woken only by your phone ringing loudly on the nightstand. In your excitement, you’d forgotten to put it on Do Not Disturb. Annoyed, you rasped, “Who the hell is this?”

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Chungha chirped, taking your mood in stride.

You sat up, but refused to crawl out from beneath the warm blankets. “Sulking and contemplating my own existence.”

“You’re still mad about moving? Come on. It’s not that bad here.”

“A hot guy and a fast car don’t make up for all the things I left behind, Chungha.”

Chungha paused, gathering her words, and continued, “You’re right, but you can make some friends here if you would just give them a chance.”

You pursed your lips and thought about arguing, but you didn’t want to. You wanted to see Mark again. “What do you have in mind?”

“There’s another hangout tonight. Whoever lost the race last night has to buy all the booze.”

“Poor guy,” you droned, sarcastic. “What time?”

For the first time in your life, you counted down the hours until the sun began to set. Never before had you actively wished the day away. Once the daylight hours ran out, you dolled yourself up. Not in an obvious “I wanna get laid” kind of way, but pretty damn close.

Jaemin swung by and picked you up, and Chungha couldn’t pass the opportunity to tease you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s smiling.”

“Shut up,” you whined, insincere.

She wasn’t wrong. You were beaming.

Instead of the abandoned lot from before, Saturdays were conducted by the sea. There was a nook off a long, narrow road, turning from a stretch of gravel to smooth pavement lightly dusted with sand.

“How about that view, huh?” Chungha said, hopping out of the car.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, wide eyes taking in the horizon where the waves churned.

Since arriving in Busan, you felt like you could breathe for the first time. You were no longer suffocating between buildings and people, but in a broad, open space, inhaling the crisp, salty air of the ocean.

Kinda similar to how you felt in Mark’s car the night before, but you didn’t need to dwell on that.

Chungha led you over, holding your hand after sensing your hesitation. This crowd wasn’t like the night before. It was much thinner, consisting of only the drivers. You recognized most of the boys, a few of them with girls tucked close.

Obviously the ones in a relationship. Or maybe they were potential hookups. You couldn't be sure. A few were flying solo, but they didn’t seem to mind.

Rather than chaos building toward a race, this was casual and relaxed.

Chungha announced your name to the group in case they’d missed it and everyone either greeted you or gave you a polite little wave. You thanked them and waved back, but your eyes were scanning the group.

Mark wasn’t there. Much to your disappointment.

Chungha giggled as she sat squarely on Jaemin’s lap, knowing exactly why you suddenly looked miffed, but didn’t say a word about it. Your secret was safe with her.

Pushing back on thoughts of Mark, which you had plenty of practice with for the past couple of hours, you took an empty seat beside Haechan, who introduced himself to you sweetly.

Cars formed a circle around the little gathering and Haechan pointed at the lusciously violet car behind him. “She’s mine,” he said proudly.

“The color is insane,” you exclaimed. “Is she fast?”

“Like lightning.”

“Did you race last night?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yep. I got stuck in the middle. Finished in third though.”

“That’s not bad,” you said with a smile.

“Not as good as first, obviously,” Haechan joked, mischievous. “Which you scored on your very first ride along.”

You flushed and lowered your head, biting your lip. And you couldn’t help but ask, “Yeah, speaking of… that, where is Mark?”

“He’s running late. He works a lot.”

Hope rose in your chest. “Ah.”

Haechan sized you up then, the corner of his mouth lifting. He put the beer to his lips and downed a mouthful, and decided then and there he would not be pursuing you. Not when you had those Mark Lee stars in your eyes already.

Jeno meandered over, not so subtly, and cozied up beside you. He asked how you were liking Busan, tucked some of your hair behind your ear, and followed up with, “You wanna come with me for a quick spin, baby?”

You looked into his handsome face and arched a brow. “Quick, huh?”

Pretending to wince, Jeno flirted, “I could spare a couple minutes on foreplay.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you smarted, getting to your feet in search of a drink.

Jeno grabbed your hand, stopping you, and you turned back toward him. The impatience was evident on your face. “Please,” Jeno whined, peering up at you with sad eyes. “My doctor told me I only have a few days left to live.”

You squeezed his hand, stuck out your lip, and said, “I’m not getting your dick wet. I guess you’ll just have to die.”

Haechan laughed as you walked off, earning a playful shove from Jeno and almost toppling out of his chair.

Chungha, the angel that she was, had already given you the rundown on the boys on the way over. Jeno was very accustomed to girls throwing themselves at him, because in addition to being sexy as hell, he was also packing. What he lacked in charm, he allegedly made up for in dick.

Jaemin, of course, was in a committed, happy relationship. Chungha gushed to you how well he treated her, and how much she doted on him. They were talking about marriage and kids and the whole boring suburban life together while you rode in the backseat.

It was really damn cute.

Renjun was kinda mean, but taken. Yangyang was in a friends with benefits situation. Chenle and Jisung were more concerned with beating each other in races than hooking up with girls. Their need for competition currently outweighed their desire to chase pussy. Shotaro was new from Japan and had a huge crush on a girl, but was too scared to make a move yet.

Though given the way she was leaning against him and smiling, it was safe to say the feelings were mutual.

Which left Mark and Haechan. Aside from blood, they were brothers. Partners in crime. If you ever wanted to date Mark, you would be dating Haechan too. And vice versa.

Not that you would ever want to date Mark. Pfft. The idea hadn’t crossed your mind.

After reaching into the cooler to grab a beer, you found yourself putting it back. And for the most obnoxious reason. You didn’t want beer breath.

Why the fuck were you thinking about kissing someone? And not just anyone. You wanted to kiss Mark. Who wasn’t even fucking there.

Get a grip, you chastised yourself, returning to Haechan when you noticed Jeno had migrated back over to Jaemin. Much to Chungha’s annoyance, as she had been nibbling on her boyfriend’s neck and he still hadn’t gotten the hint.

“You don’t want a drink?” Haechan asked curiously.

You shook your head and sat next to him, the wind coursing into your hair.

As it turned out, Haechan was allergic to silence and he started asking questions, showing a genuine interest in you. And you found yourself answering him without any hesitation or pretense.

You talked about college, about the move, about your life back home. Although you said nothing of your mother, of course. You told him about your friends and your hobbies. Haechan volunteered very little information about himself. It almost felt like he was interviewing you.

For what, you had no idea.

The sound of a revving engine drew everyone’s attention and your heart skipped a beat when you recognized Mark’s black car joining the circle. An empty space had been left for him. Which was very sweet in its own way.

Mark leapt out and greeted his friends, apologizing for how late work had kept him.

You were the only one that stayed put, watching and waiting, gripping the edges of your seat and dangling your legs back and forth.

Mark finally - fucking finally - acknowledged your presence, pretending to be shocked to see you and said, “Hey, new girl.”

You pouted. “I have a name, you know.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Mark replied, putting a hand over his heart and then addressing you by name.

“Better,” you retorted, smiling.

Haechan slouched back into his seat beside you, sipped his beer, and said, “Mark, your new friend here is a college graduate.”

“Really?”

You glanced over at Haechan, bemused.

“Yeah. She’s even planning on going to grad school.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Impressive.”

“Okay, this isn’t weird at all,” you mumbled, giving Haechan a look. “Is that some inside joke I’m not in on?”

“Yes,” he said.

Well, at least he was honest. Couldn’t fault him for that. You shrugged. “Alright then.”

Mark chuckled.

Time soon lost all meaning. Mark, regardless of how brusque and arrogant he was behind the wheel, was a total sweetheart outside of his car. He didn’t make any moves on you, which was a little frustrating, but he seemed eager to hear where your head was at over the move to Busan and particularly wanted to know how long you would be staying.

You didn’t know. Your father was very vocal about how much he liked it, which meant he could request to stay indefinitely. And probably would so he could stay in denial about your mother having ever existed. But that was a conversation to be unpacked another day. Or never. You, on the other hand, were longing to go back home, hoping and praying this was only a temporary stint. A mere blip on the radar of your life.

That was partly why you were drawn to Mark. Him being handsome and funny and charming had nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe not all to do with it. But you were attracted to the fact that anything that went down between you and Mark would be left behind in Busan when you went home.

He would be a passing daydream.

Eventually, Mark decided he’d heard enough. You were definitely into him and he was vibing with you. So he was rather confident when he asked, “Can I take you somewhere?”

I thought you’d never ask. “Sure,” you replied, screaming internally.

Mark held out his hand and you took it. You told Chungha you were leaving and off the two of you went in Mark’s black car.

He drove like a normal person. Again, much to your disappointment. He didn’t speed or drift. His car cruised along the road, parking at a spot overlooking the water.

Mark unbuckled his seatbelt. “Sorry for taking you away from everyone,” he apologized, but there was something playful in his tone. “I wanted you to myself.”

“I’m glad,” you said quietly, leaning toward him. Your heart started to pick up speed. “It’s much warmer in here.”

Mark came closer, the console between your seats the only thing in his way, and whispered, “I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

“Kiss me then.”

Mark cradled your head in his hand, slipping his fingers into your hair, and pulled you the rest of the way toward him, meeting his lips to yours.

You should have known he was a good kisser, but this was something else. He started soft and slow, and you matched his energy, panting for more until Mark tightened his grip on your hair and flicked his tongue into your mouth.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Mark broke from the kiss to ask.

By now, you had pulled him halfway into your seat and regardless of how uncomfortable it was with that console digging into his stomach, Mark didn’t utter a single complaint. “Nothing,” you said, impatient. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

Mark held onto your waist and drew you close, kissing you with abandon. Then, he remembered his train of thought, which had come to a grinding halt at the heat of your kisses and the warmth of your body against his. “Come out with me. I’ll show you some good places.”

Honestly, the only good place you wanted to see was him without any of his clothes on, but you needed to pace yourself. “Okay. What time?”

“How does noon sound?”

“Perfect.”

Mark tore himself away from you with a groan, tipping his head back and taking a breath. “We need to stop,” he rasped, but tugged you toward him until his lips brushed yours again. He was weighing how bad it would be if he just made out with you for the foreseeable future.

You nipped at his lips and played coy. “What for?”

“Before we keep going.”

You stopped, both surprised and maybe a little impressed that he didn’t want to go further with you already. Perhaps he was worth more of your time and attention. You could draw this out; make it fun. You smirked at him, your eyes falling to his swollen lips, evidence of your thirst for trouble.

“Take me home, Mark,” you said, leaving a parting kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Mark smiled.

You pulled up your address on his phone and Mark drove to your house, coming to a stop at the foot of your driveway. His hand rested possessively on your thigh, as it had since you left that spot overlooking the sea.

You unfastened your seatbelt and started to get out, but Mark grabbed your hand and asked, his voice low and soft, “Can I have one more kiss?”

Of course, he could. You gave him two for good measure.

Mark watched you walk up the driveway and shoot one more lusty look his way before going inside. Not until you were safe and sound did he leave. Which you noticed, peeking out the window as his car roared away.

He earned himself even more points with that.

Your name ringing out in the hallway made you gasp and whip around. “Jeez, Dad. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you exclaimed in surprise.

Your father’s shoulders were drooping. His eyes were bloodshot. He was clearly exhausted, but never lost his humor. “I just want to say that I know you’re a grown woman and make your own decisions,” he began, making you quirk a brow. “You’ve always been very responsible, but please… I am not ready to be a grandfather.”

You burst into laughter, having been worried he was actually going to chide you. Though it was no secret he’d been letting you get away with a lot more since your mother’s passing. You guessed he thought it compensated for his emotional absence in her wake.

Marching up to your dad, you rose to your tiptoes and hugged him, saying, “Don’t worry, Pop. I’m the only fussy baby allowed around here.”

He kissed your temple. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

Very, very sweet, you thought mischievously.

The next day, Mark parked his car outside your house two minutes before noon. He certainly earned more points for punctuality and the fuckboy designation was shedding away.

The broadest grin spread across Mark’s lips as he watched you rush out of the house and into his car, flirting, “Hey, pretty girl.”

You leaned in, stealing a kiss before fastening your seatbelt.

It was nightfall when you returned home; the entire Sunday spent with Mark. And the next Sunday after that. And the one after that, too.

Everyone came to accept you as part of the group, greeting you like a part of the gang on Saturday night hangouts. You were Mark’s passenger for every race, rewarding him with a kiss when he crossed the finish line. With tongue.

Jeno made a few more persistent attempts to steal you away, but with the way Mark didn’t care and sometimes laughed at his friend’s expense, you assumed it was a running joke and everyone enjoyed seeing Jeno make a fool of himself. So you played along.

Oddly enough, Jisung even tried to shoot his shot with you, but you were all eyes for Mark.

And his eyes were always on you.

The weeks were misery, because Mark worked as hard as he played and he didn’t have a free moment to spare for you. But you did stay up through the night on the phone with him more often than not. At some point, you would fall asleep, no matter how hard you fought it.

You liked getting to know him and it seemed he liked getting to know you too.

Mark let slip that he was pulling extra shifts during the week to give himself more free time - with you - on the weekends, and that made something somersault in your chest. Maybe your heart. Not that you’d interacted much with her over the past few years.

You were beginning to wonder if she was still there, but thanks to Mark, she was waking up.

Mark intentionally bumped into you as you walked alongside him, the two of you eating ice cream. You giggled and nudged him back with your hip, getting a chunk of brownie on your spoon to feed him. Sitting at one of the tables outside, you ate in comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances at the water in the distance. It was a strangely warm day for winter, causing fog to cover the shore like cotton.

You smirked at Mark as you let the red spoon linger in your mouth, because he was playing footsie with you under the table, rubbing his ankle up your bare calf. You spryly slipped out of your shoe and pinched him with your toes, making Mark yelp in surprise.

“You’re cute,” Mark murmured, propping his head on his hand and staring at you with big, twinkly eyes.

You cocked your head, sinking your teeth into your lip. His leg moved between your knees now. “Can I help you find something?” you asked sheepishly. The short pleated skirt was definitely a good choice. You hoped it would be too tempting for him to ignore.

Mark took your hand and played with your fingers while he rubbed his knee against your inner thigh and said, “I can find it just fine.”

You smirked, about to say something snarky, when an unfamiliar voice called, “Lee Minhyung!”

Mark startled, his eyes filling with fear, and he pulled away from you, getting to his feet as someone approached. “Yeonjun,” he huffed under his breath. “What do you want?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Yeonjun jeered. He was flanked by two other guys, both of them sporting wolfish grins. The trio looked like they were up to no good.

“I’m kinda busy right now,” Mark said, sidestepping until he stood in front of you, shielding you from view. “Let’s do this later.”

The protective gesture was not lost on you. The hairs on your neck stood straight up.

Yeonjun leaned over, peeking around Mark as belligerently as possible, and waved at you. “Hello, beautiful. Friend of Mark’s?”

Everything about this boy rubbed you the wrong way, especially with how Mark was reacting to him. So you chose to pinch your lips together and say nothing. Though giving him a raised middle finger was at the top of the list of possibilities.

“How did you land such a fine fucking female, Minhyung-ie?”

Mark bristled and set his jaw, hissing, “Don’t talk to her.”

Yeonjun dropped his smile, his lips frowning with contempt. He jabbed his finger into Mark’s chest and snapped, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

Mark held his ground, but didn’t fight back, taking every shove to his chest Yeonjun gave him. And that downright infuriated you.

You don’t know what came over you, but you leapt up, braced both hands on Yeonjun’s chest and pushed him back, cursing, “Fuck off. Leave him alone.”

Yeonjun gawked in surprise before grinning with delight. “Mark, put a leash on your pussy cat,” he said, amused.

Mark already had his arms around you, steering you behind him, but you wouldn’t back down and taunted, “Come on, tough guy. You wanted a scene - I’ll fucking give you one.”

Yeonjun laughed. By the look in his eyes, he wanted to eat you up for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“Let’s go,” Mark insisted before the situation devolved further, taking your hand in his and hauling you away with him.

Yeonjun didn’t give chase and as you scowled at him over your shoulder, he waved goodbye and called out, “That one’s gonna cost you extra, Minhyung!”

Your brows stitched, but you let Mark drag you away. His pace was fast, hurried, like he couldn’t escape them fast enough.

Once in the clear, Mark steered you behind a tree, backed you against it and scolded, “Are you fucking insane?”

You folded your arms in defiance. “Call me crazy, but where I come from, we stick up for each other.”

“No one has ever stuck up for me like that before,” Mark said softly, as if it had just dawned on him. You were brave. And reckless as hell, but Mark liked it.

“Would you have let them?”

“No. My business is mine. Don’t put yourself in danger like that for me again.”

You rolled your eyes, assuming that was for the sake of his pride. “Mark, you don’t tell me what to do.”

“Please,” he said, putting his hands together. “Please, don’t do that again. I’m asking. Not demanding.”

You narrowed your gaze on Mark, studying him. “They’re dangerous, huh?”

Mark bobbed his head. “More than a little.”

“What do they have on you?”

Part of you expected him to deflect or even lie, but Mark caught you off guard when he answered honestly, “My family owes his family money.”

“So, the son pays for the sins of the father?”

“Something like that.”

You pursed your lips, tensing with frustration at the injustice of it all. That’s why Mark worked so hard. He was paying off debts. Debts that weren’t even his fault or his responsibility. “That’s… bullshit,” you said angrily.

“Yeah, I know,” Mark replied, lowering his head. He carried shame too. Shame that was never his to begin with either. It was passed on, like the rest of his troubles.

You felt bad for getting snippy with him and reached forward to cradle his face in your hands, making him look at you. With a sigh, you asked, “Is there any way I can help you?”

Mark melted on the spot, closing the distance until he was flush against you. “No, but I appreciate the offer and I respect you trying to protect me.”

“You’re my friend,” you crooned, stroking a thumb over his cheek. God, you could get lost in those eyes of his for hours. “I protect my friends.”

Mark let his tongue linger in the corner of his mouth and tilted his head, asking, “Just a friend?”

“A friend that I make out with occasionally?”

“I’ll take it,” Mark said, sealing his lips to yours the moment the words left him.

You kissed him back, draping your arms around his shoulders and leaning back against the tree, taking him with you. You kissed him till you both were dazed, humming when his hands kneaded your waist.

Mark broke from the kiss thanks to a familiar growing hardness in his pants, but played it off well, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose and earning a little giggle.

You teased some of your fingers into his dark hair, still clinging to him tightly, and said, “You know, if you want to be more than friends, all you have to do is ask.”

Mark made a face and whined, “Well, I was planning on it, but I can’t now.”

You gawked. “What - why not?”

“Because you just said that. Now you’ll think it was your idea.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Mark trapped you back to him when you started to move away, nipping at your lips, and whispered, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart rocketed into your throat before doing cartwheels of celebration in your chest. “Ask me tomorrow when I’ve forgotten that I put you up to it,” you joked, but you were ready to say yes a thousand times.

Not letting you escape, Mark tightened his arms around your waist, his breath warm on your cheek. “Be my girlfriend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I’m a handful.”

Mark slipped a hand down your back and squeezed your ass, retorting, “I know that.”

“I swear a lot.”

“I like that about you.”

Well, you were officially out of arguments. And you were smiling so hard your cheeks began to ache. “Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Mark was beaming, crashing his lips on yours again for another heart-stopping kiss.

He brought you home not long after, telling you he had some work to take care of. You assumed it had to do with Yeonjun, but you were on such a high from his kisses and him asking you out that you didn’t pry.

As you clambered out of the car, Mark grabbed your hand and asked, “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m free,” you replied quickly. He should have known by now you would clear your schedule for him at any given moment. “What do you have in mind?”

“You like lobster?”

“Who doesn’t like lobster?”

Mark chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on your knuckles and said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You winked at him. “I’ll be ready.”

And you were. Dressed in your favorite blue dress with a denim jacket, you jogged to the front door and yelled, “Gotta go, Dad. Love you. Bye!”

“Just a second, dear.”

Much to your chagrin, you slowly turned around, cursing under your breath. “So close.”

Your dad took off his glasses and said with a tone that left no room for argument, “Have him come in.”

You devolved into a panic rather quickly, because you were your father’s only daughter so naturally he took great pleasure in trying to scare boys away from you. “Dad, please. I’m begging you. He’s a good guy.”

Your father held up his hands in surrender and said, “I’ll be an angel. I promise.”

You cut your eyes at him, but you trusted he was willing to play nice for the time being. Taking out your phone to text Mark, you jolted when the doorbell rang. Pleasantly surprised, you opened the door, flashing a big smile at the sight of your boyfriend. “Hi, Mark.”

Mark was looking a little too good in his leather jacket and ripped jeans. “Hey, beautiful,” he purred, leaning in and kissing your cheek. “You ready to go?”

“Um, my dad kinda wants to meet you,” you told him hurriedly as your father’s footsteps approached, mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

“So, you’re the boy driving my daughter all over the country?”

Crimson flushed Mark’s cheeks and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. “Yes, sir,” he said politely, holding out his hand. “I’m Mark. Mark Lee.”

Your father shook his hand firmly. “Alright, Mark. Anything happens to my daughter and you’ll be giving up the driver seat of your car for the trunk of my car. Am I clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir,” Mark replied, head held high. “I will protect her with my life.”

“Good.”

Your father stood on the porch and waved goodbye as Mark drove away. You waved back before rolling up the window.

“I’m sorry about that. My dad is overly protective.”

“Don’t be,” Mark interjected, holding your hand over the console between your bodies, lacing his fingers through yours. “If I had a daughter, I would be the same way.”

That made heat rush through your body.

Mark glanced over at you as he drove and murmured, “You look really nice tonight.”

“Thanks, boyfriend,” you said cutely.

He snickered, turning his eyes back to the road.

The fancy restaurant was bursting at the seams. It was Sunday night, after all. You smiled when Mark walked in with you on his arm and told them he had a reservation. The two of you cozied up in a booth by the windows, the buzz of red wine setting in, and you were far more hungry for each other than the food.

“What are your plans?” Mark asked curiously.

“Plans for what?” You spun some pasta on your fork and blew on it before taking a bite.

“Grad school.”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, fighting a frown. “My life is on pause while my dad is here. I figure I’ll start grad school when we go back home.”

Mark pursed his lips a little, but quickly forced a smile. “And what if you stayed here?”

You winced, like the notion repulsed you. “That would be the worst,” you groaned. Realizing how rude you sounded, you changed your tone and said, “I mean, this is like an extended vacation. Eventually, I will have to go home.”

“We should make the most of your time here then,” Mark whispered under his breath, putting the glass of wine to his lips.

You smiled knowingly. “Yes, we should.”

When you left the restaurant, Mark asked if he could take you somewhere. Just like he had that first night at the beach. Your heart danced in your chest. You knew what was coming next. In your experience, a month of kissing and touching could only culminate in one thing.

Frankly, you were shocked the two of you lasted this long.

Mark rolled his car into a garage next to a junkyard. The walls looked ready to crumble at any second, barely hanging on. The yellow lights flickered occasionally, giving off a warm hue.

Your high heels clicked on the concrete floor when you stepped out. “Wow,” was all you could say.

The garage housed four cars, each a different color and build. And each was in a different stage of progress. One was only a steel frame. But the one that snared your attention was a mint green Buick that definitely hadn’t made it out of the sixties.

You were tempted to ask Mark how in the hell he got his hands on a beauty like this. But then you realized, looking at the frame a few feet away, that maybe Mark was way more talented than he let on. You smoothed a hand over the hood and said in disbelief, “Did you make this?”

“I’m restoring it,” Mark clarified, blushing a little with pride. “I like old cars.”

“This is amazing.” And it was. You couldn’t imagine how much blood, sweat and tears went into restoring these old cars to their former glory. You imagined a shirtless Mark, glistening under the lights, hands covered in grease, and the mental image made you hot.

Mark pressed a button on the wall with the heel of his hand and the garage door began to close, creaking loudly. He watched you brace your hands on the open window, peering inside the Buick, even reaching in to run your fingers over the wheel.

You smiled when he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing beneath your ear. You ran your hand up his forearm and stood upright, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair as he pressed kiss after kiss down your throat.

Mark’s breath was hot on your skin as he whispered, “Ever done it in a car before?”

You snickered darkly and told him, “Yes. I’m very familiar with backseat sex on the side of the road. I was young and stupid once. Or twice.”

Damn. Why were you getting nervous? Why was your voice trembling?

Mark heard it too and he chuckled like the devil himself. “Mm.”

You tightened your grip on his hair and let your eyes flutter closed. He sucked a bruise intently where your neck met your shoulder, his hands roaming over your body, paying extra attention to your breasts.

She’s so beautiful, Mark thought to himself, too busy marking you to verbalize it. He couldn’t remember being so attracted to someone, so hellbent on having them. The moment you shoved Yeonjun away from him, Mark wanted to plow the shit out of you. But the majority of him was a gentleman and so he stifled those feelings down.

Which was getting increasingly harder to do. Mark wanted you so bad he couldn’t stand it. The little soft sounds spilling from your lips as he touched you shot straight to his cock. He winched his eyes closed and tried not to imagine bending you over the car and fucking you from behind.

When Mark broke from your neck with a wet pop, you turned around in his arms, looking into his eyes and wanting to crumble at how clouded with lust they’d become. “I’ve never done it… on a car before.”

Mark smirked, wondering if you could read his mind. He stole a quick kiss and whispered, “Wanna change that?”

You nodded and giggled when he smashed his lips on yours again. Very eagerly this time. Mark moved toward you, steering you to the car until you bumped back against it, slipping his tongue into your mouth to catch your gasp of surprise.

Mark could feel his heart racing, thundering like the powerful engine of his car. Something about you was just so goddamn intoxicating. Maybe it was that mouth of yours. How good you kissed him. Or how badly you made him laugh.

Excitement tickled up your spine when Mark slipped his hands beneath your dress and grabbed you by the hips, lifting you up and setting you down on the hood of the car. You would have questioned it. You would have expressed some concern over being sat unceremoniously on the glossy old Buick, but Mark’s kisses settled any doubts.

He most definitely wanted you on top of that car.

You hooked your legs behind his hips and used your toes to kick off your shoes carefully, because you’d be damned if you got a scratch on the perfectly painted surface. Then, you grabbed his jacket, guiding it off until it landed in a pile on the floor, dragging your fingers over his chest and shoulders, feeling the taut muscles underneath.

Mark broke from your lips to kiss and suckle on your neck, getting himself a little moan as reward. He palmed at your thighs, pushing your dress higher and higher until his hands found your lace thong.

You were hoping for some action tonight and dressed accordingly.

A tiny cry of surprise left you when Mark roughly shimmied your hips in the air, stripping you out of your underwear and dragging them down your legs before tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans like a souvenir.

You rocked back on your elbows, licking your lips when Mark’s eyes met yours, and crawled backwards, closer to the windshield. Mark pursued, clambering onto the hood and gathering your hips in his hands, tonguing his way down your inner thigh.

These sixties cars had such long front cabs. Who knew that would come in handy.

Mark ate you out like a man starved, bringing you to ecstasy on his tongue with his head buried between your thighs.

You couldn’t catch your breath, shaking on top of that car like you’d lost all control of your body. Your mind wasn’t far behind either. You undulated beneath Mark, your fists in his hair, borderline ripping the strands at the root. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, hypersensitive with orgasm.

“Give me one more,” Mark broke from your pussy long enough to growl, biting the inside of your thigh before going back in. You were shaking in his hands, totally at his mercy, curling away from his mouth because he was going to unravel you. And he loved every second of it.

“Mark, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, toes curling behind his back, thighs clamping on his head. Nothing slowed him down. You arched on the hood, your head colliding with the windshield, but that did nothing to distract you from the pounding in your ears.

It was your pulse racing uncontrollably. Your heart on the verge of combusting, leaving you in nothing but pieces.

You squirmed, but his grip on you was brutal. There was no escape. You turned on your side, hips bucking into his mouth as he flicked his tongue over your clit faster and faster. Mark growled when you snagged at his hair again, which only turned you on more.

The heat in your belly grew and grew. You could feel yourself gushing into his mouth and he lapped it all up hungrily. Fighting like hell against orgasm, you were no match for Mark and the high rushed through you again as you came, making you moan at the top of your lungs.

Mark knew then and there that he had you. But he was conflicted. He’d been out to suck the soul out of you, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t decide what his motivation was. At first, it was all part of seducing you.

On the one hand, he’d been wanting to fuck you since that first night and he’d had an ulterior motive for getting you into his backseat too. But with every minute spent with you, Mark came to accept that he liked you.

Maybe with time, he could even love you.

And then you made those comments at the restaurant. About how this was but a short stop in the grand scheme of your life and you were counting down the days until it was over. You made no mention of Mark and your newfound relationship with him. He was just a tiny part of this passing daydream.

You didn’t care about him at all.

So, Mark decided to have his fun. If you only wanted someone to kiss and fuck, he would gladly be that for you. All his feelings be damned. Mark wouldn’t be caught dead loving someone that had no intention of loving him back.

He may have been a fool for pussy, but he was not a fool with his heart.

Your body went limp, the last few aftershocks of climax making your legs tremble. Mark propped himself up over you and wiped his mouth, glistening with your pleasure, and purred, “I love the way you taste.”

You were still panting and panting, your chest rising and falling. Your dress had bunched up to your ribs. You finally willed yourself to lift your head and look at him. And you immediately let your head fall back again. “Fuck.”

Mark’s lips were toying with a grin. He was quite pleased with himself, hopping off the car. There was a very obvious bulge in his jeans, painfully hard, and he was hoping you would help with that. Running his hand on the edge of the hood affectionately, he said, “This was not the best idea I ever had.”

That fully brought you back to your senses. You sat up, tugging your dress down, and asked worriedly, “What? Why?”

“Because every time I look at this damn car now, I’m gonna get hard.”

You covered your mouth, hiding your laugh.

Mark reached over, getting you in his arms and setting you down. The concrete was cold on your bare feet, but you didn’t care. You instantly folded into his embrace, welcoming his kisses that shifted from sweet to hot.

“Mark,” you sighed, clinging to him for dear life. Mark had you pinned against the car, stealing the air out of your lungs, touching every inch of you his hands could reach. You could feel the bulge in his jeans and you reached down to palm it, earning yourself a needy groan.

“Wanna come inside?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Do you wanna…,” Mark trailed, forcing himself to stop kissing you for a goddamn second to look into your eyes. “Fool around?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

Mark took you by the hand and led you into the house attached to the garage. You didn’t notice anything about it, because you were too busy sucking on Mark’s tongue in your mouth. You stumbled with him across a tiny kitchen and into a narrow hallway, bumping into walls together before being steered into a bedroom and falling onto a squeaky mattress with him on top of you.

To say you returned the favor would be an understatement. Mark released down your throat with the most delicious groan you’d ever heard, his hand tangled in your hair, and you sucked him clean. Your dress was on the floor along with his clothes, both of you naked and sweating and panting, peeking your heads out from under the blanket to catch your breath before slipping back under again.

While Mark stroked two fingers into your wet pussy, you pumped his cock in your fist to get him stiff again. Which took no time at all. He was hot and hard and ready for you just as you spilled over the edge once more, crying out Mark’s name as you clenched on his fingers.

Mark talked and coaxed you through it. “Mm, that’s a good girl,” he rasped, nibbling on your collarbone, making you see stars at the height of your pleasure. “You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Was he trying to ruin you?

You whimpered when he rolled you onto your stomach, dragging his tongue over your shoulders and crowding your back, jerking his cock as he made room for himself between your thighs. You came back to your senses then and turned, bracing a hand on his abs to stop him.

Mark looked at you, puzzled, smoothing his palm down your side. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I… I’m not ready to do sex with you yet,” you told him nervously, still trembling. “Is that okay?”

It was kind of a surprise to you. You’d been ready and eager to fuck him, but now, you didn’t want to give it up just yet. You liked Mark a little too much. You needed to see if he thought of you as worth waiting for.

Mark flipped you over onto your back again, kissing your chest, right over your thundering heart. “Of course, it’s okay,” he said with a reassuring smile.

You breathed out in relief. Lifting your head, you closed your eyes and kissed him hotly. And the two of you faded into the night.

In the morning, you woke up with Mark’s arm around your naked waist, spooning you from behind like you were his favorite pillow. He was also snoring a bit, which almost made you laugh, because he’d exhausted your body so much you’d slept right through it. You turned around carefully in his hold, nuzzling his cheek and burying your face beneath his chin. Mark instinctively molded against you, holding you to his chest.

Wow, was all you could think. Despite not going all the way, you would remember this night for as long as you lived. You kissed for what felt like hours. You touched and pleasured each other. Frankly, you lost count of how many times he made you come. Mark finished so hard when you worked him between your tits that he apologized a thousand times for the mess he made on your chest.

Between rounds, you talked and laughed and cuddled. Mark hugged you to him so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, crushed between his arms, but to you, it was never tight enough. You wanted him to devour you whole, leaving behind only the good parts of you, destroying the bad.

It was everything. Everything you never knew you were missing.

Clinging to Mark, you stared at his perfect profile, tracing senseless patterns on his chest with your fingertips. He looked even more adorable while sleeping and that did nothing but fluster you more.

Would staying here with him really be so bad?

You frowned. That was too forbidden a thought. Mark was only a fling. You wouldn’t be here much longer. The dynamic between you and him wouldn’t even be this hot if not for the fact you would be leaving eventually, no strings attached. Like it meant nothing.

Right?

It was Sunday morning. Mark had nowhere to be and neither did you. He probably expected you to spend the day with him as you had every Sunday since you met. You mulled it over and decided it would be better to leave for now.

You’d had your fair share of intimacy with someone you were determined not to fall for.

In the daylight, you got your first glimpse of Mark’s little house. He clearly lived alone and with very limited means. But in a total contrast with your new house and all its cold emptiness, Mark’s place was warm and clearly lived in.

As you meandered through his living room, looking at the photos on the walls, covered in a layer of dust, you wondered what it would be like to be added among them. You could see yourself happy in his place. Honestly, being with Mark, you didn’t notice your surroundings much.

And his bed was more than comfortable. The bed you had just left.

That’s when you felt like you were intruding in his safe space and decided not to linger. Slipping into the garage to retrieve your shoes, you smoothed your hand over the green Buick’s hood and whispered, “Thank you for your service.”

When Mark woke up, he looked around for you and found a note left on his nightstand, which read, You look extra cute when sleeping. You also snore. Which is kinda cute too. I called a cab to take me home. I need a shower. Badly. Totally your fault but I won’t hold it against you.

Mark snorted, lingering his eyes on the note. You had drawn a winking face in the corner and signed it with your name. Mark wondered why it felt so formal, like you were thanking him for the orgasms and then heading back to your life.

As if he’d served his purpose.

It felt dismissive and borderline cold. Even though you’d made a point to call him cute. That didn’t matter. Mark could tell you were just as conflicted about where this relationship was heading as he was.

Running a hand through his hair and then running it down his face, Mark roused out of bed and dragged his feet into the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

Across town, you were in the shower too. Although part of you really didn’t want to scrub the scent of Mark from your skin, it was necessary in the process of washing away your feelings.

Wrapped in a towel, your hair dripping wet, you couldn’t resist checking your phone. And imagine your surprise when you saw that you had no new texts from Mark.

Disappointment creased your face. At the very least you expected a funny “thanks for the blow jobs” text or something. Considering how hard he’d moaned and come all over you, you’d given him a top tier nut or two.

Tossing the phone onto your nightstand, you dropped down on the edge of the bed and tried not to let it bother you, but catching one of the birds outside your window with your bare hands would have been easier.

Did you really have any room to complain though? Nope. You were the one that bolted out of his bed before he woke up like a thief in the night.

Whatever, you thought bitterly. Mark was yours for a moment and that moment had seemingly passed.

He didn’t call or text that week. At night, when you curled up to sleep, you thought back to all those hours spent on the phone with him, getting to know him. Falling asleep with his dreamy voice in your ear. You didn’t want to admit you missed Mark. You missed him desperately. It was pathetic.

It felt like a year before Friday rolled around and Chungha sent you a text, You coming tonight?

Abso-fucking-lutely, you replied, returning your eyes to the mirror as you raked mascara through your lashes.

The moment you hopped out of Chungha’s car and into the chaos that was the old vacant lot, you smiled for the first time in days. You strutted out in your leather boots, earning more than a few whistles and ignoring them all.

You were dressed in all black. Maybe you wanted to match Mark’s car, maybe not. If anyone asked, you would deny and swear it was all a coincidence.

Mark Lee wasn’t thinking about you; you sure as hell weren’t going to waste any more time on him.

Jeno approached you with a cigarette hanging from his lips, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Hey, pretty,” he flirted under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. He never gave up. “Hi, Jeno.”

He scanned you up and down, undressing you with his eyes. “You are wasted on Mark,” he taunted in a low growl.

The brief mention of Mark’s name made you clench with longing. Fuck that. “Aren’t you friends?” you questioned, shooting him a look.

“We are. That’s why I can say shit like that.”

You bobbed your head, patience wearing thin.

Jeno reached for your hand, slowly leading you along toward his blood red car, and whispered, “All’s fair in love and war, princess. That’s the only rule around here.”

Your eyes darted past Jeno as a car revved loudly, pulling into the lot. The fact you recognized the sound of Mark’s car before even seeing it made your cheeks flush with heat. And annoyance.

Love and war, huh?

“Jeno,” you started, returning your attention to him. “Do me a favor and hold that thought.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You marched away from Jeno, your gaze on Mark as he got out of his car and greeted those around him. God, he had no business being that handsome. You thought about the little smirk on his lips when you’d kissed your way down his happy trail.

Mark met your eyes and rooted in place, looking like the wind was knocked out of him. Goddamn. Those black pants looked painted on. He smiled bashfully and scratched the back of his neck. An image of you bowing off his bed as you cried out in pleasure with his hand between your thighs had just popped into his head.

Sex complicated everything. As always.

You stopped. It had been your body’s natural reflex to head for the passenger seat of Mark’s car, where you rightfully belonged, but then your brain remembered just how mad he made you.

Mark narrowed his eyes, studying you. Like he could see right through you.

A tiny smile tugged at your lips and you sauntered back to Jeno, who was sporting the smuggest grin as he blew out another column of smoke and held out his arm to you. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow and made sure to send Mark a vengeful scowl as Jeno escorted you over to his car.

Mark bristled. Watching you get in that red car made his skin crawl.

Fine. You wanted to play? Mark would play with you.

Jeno was two cars behind Mark at the starting line. You held your breath as the countdown started and braced your hands and feet when he accelerated.

It wasn’t like riding with Mark, you quickly realized. Jeno drove jarringly fast and erratic, where Mark was swift but smooth. The sharp turns made your seatbelt dig into your neck and jostled you in place. You felt borderline nauseous and dizzy, and as the miles wound down, you closed your eyes, waiting for it to end.

Riding with Mark was a high. This was a bad trip.

“Second place,” Jeno said as you both got out of the car, back in the lot.

You wobbled a bit, tempted to kiss the steady ground beneath your feet, and told him, “Sorry I wasn’t much of a good luck charm.”

“Not for me,” Jeno quipped, looking past you.

You followed his gaze and watched Mark’s car pull up slowly, coming alongside you. The passenger window rolled down and Mark called, “Get in the car.”

Bending down to look inside, you shot him a glare and snapped, “Or what?”

“Baby,” Mark said, something dangerous in his voice. “Get in the car.”

You weren’t keen on being bossed, but your body was already moving before you could stop it. Sliding into the familiar car, Jeno waved at you with an amused laugh and you waved back as Mark rolled up the tinted window, hiding you from view.

He drove onto the highway, riding on the high of yet another victory. Neither of you spoke. Your eyes were on the city lights. You truly marveled Busan at night and how she came alive in the darkness.

A few times, you parted your lips, wanting to cut the tension, but no words would come. You didn’t know where you stood with Mark. A few days ago, you were in his bed, kissing him like you’d never kissed anyone before. Those rough hands had touched every part of you, stitching you back together with a gentleness that surprised you.

You’d been in relationships before. Many, to be exact. But not like this. This was different and it was killing you trying to figure out what it was that set Mark apart. The only conclusion you reached was that you felt this way because you would leave eventually. It took away any stakes. You weren’t gambling your heart, because you knew how it was going to end.

It wasn’t that Mark was special. No, that couldn’t be it. It was purely your circumstances. Mark was just another boy.

That’s not true, your heart said. You slowly turned, looking at Mark. The sight of him sent the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. Just like when someone mentioned his name, you got giddy, thinking, That’s my boy.

Was he yours?

Mark coasted to a stop on a dead end street. The trees were tall and thick, blocking out the moon and the stars. Hitting the parking break, Mark unbuckled his seatbelt and you mirrored him.

“I got your note,” he said, breaking the silence at last.

You smarted, “I’m guessing you didn’t appreciate the humor.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I told you, I needed a shower.”

Mark arched a brow. “Did I make you feel dirty?”

You smirked a little and whispered, “No more than I asked for.”

“Then cut the bullshit and tell me what I did wrong,” Mark said irritably.

“You did nothing wrong, Mark,” you huffed, reaching for him and clambering into his arms.

Mark clasped your waist and pushed his seat back, giving you more room to straddle his hips. He let you kiss him, settling his hands on your thighs, and smirked against your mouth.

He saw right through your little stunt with Jeno. You still wanted him. Almost as badly as he wanted you.

“Fuck,” you groaned, the kisses building harder and rougher. The windows started to fog over. There was only one way to break the tension; tension created from all these unspoken feelings you and Mark shared.

The car rocked softly from side to side. Your fingers were carded in Mark’s hair, his face between your breasts, sucking a bruise on your collarbone. You grinded into him and Mark bucked into you. You loved that he made no moves to take off your pants. Or his.

“You’re gonna make me come, baby,” Mark sighed into your mouth, sinking his fingers into your ass, steering your movements. His cock was painfully hard in his jeans, but the pressure and warmth of you stroking against it was enough to push him toward the edge.

You took his jaw in your hand and nibbled at his lips, whispering, “Come.”

Mark thrust up to meet you, seeking more friction, and spilled over, grunting and whining through his release, thighs shaking beneath you. You kept riding him through it, arching your hips. Mark hissed with sensitivity, but didn’t stop you.

That misty, fucked out look in his eyes was going to be the end of you. You lost yourself in them again.

When Mark snuck a hand between your legs, unbuttoning and unzipping your pants to bring his fingers to your swollen clit, you sucked in a breath and dug your nails into the seat, moaning in his ear.

“Don’t scratch the car,” Mark teased, scraping his teeth down your neck. “Scratch me all you want.”

You choked out his name, two of his fingers prodding into your wet hole while his thumb pressed and rolled your clit. You were already close from grinding on him that the hooking of his digits on your sweet spot and the pressure on your clit finished you. Tipping your head back, your face tensed with release and a mangled cry forced its way from your throat.

Mark grinned and grabbed your thighs, rocking into you a little, getting the last of those aftershocks out of you. Fuck, you were so beautiful when you came. He brushed his hands up and down your body, talking you back down from the high.

Panting loudly, you collapsed into him, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. You smiled as Mark coiled his arms around you and squeaked in surprise when he made the seat recline back. You lay there on top of him, waiting for your heart to settle back to normal.

Mark didn’t care that there was a wet mess in his pants. He loved your weight on his body too much. Eventually, he reached for your face, tilting your head so he could steal a kiss that shattered what was left of the walls around your heart.

You talked for a little while, making plans, catching up on the past week. Both of you apologized for the way things were left last Sunday. You for running away without a goodbye and him for not calling you to ask why.

Mark held your hand as he walked you to your front door, kissing you chastely in case your father was spying out the window.

When Mark started to leave, you squeezed his hand and tugged him back, wanting one more kiss before reluctantly going inside. Mark held you flush against him and kissed you hotly until you had your fill.

The next morning, your alarm woke you. It was unheard of for you to intentionally wake up at a reasonable hour on a Saturday of all days, but you had big plans. You packed a bag and told your dad you were having a sleepover at Chungha’s.

Which was, of course, a lie.

You did go to Chungha’s house though. She gladly agreed to cover for you.

At noon sharp, Mark arrived to get you. You hugged Chungha, thanking her again for participating in your little fib, and jogged out with your bag over your shoulder.

“What is this?” you exclaimed.

Mark didn’t come in his familiar car, but a goofy looking truck. Like a work van and an SUV had a lanky baby. “It’s a pop-up camper,” he told you with glee, holding out his hands toward it dramatically.

You skipped over to him, only content when you were in his arms. “Is this another one of your fixer-uppers?”

“Nah. I borrowed this bad boy from a friend.”

You pressed a cute kiss to his lips and said, “Let’s hit the road!”

Mark took the bag from your shoulder and added it with his in the back. He fired up the engine and pulled away, both of you waving to Chungha who had come out on her front porch to see the weird behemoth vehicle at the end of her drive.

You had the window down and propped your feet on the dashboard, feeling like a teenager again on a long road trip. The wind whipped through your hair and Mark turned the radio up, the two of you singing along dramatically to the latest hits.

“Chip me,” Mark said for the hundredth time. He had packed a big bag of snacks to keep you both fed on the drive. You placed a chip in his mouth as he drove and then ate another yourself. He made one stop at a rest area to use the bathroom and you eagerly checked yourself in the mirror to make sure you still looked cute despite your windblown hair.

Back on the road, Mark drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

“Now, will you tell me where we’re going?” you asked for the hundredth time.

He was being very mum about the whole thing. “Nope,” Mark retorted.

You feigned a groan. “I hate surprises.”

Mark snickered and said, “Trust me. You’ll love this one.”

He drove into the hills until pavement turned to gravel. Until the trees blocked out any sign of the city below. Until you felt like only you and Mark existed in the world anymore.

You sighed. He was right. You loved it.

Rocks crunched under the tires as Mark parked in a small clearing. There was a firepit and a square wood building nestled under the trees you assumed had bathrooms and showers. A big plus for any wilderness excursion.

You jumped out of the car and jogged around to Mark’s side, watching him with delight and amusement as he fiddled with the buttons to get the camper to pop up. Even arguing with said buttons when they didn’t do what he wanted.

Eventually, the camper you would be calling home for the night was popped into position. “Okay, I had my doubts at first,” you said, climbing inside and laying on your stomach atop the mattress. “But this is actually kinda cool.”

Mark stood in the opening, bracing his hands on the edge, leaning in closer and closer until he was within reach of stealing a kiss. “You doubted me?” Mark exclaimed, dramatic. “I’m hurt. I’m devastated. I’m…”

You took his cheeks between your hands and smashed a big kiss on his lips.

“I’m better,” Mark quipped, scrunching his nose before asking for another kiss.

Together, you spent the afternoon talking and kissing. Sometimes you made out till you were breathless before coming back to your senses and having a conversation like nothing happened. At most, Mark played with your boobs or gave your ass a squeeze, but he never tried anything else.

Not until you gave him permission.

“How did you find this spot?”

Mark replied, “I come up here a couple times a year. Just to sit and think.”

You quirked a brow. “Alone?”

Mark nodded. “I’ve never brought anyone with me before, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You fought a smile harder than ever before and said quietly, “I’m honored.”

Mark hid his face, not wanting you to see the adorable grin he was sporting.

You watched him fondly as Mark hunched over the fire pit, stoking the flames to life as the evening air began to chill. He surprised you by rifling in the camper and bringing out metal sticks, which you used to toast hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire until your bellies were full.

Mark liked that your kisses now tasted of marshmallows and melted chocolate.

“The college thing - what are you studying to be?” Mark asked as he stoked the flames, adding more wood to the pile.

You sat with your hands to the fire, warming them. “Promise you won’t laugh,” you said, nerves rushing up your chest.

“I promise. Tell me.”

Tugging your sleeves down over your hands, you smiled as Mark came over and sat down beside you, his side pressed against yours. “My degree is in biochemistry. I want…,” you hesitated, ever reminded that you had never told anyone about your ambitions. They were personal. Meaningful, but only to you. “I want to go into cancer research.”

Mark gaped, turning and looking at you with wide eyes. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” His reaction made you bashful, lowering your head because you couldn’t handle how he was looking at you.

Damn, Mark was thinking. He already knew you were well out of his league, but this confirmed it. “I think it’s cool that you found something you’re passionate about. Did you always know you wanted to study biochem?” he asked, curious.

The tears crept up on you, but you were an expert at holding them back. You’d been grieving your mother for so long, you’d learned to suffer in silence. “No. It was my mom. She died three years ago. Ovarian cancer.”

Mark’s heart sank. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

You thanked him, comforted when he wrapped an arm around you and squeezed. It was a kind gesture and sorely needed. “I couldn’t do anything to help her, but maybe one day, I could help stop someone else from losing their mom,” you said somberly. It was your greatest dream, sparing someone from your pain.

Mark cupped your cheek and you didn’t notice you were crying until he caught an escaping tear on his thumb. “You can do it. You can kick cancer’s ass.”

You snorted, but the humor was welcome.

“Your mom would be proud of you,” Mark said, whispering your name sweetly.

Holding your breath, fighting the tears, you almost crumpled at his feet. Those were the words you always wanted to hear, wondering what you would have to do to ever hear your father utter them. Instead, Mark had given you that. It was a gift you would never be able to repay.

“I’ve never told anyone this.” You looked to Mark, eyes glistening with pain and hope.

Mark tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “You keep a lot of things to yourself. Don’t you, baby?”

You nodded.

Mark knew in that moment he would do anything to protect you. He had never felt that urge so strongly for anyone before. He wanted to be everything you needed. Everything you could ever want.

“You can share the hurt with me, you know,” Mark continued, kissing your temple. “I want to be that for you.”

You met his eyes, searching. Part of you was beginning to accept that you’d stumbled into something precious with Mark. Something beautiful and rare. Once in a lifetime. “Will you let me be that for you?” you asked softly.

Mark shifted a little. He unwound his arm from your shoulders, rubbing his hands together pensively. He exhaled, one deep breath after another, and finally said, “My dad is a drunk. My mom is a martyr. I haven’t seen either of them in years, but I send them money every month to keep them afloat.”

You listened intently.

“I have an older brother. He dipped outta here to have his own life,” Mark said with obvious resentment. “We don’t speak at all.”

“How long will you be paying your father’s debts?” you asked carefully.

“Till one of us dies, I guess,” Mark hissed through his teeth.

You bristled at the thought. Your brain was cycling through options, trying to figure out a way to get Mark out of this hell. “What if you left? Started over somewhere else?”

Mark simpered. He appreciated the thought. “I can’t leave. This is my home. My friends are here. I’ve built a life for myself that I love. Sure, I’ll be paying for my parents forever and I’ll probably never be able to own a house with a roof that doesn’t leak, but that’s okay. I don’t need much to be happy. Just a fast car and a pretty girl.”

You wilted a little, slipping into his arms and burying your head under his chin. Mark hugged you back tightly, watching the flames dance and convincing himself that the burning in his eyes was from the smoke and not his emotions.

The heavy conversation was over. For now. You and Mark had a newfound understanding of each other.

As the air grew colder, Mark steered you into the camper and draped a blanket over you before crawling in beside you. Together, you watched the sunset from the back.

You were on your stomach, your head propped in your hands, your ankles crossed in the air. “I think I’m falling in love with Busan,” you sighed wistfully after a while, hardly believing those goddamn forbidden words spilled out of your mouth so easily.

You blamed the views. You blamed the sunsets. You blamed the taste of the sea in every breath you took.

But most of all, you blamed Mark.

Mark nudged your shoulder and whispered, “Anything else you’re falling for?”

Heat rushed into your cheeks. You turned to him. Your face was serious, cracking under the weight of your feelings. Your eyes pierced right through him. You wanted to tell him that yes, you were falling in love with him too, but those words were far more forbidden than any profession of love for Busan.

Instead, you crashed your lips on his, hoping that would satisfy his question, because you weren’t ready to say how you felt. You were too fragile and it would break you.

Mark smiled knowingly against your mouth and kissed you back. Even though he’d been kissing you all day, every kiss and every touch made his heart race with that same rush he felt the first time you got in his car.

There was something different about you. Mark didn’t want to overanalyze, but he couldn’t help it. Once upon a time, Mark believed there was someone out there for everyone - even someone as messed up as him - but life had broken that hope out of him. You were changing his mind and his heart. You were making Mark want more for himself.

Maybe there was someone out there capable of loving him. Maybe he’d found her and she was in his arms, kissing him with abandon.

You pawed at Mark, pushing at his shoulders until he rolled to his back and you climbed on top of him, your breasts flush against his chest. Mark reached down to grab handfuls of your ass before locking his arms around your waist, trapping you to him.

You broke from the kiss and stroked your finger over his lips affectionately, asking, “Did you bring condoms?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, trying to keep up with the rush of your kisses. There was an adorable crimson across his cheeks. “Is that okay? I mean, I wasn’t expecting us to have sex or anything if you don’t want to. I just wanted to have them on hand in case… you know, we were in the mood. Or something.”

You giggled at his nerves. “Mark,” you said sternly, cutting his rambling short. “This has been the most romantic date of my life. Of course, I wanna have sex with you.”

Mark relaxed, but his pupils turned into endless pools of arousal.

Stealing a quick kiss, hoping to settle him down, you flirted, “If you want me.”

“I’ve wanted you since day one, baby,” Mark purred, running his fingers up and down your back.

You smiled. That makes two of us. The wind swept into your hair as you kissed him again, this time a little slower, a little deeper. A taste of things to come.

Sunset splashed the last of its colors over the horizon, growing darker with every passing second. Night still came swiftly, though winter was almost over. And even with the back doors of the camper open, you couldn’t get chilled with the heat kindling between your bodies.

It was exciting; the thought of having sex with Mark out in the open. The camper provided plenty of privacy, of course, but when neither you or Mark suggested closing the back door, you grinned with mischief.

Mark thrust his hips up into yours, rubbing his clothed cock against you. He moaned at the weight of you on top of him and the catch in your breath as you kissed him. Neither of you were in much hurry, knowing you had all night to play.

Sitting up, bracing your hands on his abs, you asked, “Is there any chance someone will walk in on us?”

Mark shook his head. “I rented this spot,” he said, his voice low and husky. “It’s all ours.”

“Good.” With that, you stripped out of your shirt and unclasped your bra.

Mark’s hands flew to your breasts, squeezing them together, kneading them in his palms. It had only been a week, but fuck, Mark missed your beautiful body.

Meanwhile, you tugged off his shirt and teased your fingers over his nipples, much like he was toying with yours, and scraped your nails down his stomach, biting your lip at how rapidly he was breathing.

You bent down to kiss him, breaking away just as he started to slip you his tongue, and dragged your lips down his neck, nibbling beneath his ear and sucking at the base of his throat. You shimmied your hips, grinding on the bulge in his jeans, and kept kissing your way down his body, tonguing between his abs and through his happy trail.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned, eyes fluttering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You chuckled, unfastening his pants and yanking them down his legs. Seeing his cock standing at attention, knowing he was hard and aching for you, made your mouth water and you rewarded his need by sealing your lips around his tip.

Mark whined your name, gathering your hair messily in his hand. He kept lifting his head and dropping it back to the mattress with a thud, because watching you slowly bob up and down with your pretty lips around his dick was going to ruin him in record time.

There was a lewd squelch when he pushed into the back of your throat, followed by Mark moaning, which caused a familiar tightening between your legs. You choked on him again and again, until tears pricked in your eyes. It was worth it to hear those sounds he made.

When you picked up the pace, Mark grit his teeth and pried you away. “Stop. Stop. Stop,” he chanted, breathless. “I don’t wanna come yet.”

You sat up, trembling with lust, because goddamn, had you ever craved someone this badly? Chuckling at the weakness in his voice, you smoothed your hand up his stomach and chest, and asked, “Where are the condoms?”

Mark sat up and crawled over to the backpack he’d brought. As he rifled through it, you took the opportunity to strip out of your pants and given the ache he’d caused between your legs, you traveled a hand down between your folds and rolled your clit with your fingertips.

Imagine Mark’s surprise when he turned around, condom packet in hand, and saw you touching yourself. For a second or two, he just gawked, swallowing the lump in his throat. As if his cock could get any harder after you just choked on it. “Fuck,” he said, lingering on the word with the most guttural growl you’d ever heard.

You brought your slick fingers to his lips and Mark readily sucked them into his mouth, laving the digits with his tongue, tasting every drop. The moment he had, you took the condom from his hand and steered him by the shoulders to lay on his back again.

Mark thought he was going to burst. Especially with you taking charge. You had barely spoken, but he was willing to do anything you wanted with a mere touch of your fingers.

You straddled his thighs while you opened the packet and rolled the condom down his cock. Mark hummed as you did so, clenching every muscle in his body to keep from bucking into your hand. He wanted to be inside you so bad, but he didn’t want to beg.

Though you would have loved if he did.

You grabbed his hands and guided them to your waist, and you lifted up, holding onto his arms for balance and slowly sinking down on his cock. A little whine escaped you. Then a moan once he pressed deeper into your core, stretching you open to fit until you gloved around his length.

Mark’s jaw was unhinged. He let out the breath he’d been holding once he was sheathed inside you, groaning at the scalding heat of you around him. He relaxed his grip on your waist, realizing his fingers were sinking in to the point of bruising your soft skin.

“Mark,” you sighed, eyes closed. You rocked your hips tentatively, sucking in a breath as his cock pushed against your walls.

“You feel so fucking good,” Mark hissed, moaning your name. “Fuck.” He roamed his hands over you, palming your breasts and you grabbed at his hands, lacing your fingers through his and starting to bounce on his hard cock.

You opened your eyes and peered down at him. You bit your lip to fight a smile, because Mark was staring up at you in worship while you rode his dick, like no woman before you and no woman after would ever feel as good as you.

Mark grunted when your bodies collided. His breaths were loud and labored. Every other word out of his mouth was, “Fuck,” and you loved how it sounded on his lips. You couldn’t resist propping yourself over him and taking his bottom lip between your teeth. And Mark couldn’t resist kissing you, ravenous.

“I’m gonna come. Mark…,” you whimpered, taking pleasure from his body until your thighs burned with the effort. You were losing yourself in him, in how he made you feel. He was so deep and hard in the pit of your stomach, stroking you just right to ecstasy.

Mark growled and set his fingers into the flesh of your hips. He stared up at you, unblinking, and rasped, “Come. Come all over that dick. Like you did on my fingers and my face. I wanna feel that pussy come.”

You sucked in a breath and your eyes rolled back as release crashed into you, taking you higher and higher until your body shuddered out of your control. You could feel Mark rutting his cock into you, swearing and groaning as you tightened and gushed around his cock. “Fuck,” you cried out, one last tremor ripping through you.

“That’s my good girl,” Mark whispered, lifting his hips a little to sink back and forth in your slick cunt, pulsing with orgasm. “Atta girl.”

“Holy shit,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, pulling the strands out of your face. You panted for breath and shivered as the sweat on your skin cooled. Looking down at Mark, you blinked to clear the daze in your eyes and moaned softly at his stiff cock languidly pumping inside you. “Are you close?”

Mark nodded.

You reached behind to grab his thighs, grinding yourself onto him, your movements sounding wetter than before. “How do you want it?”

“Kiss me.”

You smiled and obeyed without a second thought, kissing him intimately, teasing your tongue into his mouth.

Mark slowly slipped his arms around you, tightening until you were flush against him, and raised his hips, shoving his cock into you deep. His breaths were hot on your throat. You let out a moan and then another as he sped up, his pace growing, his thrusts hard and fast.

“Mark,” you chanted his name like a mantra, mouth open, eyes closed. Mark’s hand was heavy on the nape of your neck, keeping you in place, making you take his cock. You gripped the mattress on opposite sides of his shoulders, moaning until your voice broke.

A howl of your name followed an endless string of curses and Mark gave one final thrust into the vice of your cunt, driving in balls deep and finishing into the condom. You instinctively clenched on him, milking his release, watching the bliss take over his face.

Smirking down at him, coaxing him through his orgasm with little nothings like he had yours, you nibbled at his parted lips, kissing the corner of his mouth with affection and rocking your hips gently.

Mark heaved a breath, going limp underneath you. He blinked and finally met your eyes again, chuckling when he realized how hard he came. “Was I too rough?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” you assured him. “You were perfect.” You brushed some of the damp hair from his brow with your fingertips.

Relieved, Mark lifted his head to kiss your swollen lips. He made a low sound when you clambered off of him, his soft cock slipping from your folds, and got up to dispose of the condom.

“That was amazing,” Mark said when he returned to you, covering your naked body in the blanket.

“Yeah,” was all you could say. It was amazing. It was way better than you imagined it would be.

And it reinforced that you were completely and utterly fucked.

Mark rolled toward you and tightened his arm around your waist, burying his face in your neck and gently nibbling beneath your ear. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to rile you up again.

“I can’t believe I found you,” he whispered into your skin.

You stared straight ahead, spacing out. Tears were gathering in your eyes.

Fuck, you thought, scared to death. I love him.

You were in love with Mark and there was no use in fighting it, no matter how badly you didn’t want to be that girl who fell in love so easily. You protected your heart with an iron fist, but you let Mark waltz right in and make himself comfortable.

Mark slipped his fingers over your cheek and made you look at him. He searched your face and his eyes narrowed, trying to read what was going through your mind and asking cutely, “Where did you go, baby?”

You forced a smile for his sake. “You’re pussy drunk right now,” you quipped, resorting to humor to hide how hard you were dismantling in his arms.

Mark cocked his head and fixed you with a look. He was a little stern when he said, “That doesn’t mean how I feel about you isn’t real.”

You smiled and this time it was genuine. Your smile deepened when he leaned in and met his lips to yours tenderly. As the kisses grew, you spread your legs, inviting him to take you again. And again and again, until there was nothing left of you.

Mark crushed you beneath his weight, snapping his hips between your thighs, driving into your sweet spot. His grip on your hair was brutal, but so were your fingernails in his back. You cried out. You screamed his name until you were hoarse. He filled you with his cock and made you come until you were spent.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, eyes pressed closed. You were shaking. He was breaking you, body and soul.

Mark tightened his fist in your hair and bit down on your shoulder. He’d never fucked someone so hard, but he knew you could take it. He needed you to take him. All of him. Everything he had to give.

“I’m not stopping till you come,” Mark said between thrusts, burying himself inside you until he didn’t know where you ended and he began.

You locked your arms and legs around him, and you cried his name. I love you. I love you, you thought, but bit your tongue. You dared not say it. Once you did, you could never take it back.

Release saved you from letting those words escape. You arched into him, lips parted as the tears slipped from your eyes. Mark let out the deepest moan, feeling you unravel around him.

You had never been drowned in passion before, but it was a fucking beautiful way to die.

In the morning, you could barely move. Mark fared no better. He was snoring like a freight train, undoubtedly lost in the best sleep of his life. You hid a giggle at his expense and nestled deeper into his arms, drifting off again.

It was late in the afternoon when Mark brought you to Chungha’s house. She came out with a shirtless Jaemin in tow to check out the pop-up camper, which made the two of them decide they would like to do something similar on their anniversary. The four of you talked in Chungha’s front yard and only dispersed when the sun began to set and Chungha needed to drive you home.

So began a long week of waiting to see Mark again. Keeping yourself occupied in the meantime, you tried thinking of a plan that would get him out from under his family’s debt. What if you brought him along back home? He could have a fresh start there. Nothing hanging over his head. Maybe your dad would help find him a decent job while you were in grad school. The two of you could possibly share an apartment or something.

You scribbled on the notebook, crossing out ideas and circling others. Every so often, you would have a crisis of the heart, ripping out the pages and tossing them in the bin before fishing them out after you remembered how much love you had for Mark.

Did it still scare you? Yes. But you’d started to accept that the greatest loves were unnerving. There was so much to lose, but so much to gain.

You immediately noticed something was wrong with Chungha when she picked you up on Friday night. At first you pried, but she was tight-lipped. You asked if everything was alright with Jaemin and she assured you all was well. Not wanting to be too nosy, you let it go, hoping she would talk to you when she was ready.

Chungha kept glancing over at you. She was running out of time to gather enough courage.

Parking in the lot, brimming with people and cars, you hopped out excitedly, though you knew Mark would be fashionably late as always. Opting to go chat with Haechan as you usually did, Chungha called your name. You whipped around and she took your hand in hers, speaking in hushed tones, “Listen, I need to tell you something. There’s something you need to know.”

“Sure,” you replied, totally unsuspecting. “What’s up?”

“I was talking to Jaemin last night. I swear, pussy makes him bear his soul to me,” she said. The attempt at humor was weak, because her voice was shaking. “I know all his secrets at this point and he let slip that the boys have a bet going around.”

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach, never to be found again. “About me?”

She nodded. “Yeah, about you. They set it up the first night you came… betting on who can sleep with you first.”

You could only imagine what the expression on your face looked like at that moment. You fought back the sudden urge to either punch the nearest boy - the boys you thought were your friends - or cry your eyes out. Stiffening, you spoke through clenched jaws, “Who’s the favorite to win?”

Chungha sighed your name.

“I’m curious. It’s not like my heart is on the line or anything.”

If only she knew that the floor had been ripped out beneath your feet. You were falling and drowning with not a goddamn soul coming to save you. You were thinking of all the things you told that stupid boy. All the things you did. How you gave him the keys to your heart and trusted him to protect it.

“Mark,” she finally said.

You weren’t surprised. It was a given. Jeno was undoubtedly the other option, considering his persistent advances. “That’s a shame,” you sighed, feigning indifference. “Not much of a payout.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes stung with the memories. They turned to ashes in your mouth. “We had sex last weekend, obviously. I hope you bet on him.”

Chungha recoiled like she’d been slapped and her tone shifted to anger. “I didn’t bet. Why the hell would I do that? I just found out about it last night!”

You brushed her hand from your arm and started to walk away. “I don’t know, Chungha. Did they have a wager going around on your body?”

Chungha followed you worriedly. “No.”

You shook your head and whispered, mostly to yourself, “I’m the outsider. I guess, I always will be.”

How could you be so goddamn stupid? With the benefit of hindsight, all the signs were there.

Chungha got ahead of you, barring herself in your path and taking your arms in her hands. “That’s not true. Everyone really likes you. You’re fitting in around here.”

You spat, “Not enough to cancel the bet though. Right?”

Chungha looked pained. Her eyes were welling up. Someone she considered a friend was hurt and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Matter of fact, she felt personally responsible for the whole thing happening in the first place.

She introduced you to the guys. To Mark.

“I wish I had found out sooner. I could have stopped you from…,” Chungha trailed. She didn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

Every inch of you tensed. You were back in that camper, sleeping in Mark’s arms, his fingers playing with your hair. You gave him everything; you had nothing left. There was nothing he didn’t know about you. You could still hear the crickets. You could still feel the wind on your hot skin. You could still taste Mark’s kisses on your tongue.

And the worst part was you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Mark.

Fuck. You had never known a pain like this. Not since you buried your mother.

You finished, “From having sex with Mark? Yeah, too late. But it’s okay. The sex was great. Totally memorable.”

Chungha crooned your name. “You’re hurt. It’s okay to be hurt.”

No, it wasn’t. There was no way in hell you could accept someone’s pity, regardless of how much you needed it. You laughed, but it was empty. Like your chest. “I’m not hurt. I would never give a fuckboy like Mark the power to hurt me.”

Chungha sniffed back tears. “I’m so sorry.”

You took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”

She nodded.

You started walking. Where you were going, you didn’t really know, but you sure as hell couldn’t stay on that lot. Home was an entire continent away. You certainly didn’t want to see your father either. He was the one that brought you here. None of this would have happened if you had never left home.

“Fuck.” You were so goddamn sick of being punished for love. You loved your mother more than anyone in the world and you were taken away from the home you shared with her. You loved Mark with what was left of your heart and he crushed it the moment you handed it over.

Folding your arms tightly across your chest, you kept your head down and stared at your feet, one step in front of the other. You were dissociating a little. Your heart couldn’t handle this much torment so it chose not to.

Your mind was blank and eventually, the tears dried on your cheeks. Eventually, you breathed heavier from the sheer distance you’d walked. Eventually, you gave up on trying to reason with yourself.

The sound of tires on gravel made the hairs on your neck stand up. Adrenaline ripped its way up your spine, because you knew who it was.

Mark’s car slowed alongside you and he rolled down the window, calling your name. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

You ignored him. Just like you ignored the phone that had been vibrating constantly in your back pocket. One foot in front of the other, you told yourself.

Mark said your name impatiently this time and got the same result. So, he put the car in park and jumped out. Jogging over to you, Mark grabbed your arm to stop you and asked, “What the hell are you doing out here? Do you even know where you’re going?”

The moment you heard his car, you began rehearsing what you would say to him and yet, the entire speech you prepared disintegrated the moment you opened your mouth. Anger took hold of your reins and demanded you snap, “How much did you bet?”

The color drained from Mark’s face. “What?”

You gave him a smile full of venom and mocked, “You’re a smart boy, Mark. Don’t play dumb now. How much was I worth to you? What magic number did you set on my body?”

Mark shook his head and reached for your waist, wanting to hold you. “That doesn’t matter.”

You stepped back, batting his hands away. “Like hell it does. How much did you win? I may want my cut.”

“I called the bet off. I told everyone to take their money back,” Mark told you frantically.

You believed him, but that didn’t matter. He did it after you slept with him, which meant he did it out of a guilty conscience only after he won his prize.

“Why? You won. You should collect. Although I heard you were the heavy favorite. I doubt you made a lot of money on me.”

Mark was in a panic. At some point in his relationship with you, he forgot about the stupid bet. And no one reminded him. It didn’t hit him until that night, when he was dozing off with his head on your naked chest.

“I didn’t make any. I called it off,” he said, trembling. The girl he loved was looking at him with nothing short of hatred and Mark couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t accept that he’d fucked up the most beautiful thing in his life. It was what he did best, but he’d tried for you to be better. He’d tried so hard.

“Why?” you pressed. As if there was any reason that would make you feel better.

“Because it wasn’t right. It was stupid. It was…”

“Foul.”

“Yeah.”

You bristled. Animosity and hurt bubbled in your throat until you felt capable of breathing fire. “So,” you started, voice breaking as emotion got the better of you. “You did all of this just to fuck me?”

“No,” Mark said, but he knew you would never believe him.

You wiped your tears roughly with a fist and snapped, “The joke is on you. I would have fucked you on the first night. You’re the one that did all the extra shit.”

There was obvious pleading in Mark’s voice. “Because I wanted to get to know you.”

You scoffed. “Well, now you know what I taste like. We good?”

“I fucked up.”

“You fucked up. Got it. Will you get out of my way now?”

“No, I…,” Mark hesitated, reaching for you again. “I want to know where we stand.”

You folded your arms, making yourself totally uninviting. “Right now you’re standing in my way and I would like for you to move.”

Mark tried to draw you toward him and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

You swatted his hands away again and groaned. “For the love of… Mark, get out of my way.”

“No,” he shot back. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t!”

You laughed. “You never had me in the first place.”

“Yes, I did. You’re mine.”

“I’m not and I never will be.”

Mark cursed loudly and tipped his head back, heaving a breath. “That’s it then?” he asked, throwing up his arms. “You’re done with me over this? After everything we said and did?”

You bristled. You did not want to be reminded of that. How much of yourself you shared with him. It was the biggest regret of your life now. “I’m done with you, because I got what I wanted from you. That’s why I’m not mad about the whole dumb bet thing. Maybe if the sex had been horrible I’d be pissed off, but…”

“You’re lying and I deserve it,” Mark countered, tempted to drop to his knees at your feet. “I deserve whatever punishment you wanna give me, but you don’t you dare walk away.”

“The irony,” you sneered. You wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt you. “You’re the one refusing to let go.”

Mark blocked you again and this time he boldly took your face in his hands, tilting you up to meet his eyes. “I want you and you want me.”

Something inside you had enough and finally snapped.

“I wanna go home,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, bracing your hands on his chest and shoving him away from you. You couldn’t hold yourself together anymore. Not when he kept poking and prodding at your carefully made armor. “The second I can get away from here, I’m going home. I’ll leave this place and I’ll leave you!”

Mark sighed and his shoulders dropped.

You wiped the flood of tears racing down your cheeks and rasped, “I never wanted to be here in the first place. I didn’t want to meet you. I don’t want to have feelings for you.”

Mark blinked at that. He opened his mouth to tell you he loved you, that he would do anything to make you stay, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You shuddered with rage and shame in a brutal, painful combination and shouted, “Don’t you understand that you’ve ruined everything? You ruined me! You had me second guessing everything I want and for what - a fucking bet?”

Mark whispered your name. His eyes shone with tears.

“I told you about my mother,” you sobbed, frantically drying your tears with your sleeves. They were cruel evidence of how much you cared. How badly he hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said. Mark didn’t know what else to do. Nothing was enough to fix the damage he’d done.

“God, shut up,” you huffed, defeat washing over you. “Don’t be sorry. Just… please, get out of my way.”

Mark studied you for a long, pensive moment, weighing his options, and ultimately sidestepped out of your path.

You started marching forward the moment he did, brushing past him roughly as you folded your arms and looked down at your feet. One step in front of the other.

It didn’t surprise you that Mark got back in his car and started to follow you. He kept a short distance in your wake, making sure you were safe. He would never, no matter what you said, leave you out in the dark on your own.

After a few minutes, you stopped and the car braked behind you. You couldn’t breathe. You held your stomach, doubling over as sobs racked through your body. More than anything, you missed your mom. She was the attachment to home.

You so badly wanted her to hold you. She could make the pain go away.

Mark got out and approached you cautiously, but he knew the fight had left you. He gathered you in his arms, lifting you up.

“I trusted you,” you cried, letting him carry you over to the car. “You made me think that you loved me.”

Everything, every moment spent with him, was built on a lie.

Mark said nothing, buckling you into the passenger seat. He drove around until you fell asleep, exhausted from crying. I fell in love with you, he thought sadly, his cheeks stained with tears too. But you will never believe me now.

When you woke up, you were in your driveway. Mark had opened your door and was crouched beside you, whispering your name. You blinked to clear your vision and swallowed the painful lump in your throat, asking what happened.

Mark stood up and moved out of the way, revealing your father, who quickly helped you out of the car and started leading you into the house.

“You should take her home,” Mark called out to your dad, consumed with guilt and regret. “She’s not happy here.”

Your father didn’t respond, but you knew he heard and you watched Mark’s car speed off into the night before finally going inside.

The next day, you didn’t get out of bed. Or the day after that. Your dad brought food to you that he ordered, but you picked at it. You had no appetite. You just wanted to sleep forever. Or at least until the hollow ache in your chest was gone.

So, this is what it feels like, huh? To get your heart broken by a boy?

This shit sucks.

It felt even worse when you thought about just how much you’d loved him. How you’d even felt guilty for loving him.

You remembered how you’d looked up at him, holding his face in your hands as he rocked into you slowly, your eyes fluttering closed when he kissed you. It was reckless and all-consuming, and you’d never felt so alive.

After everything, you still missed him. You hid beneath the covers and tried to linger in how it had felt to be so small in his arms. So safe and loved.

But none of it was real. The whole time, he just wanted to take you for himself. Did he get a bonus for breaking you in the process?

Chungha came by. Your father let her in and she walked right into your room and crawled onto the bed, spooning you over the blankets.

You barely reacted, but you didn’t turn her away either.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I ripped all of the boys a new asshole?” Chungha joked.

“A little,” you muttered into your pillow.

She told you that all races had been canceled until further notice because of the rift between the boys. The fallout over the bet had resulted in a huge fight. Things were said. Objects were thrown.

Chungha added, “I’m also not giving Jaemin any sexy time for not telling me about it sooner.”

You made a noise. Something between a scoff and a laugh.

Chungha leaned her head against yours and rubbed your back comfortingly. Eventually, you hugged her and she squeezed you tightly, sending warmth through your chest that maybe - just maybe - you would be okay.

And you realized that through it all, you had actually made a friend in Chungha. A really good friend that you would miss terribly when you left.

Your next visitor caught you off guard.

Sitting on the sofa in some sweatpants and a hoodie, you whined in annoyance when the doorbell rang. You had fully intended to spend the day curled up in front of the television binging some shows and crushing a pint of cookie dough ice cream.

It was Friday and you had finally made it out of bed. Your pain wasn’t so acute now. The grieving stage was ending and you were reluctantly moving into recovery.

Opening the door, you immediately frowned. “What the hell do you want, Jeno?”

Jeno wasn’t sporting his usual asshole air of superiority for once. “Can I come in? I really wanna talk to you,” he said politely.

“No and no,” you replied, pursing your lips. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Jeno braced a hand on the door, keeping it from closing, and you scowled at him furiously. Did he have any idea what he’d done? What he had taken from you?

“If you wanna hate someone, hate me,” Jeno exclaimed, determined. “The bet was my idea. It was juvenile and wrong on so many levels and I regret it. I’m sorry.”

You snipped. “Fine. You’re sorry.”

“We hustle to survive. Everything is about scraping together money so we can survive another week. It’s not an excuse, but that shit finally caught up with us.”

You frowned with contempt.

“Mark had nothing to do with it,” Jeno pressed. He sounded almost desperate. “He called the whole thing off.”

“I know he did.”

Jeno matched your frustration and kicked it up a notch, chiding, “Then, doesn’t that count for something to you?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, relenting only for a moment.

Jeno sighed.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as if warding off a sudden chill and rubbed them in self soothing. “I don’t know how to feel anymore. I’ve spent every day missing home, counting down the minutes until I can go home, but when I was with him, I didn’t miss home anymore. And I hate that.”

“This is your home now.”

You flinched. That was heresy. “Fuck off,” you barked, trying once again to slam the door in his face.

Jeno stopped you again, though he made no moves to come inside. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he argued.

You let your hand fall from the door in defeat. After a pause, you asked, “Do you have any idea how this feels?”

“Yeah, I do.”

At first, you were resistant to that, but by the look on Jeno’s face, you actually believed him. “How did you get over it?”

“I left everything behind once too,” Jeno confessed with a heavy sigh. “I made friends here. I fell in love here. This became my home. It doesn’t mean I love my old home any less, but I know this is where I belong now.”

You hung your head. “You’re lucky.”

“So are you. Mark is in love with you.”

The mere mention of his name made you bristle with anger, but maybe irritation was better than hatred. You were recovering. “Mark doesn’t love me,” you said through grit teeth.

“He showed you his old cars.”

“What the hell does that matter?”

Jeno said with a growing smile, “He’s never shown them to anybody. Not even any of us. They’re his babies. That’s like him cutting open his chest and letting you see his heart.”

Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope. “You’re dramatic,” you droned with a roll of your eyes. But they were sparkling as they rolled.

Jeno nodded his head proudly. “Oh, absolutely. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

You leaned against the doorway, thinking. Hoping. Maybe wishing. After a moment to collect your thoughts, you asked, “Where is he?”

“Sulking somewhere. He feels like a steaming pile of shit. Just like me.” Jeno grimaced for effect.

“What did he say… when he ended the bet?” That was the question lingering in your brain. Chungha didn’t know what all went down, but you wanted to know.

“That he had forgotten about it. That he was too busy falling in love with you to remember. And that if any of us didn’t take our money back, he would fuck us up. He also threw his shoe at my head.”

You snorted.

Jeno slipped his hands into his pockets and paced away from you, looking like he was going to leave. He stopped at the stairs and turned back around, saying, “You taught us a valuable lesson, I think. We were careless and we got two people that we care about hurt.”

You blinked in surprise and looked at him curiously. “You care about me?”

Jeno shrugged, but his smile betrayed him as he replied sweetly, “We all do. We kinda fell in love with you too. We want you to stick around. Hell, Haechan likes you so much he won’t even speak to any of us until you accept our apologies.”

You chuckled and it was the first time you’d laughed in days.

Jeno turned serious and said your name. “I’m really sorry.”

Something inside you healed a little.

“I’m the bravest of the bunch so I’m here first. Plus the bet was my idea. I felt I should make amends first. Expect an apology every one to two business days until the circle of stupid guys runs out.”

“I forgive you,” you said sincerely, tears blurring your eyes.

“Thank you,” Jeno said, closing the distance and holding out his arms. You hugged him without hesitation and he asked, “Does this mean we’re friends?”

You pulled back, nodding. “Yes, but I think you owe me one.”

“I owe you plenty,” Jeno retorted.

The idea was already spinning around in your head. It would be killing two birds with one stone. “Tell everyone the race is back on for tonight and make sure all the boys are at the starting line.”

Jeno grinned. “You got it.”

When you returned to the familiar lot of roaring cars, you strutted in like you owned it. This place didn’t defeat you like you thought. From boy to boy you went, collecting apologies under Chungha’s threatening glare. Although it was hardly necessary.

Renjun to Jisung and everyone in between expressed genuine remorse for hurting you and you forgave them. The forgiveness was more for you than for them. You were ready to move on.

You were finally ready to let Busan be your new home.

The black car drove in last, as expected. You kept your back to it, talking to Haechan, but when you heard Mark’s voice, you made sure to turn around. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. His long hair was messy. And a deep frown stayed on his handsome face.

He almost looked as broken as you felt.

Mark acknowledged no one cheerfully as he usually did. He was polite to those who had come to watch when they greeted him, but he had only vicious glares for his friends.

As he leaned back against his car, Mark’s eyes locked with yours and his entire expression changed. Shock? Hope? Relief? All of the above.

You were content to drag it out for a moment, staring back at him just as fiercely, before returning to your conversation with Haechan and ignoring the boy that had made butterflies start up in your stomach.

“Make him suffer,” Haechan said playfully, wiggling his brows. “He deserves it.”

You murmured, “I’ve forgiven him. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“You know, there’s some great colleges around here.”

“I’m already looking into it.”

Haechan grinned from ear to ear.

When the cars lined up, the race gearing up to begin, you sauntered up to Mark’s passenger side and cleared your throat, waiting expectantly.

Mark rushed over, opening the door for you and closing it once you slid inside.

You didn’t speak to him. You quite liked the tension inside his car. Mark constantly looked over at you; you could tell he was desperately trying to find the words to say.

Then, in a blink, the race began and the air knocked out of your lungs, making adrenaline rush through every inch of you like the most potent drug.

Mark drove like he always did - expert. Perfect. He was smoother than silk around the turns. He accelerated cleanly, shifting gears to speed up. The car was an extension of his body. She obeyed even the tiniest nudge of his fingers.

“Mark,” you finally spoke up.

“Yes?”

“I will forgive you... if you lose.”

He gawked, turning to you briefly in disbelief. “What?”

You repeated yourself firmly, “Lose the race.”

Mark shook his head vehemently and whined, “Do you have any idea how much I have riding on this?”

“A relationship with me,” you smarted.

Mark blinked in realization. And then, he took his foot off the gas pedal without another word.

You grinned in satisfaction, watching the other cars overtake him at lightning speed. Mark’s car trailed the pack, sticking to Yangyang’s bumper.

“You’re in last place now?” you asked coyly.

“Yes. I’m in dead last. Are you happy?”

“Actually, I am.”

Mark scoffed. “Pfft.”

You glanced around, piecing together the surroundings, and asked like you didn’t have a care in the world, “How much race is left?”

“A couple miles,” Mark answered, brows stitching. “Maybe more.”

“If you win, I’ll go home with you.”

Mark groaned loudly. “You little brat.”

You turned to him, full of mischief, and said, “Do we have a deal?”

Mark looked at you and a smile spread across his lips. “If I win, you have to believe me when I tell you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened a little. It seemed a fair enough request. You grabbed his face quickly and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “Impress me, Mark,” you taunted, settling deeper into the seat in preparation of what was to come.

Mark reached over and yanked your seatbelt to make sure it was taut, just as he had the night you met, and slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

The adrenaline, the excitement, you knew now that it had nothing to do with the fast car and had everything to do with the boy who’d driven away with your heart.

#nct #nct smut #mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut

4K notes · View notes

p-antomime · 4 years ago

Text

just so fine.

— minors don’t interact

— wc: 4,7K

content + warnings: 18+, including: dilf!toji, manhandle, spitting, daddy kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of school girl!reader maybe, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, age gap, a bit of size kink, thigh riding

pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

— note: this is a bit inspired by: Love Without Tragedy by Rihanna. — jjk masterlist.

Red lipstick and a broken heart trying to be concerted by the petals of your conscience and your friends who said that "he didn't deserve you anyway". And honestly, you didn't know where exactly you were getting the strength from to get out of bed that Monday and go take a shower before heading painfully to your first class in the morning.

He used to be the boy you loved with every cell of your body and soul, he stole the best years of your freshman life at the university, and now you were a senior who had neither the animation nor the patience to welcome the incoming freshmen that year. Despite having Kugisaki and Megumi fervently cheering you on while Itadori was too busy still dealing with the problem of sending documents to the college, your heart was still fatally wounded and your dignity no longer existed as your tears had wiped it off the face of the earth during that morning shower and you couldn't help but be tempted to put on makeup good enough to mask your dark circles under your eyes and downcast face.

"Are you coming today?", Nobara asked excitedly on the other end of the line as you were already leaving the house and taking the long way to college.

— Do I have the option of not going?

"No, of course not.", Nobara replied with a slight laugh that was well intended to cheer you up a bit, "We can have a movie night tonight, to cheer you up."

— At whose house? At mine that won't be, it's a mess. — You grumbled.

"At Megumi's or Itadori's, of course. During lunch I'll buy soda and food with Yuuji and you convince Megumi to let us break into his house today.”

— Why do I have to convince Megumi? You came up with the idea.

"Because I'll be busy, simple. And Fushiguro doesn't take me seriously.", and then you sighed heavily, already noticing that you were less than a block away from entering the college grounds.

— Okay, I see what I can do.

Kugisaki told you that she was waiting for you in the classroom, and you replied that you were already there. And then something distinctive caught your attention. It was strangely easy to spot something different in the landscape of the university entrance because usually it was always the same: university students rushing to settle personal matters or to classes they are late for, or also students who came to see what the college was like before the university application period.

But today was different. There was a tall man fully dressed in black and gray leaning against a motorcycle that looked as if it had been taken from an action movie because it was so well equipped and large. He looked relaxed, and yet he still possessed an aura that could kill you with a single punch. Attractive and devilishly dangerous with that leather jacket highlighting his strong arms and broad shoulders. Forcing your eyes a little, you could notice a scar close to one of the corners of his lips.

— What's the matter, little girl? — His deep voice reaches your ears, but your mind whispers to you that he probably wasn't talking to you at the same time that your heart starts to beat out of control and your head turns from side to side trying to check if there is someone behind you. — Yeah, I'm talking to you. — He smiled sideways.

— Uh... hmm... none, sorry. — Your cheeks started to heat up and you wanted to punch yourself in the stomach because usually a simple man couldn't disconcert you like that, and then your eyes fell on his collarbones, well marked by the black shirt he wore under his jacket, and your mouth suddenly felt too dry.

— What exactly are you apologizing for? — The man asked as he placed one of the helmets on the motorcycle seat, if there were two helmets maybe he brought some college girl? — For eating me with your eyes or staring at me? — And then you choked on your saliva and coughed desperately for air trying not to drop the folders in your hands and he seemed amused by your reaction.

— I-I... — Your fingers squeezed the folders and you had to look away to think straight. — I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn't mean to.

— I am not, it's great to be lusted after by younger girls. — He replied, but before he had a chance to continue his onslaught someone approached from the diagonal.

— Dad! — And then you choked again seeing that the one who was referring to the man in front of you as "dad" was Megumi. — Oh, Y/N? — He looked confused looking from you to his own father. — Anyway, they didn't have what you wanted at the pharmacy, next time you'll buy it yourself. — The young Fushiguro spoke to the older man, but seconds later, noticing the mortifying silence that settled over the place as you stared at his father, he spoke up: — And we are almost late already, let’s go, Y/N. — Megumi took one of your arms and started to guide you away from the motorcycle and closer to the interior of the college.

— You never told me you were interested in girls. — His father shouted more to embarrass his son than you, but the effect was the opposite, since you were the one with the burning cheeks.

— Shut up, Toji. — Megumi shouted back as he continued walking. — Did he say shit to you? — He asked you when the two of you were already walking down the halls to your classroom for the first class of the morning.

— Not really, no. He seems... fine. — You tried to talk as if you didn't have dirty thoughts running through your mind especially after remembering the older man's collarbones and scar, and still Megumi gave you an accusing look.

— Don't try to fuck my father, that's disgusting. - Your eyes widened.

— I wasn't thinking that, you idiot. — And then Megumi let out a loud laugh.

— I know, I was just trying to amuse you. — He shrugged and left you standing in front of the door. — See you at lunch?

— Yes, of course. — You answered, and then suddenly remembered Nobara's request on the phone earlier. Your hand held one of his arms so that he wouldn't walk away without listening to you. — Megumi, can we have a movie night at your place tonight? Nobara came up with the idea of doing this to cheer me up a bit. — He seemed to become suddenly tense.

— I'll have to at least let Toji know that there will be people coming home today. — Megumi answered vaguely and shrugged. — I'll send a message to Kugisaki and let her know if it's on or off.

Nodding your head positively, you gave your friend a slight smile, and then for the rest of the day your mind concentrated on paying attention to your classes, your scheduled seminars and the pile of work you still had to do. There was no time for your heart to pound with grief over the loss of your now ex-boyfriend, but there were several minutes when you had to chase away persistent thoughts of Megumi's dad. But looking at him wasn't enough, your hands wanted to explore his body and leave marks everywhere, that's what you thought until you felt ashamed, pushed the thoughts away for a few brief minutes and then thought about it again. In a vicious loop.

When you were having lunch with Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, your head tried to focus on their conversation as much as possible, but looking at the man with black hair and beautiful eyelashes reminded you of Toji and your hands started to break into a cold sweat. It had been a frustrating, tiring day, but secretly you were a little excited to see your friend's father again.

— Don't take too long, okay? — Nobara spoke after dropping you off and leaning against the hallway wall, and you nodded positively before going to your room to pack a backpack with some pajamas and an outfit in case you and the other two friends ended up falling asleep while you were at Megumi's house.

It didn't take long before you two were ringing the doorbell of the Fushiguro’s house and from the loud sound from inside the house you both could tell Yuuji had already arrived. Suddenly, Y/N felt nervous not knowing who would answer the door. Would it be Toji? "Damn", you thought as you saw exactly him calmly opening the door. This time he wasn't wearing very dark clothes, it was just gray sweatpants and a white v-neck shirt that still highlighted his beautiful collarbones.

— Is that them? — Itadori shouted from another room in the house.

— Yes. — Megumi, who was looking at the two girls standing in the doorway over Toji's shoulder, answered. — You may come in.

Toji moved to the side letting you two into the house and, using the personal excuse of being embarrassed, Y/N walked in with her head down. And partly, in fact, it was true that you were embarrassed, but your mind knew that your eyes wanted to take a good look at the older Fushiguro's thighs and cock. It was impossible not to look at those parts of his body, especially with that kind of pants.

But then Toji gave himself the right to go up the stairs to the upper floor of the house and out of your field of vision when Megumi asked you and Nobara which movie you wanted to watch and she answered that a drama movie. And then the four of you started to watch the movie comfortably, until you started to feel the straps of your own bra start to press painfully against the skin of your shoulders.

— Can I go to the bathroom? — Y/N asked Megumi, who pointed to the steps of the staircase diagonally across from the sofa.

— First door on the left. — You nodded and walked up the stairs carrying your backpack, intending to get rid of your bra and also put on the comfortable pajama top that had been brought.

From the hallway you could hear the low sound of another TV escaping through the gap in a tall door. It was probably Toji's room, such a thought raced through your mind, and you shrugged as you entered the bathroom, leaned against the door, and began to remove your bra and change into your shirt. It was inevitable to sigh in relief as you felt your shoulders less tense and sore and your hands groped your breasts just for the personal pleasure of feeling them free now.

— Hmm, may I come in? — A muffled voice was heard behind the door and instinctively you quickly removed your hands from your breasts.

— Just a minute. — Y/N answered, shoving the previously worn blouse into her backpack and almost running toward the door, slowly opening it.

You looked forward and found yourself facing a bare hard chest as you waited to see a long hallway with four different doors. Toji was now shirtless in front of you and your cheeks burned a little, which got a little worse when your brain short-circuited, your hand rested two fingers against the warm, somewhat soft skin of his chest, and you pulled away slightly so that you could look him in the eye.

— I'm sorry. — Your hand finished opening the door and there was again a sideways smile on Toji's lips

— Are you going to sleep here? — He asked, sliding his gaze over her shoulders, breasts and abdomen freely, without any embarrassment.

— No, actually. I just changed my shirt to be more comfortable.

— Got it. — Toji looked you straight in the eyes again, but yours were already gliding across his face until you found the scar close to his lips.

— How did you get this scar? — You felt the need to prolong the conversation just to get a better record of his face.

— You're pretty curious for someone apparently shy. — He remarked, his eyes sparkling with a gleam that you couldn't quite identify what it was. — When I was younger, we could say I wasn't the friendliest person in the whole world, so I got into a few fights. — Toji shrugged, as if this was not relevant information

How old are you? — A mischievous smile slowly drew on his lips.

— Old enough to be your dad.

"Then maybe I can call you Daddy", was the first thing you thought, but there wasn't enough courage in you to flirt shamelessly, especially with Megumi or the other two able to eavesdrop from downstairs.

— I think I've been here with you long enough. — Y/N answered, putting the backpack on her back and walking past Toji, but just as her feet were about to start down the steps, the older Fushiguro called her out.

— I think you forgot something, little girl. — You turned back in confusion, and in his hands was your bra. Toji threw the piece of clothing toward you through the air without much force to fall gently onto your palms that had opened toward him. — The next time you forget something like that inside my house, I'll keep it for myself. — You frowned, assuming that he was implying that there was possibly something between you and his son.

— Me and Megumi, we don't... — Your shoulders shook without your mouth finishing the sentence.

— I wasn't talking about him exactly, you're very naive, not that that's a problem for me. — He went into the bathroom and eventually you were alone again.

Feeling more embarrassed than the first time you had seen Toji earlier at the university entrance, you joined your friends again in the middle of the movie and were grateful that none of them had bothered to ask if anything had happened in the bathroom because of your delay. Eventually Nobara fell asleep on your shoulder after eating two pieces of the pizza Megumi had asked his father to buy, and Yuuji began to yawn almost pushing the son of the owner of the house off the couch.

— I knew they would both end up sleeping. — Megumi grumbled, pushing Itadori aside and getting up from the sofa. — There are two guest bedrooms upstairs, you and Nobara can use both of them and Yuuji sleeps with me, or one of you can sleep with me and the other and Itadori in the other bedrooms.

— I think it's better that Yuuji better sleep with you. — Y/N replied looking at Kugisaki, who was starting to fall off her shoulder.

And then Fushiguro woke the almost sleeping Itadori to go upstairs while he carried Nobara up the stairs and you accompanied him carrying both your and your friend's backpack. After tidying Kugisaki up in bed and getting Yuuji changed, Megumi spoke to you before leaving you alone in the guest room:

— If you feel hungry, you can go in the kitchen and get something to eat during the night. And, well, you already know where the bathroom is, and so does my room. If anything happens during the night, you can call me or him. — Megumi pointed to the door of Toji's bedroom, and you nodded positively.

And then you laid lazily on the slightly uncomfortable bed in the room and tried to relax. Almost, almost, sleep caught up with you, but your evil brain began to make you think about the fact that Toji was only a few miserable doors away, and the anxiety began to corrupt you rapidly, like a corrosive acid. But even though you wanted to go knock on his door, you forced yourself to sleep, especially since the day had been exhausting.

The next day, just like the rest of the week, Y/N didn't get to see Megumi's dad, and he didn't make much of a point of talking about his father either, after all, why would his friends be interested in him, right? All the other days of the week, her mind focused more on trying not to think about her ex-boyfriend and also not to think about Toji, just college business.... And then came the next Thursday of the successive week.

And there was Toji Fushiguro, leaning against his big motorcycle, but this time with only one helmet and different clothes. Honestly? You didn't know if you should go talk to him or not, if you should just walk right by or not. But, in the end, your mind tricked you into choosing the second option, and your feet awkwardly made their way to the college with your eyes struggling not to check the man's reactions.

— Can I have your number, little girl? — Toji asked in a tone loud enough for you to hear.

— What? — You looked away, wringing your hands nervously.

— I asked if I could have your number. — One of his hands swung his cell phone toward you.

The first thought that crossed your mind was, "What if someone sees us together and tells Megumi?", but honestly, Megumi probably wouldn't be interested in your sex or love life, even if it was with his father.

— Maybe, if you take me for a motorcycle ride today.

— You're wearing a skirt, are you sure you'd want to do that? — Toji suppressed a playful laugh. — You could have a ride somewhere more comfortable than my motorcycle today.

You narrowed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, realizing that you were entering dangerous territory in a game of seduction that Toji knew and played better than you.

— Will Megumi be at home?

— He has an internship today. — Toji replied, drumming his fingers on his helmet.

— Wait for me after four o'clock then. — You replied and walked back toward the college as you felt his eyes fixed on your ass.

Throughout the day you felt uncomfortably nervous and Nobara even asked you if everything was okay several times at different times. The only answer your mind formulated was a simple positive head movement, because honestly you felt embarrassed to be interested in a friend's dod, even though this father was extremely attractive and did not reject your shy and restrained advances. He was just so nice, fine.

Fine enough to make you press your thighs together to try to relieve the sexual tension as your legs walked towards the Fushiguro house. And when you got there, it didn't take long to see Toji opening the door wearing only black sweatpants. You went inside and closed the door, nervously watching the older man, who sat comfortably on the sofa in the living room and called out to you with his index finger. As you stopped in front of him, one hand patted his lap and the other was placed on your thigh covered by your skirt. Slowly, Y/N took her seat sitting on his covered cock.

— Why do you look so tense, hm? — Toji asked, squeezing your thigh without too much force and you moved slightly against his hip. — Are you a virgin by any chance? — Your cheeks heated up.

— N-No, you just make me nervous. — Y/N replied, shrugging slightly.

— Do I? — He pretended to be surprised as he slid his hand up her skirt and pushed his fingertips against her covered pussy. — Do I make you get your panties wet too? — Toji pressed his hips against hers and her hands rested on his shoulders for a few brief seconds.

— Fuck, yes. — You groaned, taking your fingers to the buttons of your shirt to undo them. — I've been thinking about you more than I should, I've been thinking about everything about you.

— So, why don't you show me how much you've been thinking about me, huh? — Fushiguro pulled her panties aside and stroked her pussy in slow circular motions while he brought his other hand to her face and pulled her closer to his. — Show me how much you want me and cum on my fingers like the dirty slut I know you can be. — His thumb slowly brushed over your lips and you opened them, your mouth filled by long fingers.

You grabbed his wrist close to your intimacy and guided two of his digits into your interior. And, fuck, they filled you so well. Toji's fingers were thicker and longer than yours, so the times he repeatedly curved them inside your cunt, their tips easily brushed and pressed that spot that made you roll your eyes having your body spasm with pleasure. "What a beautiful vision", the man would be thinking as he watched his beautiful college girl choking on his fingers while being fucked by the others.

However, he didn't move his hand against you much, meaning that he let you choose the pace and intensity, until you whimpered against his neck in a silent request for his fingers to move against you:

— Please, Toji, move your fingers. — Y/N said as she pulled away from Toji's digits that were preventing her from speaking and forced her hips against his hand.

— Can't you cum on your own? — He asked squeezing your chin to make you keep your mouth open. — Pathetic. — Toji spat on your tongue and closed your mouth to force you to swallow. — Pathetic slut. — And then he began to finger you in a relentless rhythm.

If Fushiguro wanted to make you cum in his hand, that's exactly what he got, and he even got a great view of your trembling body, your breasts rising and falling rapidly because of your rapid breathing and your head falling back in an intense pleasure you didn't know your body could achieve. While you were still clouded by ecstasy, his fingers snuck up to finish removing your panties and getting rid of your clothes covering your upper body. He wanted you only in your skirt.

— Look at my pet slut with her beautiful cunt leaking. — His fingers spread the folds of your pussy to see you twitching around just at his obscene words. — Just so nice. — Toji pressed the thumb against your sensitive clit and gave you a smirk before he sat you down on one of his thighs, began to move you there and also slowly stimulated your clit.

His body leaned down and his lips latched onto your breasts, sucking and licking them more intensely as your hips moved faster against his thigh. And occasionally Fushiguro would pull up her skirt and slap her ass hard enough to leave several finger marks across her skin; and it was on one of his slaps that a short, gasping, "Daddy" sneaked out from between your lips and hit Toji's mind as a twinge of intense pleasure coursed through his entire body.

— Say that again. — He ordered, grabbing her neck with the hand that had been slapping her ass before.

— Daddy... — Y/N groaned breathlessly as she continued to move her hips against Toji's thigh in a desperate attempt to cum again.

— Keep calling me that, be a good little whore for me. — His other hand continued to stimulate your clit, now at a more intense pace that managed to push you straight into the abyss of a orgasmic pleasure that you so desperately needed.

After that, Fushiguro held you still in place as he continued to press his fingers against your clit. He definitely wanted to bring you close to the level of almost passing out from so much lust running freely through your body, and so your legs instinctively closed around his hand. At the same time that you desperately needed to breathe because you felt like your lungs were burning from your intense panting, every fiber of your body was still clamoring for the stimulation that only Toji could give you at the moment, so it wasn't hard for him to force your legs open again with a sly smile on his lips:

— Come on, my pretty girl, give me everything you've got. — He made scissor-like movements against her walls and her hips automatically forced themselves against Toji's palm, even though her intimacy was already quite sensitive.

— Daddy, please... please, more, daddy... — Y/N sank her face into the curve of Toji's neck trying to stifle her own moans.

— What a great fuck toy you are. — His fingers curved and you gasped, feeling again that same pressure as before against your bottom that indicated that your third orgasm was approaching. — No matter how much I make you cum you keep asking for more.

And the more he moved his fingers frantically against your pussy, the more you felt your thoughts disappear completely and all that was left was only Toji Fushiguro, and his fingers, and the cocky smile he had no matter what the situation was. Those same fingers that made you squirt for the first time against his abdomen in a third, overwhelming orgasm and your cheeks heat up violently, especially after seeing Toji bring them to his lips looking more than just satisfied with his work with you. Fuck, you could fuck him several times, you could pass out from pleasure, and you still wouldn't ask him to stop or slow down with you.

— Think you can handle one more, pretty girl? — He asked, his hands reaching for his pants and underwear.

— Yes, Daddy. — Y/N tried to speak as firmly as possible with her heavy breathing.

Toji put one hand on your waist and the other on your chin and took the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss as he entered you slowly, which made you lose some focus on the kiss and moan against his mouth as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. He didn't let you get too used to the recent intrusion and started thrusting himself against you hard.

After leaving yours, his mouth slid down your neck and shoulders to leave sucking and biting the area before placing the hand that was on your chin on your neck. Eventually yours moans went from simple gasps and sighs to little "Daddy" that made Fushiguro's dick twitch against yours insides several times and grunts escape his lips.

— I will breed you like the desperate little whore that you are. — Toji stroked hard against you while squeezing your neck a little harder. — I bet you're going to love this, aren't you?

— Y-Yes, daddy, breed me, please. — Y/N moved her hips against his while maintaining eye contact with the older man's predatory eyes. — Fill me up completely, until I'm leaking.

Toji squeezed your waist tightly, tilted your body slightly until your hips arched a bit, and started a rhythm of thrusts against you that as a result made your mind go blank and your nails leave scratches on his shoulders. And your fourth orgasm didn't even take long to hit you almost as hard as the third because your whole body had been extremely sensitive for a long time; after fucking that man incessantly you would definitely be addicted to him, to his touch, to his dick, to his lips. Everything about him was addictive.

After making you cum for the fourth time, Fushiguro kept thrusting inside you until his cock forcefully contracted against you and filled you full of cum. By that point you had definitely become just a bunch of holes for him to fuck, and if your body wasn't already so sensitive you might want him to actually fill every possible place in your body with cum. When he withdrew his dick from inside your pussy, Toji pulled your hips up to watch the white liquid escape your entrance and used his fingers to push it into you again.

— Come here. — He patted his chest lightly, and you leaned your sweaty body against his as you lifted your head to look at him. His hands caressed your body and soon you found yourself being carried up the stairs. — I'm going to give you a long shower, and then I'll take you home. — Toji left a gentle kiss against your forehead, and you felt more comfortable than you really should have in his arms.

— Thank you, daddy. — You replied, and he couldn't suppress a satisfied smile.

And maybe from then on you continued to take advantage of the times when Megumi wasn't home or you weren't so busy with college to spend hours together.

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #i4nanami #daddy toji #toji supremacy #tw.daddy kink

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sorrelchestnut · 2 years ago

Note

🤡 (I can think of a couple haha), ✨, 🎶, ❌, 🦅, 🤩 Sorry if that's a ton of questions oops I am nothing if not nosy as hell

Oh fuck yeah, let's do this!

(For the Fanfic Writer Emoji askmeme, still taking prompts if anyone wants to play!)

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

There's a couple from Sharp Edges I'm pretty proud of, mostly Stede-and-Izzy banter, but I think my dark horse favorite is this bit from chapter three:

The second time Izzy opens his eyes, Jim is sitting in a chair next to the bed, calmly and rhythmically sharpening a knife along a leather strop. "Nope," he decides, and passes back out again.

Literally wrote the entire recovery sequence the way I did so I could get that line in because it cracked me up.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I think I'm pretty good at capturing character voice! I was re-reading a couple of my own stories recently and none of the narrators sounded like each other, which is saying something since a not-insignificant number of them are emotionally damaged middle-aged men.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Oh yeah, absolutely. I usually have a playlist for any given fandom, which consists of an uneasy mix of music from the source, lyrically appropriate, and straight vibes. Occasionally a song will really hit a particular mood and get a one-song loop while I'm focusing in. Most recently Running for Cover and The Quittin' Kind, but my ultimate "put it on repeat and get to work" is Two Knocks, which got me through multiple entire Dishonored fics and is still probably my single favorite song of all time.

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

I want to say A/B/O, but I know in my heart it would just take the exact right dynamic to spark that off for me, so I'm not going to tempt fate. Anyway the real answer is food service AUs. Too real, man. Too real.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

Both, and it depends. What usually happens is I'll have a gem of an idea, and I'll end up throwing open a new doc and start typing absolute nonsense. What form that nonsense takes depends on the idea: sometimes I start from a specific scene, so I start writing that scene and see where it takes me, and sometimes it's an AU idea, and I just start typing "so what if such-and-such a thing happened," and then just ramble at myself in the document until it starts evolving. A lot of stories stop here, honestly; whatever creative urge prompted it gets satisfied and I set it aside and move on. If the story has more legs, I keep going (usually while telling myself and anyone who'll listen that I'm not really writing this one) and if it's long enough, it hits a point where I start outlining just to keep my scattershot ideas in check. A one-shot, even a longer one, gets almost no organization; I just write, and if things need to be moved around I do, but there's no outline because the story's tight enough I can hold the scope of it in my head.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

It's probably a cheap answer to say "whichever one I'm writing now" but honestly, it's the truth. I don't write characters if there isn't something about the inside of their POV that fascinates and compels me. That said, if the question is "what's your favorite type of character to write" the statistically correct answer, as noted above, is "emotionally damaged middle-aged men." Deacon, Johnny Silverhand, Daud, Corvo, now Izzy Hands... Actually remove the "men" and Billie Lurk fits perfectly to type as well. Depending on how generous you get with fantasy ages there's probably a few others that fit as well, lol.

...fuck do I ever have a type. Huh.

#askmeme #writing is hard y'all

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omnivoroussmut · 3 years ago

Text

Substitute

Summary: Luke discovers what kind of relationship Deckard and Madam M truly have

Takes place during H&S before the trio ends up at the Eteon facility

Tags: pegging, bondage, rope bondage, voyeurism, dom/sub, role-playing, slight humiliation kink, spanking, praise kink, masturbation, aftercare

Rating: 18+

Substitute

Summary: Luke discovers what kind of relationship Deckard and Madam M truly have

Tags: pegging, bondage, voyeurism, dom/sub, role-playing, slight humiliation kink

Looking through the many rooms of the ransacked mansion, Luke could see that M and her girls had already taken anything of value and destroyed anything not. The whole place felt as if it had been abandoned for years, even though Luke had a feeling it had been quite inhabited only a week ago before M got her hands on it.

He was currently looking for M herself, only told that she was on the third floor by some of her girls. None of them seemed interested in helping him or even looking at him. And honestly, Luke preferred not interacting with them; the less he knew, the less he would be accountable for later.

Slowly walking down the last corridor of the third floor, Luke finally heard M’s voice coming from the last room. Picking up his pace, he was at the slightly ajar door when he heard he speak again.

“Get in position.”

Luke tensed at the commanding tone in the woman’s voice and waited for what would happen next. Was she turning on them? Was she torturing someone else? What was going on?

“Yes, Madam.”

Luke’s eyes went wide. What was Deckard doing in there?

Curiosity through the roof, Luke gently placed his hand on the door and pushed it open a few more inches. The bedroom was the only one he had seen that was still intact with a four-poster bed with expensive silk sheets. However, it was Deckard in front of the bed that caught Luke’s attention.

The man was kneeling on a large cushion, completely naked. Luke could see everything; Deckard’s strong arms were folded behind him while his head was bowed as he stared at the floor. His legs were spread apart as he continued to kneel and showed off his obviously erect cock.

Luke could only stare at the clearly submissive position Deckard had taken up. His body was relaxed as he waiting for M, who Luke couldn’t see from where he was standing. He didn’t care where she was as he kept his eyes on Deckard and couldn’t help but admire the man’s body.

He obviously knew Deckard was extremely fit, but with the clothes he wore, it was hard to tell. But like this, Luke could get his fill of the lean muscles and pal skin that had scars scattered all over his body. Luke licked his lips, already wanting to map out all those scars with his own mouth and tongue.

“I’ve heard that you’ve been getting into quite a lot of trouble lately.” M’s voice floated through the room and made Luke take his eyes off of Deckard as he looked for where she was. “And here I thought you would stop misbehaving.”

“I’m sorry, Madam.” Deckard mumbled.

“That’s not good enough. You’ll need to be punished.”

Luke’s heart nearly stopped when he heard those words and saw Deckard’s cock twitch in interest. He finally realized what he had just walked in on.

As for Deckard, he kept his position even as M finally stepped back into view, rope that was dyed red looped in her hands as she walked up to Deckard. With just a finger, she tipped Deckard’s head up and forced him to meet her eyes.

“On the bed.”

There was no hesitation from Deckard as he gracefully got to his feet and crawled onto the bed to lay in the middle. He was on his belly and Luke got a perfect view of the man’s ass and desperately wanted to sink his teeth into it. Luke knew he was an ass man and seeing Deckard all laid out and waiting, it was far too tempting for Luke. But, he wasn’t the one running the show; this was all M’s doing.

Deckard was boneless as M crawled on top of him and kneeled above him as she grabbed his wrists. Luke tried to keep track of what knots she was using to tie his wrists to the headboard, but her hands were too quick and dexterous for him to follow. In less than a minute, Deckard’s wrists were tied together, above his head, and tightly secured to the bed. If he wasn’t a Shaw, Luke would have been convinced the man couldn’t have escaped from the expert bonds.

Smoothly, M crawled off of Deckard to sit next to him and giving Luke clear sight to see her gently message Deckard’s ass. Her long fingers occasionally gripped his cheeks and brush up his back. Her fingers even dipped between Deckard’s cheeks causing the man beneath her to jerk harshly and let out a hiss.

Eyes trained on M’s hands, Luke didn’t miss when she pulled out a small paddle, keeping it out of Deckard’s sight and lifted it above her hands. Time seemed to slow down as the paddle flew through the air and finally connected with Deckard’s pale cheeks.

The smack of leather against skin was like a gunshot.

“Ah!” Deckard moaned and arched his back, almost as if he was begging for more.

From there, M didn’t slow down in the least. As soon as one blow fell, the paddle was coming down even harder the next. The loud smack of abused flesh being hit mixed perfectly with he moans and whines that poured out of Deckard in abandon. The man was practically writhing in his bonds, which encouraged M to speed up even further.

Luke couldn’t take his eyes off the bright red Deckard’s ass had quickly become and he knew with the force M was using, Deckard would be feeling that for days. Oh, how Luke wished he was the one to do this to Deckard. The man constantly kept getting under his skin, pissing him off, and all Luke wanted to do was put him in his place. And what else than giving him something he obvious loved?

M might have said this was supposed to be a punishment, but it was obvious that it wasn’t. This was almost a reward by how much Deckard was thrusting his hips downwards into the sheets. No, Luke had a feeling that no physical punishment would actually punish Deckard. The man was a pure masochist.

Eventually, the paddle stopped and Deckard was left a panting, moaning mess and his ass a deep red, almost purple. M was smiling as she trailed her hand down Deckard’s ass like she had earlier, but this time, Deckard whined at the contact as she dug her fingers into his abused flesh.

“So good for me,” M purred. Deckard whined and shoved his face into the pillow beneath him. Luke filed that little detail away for later.

M rose to her feet and gently flipped Deckard over, carefully retying the ropes so as to not hurt him as he moved positions. But, as he settled down, Luke could see the pleasure and pain mixed on his face as his ass pressed onto the silk sheets. He looked like he wanted to turn over and press himself down further at the same time.

Luke kept his eyes on Deckard’s chest, which rose and fell quickly as he slowly regained his breath. Meanwhile, M had walked away again, leaving Deckard to simply lay there feeling the affects of his punishment. He looked so vulnerable spread out, Luke wished he could simply walk inside and take the man for himself. He already knew what he wanted to do to Deckard himself. He would make sure Deckard couldn’t sit the next day.

After a couple of minutes, M came back into view and Luke’s eyebrows rose in shock.

The woman was completely nude except for the large strap on that hung on her hips. The dildo looked huge, with the black silicone almost shining as M sashayed closer to the bed. A proud smirk played on her face as Deckard looked up and moaned at the sight of her. His legs opened wide and Luke had to quiet his own moan. He wished he was the one Deckard was spreading himself for, not a plastic dick.

“You’ve been needing this, haven’t you, Deck?” M purred as she climbed onto the bed again. Luke hadn’t noticed that she had brought several things with her. With an efficiency Luke had to wonder about, M slipped a cock ring over Deckard and ignored his whines of disappointment. Instead, she reached up and tied a silk blindfold over Deckard’s eyes. Luke didn’t know why she was doing it now, but knew he couldn’t ask her about it.

M continued to work with Deckard’s body as she tied his ankles to his thighs, practically folding him in half. She then tied a rope from his bound legs to the headboard so they were spread wide open and showed off his hard cock. He was completely on display and Luke could imagine himself shoving his face between those powerful legs and eating Deckard out for hours on end.

Instead, M was between his legs and pouring lube on her fingers.

“I was surprised when you showed up with company.” M spoke up, voice casually as she dipped a finger between Deckard’s legs. By the way Deckard threw his head back, Luke knew exactly what that finger was doing. “Especially that agent.”

Deckard didn’t respond, only arching his back and whining as he tried to shove himself back on her fingers unsuccessfully. Luke himself was only paying half of his attention to M while he stared at how taut Deckard’s body was. He could already see all the other ways he could tie the Brit up, using the same red rope. Who knew he looked so good in red.

“Looks like you two are quite attached.” M hummed as she continued to work Deckard open. For the first time, Luke wished she would move so he could see what she was doing with her fingers.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Deckard gasped.

“Really?” M purred and smirked at him. “Because to me, you’re practically begging him to bend you over a table and fuck you.”

Luke’s mouth fell open as Deckard whimpered and struggled. He shook his head vehemently and let out a shout. Glancing down, Luke had to guess by M’s sharp smile she had found Deckard’s prostate.

“Is that who you wish was fingering you? Hmm, Deck?” M’s voice was like honey as she continued to open him up and her other hand trailed up to rest on his chest. Nimble fingers pinched one of Deckard’s nipples and Luke almost jumped back as Deckard nearly screamed. “I know you. You want him to be the one to hold you down just like this. He could easily keep you pinned and do whatever he wanted to your body. That’s all you want. For someone else to take control, even for a short while.”

Small mewls of pleasure were pouring out of Deckard as tears escaped from under the blindfold and trickled down his cheeks. Luke’s fingers twitched by his side- he wanted to be the one to brush those tears away.

“You wish it was his cock, don’t you?” M chuckled as she withdrew her hand. Deckard whined in disappointment, but M ignored him as she pushed his legs even closer against his chest. Angling herself, Luke could see the large strap-on start to push into Deckard and disappear slowly. Who knew he could take so much and love it by the way he was writhing to get it into his body even faster?

Luke certainly wished that was his cock. Reaching down, Luke finally pressed his palm against his own bulge and hissed at the pressure. He was so hard, it almost hurt.

“Say it, Deck.” M’s voice turned firm suddenly. “Tell me who’s cock you wish this was.”

Deckard whimpered.

“L-Luke’s!” He gasped. “I want it to be Luke’s!”

It was too much. Biting down on his fist, Luke fumbled to pull down his zipper and pull out his cock. Watching M, he tried to match her pace with his own hand, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He wanted, no- needed to be the one thrusting into Deckard.

As for M, she was brutal. Her thrusts were hard and fast as she rammed into Deckard, pushing all of her weight onto his legs so she could pound into him with as much force as she could. By her third thrust, Deckard was screaming in pleasure.

“Say his name!” M hissed as she leaned down to leave bites on Deckard’s chest. “Who do you want fucking you?”

�� “Luke! Please!” Deckard cried out and tugged at his bound wrists. “More! Please!” Luke could feel his teeth breaking the skin of his hand as he pumped his cock even harder. How the fuck was he supposed to work with the man now when he knew Deckard wanted him this badly?

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” M gasped. “You just want someone to fuck you until you can’t think anymore. All you’re good for is laying there and taking it. Hobbs would love using you day and night, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!”

“If he asked you, you’d drop to your knees and suck him off, no matter who’s watching!” Deckard whimpered.

“Answer me!” M growled and slapped Deckard.

“Yes! Anything!”

“You’d even want him to fuck you in front of his fellow agents, just to show them who owns the powerful Deckard Shaw.” M snarled. “Because at the end of the day, you’re just a cock slut.”

Deckard sobbed in pleasure and nodded his head frantically.

“Please, please! So, close!”

“Hobbs would keep you like this for hours.” M plunged into Deckard and rolled her hips unmercilessly. “Just fuck you over and over, not letting you come until he gives you permission. But you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” By this point, Luke was surprised Deckard wasn’t even able to understand a word she was saying. His face was twisted pleasure and his body was taut as he took M’s powerful thrusts.

“Please, Luke! I need to come so badly!” Deckard sobbed.

That was all it took for Luke to fall over the edge into his own orgasm. Biting even harder into his fist, Luke was sure neither M or Deckard could hear him over Deckard’s own scream of pleasure. Panting, Luke pumped himself through the pleasure and could feel his fist become coated in hot cum.

Leaning against the doorframe, Luke looked up after a minute and saw the two on the bed were still. Cum was splattered all over Deckard’s chest as he laid panting beneath M, who was whispering in his ear and massaging his hips. After a few moments, M slowly extracted herself from Deckard and the smaller man whimpered at the loss.

“Shhh, quiet, sweetheart. You did so good for me.” M gently whispered.

She was gentle with him as she slowly untied him, massaging each limb as it was released. There were red marks all down his legs and most obvious around his wrists, but looked like they would disappear by the end of the day. Luke would have to figure out what kind of rope she used so Deckard couldn’t hurt himself in his struggling.

When he was completely untied, M disappeared again and Luke couldn’t help but stare at the exhausted man on the bed. He had a layer of sweat covering him and his chest was still raising and lowering a little too quickly. But, as his head loll to the side, Luke could see the obvious contentness that filled his body. A small smile was on Deckard’s face and Luke wished he could simply lean down and capture those lips.

But he couldn’t. Not when M walked back towards Deckard, now wearing a robe and carrying a towel. Slowly and methodologically, M wiped Deckard down, whispering praise the whole time. If Luke was mistaken, it sounded almost as if Deckard was purring at her words. With gentle fingers, she finally untied the blindfold and Luke saw Deckard was fast asleep.

When M was done, she threw the towel to the side and laid back down next to Deckard. She laid behind him and raised the blankets over their bodies as she spooned him.

Taking one last look at the two, Luke tucked himself back into his trousers and walked away.

Picking up the duffel bag of tools he would need, Luke looked up when he heard footsteps approaching him. He raised an eyebrow at the knowing smirk M was sending him.

“You know he and I aren’t a thing, right?” She drawled. “I play with him occasionally, but he needs a gentler hand than mine.”

Luke could only stare at her as her smile grew and she leaned in close

“Treat him well, or else I’ll make you regret even being born.”

“You don’t have to worry.” Luke narrowed his eyes.

“Good. He follows orders well, so he won’t cause too much trouble for you. Good luck.”

Luke could only nod as M walked away from. He was still staring when Deckard walked into the room, holding his own duffel of equipment.

“Ready, twinkletoes?” Deckard snapped.

“All set.”

As he followed Deckard outside and towards the jet, Luke couldn’t help but stare at the small limp Deckard couldn’t hide.

#smut #hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #madad m #margarita x deckard #margarita

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

All That Glitters

Summary: Pandora’s box is a black box covered in silk and embossed with the initials R.S.

a/n: So uh this work is a follow up to my fic Better Die than Doubt but it can be read as a stand alone. This thing resulted from the combined might of @knightfall05x, @lucy-roo, and my thirst. I said the follow up to that fic would be fluffy. The chronological follow up will come out at some point. I just have a single braincell and it decided it wanted to write more Black Mask being an absolute bastard. Thanks to those two hoes for enabling and proof reading. See you both in hell

warnings: This is smut. I was being haunted. This work contains noncon, past noncon, violence, Roman being an asshole, daddy kink, size kink, strength kink (if you squint ), yandere themes, stalking, exhibitionism, a dude who cannot take no for an answer and choking.

masterlist

“Hey Jay,” You chirp into the phone, maneuvering it over your shoulder carefully so you wouldn't drop it while you held your soda can at an arm's length away from you hoping it wouldn’t explode on you when you attempt to open it.

“Hey, sweet-” You blow out a raspberry halting the correction in its tracks. You can practically picture Jason’s mouth swerve into an odd shape caught between proceeding with his correction or backtracking. He chose neither. You hear him swear viciously. You snort making him huff.

“What’s up, asshat?” He asks, endearingly. You can pretty much hear him rolling his eyes from this side of the world. You frown hearing how winded he sounded.

“Jay, if this is a bad time, I can-”

“You’re fine it’s just a little-”

“JAYBIRD, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE”

“Roy sounds like he needs help. I can call back later.”

“Roy can handle himself.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Jaybird, but I think I’d prefer if you kept shooting straight.”

You snort feeling warmth build up in your chest despite the chilly weather. You chirp delighted when you open the can and it doesn’t explode. You hear Jason chuckle. The smart remark he had on the edge of his tongue dies on his lips when your breath hitches audibly at the sound of his gun firing. Jason makes a noise, the kind you use to prompt someone to tell you if they’re ok without having to ask. You swallow and nod and curse remembering he can’t see you. You blow out a breath, making sure it comes out steady.

“Y/n...”

“I’m-” You wanted to say fine but you knew the word fine was wholly inappropriate and untrue for this situation. “I’m gonna survive. I promise.”

Jason doesn’t make a sound of agreement or disagreement. He simply acknowledges it. You silently thank him for the neutrality.

“JAYBIRD”

“SHUT UP, HARPER”

You hear Kory sigh in exasperation somewhere in the distance. In the background, you hear a shriek which you assume is from Jason. Then the line cuts out.

You try to redial.

Nothing.

You try again.

Nothing.

A laugh rips out of your chest. You cry out in pain, the fizzy drink rushing up your nose. You wince and curse and settle on blaming Jason. You suspect they somehow broke the phone. You wouldn’t be too surprised by that outcome. You sigh but there was no point in complaining about it. You might as well finish your lunch in peace.

You chew on your cheek as you walk back to your cubicle, everyone’s eyes are on you. You feel your breathing pick up a fraction of a second faster.

One

Two

Fuck

You dig your nails into your palm. Your footfalls become heavier and a little louder even against the white noise around you. You slowdown and shake your head. You haven’t had an attack at work so far and you aren’t about to start now. You inhale deeply, letting your chest expand as you run through the things Dinah taught you.

Take stock of the situation around you.

The world around you was buzzing with life-shuffling papers, ringing phones, humming of machines, and blips of voices here and there. The room is bright and clean under the light of sterile fluorescent lights. You take in all the voices around you. You’re not alone. The knot building in your shoulders loosens. You continue.

Take stock of your body.

Your body is trembling, the beginnings of a panic attack looming over you. Instead of cursing it, you let it. It was only natural to relapse once in a while. The trauma wasn’t fresh. Not in your opinion, at least. Dinah and, apparently, everyone else had a different opinion. You’re good at being ok but you were human. You let out a long breath, half-tempted to let your eyes slide shut but you’re afraid of finding yourself in that room again, of seeing him, of feeling him on you. Revulsion spasmed in your body in powerful waves. Sure, you’re a showboat, Jay had said as much, but showing off and causing a scene were two entirely different things and you weren’t entirely sure you could endure the looks of pity from your coworkers every time you came through those doors.

Stiffly, you walk towards your cubicle. Your neighbor, Chelsea, smiling conspiratorially at you while your manager glares daggers at you. You raise an eyebrow at Chelsea who waggles her eyebrows in return.

“This is how you tell me I got fired?” You sigh, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth.

Chelsea rolls her eyes at you. “Nope, but the boss man did want me to tell you to tell your boyfriend that he really shouldn’t be sending you gifts at work but honestly, I …...” Your brows knit in confusion, cold dread licking at the pit of your stomach.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You say slowly trying to keep the mounting panic out of your voice. You could hear your blood pulsating in your ears, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Your feet are itching for you to run outside and call Jason or Dinah or anyone but the stupider part of you- the curious part of you was clawing at your mind to proceed.

“Y/n, are- are you ok?” You blink and look at the clock. Two minutes. You blacked out for two minutes which, if you were being totally honest, was a huge improvement.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you say so” She shrugs, her eyes still not pulling away from you.

Mechanically, you turn to your desk. Your entire being freezes when your eyes land on the black box sitting on the desk and the large bouquet of red roses sitting next to it. The box was rectangular, black with silver trimmings embossed on it. Large ‘R.S.’ written in fancy lettering at the bottom right corner of the lid. You wanted to vomit.

You draw a breath and flex your fingers. You can feel your teeth digging into your cheeks.

“Hey, Chel?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow some tissues?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper but still miraculously steady. She frowns at your handing you a couple of tissues. Normally, you keep your vigilante habits out of your civilian life but considering the initials embossed on this obnoxiously expensive-looking box sitting on your desk, you think this level of paranoia is justified.

You stop to calculate the odds that the box contained explosives which turns up zero. You sigh but a shiver climbs up your spine when you run through the possibilities of what Roman could have thought of as a gift.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” If Chelsea wasn’t watching you before, she was now. You glance at her quickly and give her a weak smile. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Cautiously, you lift the lid quietly regretting not calculating the possibility of anything toxic being in it. You’re honestly surprised nothing happened. You roll your eyes upon seeing the expensive-looking black silk covering the inside.

Yes, rub your money in my face while you scare me shitless why don’t you, you fucking asshole, you think grumpily peeling the fabric away.

Your heart comes to a full stop when you’re met with a pair of lacy lingerie. Your lacy lingerie. Your USED lacy lingerie. You blink trying not to focus on the white stains. You sincerely did not want to think about that. Moving them aside you find a bloody shirt, the sound of its shifting fabric making gooseflesh spread all over your body.

You recognize it. You didn’t want to, but here it was. The bloodstains were dry but they were still visible even against the dark fabric of the shirt. Your skin prickles where the scars on your body sit. The knife wounds sting and throb as if freshly cut. It takes everything in you not to vomit.

It was probably the single-minded curiosity that kept you going. You maneuver the shirt carefully making sure it makes as little sound as possible. Underneath it is a collar, simple but clearly expensive leather with the tag R.S. glittering under the sterile lights. Your throat constricts. You tear your gaze away. Your eyes sting. Next to it was a stack of photos. The top photo showed you with your, shirt torn exposing your breasts. Someone was inside you, gripping your hips. You gag. You reign your mind in. You flip the stack over and gather your breath. Your heart stops again when you see Roman’s familiar handwriting on the back of a photo.

“Miss me?”

The drive back to your apartment was a blur consisting of what was most likely several severe traffic violations but you needed- you need to get out of town as quickly as possible. The odds of Roman himself showing up to your little town was low, very low. Not that you’ve actually calculated it. You don’t need to. The man walks around like his feet bless every surface they touch. The man has a loaded god complex the size of Russia to put it generously. Fetching you was simply beneath him. He had henchmen for a reason after all.

You wave to your landlady and her husband amiably as you walk past them keeping the nervous thrum out of your movement. Your landlady returns the gesture, elbowing her sneering husband. You know what he thinks of you and your habits. Take a few guys home with you and suddenly you’re a slut. Your promiscuity was none of his fucking business. Your body was yours to do with, to give, and to take back. It was yours. It’s yours, you assure yourself but the feeling of your body and mind hanging loosely off of each other feels painfully vivid at the moment.

You shake your head. This wasn’t the best time to sort out your hang-ups.

You press your ear to your apartment door then remembered just how thick it was and remembered that you didn’t exactly have super hearing. You sigh. What you would give to be Supes right about now. You enter the apartment careful not to make your steps audible. That, however, was rendered moot by the two very large and blocky men standing in your living room. You exhale both in frustration and relief. If Roman Fucking Sionis thinks he can scare you with two meatheads, he was clearly insulting you. Well, at least, he didn’t hire anyone actually competent considering all your gear was in a duffle bag tucked neatly away under your bed. Yanno, just for this sort of eventuality. Now that you think about it. You really should have just kept it in your car but small-town crime seems to have softened you.

You smile letting the irritation mold you into something sharp and venomous. You throw the box at one of the henchmen goading them to attack you. Its contents scattering all over the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care that some of the photos land right side up.

“Tell your chicken shit of a boss to come scare me himself,” You laugh, manic relief flooding through you. You feel like you’re going mad but you don’t care. It’s so much more feasible to deal with these men than it is to have to even think about Roman. “He doesn’t even have the balls to-”

“Well, it’s nice to see you too, Sweetheart.” comes a gravelly voice from the bedroom. Your stomach drops. Roman strides out of your bedroom adjusting the cuff link of his obnoxiously expensive suit. He looks down to the photos and gifts scattered on the ground, frowning he bends down to pick up the collar, dusting it off and stuffing it in his pocket.

Your fight or flight response freezes. You back into the door, the material feeling too solid for the moment. You inhale sharply, only managing short shallow breaths as Roman slowly closes the distance between you. His footfalls loud, heavy, and deliberately casual making your blood thrum.

No. No. No.

Your eyes flicker wildly around the room looking for any weapon within reach, your mind running through the numbers, the probabilities melding together into incoherent blotches of red in the back of your skull. Roman slams his large hands on either side of your head. The impact makes the door creak. You can’t stop yourself from flinching visibly, surprise and fear carving themselves on to your face. Roman barks out a derisive laugh as he trails a leather-clad finger down your chin, your throat, then to your cleavage. The contact against your bare skin makes you bristle.

“This here?” He emphasizes, his fingers playing with the top button of your shirt popping it carelessly revealing your baby pink, lace bra hidden beneath. “This is a little low cut for the office, isn’t it, princess?”

Annoyance overwhelms your sense of self-preservation. “I’m not about to take fashion advice from a guy who looks like he watches Scar Face daily.” You snipe, teeth bared. Roman hums the undercurrent of rage filling the air. Your ribs ache, remembering an old injury. Your mouth slams shut cutting off any other snide remarks.

“You wear these clothes to wind me up, don’t you?” Roman drawls, his leather-clad fingers tracing up the expanse of your thigh exposed by the slit of your skirt, bunching up the skirt and playing with the waistband of your thong as he does so. His thumbs pressing circles against your inner thigh, you can’t help but quiver under his touch. “Oh the fun hasn’t even started yet...just wait”, he bites your ear lobe and tugs it between his teeth. He pulls back and glares at you. “Do you want to know how I found you in this dead-end town, princess?” He asks tilting your chin with his gloved hand. You shake your head not really interested at the moment. You’re too distracted by how flush your body was getting as he presses you further into the door with his bulk. You note with disgust the arousal suffusing through your limbs.

“You were all over the news, sweetheart,” You’re trying to remember what he could possibly be talking about. He leans in closer, leather-clad hand brushing against his thumb against your bottom lip, your lips parting automatically for him. He places his gloved thumb between your parted lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that goofy smile of yours?” You shiver lips wrapping around the intruding digit. Your tongue flicks and swirls around it in a practiced gesture. “Good girl.” Roman hums, a grin spreading across his face while thick shame blankets you. You frown at how familiar the taste of the glove is against your tongue. You push your thoughts away wishing your mind would fall away.

“Baby,” He draws his hand away from your lips, wiping the thin string of saliva on your face. His hands glide down the sides of your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize these hips?” His hands grab at your hips roughly, lifting you and pulling them flush against his own. “Baby. I know what’s mine and this time I won’t let you get away from me.” He whispers against your neck, voice husky and rough. You swallow feeling his lips brush against your pulse.

Roughly, he wedges a thigh between your legs, the friction against your core making you keen. The friction woke something in you and loosened a few other things. Your hips roll desperately against the thick muscle of his thighs. Roman grins against your neck, loosening his grip on your hips and letting you fuck yourself on his thigh. You will yourself to stop but the heat twisting in your gut is too much. You hate yourself. You well and truly hate yourself. Your cheeks warm, breath coming out in pants.

Roman places a kiss on your collarbone, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh. Your tongue is caught between your teeth to hold back a moan but the shiver spreading throughout your body says it too loudly. Roman chuckles, vibrations deep within his chest making you weak. Roman licks a stripe up your neck, planting kisses and hickeys along your jaw. “God, you taste sweet, princess.” He murmurs hot against your neck, the smirk dripping from his voice. It feels like acid against your skin.

He guides your pliant arms to loop around his shoulders. You obey soundlessly, tipping your head back giving him room to ravish your neck. He does with unbridled enthusiasm. You feel trapped in your own body. You don’t want this. You want to push him away but the fear coursing through you leaves you a passenger in your own body. Your breath hitches with each bite and kiss.

“Mine.” He rumbles resolutely, sliding the cloth of your top placing a bite on your shoulder. It stings without even looking, you know it’s deep.

“No” You whisper, low and unsure.

“No?” He challenges pulling away from your shoulder.

“No” You echo voice frustratingly unsteady. He sneers down at you, smile condescending. A biting rebellious part of you demands that you snarl and spit something brisque and witty at him but it’s pushed down by something viscous filling your chest. How are you drowning and why are you not dead yet?

Just let it pass, your mind whispers to itself. Just let him get his fill and he’ll be on his way. You don’t even have to get hurt. You sincerely want to believe this. You just want this to not happen. The thought of it summons a wave of nausea deep within you. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You blink rapidly chasing them away. He likes it when you cry.

“Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want this,” He emphasizes, pressing his thigh against your sopping pussy. The pressure makes you whine. “Not when you’re being all cute and fucking yourself on my thigh like the dirty slut you are.”

No. No. No.

Rat-tat.

You will your hips to stop their movement but they’re too lost in their momentum. Your eyes flicker to Roman’s men, large eyes pleading. They stand stiffly doing their best to ignore you. They’re doing a damn fine job of it.

“Oh they won’t do anything, they’re here to watch,” Roman whispers hotly against your ear. Your eyes flicker to them again. Your breath catching when your eyes meet one of theirs, seeing not an ounce of pity. You shove the bile rising in your throat and the quirk on their lips deep somewhere else, somewhere away from you.

You try to squirm away but Roman’s arm presses into your windpipe pinning you in place. You thrash and kick and hiss but your head feels light. You hear fabric shift and you still. The sound of the zipper is too loud and too real.

Roman takes your lips in a forceful kiss making you gasp. His tongue forces its way into your mouth. He releases your neck. You feel his fingers trail up the slits of your skirt. You try to focus on them rather than what’s pressing stiffly against your inner thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunch up by your hips. You feel your panties getting pushed aside by large fingers. You whimper again, clawing at the expensive fabric of Roman’s suit. “Please don’t do this.” You plead breathily against his ear.

He laughs, voice gravelly and harsh. Without further warning or preparation or ceremony, Roman shoves himself inside your warmth, pushing you further into the door. You gasp, the burning stretch making your body tremble all over. He bottomed out with a loud groan. You wanted to cover your ears or have your mind fall out of your reach but here it was painfully present along with your frozen body. He’s loud, groaning and panting as he fucks into you. He thrusts into you with wild abandon, hips clashing against each other with bruising intensity. You can feel his cock dragging in and out of you, hitting every spot violently. He wants this to hurt. You hope it would too.

Your cheeks burn with how your walls spasm around his cock. You want to push him away, to take him out of you but it feels so good. You try to smother the lewd sounds you make into his shirt. Roman’s hands squeeze tightly around your waist in warning. “Yeah, that's it, baby. Let daddy know how much you want this.” You don’t protest. Instead, you let your mouth hang open and let the lewd mewls and keens tumble out. He drills into you more violently seemingly spurred on by your sounds.

You come with a whimper. You want to bury yourself in a hole. He comes not long after still fucking into you as he does, making sure your pussy takes all of his cum.

He pulls out of you, the slick sound of it absolutely sinful. Your body is slack against the door, too drained to hold itself up. Roman pulls back, grinning down at you and whistling appreciatively as he admires his work. “Let’s dress you back up, sweetheart.” Roman coos locking something around your neck. You don’t need to look down to know what he’s put there. The cool metal of the R.S. hanging off the collar presses stark against your hot sensitive skin.

“You look sooo much better like this,” Blearily you look past him. Your duffle bag is already in the arms of one of his men. He grabs your face roughly making you look him in the eyes. “All mine- just as you should be.”

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Thanks for reading! I swear I will do more fluff in the near future. I just needed this out of my system.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

#yandere blackmask #yandere dc #yandere roman sionis #reader insert #dc reader insert #warning: smut #dc smut #black mask x reader #roman sionis x reader #yandere roman sionis x reader #my writing

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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt: Going to a Fair Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Teen Audiences And Up Content Warnings: None Summary: A beautiful thing about Toussaint is the fairs and masquerades the dutchess holds every now and then. And the big canopy beds. Oh, those are the best part.

[This one turned out to a little all over the place but I still really enjoyed writing it. Hope you’ll enjoy it too, my darlings.]

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Crossposted on ao3 here

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"Geralt, my love, you look wonderful, stop being so hard on yourself," Jaskier says, wrapping his arms around the witcher's waist and hugging him from the back, locking eyes with him through the mirror.

Geralt doesn't really share the bard's enthusiasm. He's used to his armour, to thick black leather with only a few elements of silver, and that is what feels natural, what feels right.

A dark-crimson - almost wine-red, really - doublet with intricate embroidery in gold thread does not.

He knows that he'd agreed to this himself, knows that Jaskier had told him that if he doesn't want to go, he won't get upset with him and just go with Barnabas-Basil or one of his friends. But Geralt always went out of his way to make his husband happy.

So, naturally, when Jaskier told him that there's going to be a masquerade and a fair in Beauclair, he couldn't say no.

"The dutchess herself is said to be there," Jaskier murmurs against his neck, smiling encouragingly. "I'm sure she will be delighted to see you. After all, we were personally invited, weren't we?"

"Isn't the whole point of a masquerade is for the participants not to recognise each other?" Geralt tries, weakly.

"Oh, don't be like that," Jaskier huffs, waving a hand dissmissingly. "It's going to be fun, I promise. Besides, isn't Regis going to be there?"

That's true, Geralt supposes. Regis is going to be there, which makes the event slightly more bearable. It's always nice to talk to an old friend.

"He is," he hums, adjusting the collar od his shirt. "Going to keep me company when you run off to flirt with the next pretty little thing you see."

Jaskier just laughs at that, circling Geralt to stand in front of him and take his face into his hands, getting a stray strand of silver out of his eyes.

"You know that never leads to anything," he smiles, leaning in to touch the witcher's dry lips with his own. "I can innocently flirt with everyone I see but it's only you I love, my darling. And only you I want."

Geralt does know that. He's not even jealous, never doubting Jaskier's faithfulness but missing an opportunity to tease would've been a waste.

"I know," he finally says, stealing another kiss. "And yet, if the dutchess herself is going to be there... She's got an eye for you, you know. Would be terribly rude of you to turn down such an important woman."

Jaskier snickers and shakes his head, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Then it's a good thing that she's not going to recognise me."

When they arrive, the event is already in full swing.

Jaskier's eyes light up at the music that flows through the garden and the way he squeezes Geralt's hand suddenly makes the entire thing worth it in the witcher's mind.

Jaskier looks breathtaking in his dark-blue silk suit, the silver mask hiding just enough of his face for it to be almost impossible to recognise him yet leaving enough open for Geralt to still have the option of pulling his close and kissing him. in the witcher's mind, it couldn't be more perfect.

"May I hear the password?" asks one of the guards at the gates, his own face hidden behind a mask with a long beak.

"Waterlilies," Jaskier says, repeating what's been written in their invitations.

The guard nods and gestures to the doors.

"If you'll be so kind as to follow me," he says. "Our most generous dutchess Anna Henrietta has arranged a room for you so that you don't have to make a long journey back home at night."

There is nothing about Jaskier's expression - half-hidden by the mask - that gives away his delight but Geralt knows him well enough to be able to smell it on him. Jaskier is, after all, of a noble family, a court man, and Geralt knows just how much he loves it when he's treated like one, even though most of the time he happily trades it for the life on the Path.

Corvo Bianco, it seemed, was the perfect middle ground.

They follow the guard through the garden and into a big, richly decorated estate with stained-glass windows and luscious flowers hanging in big round pots. The guard takes them to the upper floor, opens the door with a key and gestures for Geralt and Jaskier to step inside and make themselves comfortable.

"If there shall be anything you need, the servants are on the ground floor, you need only call," he says, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and handing Jaskier the key. "Enjoy your night, gentleman."

With that, he bows and leaves, leaving Jaskier and Geralt alone in the room.

"Oh, this reminds me of home," Jaskier sighs, a smile on his lips as he falls onto a truly enormous canopy bed covered with red velvet.

"Of home?" Geralt echoes, almost feeling out of place in such a rich interior.

"Well, you know, my childhood home," Jaskier says, propping himself up on both elbows. "I have to be honest with you, Geralt, I miss all of this from time to time."

The witcher comes closer, sits on the edge of the bed, runs his hand over the velvet and sighs, content. It does feel nice.

"Do you think we could get a bed like this for the vineyard?" Jaskier asks, pushing him down onto his back and lying down next to him, finding Geralt's hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles. "It's not only amazing to sleep in but also-" his eyes light up behind his mask, and Geralt knows a little too well what that means. "Look at those poles, my love. I could let you tie my wrists to them if you were to wish for it."

Oh, that sounds tempting.

"Hmm," Geralt hums, non-commital. "Sounds intriguing. Though I might need to try first and then decide. After all, finding this kind of bed is not easy."

It takes Jaskier a second to understand what exactly it is that Geralt is saying but then he gasps in mock offence and shoves him in the shoulder with no real force.

"Preposterous!" he gasps, a hand over his heart. "This is the dutchess' cousin's summer residence, and this is, I'm more than sure, the best guest bedroom. Anarietta herself might be sleeping in this bed while visiting."

"Yes," Geralt says simply, knowing that all of that only adds to Jaskier's interest. "And tonight this bed is ours."

Before that conversation can take them anywhere, Jaskier demands they go back to the garden.

Geralt doesn't object, just follows the bard down the stairs and helps him adjust his doublet before they step out the door. He feels just a little strange with his hair done up in a complicated bun but then again, Jaskier told him that it will help the witcher be even less recognisable, and there was never anything that Geralt could deny him.

The disguise was, it seemed, working effectively for they've almost bumped into Anarietta - Geralt recognised her by smell - when passing the gates again but she didn't notice them. Or, at least, she didn't come up to them, to Geralt's immeasurable relief. He'd only ever said it to Jaskier but the dutchess was getting on his nerves and if he could avoid her, he gladly did just that.

"There's a Gwent tournament somewhere in the north side of the garden, as far as I'm aware," Jaskier says, making a non-descriptive gesture in the general direction, as they walk past a table with all sorts of baked sweets. "If you're interested."

Even with Jaskier, Geralt feels somewhat out of place at an event like this. And a few rounds of Gwent sound like a perfect way to forget about it.

"Sounds tempting," he says, reaching to brush his fingers over Jaskier's and take his hand into his own. He's still getting used to it. "Though you know I prefer to play with you."

Jaskier rolls his eyes in fond exasperation.

"That's because every time we play, you insist that we play strip Gwent, knowing perfectly that you're a better player than me," he chuckles. "Honestly, Geralt, all you need to do for me to undress is ask."

"I know," the witcher grins, pulling Jaskier closer to shamelessly press a kiss to his cheek. "But where's the fun in that?"

He plays a few rounds without Jaskier, winning effortlessly every time while the bard is making new acquaintances by the wine vault where there are multiple tables with all the best blends of reds and whites.

Geralt can't see him but he can hear him, Jaskier's voice soft and beautiful as he tells a group of young women stories about Skellige. They all gasp almost in unison when the bard tells them about that one time when they've been travelling between the islands on a boat and nearly drowned when a pack of sirens toppled it over.

Geralt chuckles to himself, knowing perfect that they were never in any real danger for it was near the coast of And Skellig and if anything happened, fishermen or sailors would've picked them up almost immediately.

Jaskier refers to him as "my husband", not giving away any names, including his own, and every time the witcher hears that, a little piece of his heart seems to melt. It's been more than five years since they've gotten married but in a way, Geralt is still not used to it.

When the time is moving towards late evening, Jaskier joins him at the table, nodding a greeting to Geralt's opponent and leaning down to brush his lips over the witcher's cheek.

"Winning, my love?" he asks, blushing just a little when Geralt pulls him into his lap.

"As usual," he grins, to great displeasure to the man across the table.

Jaskier murmurs something content, throwing his arms around Geralt's neck and sneaking a look at his cards. Geralt tries to hide them from him but the bard scratches his shoulder through the doublet and that's all it really takes for the witcher to give up and let him see.

Geralt's a long-time player and his deck is pretty much as good as it gets, nearly every gold card there is being in his possession but it's the final round and Geralt's opponent's got four cards in hand while as the wither only ahs three. By now it mostly depends on luck. But Jaskier might just know a way to get it onto their side.

"Win this round for me," he murmurs into Geralt's ear, quiet enough only for him to hear. "And I'll think about what you said back in the bedroom."

Geralt's golden eyes light up with a flame that Jaskier knows well enough to know that his words have been effective.

It all goes very fast from there. Though Geralt's only got one gold card in hand, it's a Cirilla card which has the power of fifteen and that is what ends up getting him the win, when the man across the table, with his overall score of sixteen, throws a water card onto the table, making both of Geralt's archers drop from four to one.

He wins by just one point, but he wins.

Jaskier can feel his heart flutter with anticipation as Geralt grins at his opponent, reaching over the table to get the coin they've put up. It's a rather impressive amount. The other player must be a count or something like that.

He's clearly not too happy about losing his gold but he takes it as a good player, standing up and shaking Geralt's hand with a congratulation. Then, he wishes them both a pleasant evening and leaves, waving to someone by the fountain.

"I won," Geralt states, still grinning and oh so pleased with himself. "What was it that you said, bard? If I win, what is it that you're going to think about?"

Jaskier laughs and pulls him into an affectionate kiss, one hand coming up to cup the sharp of the witcher's jaw.

"You just wait until we're back in the bedroom, my dearest."

It's closer to midnight when they finally find Regis.

Or, rather, when Regis finds them.

"Fascinating how people always seem to want to disguise themselves," he says instead of a greeting, appearing out of nowhere, just like he always does. "And how they seem more attracted to each other when they don't know who is hiding behind the mask."

He's got a full-black velvet suit on, adorned with raven feathers, and a matching mask that hides most of his face. If it wasn't for his voice, Jaskier would've never recognised him.

"Mystery is always thrilling," the bard smiles, taking a sip of his Est-Est. "There's something irresistibly captivating about a man in a mask. A woman, too, of course, but women are mysterious creatures in general."

Regis nods knowingly and also raises his wineglass.

"Yes, women are... A mystery no man will ever solve."

They all fall silent for a couple of moments, and even though Jaskier knows that Geralt is thinking about Yennefer, there is no more pain. There hasn't been, for years now.

It took them a long time to figure it all out, to talk everything over, and though it would come with tears what seemed like every time, eventually, it was all over. And it brought them so close that if Jaskier had to go through all of that again twice, he would.

"Well, my dearest friends," Regis finally says, breaking the silence. "I've heard that there are prize-winning games starting at midnight, would you care to join me in testing my luck?"

Regis turns out to be a rather talented fisherman.

That is, given that what he's fishing for is a gold ring with a bright-red ruby in the centre - one of the three main possible prizes in the game.

The other players look at him with both jealousy and fascination, loud applause echoing through the garden.

Regis looks very pleased with himself - as much as Jaskier can tell, keeping the mask in mind - but it's only when they leave the deck of the pond that he asks for Jaskier's hand and places the ring into his palm.

"Beautiful work," he says, closing Jaskier's hand around the ring before he has the chance to refuse. "But it just so happens that gold suits you better, my friend."

"Regis-" Jaskier breathes out. "I cannot accept this. You've won it, it's yours."

Regis smiles - one of those tight-lipped smiles of his that doesn't show his teeth.

"I'm afraid I must insist," he says. "If it puts your mind at ease, I don't wear jewellery at all. It gets in the way of making my medications."

"Of making your moonshine, you meant to say," Geralt chuckles teasingly.

"The most effective out of all of my elixirs, my friend."

Jaskier knows said elixir a little too well and shakes his head with a fond smile, opening his hand to examine the ring closer.

"Thank you, Regis," he smiles. "I shall treasure this gift forever."

Geralt refrains from any other games, saying that he's very happy with his winnings from Gwent and doesn't want to push his luck any further.

Jaskier, however, overhears that there is a bardic competition about to start and he nearly runs, having grabbed Geralt by the hand. They get there just in time for him to take one on the last remaining places.

All of the participants are given their preferred instruments and are told to improvise for three and a half minutes. Whoever comes up with the best song and gets the loudest applause, shall win five long ribbons of the finest Toussaint silk that the winner can then take to a seamstress and get their clothes adorned. Jaskier's eyes shine like the stars above when he sees the royal-blue ribbon.

Geralt and Regis take their places in the audience, the witcher secretly worried, and try their absolute best at hyping Jaskier up by rolling their eyes at the other participant's songs to indicate just how non-impressive all of those attempts are.

Jaskier smiles at them from behind his mask and giggles when Regis implies that he's so bored by one of the songs that he's about to turn into smoke and disappear.

When it comes to Jaskier's turn, the bard adjusts the collar of his doublet and the cuffs of his sleeves, stands up because he hates to perform sitting down, runs his fingers over the lute strings and takes his first note, practised and beautiful, as always.

He sings about two people meeting at a masquerade and falling on love with each other immediately. Sings about them kissing in the dark alleyways of the garden and promising each other the stars. And sings about them not recognising each other when they cross paths the next morning while also searching for one another. They part, having nearly touched hands at the gates, to always look for each other, aching with love, but never meet again.

By the time Jaskier touches the strings one last time, half the audience is wiping at their eyes, including Regis.

It's an immediate win and Jaskier shines with it when the judge hands him his silk ribbons and compliments both his singing and his lyrics.

"Such a beautiful story," Regis says when Jaskier joins them. "Tragic romance is never going to get old."

Geralt can almost smell Jaskier's blush.

"Thank you, my dearest," he smiles, only a little coy. "I'm going to make sure to write more pieces like this."

When they part, it's nearly dawn.

Most of the games and shows are over, the tables with food and wine nearly empty, and all the guests start slowly making their way home.

Jaskier isn't necessarily tired but he's grateful to all the gods he knows that there is no need to ride back to Corvo Bianco.

When they're saying their goodbyes, Geralt invites Regis to come visit them for a day or two - or even a week, he says - and Regis, in turn, suggest they come visit him at his crypt. Jaskier realises that they've knows each other for so long now that it doesn't even sound strange to him.

Nearly all the guests are already gone when they get back to their room.

"Remind me to send a note to the dutchess to express our gratitude for being so considerate," Jaskier says, shrugging off his doublet and rolling his sore shoulders.

Geralt just hums, non-commital.

"That song you've played," he says, letting his hair down which is a gorgeous sight to see. "Had it really been an improvised one?"

Jaskier blushes under the gaze of his golden eyes, untying the laces of his mask. Geralt's always read him like an open book.

"No," he admits, averting his eyes when the witcher comes closer. "I've composed it a few weeks ago, when we've just gotten the invitations."

"Hmm," Geralt hums again, his half-grin making Jaskier's heart stutter for what seems like the millionth time. "Thought of me?"

The bard blushes even further, grateful the dim light of the fireplace is making it less apparent.

"Always think of you," he says, leaning into the touch when Geralt hugs him from the back and noses at his neck.

Geralt breathes a pleased noise against his neck, low and rumbling, knowing a little too well just how much of a weakness it is for the bard.

"Of course you do," he murmurs, undoing the buttons of Jaskier's shirt one by one without looking and leaving long hot kisses on his neck.

Jaskier lets out a shaky breath, throwing his head onto Geralt's shoulder and just forgetting about everything else for a few long moments before the witcher slips the shirt from his own shoulders to take it off, and he has to put the silk ribbons he's still holding down. They're all incredibly beautiful, they really are but as he sets them down onto a small round table, it's a pale-lilac one that catches his eye.

"What are you going to do with them?" Geralt enquires, letting the fabric of Jaskier's shirt fall to their feet and trailing his kisses down, onto his shoulders. "Order a new doublet from the court seamstress? Or change up one of those that you already have?"

Jaskier picks the lilac ribbon up, unties the bow that's keeping it folded, wraps it around his wrist once, twice, and pulls to see how it feels. The silk is pleasantly cool against his skin.

He bites his lips and turns around in Geralt's arms to lock eyes with him and run his hand through his hair.

"I might have a better idea."

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt and jaskier #my writing #calton writes

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cakesunflower · 5 years ago

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Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 2

A/N: i couldn’t stop myself so uhhh here’s part 2 hehe as i said in the last part, none of this writing would be possible without @bigheadbabybitch hehe happy reading!!

Previous Part: Part 1

Somehow, his eyes always found her. Even in the dark of the club, colored strobe lights flickering to the beat of the deafening music, Calum easily recognized Josie’s approaching figure as she walked up with her arm linked with Luke’s. Calum paused with the glass of his whiskey halfway to his mouth, eyes drinking in the sight of her and the baby pink dress that clung to her skin and left little to the imagination due to the deep V cut down the chest. His grip on the glass tightened, throat drying as he watched the smile light up Josie’s face as she greeted the group they were with, blonde hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, looking soft enough to make him want to run his fingers through.

Calum’s eyes caught on her legs and lingered, finding it physically painful to not make a guttural sound of enjoyment. He would have allowed himself to stare for a moment longer, to take in her smooth cream colored legs if it hadn’t been for Luke approaching. Shaking away his distracting thoughts, Calum stood up and clasped his hand on Luke’s back, greeting him. The smile he had mustered up probably looked more like a grimace. He knew it to be true because his eyes had already shifted back to Josie and his face fell slightly. Why did he keep staring at her? Her entire presence was magnetic, always tugging him closer.

How could he possibly look away when the gold choker so daintily wrapped around her neck the way he—No. Nope. He would not think about this. He refused to think about this. He refused to think about her, or the way her dress exposed those collarbones and sternum, or how her soft skin seemed to glitter under the rays of blue and purple lights and—Fuck. Why was this so damn difficult? Why couldn’t he just stop?

He had to, especially when Luke sat down on the available seat diagonal of him and would pick up on the way Calum couldn’t seem to stop staring at his sister. Suddenly, his emptying glass of whiskey was more interesting, allowing himself another sip.

“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Josie apologized, and Calum blinked as he looked up at her. He hadn’t noticed that she’d moved to stand right over him on the couch, but her attention was on Crystal, who sat to Calum’s right. He bit the inside of his lips when Josie leaned over his seated figure to grab Crystal’s hand, pursing his mouth as he purposefully dropped his gaze to his glass once more in order to avert from looking in the exposed cut of her dress. It was too tempting. “I had to stay until after closing.”

“It’s fine,” Crystal laughed and Calum clenched his jaw when she scooted away from him, creating some space as she patted it, grinning up at Josie. “Sit! I’ll pour you a drink.”

Calum looked down at the empty space before his gaze flashed up, eyes instantly meeting Josie’s. She pursed her lips, chest sinking with a silent breath she expelled before forcing the awkward smile back on her face, one which Calum swallowed down the lump in his throat to return just as awkwardly, as she reluctantly sat down. It wasn’t too tight of a fit, but it still meant for them to be pressed together, and Calum’s stomach churned at the feel of her side pressed into his.

He straightened where he sat, suddenly feeling as though his leather jacket was a bit too tight. He forced his nerves to calm, but was fruitless when his nose caught a whiff of a familiar strawberry scent. The same strawberry scent that had been on his tongue. . . Fuck. Shit, damn it. Stop thinking about it.

Calum’s throat tightened as Josie took the glass Crystal offered her after pouring her a drink. He snapped his head in Ashton’s direction, who had been sitting to his left, and figured that whatever conversation he was having with Crystal’s mutual friends would be better to tune into. He wasn’t familiar with either of them, but he decided that the subject of The Bachelorette would be a better distraction than Josie’s warm thigh pressed up against his, and the fact that she was still annoyed with him.

He hadn’t missed the way she didn’t greet him, playing it off as accidentally forgetting to do so in the chaotic atmosphere of the bustling club. He wanted to roll his eyes, despite knowing he was somewhat at fault. He contemplated whether or not he should say something. But Calum thought against it, trying not to think of the way their heads were turned away from one another, purposefully keeping conversations with others as a way of keeping their distance.

Even if the heat of their bodies seeped through their clothes and settled in their skin.

Was it all in his head? Calum downed a small glass of whiskey, letting the dull burn get caught in his throat when Josie shifted closer to him, bare thigh pressing into his jean clad one. He could feel her warm skin his through the thick material of the denim. Whether Josie was aware of it or not, she didn’t show, and it only had Calum reaching for the whiskey bottle to refill his glass, hoping the warmth of liquor would overpower the warmth of her body.

Soon enough, everyone was in the mood to get lost in the buzzing dance floor after someone dropped a comment about the DJ playing tracks that were too good not to dance to. Calum would’ve much rather remained seated on the couch, but the entire group they were with had gotten up, save for a couple he wasn’t familiar with. It didn’t help that Luke pulled him off the couch and said, “Come on, let’s get more drinks.” Their table was running empty, and apparently Luke wasn’t patient enough to wait for more bottles to be brought out.

They made their way towards the bar, and how had Calum missed Josie being right with them? He watched her lean forward on the bar, diagonal of him, Luke on his other side as she allowed for her gaze to lock with Calum’s. In the flashing lights of the club, he couldn’t quite get a read on her face, wasn’t too sure what she was thinking—how could he be, when his own thoughts were jumbled? There was a twisting in his stomach, being in the presence of both her and Luke, and Calum wondered if Josie felt as alarmed as he did. Wondered if she also felt that if Luke looked at them a bit too long, he would figure it out.

Drinking probably wouldn’t help his paranoia, yet Calum didn’t protest when Luke ordered a round of Fireball shots from the bartender.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Josie instantly denied, shaking her head vigorously as a grimace replaced her soft features. Her hand waved in the opposite direction as her head, her dancing earrings bobbing from side to side. She stared pointedly at her brother as she raised her glass to finish off the drink she already had. “I can’t drink that—it fucks me up.”

It was when her guilt ridden eyes met his, if only for a split second, that it clicked in Calum’s head. He recalled the last time he had ordered that particular drink. The bitter cinnamon taste that burned his throat that had become a catalyst that night. Cinnamon with a hint of strawberry on his tongue when he—Suddenly he felt his own skin prick with goosebumps at the vivid memory, and despite his racing heart, scoffed with a wicked smirk, “I agree.”

He hadn’t meant to sound patronizing when he said it, and frankly, Calum figured he’d done a good job in covering it up because Luke merely laughed and didn’t bother canceling the order. But Calum’s gaze flickered up to Josie, who definitely heard the implication in the two words he’d spoken, if the way she’d all but choked on her sip was anything to go by.

Josie coughed, back of her hand covering her mouth as from the other side of Calum, Luke’s eyebrows shot up as he asked, “Jesus—you good?”

Calum fought the urge to reach over and rub Josie’s back as she coughed, nodding reassuringly at her brother as she answered, “Yeah.” Her voice was just barely lost over the music playing. She gestured towards her throat, lamely adding, “Went down the wrong way.”

Luke nodded once he was convinced she wasn’t about to choke to death, leaning closer to listen to what Ashton was telling him. Calum, though, caught Josie’s eyes narrowing into a glare at him, a silent annoyance because of his not-so-innocent answer. No one else may have picked up on it, but it was loud and clear to Josie. Just like Calum had hoped. Why he decided to fuck with her just then, he didn’t know. Probably because it served as a minor distraction to the anxieties that swirled in his head.

She wasn’t too happy about it. Calum didn’t entirely care.

The round of shots were placed in front of them, and despite poking fun at Josie’s reaction at the drink of choice, Calum felt a cold sweat drip down his spine as he beheld the all too familiar liquor being lined up in front of him. The memories revolving around this drink of choice had been the same memories that were currently plaguing his mind. Calum noted Josie’s hesitance as she reached for a glass with a slight shakiness of her hand, eyes meeting his. The flashing lights did little to hide the gulp she swallowed, wariness settling into her features.

When Calum remained to be the last one to pick up the glass, Luke nudged him. “Come on, Cal. Take a shot with us.”

He hid his hesitance with a quick grin, offering a tilt of his head as he licked his lips and reached for the remaining glass. “This is exactly how you end up in someone else’s bed.”

Josie was either going to run away or kill him. Calum couldn’t tell which, but judging by the look she was sending his way upon hearing his words over the sound of Post Malone’s music playing, she didn’t appreciate his comment. Calum bit the corner of his lip, the glass held carefully by his fingers, reading Josie’s expression as she silently demanded what the hell he was doing, a warning set in the purse of her lips. Honestly, Calum didn’t know. Distracting himself by bringing up the very situation he was trying to forget about was redundant, to say the least.

He answered her by a subtle shrug and he saw the way her throat worked, attempting to swallow down the nerves he was only bringing up. His own comment was accompanied by a smirk as the boys laughed, enthusiastic in their own agreements, while the heat of Josie’s gaze burned into Calum’s face. Her anger with him was growing, he could feel it in the narrowing of her eyes, looking more annoyed than anxious. Good. He’d rather acknowledge the frustration then let the nerves eat him alive.

So he widened his smirk, quirking an eyebrow at Josie as he coolly asked, “Wouldn’t you agree, Jos?”

There was a presence of a thrill of knowingly trekking into dangerous territory, and Calum’s eyes remained on Josie’s incredulous ones as no one gave her any time to answer, shot glasses clinking together before everyone was pounding back the drink. The cinnamon tasting whiskey burned down his throat familiarly, the taste imbedded in his mind that he would be hard pressed to forget, a breath escaping his parted lips as he put down the glass and caught Josie rolling her lips into her mouth.

And then she smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on her cheek as the purple and blue lights splashed across her, and Josie folded her arms on top of the bar and leaned forward. Calum kept his gaze trained on her face, refusing to let himself look down, to stare exactly where she wanted him to. That fucking dress. Her smile was sickly sweet, as was her voice as she said over the music, “Maybe if you’re lucky, you drink enough to forget all about it in the morning.”

Who was she trying to fool? Maybe everyone else, but definitely not him. Calum knew better. Next to him, Luke snorted, raising an eyebrow at his sister as he asked teasingly, “Who’re you trying to forget?”

His heart may have stopped for a moment, stomach clenching, but Calum refused to let it show as he flagged down the bartender. Purposefully watching out for the bartender, Calum ignored the weight of Josie’s gaze on him upon hearing Luke’s question, fighting the smirk that was threatening to tilt his lips. If he asked himself what the hell he was doing, Calum wouldn’t know how to answer. Was he just a masochist or was he still trying to bury his nerves under the thrill of risky conversations that only seemed to further bother Josie? He was being an ass, he knew.

Calum heard Josie scoff before answering, “Too many people.”

As Calum ordered an old fashioned, he tried not to think of how he was stood between the two Hemmings as Luke asked Josie knowingly, “Is Austin one of them?”

Forcing his features to remain neutral proved to be harder than Calum would like, eyebrows lowering and jaw setting as Luke’s words carried over the deafening music. It wasn’t like Calum could distract himself by conversing with someone else; Ashton, Michael, and whoever else they were with were on the dance floor. And Calum still needed his drink. His fingers tapped impatiently on the countertop as Josie let out a sharp breath.

“Yeah, no—what we’re not gonna do is bring him up.” There was an edge in his tone that had Calum looking over at her, a subtle quirk in his eyebrow as she huffed. Clearly the mention of her ex was a sour subject, and he watched as Josie pushed herself away from the bar and looked at the two men looking at her. Dropping her hands from the bar, Josie bid goodbye with a, “I’m gonna go dance,” and without another look towards either of them, turned around and immersed herself into the thrumming crowd.

From his peripheral, Calum saw Luke watch Josie go, turning to face the bar only when she disappeared. The bartender placed Calum’s drink in front of him, and as he took a sip of it, Luke mused, “She sounds pretty worked up over a relationship she ended.”

Calum held the sip in his mouth momentarily, the sweet taste dancing on his tongue as he paused to process Luke’s words. He swallowed before looking at his friend, adapting an attitude that didn’t give away his true interest in the matter. “She ended it?”

Luke nodded, receiving his own drink from the bartender, eyeing the clear vodka before looking at Calum. “Yeah; didn’t end well, either. It’s part of the reason why she decided to move here instead of staying in Davis, since she had a job opportunity there too,” Luke informed him casually, taking a sip of his drink before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, cocking his head at Calum. “Thought I told you all this.”

Calum’s dark eyes met Luke’s blue, feeling the familiar churn in his stomach as his lips puckered in disagreement. “Nah, first I’m hearing of it.” That was true. And he was trying to process it.

All he knew about Josie’s move to Los Angeles was that it had to do with the job she’d gotten. A cosmetology student working at the best salon in L.A.—no wonder she jumped at the opportunity. And as Luke took a sip of his drink, looking towards the dancing crowd, Calum took a long sip of his own as his thoughts deafened him to the music playing. Of course he knew Josie and Austin had broken up, but he never considered the circumstances of the end of the relationship, had just been. . . Glad that it was over. It wasn’t like he and Josie talked much; he wasn’t someone she would indulge in her relationships to. Still, Calum couldn’t help but think about it more than he should.

“Was the break up that bad?” he found himself asking, dragging Luke’s attention back to him, watching the blonde quirk a curious eyebrow. “Her and Austin’s break up,” Calum clarified. He should not be asking Luke about this. “Was it, like, that bad that she moved here?”

“I’m assuming so,” Luke answered. Then he sighed, shaking his head as he turned to lean his lower back against the bar. His lips twisted to the side, absently staring out at the crowd before he clicked his tongue in pity. “You know her, man. Her track record isn’t the best and being here would give her a fresh start.” He shrugged, glancing at Calum, blue eyes swimming with concern Calum hadn’t expected. “I don’t know; she said she’s swearing off men indefinitely and I’m hoping she sticks to it,” he added with a short chuckle, free hand running through his curls as he smiled wryly.

Calum rolled his lower lip into his mouth, nodding along to Luke’s words as if he understood, but was actually still processing what he heard. He wasn’t sure what he should focus on: the reminder of her so-called track record when it came to relationships or her apparent decision of celibacy. He didn’t quite blame her; Calum knew a number of Josie’s relationships had ended on bad notes, whether she was the one to end them or the guy.

He remembered, particularly when they were in high school and Josie was a sophomore, when Jax Wiley had cheated on her with some senior girl and Josie had been heartbroken. So he and the boys had done whatever they could to cheer her up; taking her out to get food, going to the movies, just spending time with her to help her get her mind off the dick who’d fucked her over.

Luke was right; most of Josie’s relationships ended almost explosively, and every time after, Luke was the one who took care of her. He was a good brother for that. And of course the rest of them helped however they could—Josie had always been like a little sister to them, too.

Well. Up until recently. But Luke didn’t need to know that.

Taking a long sip of his drink, Calum swallowed the drink down, as well as the thoughts pounding around in his head, louder than the music the DJ was spinning. “Never mind,” Luke suddenly spoke up, drawing Calum’s attention to him. His blue eyes were looking ahead, narrowed slightly against the flashing lights as he scoffed lightly. “Don’t think she’s gonna listen to her own advice.” Without even looking at Calum, Luke lifted a finger that held his glass and pointed ahead, jutting his chin slightly in emphasis.

Calum followed his gaze, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the bustling crowd for a familiar face. He ultimately caught was Luke was looking at, forehead smoothing when his eyes landed on Josie having a bit too much fun with a random guy neither of them recognized. People dancing around her obscured Calum’s view ever so often, but he could see the way the guy’s hands were touching her, pulling her into him, could see the way she was letting him, the smile on her face showing just how much she enjoyed it.

Fuck. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t. But the longer he watched this dude’s hands grip her hips and pull her into him, her own arms raising to go around his neck, the more Calum’s eyes narrowed in vexed irritation, sparking a fire in his chest he knew he wouldn’t be able to put out once lit. None of his business. This was none of his business, despite the way his lips curled in distaste and grip on his glass tightened, hoping taking a sip of his drink and getting drunk would distract him.

“Jesus fu—man, can you go there and break that shit up?” Calum’s head snapped over to Luke, a lot quicker than he’d like, eyebrows shooting up as he watched Luke shake his head. His face scrunched up, turning around so his back was to the crowd, leaning forward with his arms on top of the bar. Calum saw the pleading in Luke’s eyes as he said, “Just—can you dance with her? I’d rather you than some asshole tryna get in her pants.”

Calum bit the tip of his tongue, stinging and sharp, throat briefly closing up at Luke’s words. Suddenly the music was too loud and his heart was skipping every other beat, and Calum didn’t dare look back towards the crowd, instead looking at Luke and forcing out a chuckle. “You sure you’re not being too overprotective?”

Luke twisted his lips to the side, not even bothering to look sheepish. “Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Or, maybe I’m just making sure she doesn’t, y’know, break her chastity promise.”

Calum’s face scrunched up. “Please don’t say chastity ever again.”

With a roll of his eyes and using his free hand to shove Calum, Luke begged with a raise of his eyebrows, “Please, man. Josie dancing with you is better than some creep.”

The guilt of Luke’s trust in him nauseated Calum more than alcohol ever could.

His blue eyes pleading, Calum knew he didn’t have a good reason to deny Luke of his request. So he downed the rest of his drink and nodded, the heat in his skin rising as Luke clapped his back appreciatively before saying that he was going to go sit back down at their table after spotting Ashton heading that way, too.

Calum sighed, the sound lost in the loud music, the beat of the drum settling heavily in his heart as he made his way towards the crowd. He clenched his teeth, wanting to put this off. Dancing with Josie was a bad idea. Luke was sending him to serve as a barrier between Josie and some guy she may make a mistake with. But how could Luke know his plan was, in every way, futile?

Calum pressed his teeth together tightly as he made his way through the crowd, feeling the several bodies around him move against him, urging him to turn around and make up some bullshit excuse to Luke as to why he couldn’t do it. But Calum’s gaze soon enough landed on Josie and her male companion, and suddenly that fire he’d felt spark in his chest seemed to flourish, a tightness in his muscles as he hardened himself against the bodies around him, never faltering as he neared them. The longer he watched, the heavier his Doc Marten clad steps felt.

If Josie noticed Calum’s presence, she didn’t indicate it. Her attention was all too focused on moving her hips, pressing herself into the stranger, and Calum had to loosen his jaw in order to relieve the pain that stung his teeth, the heat of the crowd seeping into his bones. Exhaling sharply through his nose, Calum decided to forgo any manners, clasping the back of the guy’s shirt, right at the neck, Calum tugged him backwards, forcing the man to let go of a startled Josie, both now looking at Calum in bewilderment.

“Hey, what the fuck, man?” the man frowned, his height not quite matching up to Calum’s. The three of them stood still in the constantly moving crowd, and Calum knew it would do the guy well to disappear amongst the body in the next few seconds.

“I can take it from here,” Calum said, tone steady and deep, noting the annoyance in Josie’s eyes, not at all masked by the flashing lights, accompanied by incredulity. Calum looked back at the dude, who had yet to move. “Piss off.”

The guy’s frown deepened, looking from Calum to Josie, and Calum figured the man noticed the sudden tension that surrounded them thickly, deciding it wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in. With a scoff and shake of his head, he said, “Whatever, man,” before backing off into the crowd.

Josie didn’t watch him ago, instead kept her gaze trained on Calum with an irritated frown on her face, pink lips thinned. “What the hell was that?” she demanded, the edge in her voice heard over the music.

“I’m on a mission from your brother,” Calum responded, his voice dry and condescending smile enough to tell Josie he didn’t want to be in this position, either. Josie blinked, not expecting that answer as her scowl faltered a bit. His gaze lowered then, taking in the cut of her fitted dress, all too aware that he was shamelessly running his eyes over her. In the thick crowd of the dance floor, guarded from the gazes of his friends, Calum felt too comfortable in doing so.

And that kind of sense of security had Calum’s smile turning into a smirk. The alcohol had allowed him a boldness he wouldn’t normally need help with, and so Calum grasped Josie’s wrist and tugged her towards him. He heard her startled gasp over the music as he turned her around, her back to his chest, and Calum bit his lower lip when Josie’s instant reaction was to melt into him rather than push him away. The warmth of her body was a welcome change, almost comforting as opposed to the heat of everyone around them.

He felt his muscles tense as Josie tilted her head back, resting against his shoulder, and Calum’s heart raced as he brushed his lips against her cheek and trailed to the shell of her ear. “The dress isn’t doing your little path of abstinence any favors.”

Josie’s hands covered Calum’s where they lay on her hips, their bodies slowly beginning to move to the music. Was she feeling as bold as he was, hidden in the buzzing crowd from the eyes of their friends—of her brother? The sight of them dancing together wouldn’t turn heads, Calum knew. Just so long as they didn’t get too close.

Like they already were.

“You and Luke don’t get a say in my decision making, you know,” Josie reminded, and he could see the way her throat worked when he squeezed her hips. She turned then, head tilted back slightly so her gaze met his, eyes glimmering under the lights as her right hand reached up to hook a finger around his chain necklace. Calum pressed his tongue against the back of his lower teeth, heart thrumming as Josie pressed herself against him. Oh, yeah, the thick crowd was providing both of them too much of a sense of security. “I decide who I get to fuck around with.”

Her words had an amused, breathless scoff escaping Calum, unsure when they’d started leaning into one another, his nose just barely brushing hers as he fought to keep familiar images from playing across his mind. It proved to be difficult, what with her body pressed against his, the curves on her figure fitting against him familiarly, hips slotting against his, the tip of her nail teasingly grazing under his chin. “Oh, I know,” Calum responded, voice too quiet amid the music, noting the small smirk curling her lips at the knowing, pointed tone Calum spoke in.

Josie hummed, gaze dropping to his lips briefly. “I know you do,” she said. Letting go of his necklace, Josie pressed her hand to Calum’s chest and pushed him back, raising an eyebrow up at him. “Isn’t that why you were being such a little shit at the bar?”

Calum chuckled, chin lifting as one hand reached up to undo the first two buttons of his shirt, the heat of the crowd getting to him. “Just havin’ a little fun, pretty girl.” It was him being a shit, just like Josie had said, just like he was being now with that term of endearment that had Josie biting her lower lip. He was trying to make light of a situation that sat heavily on both of their minds. Except Calum knew he was being risky in his comments, knew that if Luke listened a bit too closely, he’d pick up on the very thing Calum—and Josie—were trying to mask. Horribly so.

Josie had been watching his fingers work on the buttons, wetting her lips as she let out a breath. “Unbuttoning your shirt isn’t going to have the effect you want it to have on the women here,” she chose to say. Josie tried to keep her voice steady, tried to sound confident and bold, but Calum picked up on the slight falter in her tone.

He looked at her, dropping his hand so he could wrap his arm around her waist. They were barely moving to the music now, stopped amidst the lively crowd of dancing club goers, lost in their own little world without much thought given to anyone else. Smirk widening, Calum leaned towards her, closing the distance, noting the tension in her neck as he murmured, “I’d say it had quite the effect on you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were on him, blue looking into brown, and Calum could see she was fighting to maintain their gaze, not wanting to look lower. He knew she wanted to. Josie bit her lower lip, the action stirring something in Calum’s stomach, her whispered voice nearly lost in the music as she said, “This is a bad idea, Calum.”

Her words echoed familiarly in his head, her hands against his chest, not yet pressing. Calum’s heart was pounding as his nose brushed against hers, murmuring, “Isn’t that what we said two months ago?”

Josie’s throat worked, taking a breath as her fingers lightly fisted his shirt. “We also said we’d never bring it up again.”

Calum quirked an eyebrow, vaguely hearing the song turn into the EDM type music he rarely ever listened to. “That was before you decided to move here.”

“Is that what this is about it?” Josie returned with a dry laugh, eyebrows raising as she looked up at him. Except he didn’t see the annoyance in her eyes as he had the other day in the kitchen, only amusement and just a hint of exasperation. “Hard to keep a secret when it’s literally living with your best friend, huh?”

Scoffing, Calum shot her a bemused look. How’d they gone from pressing into each other to rehashing their memories in the middle of a club, Calum had no idea. But he figured this was less risky than the alternative. “What about you?” he retorted with a tilt of his head. “Easy for you to keep a secret when it’s your brother’s best friend?”

Josie let out a breath, looking away from him for a moment, allowing for Calum’s gaze to run along the line of her jaw, curve of her neck, going low, low, low to the cut of her dress. It only served to dry his throat, stir something hungry in the pit of his stomach. Looking back at him with a raise of her eyebrows, Josie said, “I think we can agree that we’re both doing a shit job of never speaking about it again.”

Despite himself, Calum laughed, earning a smile from Josie as he said, “We were kiddin’ ourselves if we thought it’d be that easy.”

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @meetashthere @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Hi! I had an idea for a David (lost boys)/reader fic if you're interested! Basically David finds his soulmate or mate, whatever you call it and he's doing everything in his power to get her to turn. Like she already knows what he and the guys are and they both are crazy about each other, but she's stuck on the idea of having to kill in order to survive. And David is doing everything from his usual mysterious behavior to down right pleading her to turn so they can be together forever? Thank you!

Thank you for requesting something! I hope this is satisfactory😁😅(I'm sorry if it's a bit cringy)

Please?

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, mentions of death

Masterlist

He'd found me six months ago, a lone figure on the Boardwalk with a nervous disposition, jumping and tensing whenever someone nearby suddenly yells or shouts over the cheery music playing in the background, eyes wide at the variety of characters lining the bright streets. I hadn't initially felt the connection between us, but he tells me he'd been drawn to me instantly, somehow feeling the urge to search the crowd until he eventually found me, though he hung back, unwilling to give me any further shock, what with his rather intimidating appearance. It took him a month to finally introduce himself, and even then I'd been a little wary of his confident approach, but I'd soon gotten to know him well enough for him to reveal his secret to me, and to explain to me what the mate bond between us is. As soon as he did this, however, he started asking me the one thing I'd always have to refuse him - if I'd turn for him.

The idea didn't sit well with me, it never had and undoubtedly never will, the thought of having to intentionally kill people in order to survive, not to mention drinking their blood, making me feel sick to the stomach. It has nothing to do with him, or the others, of course; in fact, I've had the best time of my life with them, slowly gaining more confidence as time goes on, falling harder and harder for the platinum blonde mullet wearing vampire, so much so that I would stay with him for an eternity, if it didn't mean slaughtering hundreds of innocent people. I've told him this thousands of times, every time he's tried to get me to turn, but my reasons always fall on deaf ears, the vampire being stubborn and unyielding to the point where he started utilising his incredibly cunning mind to try and convince me. He's tried everything, bribing me with dates and gifts, threatening (unsuccessfully) to leave me and even getting the other boys to talk to me. At some point, he even asked Max for help, but apparently the head vampire could only laugh at David's predicament.

And even after all his failed tricks, he still hasn't given up, which explains why we're currently sat, a metre or so apart, on the beach, my mind having instinctually told me to put space between us when he first brought it up again, a grim expression on my face.

"What's not to like, (Y/n)? Immortality, enhanced senses, flying..." He encourages, giving me the same speech as always, just worded slightly differently.

"Killing people..." I mumble irritably, carrying on the same tone, as if reading out a list, crossing my arms across my chest.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating around my skull as it always does, a smile tempting my lips as I hear it, having always loved the sound of his laugh, even before we officially got together.

"Yes, but I've told you before: you don't think about it once you've done it, and the thrill-"

"Overshadows the guilt, I know. You've told me about a thousand times." I finish for him, knowing he's smirking at my words, though I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking in his direction, aware of the fact that he's most likely staring at me and able to see me in the dark, what with his vampire vision and all.

"So I don't see why you can't just accept what I'm offering you." He pushes, the vampire taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand, blowing the smoke out a few seconds later with an audible sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I clench my jaw before replying, annoyed that I have to go over it all again.

"Because, unlike you four, I'm not used to drinking blood every night, and I'm most definitely not used to killing people to get it, and the whole idea of doing either one of those things is not one I even want to think about! We've been through this countless times, and every time you just ignore me. Maybe it's time you actually listened, for a change." I snap at him, shocked at my own tone, though it is understandable after all the pestering he's put me through in the last five months.

For once, David is silent, somehow unable to come back with a witty comment or remark, a first for the cocky vampire.

"Maybe that's because I don't want to hear another rejection. I'm just as tired of this as you are, (Y/n)." He finally admits, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"Then why do you keep doing it?!" I exclaim, looking over at him to find that he has his head bowed, though I can tell from his posture that he is uncomfortable.

"Because I want to spend eternity with you! It's got nothing to do with the bond or whatever, I genuinely love you!" David retorts, voice laced with raw emotion, a sigh escaping his lips as he tries to calm himself, "At this point, I've run out of ideas so I've got nothing better to try than this."

Confused, I go to speak, only to be cut off when I feel his leather clad finger against my lips, telling me to keep quiet, his hands moving to hold onto mine as he goes to kneel in front of me, taking a deep breath.

"Look, I don't do this often, and it will very likely never happen again, so know that I am being as sincere as I can be. I want you to turn because I can't face an eternity without you. I've felt alone for the longest time, even with the boys hanging around it's nothing compared to how I feel when I'm with you. You make me feel as if I still belong in the world, and that I'm not some abomination that was created to spite the traditional idea of living then dying. I know the idea of killing people isn't a pleasant one, but I swear to you that it gets easier, and controlling yourself can also help with this. You don't necessarily have to kill anyone, and drinking blood doesn't sound as bad when you're like me; it's just like drinking normally, but much more satisfying trust me." He stops for a moment, looking down briefly as I try to come to terms with this new approach, barely recognising the needy vampire before me, "Please, (Y/n), I need you to stay with me. I need someone to ground me as much as you do. I, well, I don't tho k I'll be able to face the rest of my life without you. Please turn, (Y/n), please. For my sake?"

For a couple of minutes, I remain silent, my eyes wide at David's heartfelt words; I knew he loved me, but I never realised just how strongly he does, the ulterior meaning behind the words making me feel much happier about the relationship. I soon find my voice, my mind spinning from the different outlook on what he's been trying to get me to do, my response a little shaky.

"Are you begging me, David?" Is all I can manage, my head still trying to wrap itself around the idea. David doesn't beg, not for anything.

He seems to stumble over what to say, until it clicks that that is, in fact, what he is doing.

"It's the only way I can think of that will convince you, (Y/n), so yes, I am begging you to turn and stay with me until the end of our days. Please, (Y/n). I'm begging you."

Again, I take some time to myself, rubbing my thumbs over his gloved hands to reassure him a little, a low ache starting in my head as I think it through properly. I'd never considered that he had become dependant on my attention, but it makes sense: he's spent so long living as the leader of a group of unruly boys that he's most likely missed out on the affection and care that comes with having a lover, so much so that it's made him needy enough to beg for me to join them properly. We'd be able to spend endless days together, enjoying the perks of being immortal vampires through the decades, and God knows I crave doing that, spending time with the vampire I've come to love with all I have to give. But, as always, one thing keeps me from agreeing on the spot.

My thoughts stray to the imaginary images my mind conjured up, recalling the visions of terrified people being torn into by a ravenous, vampiric version of me, dying at my hands simply because I need to feed. But what he'd said earlier strikes a chord within me, reminding me that I don't have to kill, if I learn how to control myself before I become addicted to the thrill.

"(Y/n)?" His concerned voice breaks through the trance-like state I've put myself in, shaking me from my thoughts. I look him in what I think to be the eye, relaxing myself a little before speaking.

"David, I honestly want to spend eternity with you, I really do, but I have to consider the whole killing thing again. You say I can learn to control myself, but none of you guys can, not even Dwayne, who is one of the most controlled people I know. It terrifies me, honestly, having the choice to kill someone or let them live, depending on how hungry I am, and then almost always choosing to kill them anyway, because the bloodlust is just too strong. You have no idea how much that scares me." I confess to him, looking down at my lap in the dark, hoping he won't see the embarrassed flush rising to my cheeks. Quietly, he shuffles around until he's sat beside me again, wrapping his arm around my body and pulling me into his chest as he always does, letting me muzzle into him for comfort, breathing in the familiar scents that always accompany him.

"We can all help you, (Y/n), and you know that I will never give up on you, no matter how stubborn you get. I want, no, need to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that happens." He says to me, voice low and comforting as he buries his face into my hair, holding me tighter against him.

"I believe you, David. I just need time to think." I reply, moving my head so that I can look up at him, knowing his icy blue eyes will be focused on me.

"I'll give you time, (Y/n), but you know how impatient I get."

I giggle quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of platinum blonde hair back into its correct place.

"I promise you, David, I will make a decision soon, but if I do turn, you have to swear to me you will help me try not to kill people. Please?" I assure him, watching him for a reaction, though it is nearly impossible in the black night.

"Of course, I'll do anything for you." David hums in agreement, leaning down to capture my lips in a gentle kiss, lifting a hand to cup my face, pulling me closer as I gladly reciprocate.

Pulling away, he rests his chin on top of my head as I return my face to his chest, intent on staying there until he has to move, knowing he is only too happy to oblige.

"I love you, David." I whisper to him carefully, resting a hand on his chest.

"I love you, too." He replies, his voice low as he murmurs this into my hairline, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands continue to caress my sides and back, lulling me into a sense of safety and comfort.

#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland #marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#request

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criminally--reid · 5 years ago

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Can you write some shitty Derek x reader freaky shit? It doesn’t have to be good, I’m just thirsty

shitty is my specialty 🤙

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay¿

pairing: derek morgan x reader

wordcount: ??? :(

°•○●○•°

derek and y/n had decided to go out last night. despite just having finished a gruesome case, neither of them were particularly tired and both well deserving of a night of fun. they spent the whole night drinking and dancing. neither of them would have predicted what was to follow the next morning.

they had done nothing but bump into eachother at the entrance of headquarters this morning, but they can both somehow feel the tension. everything they felt last night comes surging back in an instant and y/n gets flustered.

"after you," derek opens the door and moves aside, allowing you to go first. you enters with him quick on your heels. between the door and the conference room, you manage to calmhyour breathing down enough to face your colleagues.

derek takes his usual seat beside you as garcia walks in the room - adorned with her usual bright colors and clanky heels - and begins to deliver the case. you were listening intently providing ample feedback until someone's fingers start to walk their way up your leg. your breath hitches in your throat, and you look over to him only to see hes not even looking at you.

you try to turn your attention back to the case at hand, but the only hand you can concentrate on is the one slowly creeping up your thigh, closer and closer to your core.

"wheels up in 30," hotch says, snapping you back into reality. managing to miss the entire discussion, you gather up your files in hopes you can get enough debriefing on the jet.

"woah, slow down mamas," derek says, grabbing your arm. "man said 30."

"morgan, I already missed the entire debriefing. I need to look over these files before I get on the plane."

"c'mon babygirl," he counters. "we always go over everything on the plane. besides, your big beautiful brain already works overtime. take a little break."

he's very tempting, you couldn't lie to yourself. "fine morgan, but I swear to god if we're late-"

"we wont be," he cuts you off by placing a light kiss to your lips.

he leads you all the way downstairs to a spare office. it was in between inhabitants so there was currently a desk and a chair, filing cabinets and bookshelves, but no occupant and none of their stuff. shuffling you inside, he pulls the door shut and locks it behind him before going oner to take a seat in the jig leather office chair behind the desk.

"why dont you come take a seat?" he leans back in the chair, displaying his lap for you to sit on, and you take it gladly. your back facing him as you grind down onto him softly. his hands find her hips quickly, forcing her hips down onto him harder.

"derek-" you whisper out. he leans up, his front flush with your back, and places light open-mouthed all over your back.

"as much as i'd love to take my time with you, we have about 20 minutes left."

the two of you share a chuckle while you stand up and turn around to face him. noticing hes already undoing his belt and pulling his pants down, you do the same; putting your ass on display.

"turn around for me mamas." you do as he says and lean over with your hands gripping the edge of the desk, swaying your hips slowly. he plants his hand firmly on your ass, sending shockwaves straight to your core. you let out a yelp before he smoothes his hand over the red handprint, soothing the stinging sensation.

he directs your hips to meet flush with his as you sink down onto his member, gasping as you feel him stretch you out and hit the deepest parts of you.

"god, Derek-"

"c'mon baby, you gonna bounce for me?"

you place your hands right above either of his knees, holding yourself up as you start to ride him. "mnh -feel so good."

"you feel good baby? hm? tell daddy how good you feel."

you begin to answer but he starts to thrust up into you, rendering you unable to form a sentence.

"God- fuck! so good, daddy. -Feel so fucking god. omygod f-fuck me."

"shit- you're so fucking tight. who woulda thought lil miss thing was such a slut? hm?don't you want everyone in the office to know? or this just a little secret for me?"

"god- on-only for you, derek fuck!" the knot in your stomach continues to build steadily to the brink of eruption. he keeps pounding into you, hitting that small part inside of you, threatening you to release.

"gonna cum for me? i feel you squeezing on me baby. go ahead and let go."

his words were all you needed. you let go, your juices leaking all over derek's lap. your legs twitch as derek thrusts up into you a few more times, chasing and finding his own release. you stand up from his lap, a mixture of your juices and his cum dripping down your leg.

while you're re standing there catching your breath, derek pulls your panties up for you, taking you by surprise.

"what the hell morgan- I still need to get cleaned up."

"no way, babygirl. that mess isnt going anywhere. now pull your pants up and let's go. 4 minutes to get our asses on that jet."

you slowly pull your pants up, getting turned on yet again by the fact that you're gonna be filled up with morgan's cum in front of the rest of the team for hours. he stops while you have your pants just barely above your knees. taking his finger, he swipes up some of what had dripped down your leg before pulling out the waistband of your panties and wiping it on the mound of your cunt.

"gotta make sure it's all in there," he whispers as he stands up. you flush and finish pulling your pants up quickly.

you smooth down your shirt and fix your hair. morgan laughs and you glare at him. "what's so funny?"

"honestly I dont know," he begins to reply. "but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that we just fucked and now you gotta go out there, full of me, acting like we didn't. and you couldn't be more paranoid. you're so afraid someone's gonna clock you, and I find that hilarious."

"Jesse christ, Morgan-"

"calm down mamas. you look fine. run along upstairs and I'll get your go-bag, okay?'

you nod and begin to head up the stairs, but not before derek pulls you back and places a kiss to your forehead. "another round when we get back?"

"well see." you smile up at him before bounding up the stairs with him hot on your trail.

*shjt show over*

would derek say mamas?? I think so://

I wrote this entirely in school lmfao the fuckung embarrassment

anywhore,, I hope u like it. wish it was more freaky but eh this is good for now I guess hahaha

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #criminal minds #cm #smut #fanfiction #fan fic #self insert fanfic #asks #anon #requests

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darkblueboxs · 4 years ago

Text

Where the Night Takes Us

Mafia & Hitman AU, Inspired by butcher!Andrew discussions on Twitter

Sequel to Blood Beneath your Fingernails (But can be read as a stand-alone)

Read here or on AO3 (Check AO3 for content warnings)

Nathaniel Wesninski – or Neil Josten, according to the forged papers Andrew procured for him - was more trouble than he was worth.

This was the mantra Andrew repeated to himself as he stalked across his study to where Neil waited for him, slouched on his couch with a false nonchalance that said, I’m sitting like this by choice, and not because I’ve lost too much blood to keep myself upright. He flinched as Andrew approached, but stilled when Andrew seized his chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning Neil’s face from side to side to inspect the damage. It was as though Andrew’s touch melted something stiff and glacial in Neil’s core, and he visibly softened, reassured by Andrew’s protective grip.

Neil showed none of the fear or anger one might expect from someone Andrew had recently pulled, unconscious, from a car full of bullets and corpses.

The kidnapping had been clumsily planned and clumsily executed; it had been child’s play to track the gleaming black Lexus as it roared north out of the city, likely headed to a convenient dumping ground in the wilderness. Wrecking such a nice car had prompted more regret from Andrew than any murder ever had.

The car was quiet in the ditch it had rolled to a stop in, although a bloody handprint glowed on the rear window. Having confirmed that Neil was alive and largely in one piece, Andrew neatly disposed of two of the three kidnappers with a knife drawn swiftly across their throats. The blood spilled hot and heavy over his fingers as he worked, but the faint twitches and jerks the assailants gave as they bled out on the leather upholstery ultimately left him unsatisfied. Andrew wasn’t used to feeling much of anything in the wake of a kill, but the adrenaline of the chase mixed with the dark fury that came from the knowledge that they had laid hands on something of his simmered uncomfortably beneath his skin like an itch in need of scratching.

Leaving the third kidnapper alive was more… challenging than Andrew had expected. The sight of blood oozing from the criss-crossing slits carved into Neil’s skin drew something primal to the surface of Andrew’s mind, something that threated to spill over him and wash away the neat suits and refined tastes and cool, calm efficiency of his methods. Andrew didn’t want the man dead; he wanted him destroyed. It was a dangerous path from which there was no return, but the strain of hauling himself back from it left his hands shaking as he carried Neil back to the Maserati. The blood would be removed from the seats easily enough, although Andrew would remember the shape and distribution of the bloodstains with pin-point precision until the day he died.

And, back in the safety of Andrew’s study, Andrew had Neil’s blood on his hands for the second time that night. He removed his hand from Neil’s chin before the congealed stains could stick them together, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together. The familiar heat of Neil’s blood seeped into his callouses as he contemplated the damage. “Care to explain why the Moriyamas are after you?”

Neil smiled. His face split itself open all over again. “I suppose they don’t like the look of me.”

“Understandable,” Andrew agreed, “But wrong. You should know better than to lie to me by now, Abram.” The sound of his given name was enough to dent Neil’s smile. It was his father’s smile, and for that reason Andrew detested above all else the heat it bit through his gut.

“How did you find me?” Neil said, as though he honestly believed Andrew would be so easily distracted. Andrew indulged only because letting Neil believe he had the upper hand occasionally was entertaining, and dissuaded him from seeking out a real victory. Andrew leaned in, knee dipping into the sofa cushions as he slipped a hand under the lapel of Neil’s jacket. Neil held his gaze as Andrew’s fingers worked their way across his chest. He could feel warmth radiating through the thin fabric of Neil’s shirt, but refused to let it distract him from his mission. He found the miniscule disk sewn into the lining of Neil’s suit jacket and yanked it free without regard for the seams and stitching he tore along the way.

He held the tracker up for Neil’s inspection. It could be mistaken for a button if one didn’t know what they were looking for. “If you were better at keeping your phone on you, this wouldn’t be necessary.”

“And here I was, thinking you bought me this suit because you wanted to treat me.” Neil crossed his legs, and barely twitched at whatever pain the movement must have caused him. “Or because you thought I’d look good in it.”

“Making you fit to be seen in public with me was a welcome side-effect.” Andrew dropped the tracker into Neil’s lap. “Keep your phone with you.”

“Why bother? The tracker has proven itself.”

“The tracker can’t text me back,” Andrew snarled. “Now, circling back to this.” He punctuated the sentence with a jab to one of the thin slits running the length of Neil’s cheekbone, “Shall I get my answers from you, or from the man chained up downstairs?”

Neil’s eyebrows twitched, as close to surprise as his face would admit. “You took one of them alive.”

“I had a feeling my other captive would be reticent with information.”

Neil snapped forwards with an agility that the night’s events should have denied him, crowding into Andrew’s space. “I’m not your captive.”

“True.” Andrew didn’t blink as Neil’s face eclipsed his field of vision. His eyes were as electric a blue as the day they met, raising the hairs on Andrew’s arms with the efficiency of a static shock. “You could walk out of those doors right now and never look back. Your father’s men would tear you to shreds, and I would be free to enjoy my whiskey in peace.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Why not? We both know you won’t.”

Neil was the first to blink. “The Moriyamas think I should have gone to them after my father’s death. Apparently, I’m quite a valuable asset.”

Andrew hummed. “Does that make me the lesser of two evils?”

Neil snorted. “You think highly of yourself. I’ve lived with evil. You go through the motions to keep up appearances, but you have no real interest in the business of evil. You don’t live the life you live because you enjoy it. You don’t enjoy anything but expensive suits and fast cars.”

Two out of three wasn’t bad, but Andrew wouldn’t admit it. Neil’s assumptions had opened a far more interesting line of enquiry. “And why do you do the things you do, Neil? You’re hardly an angel yourself.” Andrew slipped two fingers under the hem of Neil’s sleeve to check that the knives he had lent him were still securely sheathed in his armbands. His fingers flickered across warm metal and came away damp. This time, Andrew doubted that it was Neil’s blood. “You should really clean them before you put them away.”

“I was in a hurry,” Neil muttered.

“No more evading. You have hit your limit for evasiveness for tonight.” Andrew slipped a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his hands. He offered it to Neil, who scrubbed it half-heartedly across his jaw. “Do you kill because you have to? To keep up appearances? Or because, like your father before you, you enjoy watching a man bleed out on the end of your blade?”

Neil flinched. Silence hung heavy in the air as he handed Andrew his handkerchief back. Andrew rolled his eyes, held Neil’s head in place as he wiped away the streaks of dried blood Neil had missed. Neil tracked the movement of his hands as though trying to connect the careful movements to the man before him. He tilted his head to the side to grant Andrew access to the vulnerable underside of his jaw, and Andrew felt the muscles of Neil’s throat flex as he swallowed.

“I don’t know,” Neil answered quietly. “I don’t want to be like him, but I feel… I feel something of my father in me. His temper.” He swallowed again. “The henchman said that once he was finished with me, he would come back here and do worse things to you unless I stopped fighting back. I wanted to… I don’t know what I wanted to do, but I wanted to do it.” Neil’s eyes flicked to Andrew, heavy and unreadable. “I’m not losing you.”

Four simple words, but Neil didn’t know, couldn’t know, the effect they had. Andrew clenched his jaw, schooling his expression into something along the lines of his usual blankness before Neil could read too much into it. Andrew protected Neil, as was their arrangement. The last thing he needed was his fool of a runaway getting delusions of heroism.

“Would you like to find out?” Andrew’s question ploughed a furrow into Neil’s brow, so he elaborated. “Would you like to find out what you wanted to do to him?”

Neil’s eyes fixed on Andrew’s mouth as though Andrew had offered him eternal life, or perhaps eternal damnation. “Yes.”

Andrew lead and Neil followed as they made their way down to what Andrew privately called his workshop. It was a small building with insulated walls, separate from the main house, easily mistaken for a garage, and it was labelled as such on planning permission forms. Andrew didn’t often have cause to bring his work home with him, preferring to dispatch with his enemies as neatly and quickly as possible, but sometimes circumstances demanded a little more time with the kind of tools that weren’t easily transported to and from a potential crime scene. This was where Andrew brought victims in possession of information that they would not easily part with. Until today, Neil had never stepped foot within the workshop.

He was not the man Andrew had first believed him to be, that much was certain. Nor the second, third, or even forth. Looking at Neil was like staring into a maze of mirrors, impossible to discern which images were reflections and distortions and which was the real person concealed within the labyrinth. Their first meeting had been a headlong sprint into reflective glass, leaving Andrew bruised, disorientated, but itching for a fight. At first, Neil had been the suave inheritor of his father’s fortunes, a mini-butcher in the making. Then he had been the scarred victim of his father’s violent tendencies, trapped and desperate for escape. Then he had drawn his knife and pressed it to Andrew’s throat with all the ease of breathing, and the reflection shimmered and distorted itself all over again. Andrew had taken Neil on in the vain hope that he would reach the end of Neil’s maze or lose interest, yet neither event had yet occurred. No, the more Andrew learned, the more interesting Neil was, and while he remained as dangerous as the day they met, it was now for entirely different reasons.

Tonight, Andrew suspected, they would crack through another layer of glass.

He keyed his twenty-digit code into the keypad – Neil rolled his eyes – and flicked the lights on before tugging the door shut behind them, checking for the usual clunks of numerous locking mechanisms sliding back into place.

Most men in Andrew’s line of work would have guards, lackeys, minions – whatever one wanted to call them. Andrew personally found that the issue with hired muscle was simply that – it was hired. What could sway a guard to work for Andrew could just as easily sway them to work for anyone else. If Andrew was to be double-crossed, he would rather it was by his own blood, however expanded his definition of his blood might be. The workshop, despite and apart from his captive, was thus unoccupied.

The man was where Andrew had left him, which was to be expected, considering the numerous restraints holding him there. Andrew hadn’t genuinely expected him to know anything of interest, but there was a slim chance that Neil would have no earthly idea why the Moriyamas were after him, at which point a surviving kidnapper would be of help in filling in the gaps. Unluckily for the man, whose name Andrew would never learn, he had outlived his worth.

Neil showed little interest in their prisoner. He touched one of the carving knives hanging on the wall, flinching as it clanged against the neighbouring blades.

“Show me his face,” Neil said quietly. Andrew obliged, tugging the gag and blindfold down around the man’s neck in turn. He screwed up his eyes against the sudden light, sweat beading on his forehead despite the room’s chill.

“I have information,” he panted. “Valuable information.”

“Don’t care.” Andrew ran a hand across his cuffs, checking they were sturdy and untampered with. “Neil?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, and Andrew stepped back when he saw the axe swinging at his side.

As much disdain Andrew held for the others in his chosen profession, the irrefutable fact was that Andrew had a type. Neil, armed to the teeth as though he could be any more of a hazard than he already was, sharp smile and sharp weapons and sharp tongue, was Andrew’s type. Andrew wasn’t sure what he wanted Neil to do to him, and whether the axe should be involved, but he knew he wanted something.

Neil Josten was, undeniably, more trouble than he was worth.

“Hey,” Neil crouched before the captive. “Remember me?”

The man was stupid enough to nod.

“I never liked axes.” Neil tossed it from hand to hand like a running baton. “My father’s thing, really. You know, he threatened to hobble me with one of these? Nearly slit my ankles once, too. Figured I’d be less trouble if I couldn’t run.” Neil levelled the sharp end at the man’s head. “I can’t say I understood the weapon’s appeal. Blunt, imprecise, unwieldy. But that was the point, wasn’t it?”

The man’s head twitched in aborted movements, as though unable to decide whether he should be nodding his head or shaking it.

Neil pressed the edge to the same place his own face had been sliced open. A trickle of red wobbled down the man’s cheek before dripping onto his shirt. The stain blossomed on the white fabric like a miniature gunshot wound. The man quaked.

Neil abruptly raised the axe, inspected the thin sheen of red on the blade, and tossed it aside. He straightened to meet Andrew’s gaze.

“That’s what I wanted to do.”

“All out of your system?”

Neil smiled thinly. “It seems I am not my father after all.”

Andrew smoothed a thumb across the cut healing on Neil’s cheek. “I’m going to kill him, now.”

An unsteady breath shook itself from Neil’s lungs as he nodded. He had a particular way of looking at Andrew when he was working, gaze intent and pupils dilated, as though Andrew’s actions were poetry written for him alone. Andrew’s principles of detachment were never closer to shredded than when Neil looked at him like that.

Driving them home, Neil on the backseat and the kidnapper in the trunk, Andrew had played out this moment in his mind. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened to chase the endless trembling from his fingers, which twitched with impatience in aborted movements towards the knives secreted in the folds of his suit. The anticipation sliced through his veins with the efficiency of molten iron, hot and furious and growing stronger with every glance Andrew caught of Neil’s form in the rear-view mirror. He had curled in on himself in his unconscious state, hair ruffled and sticking up in every direction at once, dark eyelashes standing out against his copper skin. His features were smoothed out in sleep, his brow freed of its usual pinched worry, and were it not for the blood streaking down his cheeks Andrew would have said he looked far younger for it.

Before that night, Andrew had not believed he had a truly vengeful bone in his body. He did not cause pain for the sake of pain; he caused it as a warning, a deterrent, a statement, an affirmation of his place in the world and the consequences that would meet anyone who wished to remove him from it. Andrew had left his statement for the Moriyamas in a Lexus filled with dead men, but he wanted more. He wanted to hack and tear and slice until there was nothing left. He wanted to remove every finger that had dared touch Neil one after the other and work his way inwards until there was nothing left of the surviving kidnapper that wouldn’t fit in a matchbox.

That Neil made Andrew want to do these things – that Neil made Andrew want at all – brought with it a kind of fear that Andrew had long believed was dead and gone, buried under years of betrayal and pain and loss. Wanting was as strange an ache as he remembered it being, more so when the object and instigator of that want was standing before him, looking at him as though Andrew could hack a thousand men to pieces before his eyes without prompting so much as a flinch.

Andrew wanted the man ruined, but he wanted Neil more. He promised Neil his protection, and he could not protect Neil if he became the kind of man both of them would rather forget. The kind of man who revelled in losing control.

Andrew killed the man. He died quickly, quietly, unremarkably. It wasn’t what he deserved – it never was, with his kind – but he owed Neil that much.

After, Andrew washed the blood from his hands, stilling as Neil chased a stray fleck from his clavicle with the pad of his index finger. Neil used the point of contact to turn Andrew to face him, allowing him access to refasten the top buttons of Andrew’s shirt. In the chaos of losing Neil and finding him again, Andrew couldn’t rightly say when they had come undone. Neil’s knuckles brushed Andrew’s neck as he did so, and Andrew repressed a shiver, remembering the day Neil pressed a knife to the same spot.

“I can help clean up,” Neil murmured, casting a sideways glance to the mess behind them. Andrew rolled his eyes as he tugged Neil’s lapel back into place. It was the same suit he had been taken in, and it showed, scuffed and rumpled and sporting several loose threads and dried bloodstains. Andrew would have a new one hanging in Neil’s wardrobe before sunrise, although Neil certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.

Andrew flicked a wayward tuft of Neil’s curls from his forehead with a roll of his eyes. “Worry about cleaning yourself up. You’re a mess.”

Neil shot him a flat look, but left to do as he was told. It wasn’t long before Andrew followed him back to the main house, checking his clothes as he went for stray flecks of red, knowing he would find none. The night air was cool after the stuffy, stale workshop, which was now choked with the thick odours of cleaning chemicals. The light in Neil’s room was still on, and Andrew squinted up at the tell-tale twitch of curtains that told him his return had been awaited.

Andrew took his time, holding a cigarette between his lips until the smoke drowned out the lingering smell of disinfectant. He knew from the tingle on the back of his neck that he was still being watched, but knowing it was Neil did something warm and pleasant to Andrew’s stomach, something that nipped. Andrew was particular about the kinds of attention he did and didn’t welcome and found that Neil’s faceless vigil was one which he, in fact, did. He pursed his lips around the cigarette, rolling his shoulders as he looked back up to the house, keeping his stance loose and relaxed as though he were returning from an evening stroll instead of a crime scene.

He waited Neil out, listening to the quiet chirp and rustle of the garden around him. Finally, the orange glow from Neil’s window flicked to black, and Andrew went inside.

His post-kill routine began, as it always did, with the longest, hottest bath he could stand. He threw handfuls of bath salts and goop into the claw-footed tub without much regard for the conflicting scents. He felt little need to wash off the grime, as it were, of a murder scene, but did so as a courtesy to anyone he might encounter in the immediate future less acclimatised to the scent of dry blood. When his skin was bright pink and scrubbed soft by the salts, he hauled himself from the tub, shaking water everywhere as he slipped into a grey silk bathrobe and returned to his room.

He found Neil waiting for him on his bed. This was not part of Andrew’s routine, as much as he might have fantasised otherwise. Face freshly scrubbed and his suit jacket abandoned somewhere between then and now, Neil was halfway towards looking human again. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and Andrew made a conscious effort not to let his eyes catch on the exposed stretch of Neil’s collarbone. Andrew did not like people sitting on his bed, or being in his bedroom, or behaving unexpectedly. Neil was doing all three, yet somehow it didn’t bother him.

“That is expensive Japanese linen. Do not get blood on it,” Andrew said. Neil’s wounds were cleaned and sealed, but it was wise to err on the side of caution where the runaway was concerned. Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if Neil had found someone to infuriate to the point of homicide between his room and Andrew’s. He was gifted that way.

Neil picked at the sheets. “They’re not even soft.”

“Can I help you, Neil?”

“It smells like hibiscus in here. And lemon. And lavender?”

“We have talked about your evasiveness quota for the night.”

Neil sighed. “I just don’t understand why I’m here.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Fate, destiny, a horse, who cares?”

“I mean, why you brought me here. Why you protect me. It would have been so much easier to kill me. It’s what you do¸ and you’re good at it. What makes me special?”

“This couldn’t wait until morning?”

One of Neil’s eyebrows slid upwards. “Now you’re being evasive.”

Andrew exhaled heavily. “You said I don’t enjoy anything but expensive suits and fast cars. You were wrong.”

Neil wrinkled his nose. “Clearly, you enjoy over-perfumed baths too.”

“Concentrate, Neil.”

“It’s hard to think when you smell like you’ve just robbed a florist.” Neil was too busy complaining to notice Andrew’s approach. Andrew kneeled in front of him, hands braced in the bedding on either side. Neil blinked.

“You’re interesting,” Andrew said simply.

“Interesting? Are you serious?”

Andrew shrugged. “It’s not often that I’m…interested.”

“Interested,” Neil repeated, and suddenly his eyes grew wide. “Oh.”

Andrew snapped his fingers in front of Neil’s face to regain his attention. “Now. If you want, you can walk out that door right now and go back to whatever plans you had for your evening. Your place under my protection will be unaffected.”

Neil did not, against Andrew’s expectations, look to the door. “Or?”

“Or you stay here, and I blow you.” Andrew had never been one for flowery propositions.

“Oh,” said Neil again. His eyes flicked across Andrew as though he were the mirror-maze reflection instead of Neil, and another layer of reflective glass had just been torn down. “You like me.”

Andrew fixed Neil with the most disdainful glare he could manage.

“Is it because…” Neil gestured vaguely over himself. “Because I’m the son of the butcher?”

“No,” Andrew replied. “It’s because you’re not.”

A new kind of understanding dawned in Neil’s features. He leaned in until their faces were inches apart. Andrew could smell Neil’s crisp aftershave, not one of the expensive brands Andrew preferred but compelling all the same.

“Kiss me,” Neil whispered, and Andrew was happy to oblige. He buried his hands in the sheets either side of Neil’s legs and kissed him until his lips were numb and they were both breathless. Neil gasped, and Andrew drew back, scowling when he noticed a thin scar cutting across Neil’s upper lip had re-opened.

“I don’t need medical attention,” Andrew mocked. “I’m fine.”

“I am,” Neil insisted. His tongue darted out to lick across his upper lip, and Andrew had to tear his gaze away. “It’s a scratch. It doesn’t hurt.”

“You said that about a stab wound last month.”

“You can’t tell when I’m lying yet?” Neil asked innocently.

“Stop talking.”

“Make me.”

Andrew was careful, the coppery taste of Neil’s lips setting long-abandoned parts of his mind alight, but Neil chased Andrew’s mouth with such fervour that Andrew soon gave in to the rough slide of their lips against each other. Neil, always so careful where it really mattered, dug his hands into the sheets so hard that Andrew wondered how he hadn’t torn right through them, leaving Andrew to dictate the points of contact between them.

Andrew nudged Neil onto his back as he climbed onto the bed, pausing to check for Neil’s consent before slipping a hand under the hem of his shirt. Neil gasped into his mouth, but as Andrew’s palm dragged across his ribcage Neil tensed, a bitten-off sound jerking from his chest. It wasn’t a good kind of sound.

“Neil,” Andrew said carefully. “You said your only injuries were on your face.”

“They were. I’m fine.”

Andrew retaliated with a light press to the side of Neil’s ribcage. Neil’s breath hitched, his face twisting. “Looks like it.”

“Fine. Fine, I think I broke a rib. It’ll heal.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“No. Yes. No.” Neil winced. “It might be two ribs.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this because…?”

“You were upset.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes. A dangerous swirl of emotions churned in his stomach. “Was I?”

“Yes,” Neil replied. He said it with such ease, like he didn’t know what his words did to Andrew, staring up at him, open and exposed and caring, and for a moment Andrew couldn’t stand it.

I hate you¸ he wanted to say, but instead, “It is not your job to protect me. It is mine to protect you. Don’t lie to me again.”

“Can’t it be both?” Neil’s eyes traced the length of Andrew’s body, fingers twitching but still fisted into the sheets. “I’m not made of glass, Andrew. I’m the son of the butcher. I know how to fight. Let me fight for you.”

Andrew bit back a curse. He cupped Neil’s cheek in his hand, thumb running across the chapped skin of his bottom lip. “One condition,” he said at last. “No more lies.”

“Done,” Neil agreed, so easily, too easily, and yet Andrew couldn’t help but believe him.

He guided Neil’s hands to his hair before kissing him again, rough and hungry, and waited until he had succeeded in pulling a desperate moan from Neil’s chest before pulling back.

“Now, we are going to the ER, and you are going to get an X-ray, and I am not going to hear a peep of complaint about it.” Andrew ducked to press a kiss to Neil’s pulse-point.

“And afterwards?”

“And afterwards,” Andrew said thoughtfully, lips moving against Neil’s skin. “I suppose we’ll see where the night takes us.”

Neil smiled. It was not his father’s smile, not anymore. Neil had claimed it as his own.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought.

#aftg #andreil #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #my fic #butcher!andrew #blood tw #injury tw #the family business #death tw

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