#illusions to smut if you squint

[seonghwaddict]

the lamb and the wolf — park seonghwa

in which all he wanted was someone to love in his dark, lonely world… and then you came along.

hades!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. strangers to lovers. fluff. smut. warnings. he’s literally obsessed with mc, ankle injury, alcohol consumption, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor for love but it’s not really explicit, mc is described as innocent, explicit sexual content mdni, oral (f. receiving), unprotected, soft dom!hwa, big dick!hwa, praise, creampie. wc. 7.2k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i’ve been working on this for two-ish months and i’m so happy to finally share it. writing this was fun, i love writing men infatuated with their lovers <33 the letter he reads does not belong to me and comes from “Albert Camus, María Casares. Correspondence (1944-1959)” which is a collection of love letters sent between camus and casares. this particular one is letter #95.

listening to. from persephone, kiki rockwell // sunlight, hozier // liquid smooth, mitski // cinnamon girl, lana del rey // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex

masterlist.

the realm of the dead was terribly dark and cold and, as the name would suggest, barren of life. for seonghwa, the ruler of the underworld who had spent thousands of years in the realm, this hadn’t been a problem before. yet, he couldn’t deny the temptation of the distant sounds of chirping birds and gentle breezes humming through the air above.

he was, of course, free to leave whenever he wished to but more often than not he was busy—ruling over the souls that had passed or meetings with nymphs and the other deities. there had never been an inclination to explore, but somehow he found himself taking curious steps out of the cave entrance to his world.

and that’s where he saw you.

you weren’t a long way away from the entrance to the underworld, idling in a meadow and picking flowers and berries in a woven basket. the sunlight glinted off your rich skin, glistening on you manicured nails as your hands tended to the plants. the slow wind wafted through your soft-looking hair, making it dance in the air. he was entranced by the way the skirt of your dainty silk dress flowed as you moved around, hypnotised by the ivory fabric folding and brushing against your ankle with every step. you were beautiful in every sense of the word—but not the soft and comforting kind. no, not at all. in fact, he was quite alarmed by the notion of being so infatuated with a mortal at first glance.

seonghwa knew he was doomed from the moment he laid eyes on you. he wanted nothing more than for you to glance his way, willing to split himself in half or carve his heart right out of his chest to get a second of your attention. you spoke to yourself softly, muttering about how pretty you thought the little branch of lilac you plucked out of a bush was.

oh, how lovely your voice sounded; even the sun would not compare to it’s dulcet warmth.

a brilliant idea crossed his mind, one that he knew would get you to fall right in his grasp. and minutes later, he was able to conjure up a disturbingly realistic illusion of a rain storm. he descended back into his realm and all he had to do was wait.

you, however, flinched as the first droplets hit you. looking around for shelter, you spotted a cave entrance just a little way ahead, scrambling to sit there and wait for the storm to pass. the ground and walls felt cold against your body, nothing to separate your skin from the dark stone but your gown that was now soaked through and clung to your body.

minutes after you had sat down, a vaguely familiar scent breezed past you and had your head darting to look into the deeper part of the cave. there was no way it came from outside, not a single house in sight as the dewy smell of rain overtook the meadow. so your next most likely assumption was that it came from inside the cave. you stared into the seemingly endless abyss, squinting into the darkness for signs of, well, anything other than rocks and dirt.

and that’s when you saw it. a brief flickering flame, metres away from where you were sat. in the seconds that it lit, you could faintly make out what looked to be a staircase, descending further into a cave. an intrigued hum left you as you pushed yourself up from the ground and walked to the strange stairs, basket of berries and flowers left behind. there’s a reason they say curiosity killed the cat.

it was significantly colder as you stood at the top of the carved stairs, staring as far as you could see before they winded around and further into the unknown. another light came on, this time around the corner the stairs disappeared behind. with a final look at the exit of the cave, you began your unknowing descent into hell.

the light behind you flickered before going out, leaving you in darkness until you passed by the next torch, mounted on the damp stone. you planted your hand on the wall, afraid you’d lose your footing as each flame only lit the foreign path temporarily. the deeper you went, the colder you got. by the time you thought the stairs were endless, you could see faint puffs of white air emerging from your shaking lips with each breath you took. shivers ran through your body occasionally, your wet dress not doing anything to keep you warm.

just when you were going to give up and turn around to return to the surface, you stumbled at the unexpected absence of yet another step. your faint wince echoed through the small space as you rolled your ankle, instinctively holding yourself against the stone wall. your hand slipped from the wall for a second, a pebble falling and rolling until it stopped with an odd “clink.” you looked up in confusion to see what made the pebble stop with such a sound. looking with wide, bewildered eyes, a black and engraved set of double doors stood a few steps ahead of you. had they been there the whole time?

maybe someone lived there, someone who could help you. your father kept you safe and sound for as long as you could remember, teaching you to always see the best in people, rendering you a little sheltered and much too kind. perhaps this is what made you so trusting as you forced yourself to walk to the doors on limping legs. both doors had beautiful metal knockers mounted on them. the rusted brass resembled three dog heads, a heavy metal ring hanging from the snout of the dog in the middle. more than mildly nervous and with cold, shaking hands, you reached forward and tentatively lifted the ring of the right door before letting it knock against the dark wood.

moments later it swung open, held by a tall, pale-skinned man with slim fingers. for a moment you forgot what you were there for, caught off guard by the sharp eyes that looked down at you. your warm breath swirled in the air as you finally pieced together a sentence.

“i’m sorry, sir, but… i-i really meant to leave but i hurt my ankle…” you spoke quietly, your voice an octave higher than it usually was.

his gaze softened, the light of a torch on the wall reflecting in his dark eyes, and he smiled down at you as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “oh, you poor thing. please, come inside.”

seonghwa watched you walk past him and into this home he had conjured up just for your arrival. it was quite dark, illuminated by a fireplace and candelabras decorating shelves and tables. he didn’t care enough to provide more light, completely entranced by the way you kneeled in front of the hearth, hands outstretched to warm them by the fire. they looked so much smaller compared to his. seeing you up close made his heart skip a beat, he wanted nothing more than to lay his hands on your smooth skin, run them through your damp hair, pat the thin and wet flowing dress dry and keep you warm. droplets of the rain ran from the top of you head down your face slowly, occasionally getting caught in your eyebrows or the corner of your beautiful lips.

he wondered fleetingly if they felt as soft as they looked. another bead of rain made it past your features, trailing past your jawline and neck. his eyes tracked it but when it disappeared under the fabric covering your chest, he refused to continue looking.

you felt his presence standing beside you a moment later, drawing your eyes—your naïve, innocent eyes—to look up at him. he offered you a hand to help you stand.

“come, love, let me take a look at your ankle,” he smiled at you kindly, pulling you up helpfully as you took his hand. once you stood, you stumbled slightly, accidentally putting weight on your injured ankle and wincing. one of his arm quickly looped itself around your waist, holding you up against him so you wouldn’t fall.

his touch was gentle yet you felt a certain firmness to it, feeling as if his warm hand was searing through your cold gown. your cheeks burned and you looked away shyly, something that had him biting back a smile as he guided you to sit at one of the sofas. he was mildly surprised by how small and delicate you felt in his arms. you felt fragile. there was something so seductive about that, the thought of breaking you in the most intimate of ways. but soon he had to let you go. after you settled into the cushions of the seat, his movements caught your eye.

your jaw nearly dropped when you saw him kneeling on the ground before you. though you weren’t aware of it, something made you so special that you had a god getting on the ground on his knees in front of a mortal. his dark eyes found yours, voice as gentle as it had been the whole time.

“may i?”

when you gave him a small nod, not trusting yourself to say anything, his hand grazed your calf before gently wrapping around your ankle and lifting it to rest on his thigh. despite his intimidating and malicious role among the deities, he was softer with you than anyone could ever imagine. he slipped off your shoe but kept your sock on, dragging the ruffled trim just under your heel so he could inspect the swelling at your ankle. the ruffles tickled you as he moved it, eliciting the most melodic giggle he’d ever heard.

when he glanced up at you, a smile stretched your tempting lips and making your smooth cheeks swell as you looked back down at him. he couldn’t help but smile, endeared by everything you did.

“it tickles.” you explained through another giggle, looking down at him. as his gaze returned to your ankle, you took note of how close he was. if he leaned forward just a little he’d be able to brush his plump lips along your knees. he knew that, of course, since he planned it. every touch, every position, every word had been meticulously planned, it was no surprise to him how close be found himself.

well, other than you getting injured, everything had been planned.

his slender finger pressed against different areas of your swollen ankle with featherlight pressure, gauging where it hurt most. you winced occasionally, but a certain spot made you flinch and whimper.

“there?” he whispered, looking up at you. his gaze was still tender as he gazed at you, his fingers pressing against that spot again with just a little more pressure. you knew he needed to check if it was really that spot, but in reality he wanted nothing more than to hear those lovely sounds tumble from your lips. to his delight, you did just that, bottom lip quivering slightly with the sound as you nodded. his gaze fell to your lips and he imagined kissing you, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, but he refocused his thoughts on your injury quickly.

“how did you even hurt yourself like this?” his other hand moved to the knee of your uninjured leg, thumb brushing small circles soothingly.

“i missed a step on the stairs and rolled my ankle.” you frowned slightly, the cute downturn if the corners of your lips almost making him coo at you. you leaned forward to catch a glimpse of your ankle but it was hard to see in the dim light provided by the fireplace and various candelabras around on shelves.

“i see… how careless of you, dear,” he tutted, fingers tapping against your knee absentmindedly, “but it’s okay, don’t worry. it’s just a small injury… wait here for a moment while i go get something, alright?”

you nodded once more and he got up, disappearing through a doorway as your eyes traced over his figure. you looked around the room as you waited patiently. it was a simple sitting room slash entrance area at first glance, but upon looking closer you found there were many little breathtaking details littered around for those who cared enough to find them. intricately embroidered golden designs decorating the wine red carpet beneath your feet, the shelves lining the wall on either side of the fireplace stocked with worn books neatly.

silent brisk steps drew your eyes back to him as the handsome stranger returned, a little glass bottle and roll of bandages held in his hands. his cheeks warmed at the sight of you sitting there so pretty and obediently. seonghwa kneeled in front of you once again and brought your foot to the same position as before.

“i’m going to apply this,” he held up the bottle for you to see, a mysterious deep blue liquid swishing around inside, “it’ll be cold and it might hurt a bit, but i promise to be gentle, okay?” after you nodded silently, he uncapped the bottle and poured a bit into his hand. “i’ll need you to stay still and relax. can you do that for me, love?”

after you gave him a muttered ‘yes’ he flattened his palm over the swelling. true to his word, the liquid he had poured into his hand was icy cold and stung a little as he rubbed it in as gently as possible. if you had to describe the feeling, you’d compared it to hundred of pinpricks concentrated on one area. it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

your eyes squeezed shut and your hands dug into the couch beneath you. you felt his touch leave your knee but a second later his hand found it’s way to yours, slipping between your fingers for you to hold him instead of tearing up his couch. he squeezed reassuringly and his heart swelled when you squeezed back.

before you knew it, his warm voice filled the silence of the room. “all done. you can open your eyes now, darling, you did so well.”

you eyes opened slowly at his words and looked down. he was peering up at you with round caring eyes, making your stomach flutter. his hand on your ankle lingered before he pulled away so you could have a look at the bandages wrapped around it skilfully, his other hand still intertwined with yours.

“thank you…?” you trailed off, indirectly asking for his name. despite him being a stranger, you somehow trusted this handsome man with your life. perhaps it was because he had shown you nothing but kindness thus far, every one of his actions illuminating warmth and care.

“of course. the ointment works fairly quickly, so you should be free to walk around just fine for a few hours at least,” his lips tugged into a small grin. he thought you were so cute, too shy to be upfront about your interest in him.

he wasn’t blind, your increased heart rate below his touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. for a moment, he considered lying to you—introducing you to an identity that didn’t exist in fear that you’d run away from him once he revealed himself. however, soon enough he came to the conclusion that he wanted you to love him, not some made up caricature. besides, he didn’t have to tell you about his occupation just yet. “it’s seonghwa.”

you tested the syllables on your tongue and he could’ve sworn honey poured right out of your mouth with how sweet you sounded. he nodded encouragingly and you gave him your name. he decided it fit you and your serene disposition. you watched with a warming face as he lifted your hand to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he kissed your knuckles.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.” he winked smoothly before standing from the ground, pulling you off the couch with him. his eyes glanced down at your dress. it was still wet but not nearly as drenched as it was before, though it still clung to your body, teasing him. “you must be uncomfortable. if you want, i probably have a change of clothes for you.”

you smiled at his invitation gratefully, nodding. “i’d love that, thank you.”

“down that hall,” he pointed in the direction he went earlier to get that odd liquid, “the second door on the right is a bedroom. you’ll find some clothes in the closet, i think they’ll fit you.”

you took a step towards the hall before stopping and turning around to look at him with a questioning gaze. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you were thinking. he fumbled to find a convincing excuse, speaking slowly. “my, uh, sister used to live with me but she moved away recently, so her clothes are still there.”

the explanation satisfied you and he watched as you followed his instructions, eyes drawn to the way you hips swayed slightly with each step. you stepped through the door he told you to, yellow candlelight seeping into the hallway before you closed it behind you. but it didn’t close fully and left you visible through the sliver. he forced his eyes away when he caught a glimpse of you pulling your gown off yourself.

just as he said, you found many suitable clothes in the shelves of the wooden dresser. the room itself was quite plain, though the bed looked more than comfortable. there were many options, though all of them seemed to be dresses of some kind. long or short, dark or pastel, silk or cotton, and everything in between. finally you settled on a flowy white nightgown, the skirt brushing against your thighs. you pulled on some clean socks and slippers and dried your hair as best you could with a towel you found before stepping out to join him in the sitting room again.

but when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. looking around in confusion, you breathed a sigh if relief when you heard him call your name for another room, beckoning you to join him. upon entering said room, it quickly became apparent it was a dining room.

the walls were practically black, much like the rest of the house so far, and made the room appear much darker than it probably actually was despite the multiple candelabras on the long wooden table and the extravagant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. he sat at the chair on the left of the head of the table, a meal set in front of the head. he gestured for you take a seat in front of it. you obliged quickly.

his eyes roamed over your figure, lips parting in a soft exhale at the sight of your bare thighs. fleetingly, he came to the conclusion he wanted to bury his head between them, let them squeeze and suffocate him as he ravished you. before he could further entertain those thoughts, the squeak of the chair brought him out of his head.

“i figured you’d be hungry, so i made a little something for you,” he spoke as you got comfortable in the seat, pushing a glass of water towards you, “i hope it’s up to your standards, dear.”

you gazed down at the bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup with vegetables before looking back up at him. “you’re too kind, really, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

he was more than delighted by your kindness and manners, looking at him so cutely with the candlelight dancing in your eyes magically. “no but i did have to. i can’t have you sitting here, injured and starved… plus, it’s nice to have company.”

“oh?” his final sentence piqued your interest, fiddling with the handle of your spoon. “you don’t get a lot of company?”

he really didn’t, other than the souls that made down here after their bodies passed on. but that’s a conversation for another time. he shook his head slightly, lifting a glass of wine you hadn’t noticed before to his lips. he let it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it and returning his gaze to you.

“not very often, no…” he explained slowly, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet clink before folding his hands beside it, elegant as ever, “people don’t tend to come all the way down here and i don’t tend to invite people over.”

a frown tugged at you lips and you turned your gaze away, feeling slightly ashamed. “i’m sorry to have bothered your peace then, seonghwa.”

he tensed, hands gripping each other just a little tighter. why on earth were you ashamed, why were you apologising? he reached over and placed a hand over your free one, momentarily distracted by how soft it felt in his grip before he was quick to reassure you. “oh no, darling, don’t you dare apologise. you’re not bothering me at all, really. it’s been a long time since i’ve enjoyed someone’s company this much.”

“r-really?” you finally looked at him again, the warmth returning to his stomach as he faintly noticed one of the straps threatening to fall off your shoulder.

“really,” he reaffirmed, turning your hand over so he could hold it properly, “i should be thanking you, if anything.”

you averted your gaze once again, this time feeling shy rather than ashamed; a fact that had him grinning. soon enough, you began eating your soup, humming at the taste approvingly after the first taste. you conversed leisurely as you ate, jumping from subject to subject naturally as if you’d known each other for years. you asked him why he wasn’t eating with you, to which he said he’d already eaten and didn’t feel hungry. this was, of course, a lie since deities like him don’t need to eat anyway.

eventually, you finished, slumping back in your seat with a yawn. “that was absolutely amazing. thank you, hwa.”

the new nickname had his cheeks tinting a soft pink but he hid it quickly. he watched you yawn. somehow everything you did felt adorable to him, the urge to scoop you up in his arms to hold you tightly and kiss you softly growing stronger by the second. if he weren’t a man with unrivalled self-restraint and patience, he would’ve done it by now.

“someone’s tired, huh?” he cooed at you, crossing one leg over the other. “you should go sleep in the room you got the clothes from. i’d prefer for you to stay until your ankle is fully healed, just in case.”

you nodded slowly, another yawn ripped from your throat as you got up and stretched your arms over your head. the movement caused the skirt of your nightgown to ride up, his breath hitching as he realised if it went up any further head be able to see your lacy white undergarments you’d borrowed from the dresser too. he distracted himself with a chuckle, standing up and guiding you out of the dining room to the bedroom by the small of your back.

before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed of the bedroom that supposedly belonged to his sister. your dress fell over your body entrancingly, tempting his hungry eyes as he stood over you, adoring the way your hair laid on the satin pillow. you turned to your side and curled up with your knees pulled to your chest. he caught a glimpse of your lacy panties before they fell over the swell of your ass as if they hadn’t moved in the first place.

thoughts swarmed his mind, none of them appropriate. he imagined your legs wrapped around his waist, burying himself into the curve of your neck, sculpted for his face to fit right there. he longed to feel your soft curves against his fingers, not a single layer of clothing separating you.

“hwa?” the way you said his name made his thoughts snap to reality as his eyes found yours. the nickname sounded so wonderful with your voice, he wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it safe on a shelf for the rest of eternity. not only that, but the way you looked at him, lips parted softly with small breaths, cheeks flushed, and eyes looking wide and innocent. oh, how innocent you smelled to him. he was torn between preserving it and corrupting it.

“yes, love?” he whispered back, brushing a strand of your hair from you face as casually as possible.

“thank you… for everything,” you whispered, peering up at him with those same glittering round eyes, “i’ll be sure to repay you for your kindness when i can.”

“there’s no need, really. it’s nothing,” he chuckled quietly, gaze flitting all over your features—you fluttering eyelashes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your neck, the slight upturn of the corners of your lips. he took a deep breath as discreetly as possible, reminding himself that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him, he shouldn’t get too attached just yet.

somehow, he held himself back from pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless. he pulled his hand back after letting his thumb brush against your cheekbone for a moment.

“i’ll let you rest now,” he whispered, “sleep well. i’ll see you in the morning, love.”

you muttered a soft ‘goodnight, hwa’ in return before he was out of the room and shutting the door a second later.

the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps getting more and more distant. you let out another quiet yawn, pulling the comfortable blanket over your body and up to your chin. your room was quiet, the silence oddly comforting. something about the place had that feel and despite being so far underground, it didn’t feel claustrophobic at all. you compared it to home, your parents always bickering with each other or taking out their frustrations on you. it felt nice to be in a quiet space again, and you briefly wondered if you could stay a little longer than another day.

your eyelids became heavier with each blink in the dark before they ultimately closed completely, pulling you into a deep sleep.

though you didn’t expect it to last so long, over a week passed and you were still staying with him in his little cave house. you didn’t mind, of course, since he took such great care of you. in the week, you’d grown closer, treating each other like lovers though neither of you brought it up. he’d let you sit in his lap and you’d let him brush his fingers through your hair.

you stirred awake, one day short of having spent two weeks with him. today was one of those days where he’d gone out to run some errands, trusting you enough to leave you alone. with not much to do, you usually sat in his little library or took a nap until the evening. this time you chose the latter.

some hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, your blanket displaced and only covering half of your left leg, having kicked it off in your sleep. for a second you couldn’t remember where you were, but memories of the previous days returned quickly and you relaxed before sitting up and looking around the room. the candle had stayed on overnight, providing light in a place where windows really couldn’t exist.

there was no indication of the time other than a clock on one of the bedside tables. assuming it was functional and accurate, it was 10:24 in the evening. you hummed, surprised you’d slept so much when usually you’d be awake hours before that. with a quiet groan, you realised there was no point in going back to bed, pulling yourself off the mattress and to the door.

you reached for the door handle but paused, pulling back to check yourself in the mirror. not wanting to look like a mess in front of seonghwa, you readjusted your dress so it sat on your body properly and tried your best to make your hair appear less messy. only then did you tiptoe your way out of your bedroom and to the sitting room.

he was back already, sat on the couch and readings a book, back straight and one leg crossed elegantly over the other. he wore something different. instead of the loose white shirt, black slacks and black corset, he now wore a black vest that had sheer black sleeves with black slacks. the neckline of his vest dipped low, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. you forced yourself to look away, settling into the armchair across from him, separated by a long coffee table.

“i don’t bite, you know,” he spoke without looking up from his book, sounding amused that you sat so far away after how close you’d been the night before.

your daze cracked, chuckling as you stood and walking around the coffee table to sit beside him on his right. though you weren’t touching, a few centimetres of space between you, you could feel his body heat radiating off him. he glanced down at your exposed thighs briefly before continuing to read, or at least trying to. his eyes were stuck on the same line for a minute, distracted by the way you leaned your head on his shoulder to read with him.

he contemplated pulling you onto his lap, missing the feel of your weight against him like the night before. you had insisted for him to carry you to bed, pouty and tired, and when he did, he had a hard time letting go of you and ended up sitting with his back against the headboard with you snuggled safely on his lap until you fell asleep.

knowing you wouldn’t mind, he moved his right arm around your waist, slipping his hand down to your hip to make pulling you onto his lap easier. once you were there, straddling him so prettily, he let you rest the side of your head on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck as he tried his best to maintain his focus on his book. to the world he was a merciless king, but with you in his lap he was tender and caring.

you shifted your head, trying to look down at the book he was reading. your breath tickled him as you spoke. “what’re you reading?”

“oh,” he turned the book over for you to see the title. he let you read over, revelling in the feeling of your nose and lips accidentally grazing his neck. it tested every inch if his patience. feeling your heart beat against his chest and wanting so desperately to crawl into your ribcage, cradling your heart in his hands and peppering the beating muscle with kisses. he cleared his throat. “it’s a collection of poetry and letters.”

“you like poetry?” you giggled quietly and he swore he could taste the sweetness of it.

“i do,” he nodded, the tips of his ears dusted a rosy pink, “would you like me to read some to you?”

the offer made you feel giddy for some reason, glancing up at him with a grin as you nodded. you could only imagine how poetry would sound spoken by his divine voice.

seonghwa snickered at your excitement, flipping through the pages of his book to find something worthy of your ears. he stopped at a page near the end, his hand dropping back to your hip as he began reading. he traced a finger over your hipbone as he did, the light pressure making you squirm lightly in his lap.

“i have never surrendered myself entirely to anyone but you, and only recently. and to let my heart speak, when i am pressed against you, is an emotion and a peace that overflows all imagination.”

by the time he finished reading it, you were holding your breath, heart hammering against your ribs so hard you had no doubt he’d be able to feel it. the way he said it sounded less like a recitation and more like a confession, your stomach buzzing with anticipation as you sat up to look at him face to face, eye to eye, your hands resting on his chest.

your touch drove him to insanity. the soft press of your fingers against his vest, making it that much harder to hold himself back. he wanted to hold you against him forever. to inhale your scent so that his lungs would depend on you and only you. to touch you, to kiss you, to knit your flesh to his so you’d never leave him, to devour you, consume you. he wanted to do it all.

he could only whisper, “may i?”

his words echoed what he said before tending to your ankle two weeks prior, the day you first met him. that felt so long ago, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.

his hand squeezed you hip gently while the other moved to cup your jaw, wasting no time in pulling your face to his. it was a slow, reverent kiss that filled every inch of your senses with warmth. your lips felt softer than he imagined. when your lips finally touched, your fingers curled into his vest, sighing against his lips softly.

he shuddered at the sound, pulling your hips tighter against him and pressing his lips against yours a little harder, your body perfectly molded to his as if that’s where you belonged. his tongue ran along your bottom lip, not pushing into your mouth, just tasting you enough to satiate his growing hunger. despite the way your hips rolled against him, guided by his hand and eliciting subtle gasps against his lips, he couldn’t help but still find you so sweet, so innocent, as you let him kiss you breathless.

in a way, you reminded him of a little lamb, hunted by a wolf. one could say you had tamed him. he could easily tear out your throat, add you to his collection of souls, yet he decided to kiss you instead. kiss you so softly your cheeks warmed.

the next time your eyes fluttered open, you somehow found yourself in your room, still on his lap as he sat on the edge. his kisses slowed, being replaced with repeated pecks before he pulled away fully to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

he sighed your name and for a second you felt the world stop, the sound making your head spin. “darling, please, let me taste you.”

your breath hitched at his whispered request, suddenly aware of your panties sticking to your wet core. wordlessly, you nodded and he manoeuvred you to lay on your back, making sure your head rested on your pillow comfortably.

he kissed your forehead, then your lips. from there he kissed his way further down over your nightgown—your jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, the valley of your breast, your stomach, hipbones, the top of your pelvis—all the while murmuring praises of how beautiful you were. his hands rested on your waist and moved down to your thighs, spreading them apart without resistance as he kneeled between them.

with a final look at your curious face, looking down and following his every action with your eyes, he dragged the end of your skirt up, revealing more and more of your smooth thighs and baby blue cotton panties. he thought they were cute as he let the dress bunch up at your waist, leaning down to kiss the little satin bow of your undergarments before hooking his finger through them.

he began dragging them down but stopped abruptly when you place a hand over his own, worried eyes darting to look at you. all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop.

“no one has ever… you know,” you blushed, too shy to say no one had ever eaten you out, only giving your lower half a meaningful glance.

relieved, he chuckled lowly and kissed the hand atop his. “you know i’ll be careful, darling. just relax, okay?”

once you relaxed as he told you to, he slipped his fingers between yours, using his other hand to slip your underwear down and off you, tossing them in a random direction before finally taking a look at the parts of you he craved the most. he nearly moaned at the sight of your folds, glistening in the dim light as your engorged clit begged for his attention.

leaning down to kiss your inner thighs first, his tongue slid between your folds, licking an experimental stripe from your hole to your clit, drawing a soft whine from you. he himself groaned at the taste, the sweet nectar that seeped from your body.

“fuck, you taste so good.”

your thighs quivered around his head as he pushed his face deep into your heat, lapping up your juices and sucking at your nub with the desperation of a starved man. each prod of his tongue had your breath shaking, whimpering, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. before, you figured it would feel good, but not quite this delicious.

when you came, you came with a faint cry of his name, body arching of the bed. your hand that didn’t hold his moved to his hair at some point during his meal, tugging softly as your juices gushed out and you twitched from overstimulation, his tongue unrelenting and determined to swallow every last drop of your release.

he pulled away as you tugged at his hair, moving his torso up your body to kiss you. it was less a kiss and more feverish presses against each other, his tongue wandering between your teeth and making you taste yourself. you couldn’t taste much, but to his sensitive taste buds you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

his hips pressed against yours and your breath hitched, feeling the weight of his erection straining against his pants and nudging your aching clit. he pulled back from your lips, searching your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. but you only nodded encouragingly and he grinned, his lips moving to your neck as he helped you sit up so he could pull your dress off you and finally see everything he’d been fantasising about.

he detached his lips from your pulse point to pull it the rest of the way and toss it in a random direction, his eyes trained on your breasts. they were just as pretty as he imagined, nudging you to lay down again so he could take one erect nipple into his mouth and suck and lick and kiss it and around it.

“you look so pretty right now, love,” he muttered against your skin as he kissed his way to your other breast, his hands working on releasing himself from his pants while yours unbuttoned his vest, hands shaking with want.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against your pillow, your fingers gripping onto his bare shoulders as he dragged his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness. he kissed your cheek.

“tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

only once you breathed an ‘okay’ did he begin pushing in. he was blessed with a cock so big and perfect it hit every sensitive spot in your walls with precision as his length filled you slowly. his tip alone had you gasping softly, moaning incoherently as your eyes rolled back and fell shut, the stretch somehow pleasing you.

when he bottomed out, his eyes were drawn to the way he could see himself pressing through the bottom of your stomach, groaning as he passed his hand over the area and felt the bump. he stilled inside you, not moving until you told him so.

“p-please move, hwa.”

his pace throughout was relaxed, slow but not painfully slow, just enough roughness to his grinds to leave you breathless without tipping you over the edge just yet. it was when his hand slipped under your waist and angled you differently that you began feeling the familiar knot tighten in your abdomen.

he had a hard time stopping himself from releasing the moment he entered you, your walls hugging him so perfectly he choked back a moan with each stroke. everything about you felt as if you’d been made for him to worship, for him to indulge in. before you had come along, there was that occasional craving of romance, of wanting someone. he longed for someone to hold his hand, whose eyes replied to his so lovingly.

and there you were, beneath him, squeezing one of his hands while your dilated pupils showed him just how much you wanted him too.

you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your sounds, something that made him chuckle and kiss the bridge of your nose. “don’t be shy, i want to hear you.”

his quiet praises made your face warm, letting out the softest of moans as his words shot straight to your core.

“you take me so well, love.” “you’re so precious and all mine.” “keep your eyes on me, darling.”

at some point his deep slow strokes grew needy and faster, pounding against your g-spot repeatedly as moans and whimpers of the two of you filled the room, hot breaths mingling with each other. your next orgasm crashed down on you with little warning, your walls squeezing around him as he muffled your sounds with his lips.

he came soon after that, filling you with his release after you had told him it was okay. his face dropped into the crook of your neck, cock twitching until his body slumped against yours.

after cleaning you up with a damp towel and slipping a new pair of panties over your legs, he joined you in bed once more and wrapped his arms around you. your legs tangled together and your chest pressed against his, your head tucked under his chin as you drifted back to sleep, lazy kisses placed onto the crown of your head.

he sighed softly and shut his eyes, filled with thoughts. now that he’s had you, he could hardly see himself letting go of you. but why would he? you were all he wanted and more.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[heavenbarnes]

Do not go gentle

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: illusions to reader suffering "some" attack earlier, nightmares, reader and hotch are goofy idiots, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, unprotected pinv sex, dirty talk, pulling out, splash the back, mentions of m!masturbation, swearing, blasphemy, hotch has a size kink if you squint.

Word Count: 4.7k

Can you believe it? I've finally posted Hotch smut? I recently picked CM back up again and turns out he's still irresistible. Enjoy this, I did.

You'd only been back a week, after having two off, and Hotch already wanted to see you in his office.

This normally wasn't a cause for concern, usually you actually liked seeing Hotch in his office. Usually because it was for praise, he'd remark good work you'd done or feed you back something good he'd heard about you from another department.

It was also in that low, calm voice and he'd always have a hint of a smile working it's way to the surface.

But this time it'd be different.

You'd been off for two weeks and everyone was worried it wasn't enough. You'd been, quite literally, through hell and back and nobody wanted to push you too hard to get back into the field.

But you'd reassured Strauss, reassured everyone, that this was the best thing for you. You'd been going stir crazy on your couch in your little apartment, watching everything the TV had on offer.

You needed to get back into things, you needed to get back to helping people.

So you made the slow ascent up to Hotch's office and quietly knocked on the door, feeling it slowly swing open against your hand. He looked up from his desk, eyes connecting with yours and his brow raising slightly.

"You wanted to see me, sir?

He waved you in with his hand, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, doing your best to relax back into things and not let him know how nervous this had made you.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

You smiled, only gently with your gaze picking out flaws in the carpet of Hotch’s office. Nodding slightly, you lifted your head to lock eyes with him.

“Good, actually,” That was honest but you could tell he was a little hesitant to accept it. “I’m glad to be back with everyone and making some difference.”

“And how are you sleeping?” Clear and level headed as ever.

You hesitated, it was only a second but there was no getting past him. You knew you had to be honest now.

“Not well, that's only when I finally get to sleep, and when I do I’m right back there again.”

Hotch’s expression was as hard to read as ever but you could see a hint of sympathy? Sadness? Concern?

“And are you seeing a therapist?”

“I am! She’s great, she says the best way through it is to keep living until I have enough good memories to replace those ones.”

You thought there may have been a hint of a smile on his face but it was gone as quick as you saw it.

“If there is anything I can do to help you, just ask- or call.”

You gave him a smile, an earnest one and you nodded as you spoke. “I will, thank you, Sir.”

That went better than you expected. He didn't want to recall you back to the office for desk work, he was just checking in. You found yourself back to feeling how you normally did when you left his office.

Not really wanting to go.

-

Your apartment was dead quiet, you couldn't even hear the usual hum of your fridge as you left the bathroom. Your home was darker than you were used to, the moonlight struggling to get through the windows.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you felt the unmistakable air of company. Something was telling you that you weren't alone in the darkness. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as your fingers reached for the light switch.

So close, you were so close when you suddenly felt a strong grasp wrap around your wrist-

Awakening with a scream, you felt your heart fight it's way out of your chest. Your neighbours would probably be leaving another not-so-passive note in your mailbox about this.

Sitting up on the couch, you found your lights still on and your TV still playing some mindless background noise. Another nightmare taking your sleep right from you when you needed it most.

Your cellphone lay on your coffee table in front of you, black screen staring back at you. Mulling it over in your head, you weighed up your options.

On one hand, he quite literally said to call if you needed him. But on the other, he probably just said it as a courtesy, something everyone says.

Either way, before you could really talk yourself out of it- you were dialing Hotch’s number and pressing your phone to your ear.

Zoning out a little at the dial tone, you were quickly snapped back by the sound of his voicemail service, a robotic voice asking you to leave him a message.

It all happened too quickly, your lips were firing off before you could stop yourself.

“Ah- oh God- uh sorry, I’m sorry this is- oh it’s actually me by the way. I’m sorry I called it’s just- I uh had a nightmare. That sounds really lame now that I’m saying this and I really shouldn’t have called- uh I realise now you didn’t pick up because you’ve got a life or you're sleeping- but I'm not and I uh- shit-sorry- Sir, this might be a record for the world’s most pathetic voicemail so maybe take this to a museum- or to a lab to have me tested because what the hell is this- anyway- shit- sorry again and enjoy your night- see you at work tomorrow morning, please- uh please don’t mention this or I will have to go into hiding. Anyways- good night- sorry.”

Hanging up after the message, you threw your phone at the couch and watched it bounce off the cushions and onto the rug. Stuffing your palms into your eyes you let out a pained groan.

“Please throw your phone into the ocean!” You begged, getting up from the couch. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

You had almost forgotten the cringiest voicemail known to man. With how focused you were on perfecting this terrible boxed mac and cheese, your mind was nearly elsewhere.

Just as you’d managed to find a bit of peace, a knock at your front door made you jump out of your skin. Doing your best to calm yourself down, you brought your bowl of macaroni with you to the front door to investigate.

One eye to the peep hole, the minute you saw the person on the other side- your heart dropped. Slowly twisting the lock, you pulled the door back to reveal one Aaron Hotchner.

A very cozy looking Aaron Hotchner.

“Sir-“

“I got your message, you had another nightmare?”

Your words got trapped up in your throat before you could get them out. “Uh yeah.”

“What about? Are you okay”

Clearing your throat, you did your best to focus your gaze on him, remind yourself that you were here- safe in your apartment and not back there.

“Same old, I’m alone in the dark and then suddenly- he’s there.”

There was that expression on Hotch’s face again, this time you were sure it was concern, genuine concern. It was unmistakable.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening to you.”

Just as you were about to brush it off, pretend like it wasn’t driving you crazy, you could see a faint smile appearing as he kept speaking.

“I couldn’t find a museum that'd accept your voicemail but I did find a 24 hour convenience store with ice cream.”

He lifted the bag in his right hand and you could faintly see the tub through the plastic. “Is that cookies? That’s my-“

“Your favourite, yeah it is- do you mind sharing?”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks as you nodded, quickly realising you’d been having this whole conversation in the hallway.

“Oh yeah, come in- get out of my hallway would you?”

Hotch laughed, quietly, but he still laughed as he walked in. He went straight to the kitchen as you hovered by the couch.

“I can even share my gross looking boxed mac and cheese if you ask nicely.”

That got the rest of the laugh out of him, smiling over his shoulder as he made himself at home in your kitchen. Trying to give yourself something to do, you picked up the TV remote.

“Sorry, the TV’s just been on as background noise but we could watch a movie- only if you want- I don’t even know how long you-“

Thankfully, Hotch cut you off again. “I’d love to watch a movie, as long as it isn’t a cartoon, with dinosaurs or superheroes.”

As he rounded the couch and passed you a bowl of ice cream, you looked up at him with an incredulous expression on your face.

“I literally just rented ‘cartoon dinosaur superheroes’, what the hell?"

Your face broke out in a grin before you could even finish your dumb joke and it had an instant effect on Hotch.

“Yeah well, I preferred the TV series- it went into much more detail.”

Spoon in your mouth, you shot a look at your usually-very-serious boss. You weren’t used to seeing this many smiles- let alone hearing this many jokes from the man.

“Which one was your favourite? The green one?” You pushed the corny little joke a little further.

He glanced back in your direction as he lifted his own spoon to his lips. “I liked the one that put out fires.”

Immediately a grin broke out across your face as you couldn't contain your giggles. You quieted down to a hum as you nodded at his quip. “There totally would be one that put out fires.”

Leaning back into your couch, you picked up your feet to lean them on your coffee table.

“You can put your feet up by the way, I don’t mind.”

As quickly as you said it, Hotch was reaching out a long arm to wave at your legs. “I do, get your feet off the table.”

Looking at him in (slight) faux-shock, you shook your head as he did his best to fight off an impending chuckle.

“Excuse me? This is my house!”

Hotch’s smile only grew. “Hardly a house, it’s a living room with a bed in the back of it.”

Stunned expression painted across your face, a series of unintelligible noises fell past your lips as it was your turn to try not to laugh.

“Alright then, next time I have a trauma induced nightmare then I’ll be coming to your house.”

“Perfect, I’ll have the boxed macaroni cheese and dinosaurs.”

“Great, and I’ll pick apart every stylistic choice you’ve ever made in.”

Hotch finished off another spoonful of ice cream as he shrugged. “I think you’ll find I’m a very skilled interior decorator.”

You cocked your head towards him, eyes narrowed as you played on the bit. “Suuuurely not?”

“I am, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Eyes wide in excitement as he said the words, you couldn’t believe Aaron Hotchner was a certified funny-guy. Your stoic boss, your always knowing what to say, what to do, boss. You quickly reached for the TV remote off the table as the next thought struck you.

“That’s the one, I wonder if they're streaming Airplane!”

It wasn’t like you even lasted the first 20 minutes before you fell asleep. You felt so warm, so cozy, so at peace that you hadn’t even realised you were drifting off until you did.

Hotch didn’t mind either, just happy to see you finally sleeping. His right arm stayed firmly around your side as your cheek and hand laid against his chest, snoring only quietly.

He smiled from above you, tilting his neck just enough to gently rest his chin against the top of your head.

That night you dreamed, for the first time in weeks. You were in your apartment, but the lights were shining and the moon had cast a glow over the room. You could tell you weren’t alone, you felt the company, but you couldn't find it to be scared.

Somebody else was in your apartment and he remembered your favourite ice cream.

-

As you rushed through the door of the conference room, all eyes switched from the round table fell on you. Within an instant, heat was rising up your cheeks.

“Nice of you to join us.” Morgan teased as you slipped into a seat next to Spencer.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, scrambling to grab some of the files in front of you. “Slept in.”

A simple sentence quieted everyone back down as expressions softened across all of them.

“Slept?” JJ asked quietly, full attention on you. “You’re sleeping again?”

A smile cracked at the corner of your lips, nodding gently as you tried to keep your head down. “Yeah, first time in weeks last night.”

Everyone let you off the hook after that, it was all back to work and start filing the reports from the last case. As you all shuffled out to head back to your desks, you heard a voice behind you call your name.

Leaving just you and Hotch in the room, you felt that same heat creep right back up your neck. You stepped over towards him, only bringing yourself to meet his eyes once you were right in front of him.

“Sir, listen, about last night-“

“I’m sorry,” He stopped your babbling before you could even start. “I was out of line.”

Not what you were expecting. This morning had been hazy, Hotch slipping out with a sore neck from sleeping upright. You not even waking as he left.

But this was still-

“I shouldn’t have let myself get as close as I did,” He continued, his tone back to as professional as always. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t?”

Hotch couldn’t bare the look on your face. Eyes dropping in confusion and bottom lip daring to wobble. He had to steel himself, he had to walk out of that room before he did something that'd cost his career.

-

He'd completely closed down any chance for the two of you. You'd sort-of-kind-of resigned yourself to the fact it was never going to happen, but having it come crashing down right in front of you hurt more than you'd expected.

You didn't realise that you'd designated a space to him in the centre of your chest until you felt it break. Thinking back on it now, it will completely foolish to think your boss would ever dare to pursue anything with you.

But there was last night.

You'd woken briefly, just the once, and you'd felt his arm around your waist. You'd heard the beat of his heart just under your ear. You could've sworn you'd felt him press his lips against the top of your head.

That was all said and done now. If you'd known it was your only chance, you probably would've held onto it for just a little longer. You thought a hot shower after a long day would help to dissipate your feelings, but you still felt it weighing heavy on your mind.

Shuffling to the kitchen, you decided there was no other choice but to get on with things. What'd your therapist said? Keep moving forward until you have more good memories to replace the other ones?

Besides, you'd gotten on just fine before, without him. There was no reason for this to change anything.

Even after you knew how it felt to fall asleep beside him.

Swinging open the box freezer, you scanned the shelf for something to eat before your eyes fell on the scene of the crime. Last night's ice cream stared back at you with cruel intent.

You decided you'd make a spectacle of it, retrieving it from the freezer to stab a spoon right through the middle of it. The first mouthful stung, the rest was just...ice cream.

Dragging your feet towards the couch, you were nearly close enough to collapse into comfort when a knock at the door sent a fright through you that you'd never get used to. Cautiously, you pressed your eye back to the peep hole and screwed up your face in confusion.

"Sir?" You asked as the door swung open, finding Hotch back in that same place on your doorstep.

"Listen, I'm sorry-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "You really don't have to be. Like you said, it shouldn't have happened."

You'd been hesitant to look him in the eye as you spoke, roaming the spotted ceiling of your apartment hall instead. But as you shifted to catch his eyes, you found him- preocupied.

Hotch's eyes trailed further down, serious expression fixed to his features as his eyes moved to your legs. Only when you went to follow his gaze did you realise.

You'd answered the door fresh out the shower. Skin still a little damp, only in a t-shirt and a thin pair of panties.

You were standing in front of your boss in next to nothing.

And he looked like he wanted to eat you whole (he did).

He managed to clear his throat, to tear his eyes off your body and back to your face. Mustering up the courage, tensing his fists and relaxing his shoulders, he began speaking before he could think.

"I am sorry and I need to say it. I overstepped a boundary here and I put my own feelings for you over everything else and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable-"

"Hotch-"

"I thought I was fine with keeping this in my head and I never wanted to-"

"Hotch-"

"But I just need to tell you that this wont change anything with-"

"Sir."

Finally, your interjection managed to cut through and he stopped himself. "Hotch, you've never asked me what I actually want."

His features softened a tiny amount, his fists unfurling as he willed himself to relax the rest of himself. "What do you want?"

Taking a long stride towards him, you found yourself nearly chest to chest with the man. Your hand gently ran his tie through your fingers, twisting a little to grasp it for leverage.

"You."

Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his head tilted towards you but his eyes closed. "Please don't say that."

You looked up at him from under your lashes, finding him slowly opening his eyes to watch you move even closer to him.

"Got no reason to lie to you, sir."

You heard his breath catch in his throat as Hotch moved his hands, until they were just and only resting on your hips. You felt the heat radiating off his large palms, closing in until they spanned across your lower back.

"I really shouldn't do this." His voice was a hush, he was still trying to talk himself out.

Not like you were going to let him.

"Then let me."

Closing the space between the two you, your lips pressed against the hard line of his until he opened up for you. You lead things just long enough for him to get comfortable, falling into motion and his tongue pushing forward into your mouth.

His hands tightened, gripping onto your waist like he might lose you if he let you go. Walking you back into your apartment, he blindly kicked his leg back to shut the door. Surging forward, he had the backs of your thighs against the arm of the couch.

Pulling back to take a look at you, his eyes moved to you swollen lips. His thumb came up to brush against your lower lip, gently gripping it between his fingers.

"Pretty, pretty girl," He sighed, you could feel his thigh slotting between your legs. "Such a good girl."

You couldn't stop it, the heady little moan that fell from your mouth at his words. Mixed with the soft feeling of his suit pants pressing to your core, undoubtedly you were leaving some kind of mess on the expensive trousers.

Hotch flexed his thigh, enjoying the feeling of you grinding yourself against his leg like a desperate slut. He watched as you tipped your head back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

Ducking his head, he pressed his lips in a line down your neck and biting gently at the join of your shoulder. "Get up on the couch."

His voice was a rumble in his chest, but there was a command in there that had you moving without being told twice. You went to sit down on it, but Hotch caught you and spun you slightly till you were falling onto the cushions on your knees.

Arms slung over the back of the couch and ass pointed out, you looked back over your shoulders with hazy eyes. Hotch slipped his suit jacket off, throwing it across a chair as he started to roll up his sleeves.

It was so simple, such an easy move but it had an effect on you like nothing else. His strong arms came into view and the veins on his hands flexed as he rolled the fabric. You could feel the damp spot growing on your panties.

This was a different Hotch than the one that stayed over the other night. This was closer to the one that sat behind his desk, stoic and unshakeable. Part of you knew the desperation that was hiding behind the stern look on his face.

You two really had one shot at this. The voice in the back of your head was telling you to enjoy this, it'd never happen again.

Snapping you from your thoughts, you felt two long fingers run up the length of your cunt. Even through the thin fabric of your underwear, you could feel his rough grasp as he gently began to rub at your clit.

Your head lolled forward, a gasp sounding from your chest as you backed your hips towards his touch. As he slid your panties to the side, fingers now running right through your wetness, you could hear the sound of him drawing down his fly.

"I've tried so hard- from the moment I met you-" The words fell from his lips, his knee coming up on the couch to get closer. "I've thought about this moment every night."

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, feeling his firm chest press to your back as his words spurred you on. You could picture it in your mind, your boss in the shower, alone in his bed- his hand fisting at his cock as he thought of you.

Pretty you, sweet and kind you. Always the first to do what he says, to look at him with those glassy eyes and say "yes, sir." To him, this was inevitable.

It was only ever a matter of time.

Swiping up the slick from between your legs, you looked back quickly to see him running it across the head of his cock. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing the size of him as he dragged his hand down the length of it.

"Fuck- that's big."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud. Hotch chuckled as your words, his brows raising slightly as he did.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," He cooed, lining himself up with your entrance. "We'll make it fit."

Your eyes squeezed shut and a drawn out, frankly pornographic, moan fell out. Hotch groaned deep in his chest as he sunk into you, feeling the tight grip of your soaking cunt.

Feeling the press of his lips on your shoulder blade, he made it in fully before he stilled. He was giving you a moment, letting you catch your breath despite the ever-present need to absolutely wreck you.

Reaching back, you franticly tapped at his hip. Quiet pleas of "move, please move" filling the space around you. He was kind, he gave you exactly what you needed as he began to roll his hips into yours.

One of his hands firmly held your hip, the other ran underneath your t-shirt so he could grip at your chest. He cupped one of your breasts, rolling it round in his large palm as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

"God- you feel so good, sweetheart."

You whimpered for him, a pathetic whine sounding from you as you bucked your hips back against him. The hand on your hip began to slip forward, fingers coming around to rub against your clit.

From the speed in which he was fucking into you, the frantic movements of his fingers, the clip of his breath- he was trying hard to hold on. He was doing whatever he could to keep his cool but he was finding it increasingly difficult.

The prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on, the subject of all his inappropriate desires was knelt in front of him. You were somehow tighter than he'd dreamed, somehow sounded sweeter than he'd imagined.

You were calling out his name, chants of "Aaron, fuck, Aaron-" that were no doubt slinking through the thin walls of this apartment and keeping the neighbours up.

He didn't care, he'd get you to tell the whole fucking city if he could. When you felt this good, when you looked this pretty for him? He'd throw his whole career to the fucking wind if it meant he got to do this whenever he wanted.

Maybe- maybe not that far. But Hotch wasn't really in the position to be thinking logically right now. Not when you were turning back over your shoulder to capture his lips, moaning straight down his throat as he continued to sink his hips into you.

"Fuck- you're so deep, sir."

Hotch could've come right then, there was no way he could keep it together when you were saying it like that. He knew good and well that this is why this was never meant to happen.

How was he meant to go back to work and deal with you calling him that, when he's heard just how good it could sound?

He sped up his fingers, messy circles rubbing at your clit as your whole body began to tense. He felt your back arching, pushing back into his chest as you cried out.

"God- I'm gonna'- Aaron- I'm gonna' cum-" Was all you could manage before you clenched around him.

Suddenly, your vice grip released and you were falling limp against the couch with a whimper. Hotch fucked you through it, feeling the shocks wracking your body as he drew out your orgasm as long as he could.

Hotch watched over you, seeing the blissed out expression on your face as you came for him. He looked down to see the way your cunt fluttered around him, a wet mess left on the shaft of his cock.

Taking mental note, he knew that he'd never be able to forget this. His one chance to have you like this, to hold you and feel you gripped around him. The sight of you took over him, his hips stuttering as he gripped hard on your hips.

You opened your eyes just in time to see his head tipped back, strong arms and chest straining against his dress shirt. Hotch's lips parted as a quiet moan of your name ripped from his chest.

Quickly, he slipped himself out as he stroked himself over your ass. Long fingers pulled your panties down around your thighs as hot ropes of cum painted your lower back and behind. Your eyes were growing hazier but you kept them open to watch as he did it.

You were slumped over the back of the couch, high dissipating through your body as you heard him tuck himself back into his trousers. You could hear him moving away, but soon he returned with a warm cloth against your back.

Slipping your panties back into place, he turned you around gently and settled you into his side. Right back where things had started, your sleepy body falling into him.

You both knew it, that this would be the last time. This would never go anywhere else. But there was part of you that'd become content with that, getting used to the strong beat of his heart beside your ear.

Feeling a strong hand brush against your face, this time you were sure of it. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head as you began to drift off asleep.

You knew he'd been gone again when you woke up, you'd both show up to work like all of this hadn't happened. But that was okay, you felt the sleep overtaking you- a feeling that you'd missed.

You slept absolutely soundly, for the second time in weeks.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: there's some tension on your picnic date with ellie.

warning(s): sexual tension, making out (?), fluff, ellie being ellie, thigh touching, illusions to smut, not proof-read.

note: i'm basically edging y'all....

Light-clouded skies turn to nightshade. A canvas devoid of any signs of activity except minuscule speckles of stars; something that’s only noticeable if you squint your eyes hard enough that you’d feel some sort of aching pressure behind your sockets.

The discomfort of the action hits you when your hands lift to rub at the tight skin around your irises, lifting each leg slightly to direct yourself onward into the abyss. Shuffling through high, unkempt grass, the smile that graces your lips is subtle as it tickles the flesh of your shins in a flurry. It’s a prickly sensation; one that signals gooseflesh to appear, the hairs on your arms to rise, and the fabric of your dress to shift against the upper half of your thighs.

A gentle breeze sends the thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders to fly backward slightly, waving as you flex your warm fingers; aiming to clutch it tightly across yourself as you shiver.. You had underestimated how cold it’d be, and so it had caused you to under-dress for the occasion of a nightly stroll beyond the fortified walls you’d surely get in trouble for crossing past patrol hours. 

 There’s a small pinch that appears on the right side of your jaw from its tautness, an overwhelming sense of insecurity threatening to creep up on you in the form of warm cheeks and a slight frown as you rub the material of the blanket between your thumb and pointer, relishing in the roughness of the texture to distract yourself from another shiver wracking your body. This time was a little more violent than the last.

“It’s a little darker than I thought it’d be.” Ellie’s nervous laughter reaches your ears beyond the aggressive push of the wind and the constant hoots of owls hidden deep within the thick brush of tree branches; small thumps made by the creatures of the night on pillowed greenery littered with small twigs.

Glancing down at the laces of her tearing sneakers, she narrows her eyes, suddenly aware of just how rock-ridden this particular path is. Almost immediately she’s cursing herself for how inconsiderate it might seem that she’s making you trudge through the wilderness – as if this isn’t a daily occurrence to you both. 

“Watch your step.” It’s a mumble that makes its way past her lips before she can help it.

Nodding, you survey the surrounding area, taking notice of an extensive log just a couple of feet ahead, not too far away from dim lights decorating the roof trimmings of withering houses littering the streets of Jackson. Raising your arm, you point to said log, the material of your dress lifting a couple of inches. “What about over there?”

Ellie couldn’t help but take notice of it, unashamedly scanning her forest-green irises across your bare legs in the sliver of the moon, stopping right at the inner corner of your thigh.  “Okay, yeah, that’s a good spot.” 

Turning to face her, you eye the beat-up picnic basket in her left hand; her knuckles white as she adjusts her grip. Raising your eyebrows, a twinge of curiosity suddenly piques within you.

“What’d you bring in that basket?”

Her newfound expression contorts every muscle resting underneath the surface of her freckled skin as she shrugs her shoulders. The corners of her warm, plump lips twinge, failing to hide the smile that appears a second later. 

You had no idea why she was grinning ear to ear; although it wasn’t something foreign to you - just an action that had become rare as of late considering the circumstances she’d been struggling to deal with.

“I made us a couple of sandwiches. Thought we could sit here and watch the stars.” Ellie’s words falter as she lifts her unoccupied hand to tug at the already loose tie on her neck, suddenly aware of how tight it was. Tilting her head back, she sighs through her teeth, internally cursing at the clear sky’s lack of sight-seeing features.

All her efforts had gone to complete waste, well, at least in the crevices of her mind. “This isn’t going well so far.”

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you shiver, removing the blanket around your bare shoulders. Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you set it on the ground, lowering yourself to crawl across the pattered fabric with purpose – smoothing it out as best you could.

“You’re already giving up on our little date? Didn’t peg you for a quitter.” 

You were pushing her buttons; playfully, she had come to realize when you purse your lips together, attempting to suppress your laughter at her offended expression. 

“Am not.” She scoffs, averting her gaze from your hunched figure.

 “Y’know what?” Ellie scratches the back of her ear before joining, left knee knocking against yours, leaving little to no space between. “We’re gonna eat these sandwiches and we’re gonna find…something to look at while we do.” 

Humming in amusement, you nod your head, as she fishes through the basket; pulling out two square-shaped tin-foil-covered sandwiches. 

Ellie can’t help the sudden blush that coats her cheeks when your fingers brush against the lapped skin of her knuckles. She wills herself to listen to the chirps of crickets and the rustle of grass when the wind sweeps through once more.

This time, it’s a little bone-chilling, and she tries not to let her teeth clack together as a shiver makes its way up her spine through the thinness of her shirt. 

“I appreciate you taking the time to do all of this, y’know.” 

“Do what?” Taking a small nibble of her sandwich, Ellie avoids looking in your direction, though she can see the skin on your face contort into an expression of playful annoyance. You poke her left shoulder with your finger, watching as she sways the opposite way.

A small smile graces your lips. “I’m serious. Thank you. I’ve never had someone go out of their way to take me on a picnic date.”

She raises a brow, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The small glimmer of moonlight peaking through trees casts a halo around her face, making her tresses look dark, angelic features rivaling those you’d see in dusted books when on patrols. 

The sight makes you bite down on the soft, pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, a lustful glint in your eyes as you drink her in like the wine you’d have on get-together nights back in town. Your eyes cautiously wander to her lips, imagining them in between your thighs, on your neck, the valley of your breasts. 

Anywhere. 

Anywhere but on that damn bread, she seems so interested in. 

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

Ellie’s hearty laugh is enough to pull you out of the pool of arousal you’d almost drowned yourself in. 

“I asked you if you wanted anything to drink.” 

As she turns her head away from you, the skin near her mouth wrinkles, a grin decorating her face once again as she pulls out a small flask and hands it to you without twisting to face you, ‘Yeah, sorry, I was just spaced out.” You take the flask from her graciously, making sure that yet again your fingers are lingering atop hers just a bit longer than necessary. You can feel cubes of ice sloshing within the liquid as you uncap it at the neck, lifting it to your lips and guzzling down a couple of sips. 

Water. It was supposed to be cooling, but it somehow could not quell the burning desire that vibrated your bones as you breathed in deeply, tearing your gaze away from her to stare at the nothingness surrounding you.

You can feel her irises on your face now, analyzing the same way you did her, not a minute before. The crunch of foil reaches your ears, signifying she’s done with her meal, meanwhile, yours is still sitting beside you. 

She does not ask why you haven’t touched it. She knows why. 

She makes you just as nervous as you make her, even if your lips are nowhere near her skin like she so desperately wants them to be. You’ve kissed her before.

 Numerous times. But somehow this seemed different, and Ellie wasn’t sure if that was a realization that should strike her with fear, or numb her fingers with desire. It was true that you both decided not to label whatever you both had going on, everyone knew that it was her bed that you’d seek at the end of the night, and it brought her a swell of pride.

No one else but her smelled the scent of woodsmoke and citrus when the sun shone through her window. It was too strong, lingering like the sensation of the scarred bumps poking from beneath the ink of her tattoo. It was pleasant; a gaping wound that she’d rub salt into just to feel a delicious ache.

You were so close in distance but yet, so far from reach that it frustrated her to no end. Ellie wholeheartedly wants you in the same way you want her. So much so, that her heart thrums erratically against her chest, lips parted to intake the air you breathe.

Fuck. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” It comes out in a breathless whisper. 

You swallow the bile rising in your throat, trying to keep the knot of anxiety coiling within your stomach at bay. “Is there someone else?”

An idiot. You were an idiot. The wide-eyed, frowning, and almost… disappointed look you give her solidifies that.

You lift a hand as if waving off your words. “Forget I even said anything.”

She grabs said hand, palms as warm as a lit fire, holding it to her chest, just an inch away from her heart. You can tell that you’ve left her speechless, and not for the reason that’s stitching itself in your brain. A reason she is quick to deny. 

“What?” A chuckle tunnels from her throat. One full of pain and complete disbelief that you’d automatically assume the worst of her. “No, I care about you more than I do myself.”

Her admission sends a jolt of guilt coursing through you, the left leg crossing over the right as you stare at her hand clutched in yours, “It’s just…” 

You trail off as she brings your hand up to her lips, warm breath fanning your skin before she presses a chaste kiss to the back of it. 

She doesn’t stop there, plump flesh peppering small pecks up your arm. She hums against your shoulder blade, urging you to go on. The hairs on your arms raise.

“We never really talk about — oh…”

Warmth makes its way up your neck, her lips not relenting in their assault on your skin as she sucks and licks below your pulse point. It’s hot and wet, and — oh god, you cannot think of anything else.

“It’s kinda funny.” She says between kisses, her now free hand rubbing circles on the bone of your ankle before agonizingly finding its way up.

“Mhm. What is?” Your eyes are screwed shut, your very being growing giddy at the feel of her nails digging into the flesh of your inner thigh. 

Ellie feels the heat pooling between your legs on her wandering fingers, as she grips the fat of your leg in the palm of her hand. This elicits a hiss of pleasure from you, so deep, so delectable, that she’d swallow it hole if her mouth was not already occupied.

“How you think I can feel anything for anyone else.” The ridges of her teeth skim across your jaw, and before you know it, she’s devouring you. 

The force of her kiss knocks you off balance, sending you sprawled on your back, legs parting as she makes her way in between them, never once disconnecting your lips from a kiss so passionate and raw, that it makes your insides quiver with anticipation. 

“I told you to forget about it.” It’s a quick response you manage to get out the second her lips detach from yours, a hand finding its way into her scalp, pulling her hair at the roots.

She stares down at you, eyes swimming with a certain need to see you — hear you writhing beneath her in pleasure.

 “I intend to make sure we both do.”

[froggibus]

Mario Kart - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: amab! Sloan Cameron x fem! reader (reader has a pussy + uses fem pronouns)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: frustrated at always losing to you in Mario Kart, Sloan comes up with an obstacle to give themselves a winning chance

CW: fem! reader, AMAB! Venture, mario kart 8 on wii u, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your wily), creampie, edging, teasing, some banter, multiple orgasms, kinda overstim if you squint

this is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

for everyone who liked sex rocks & requested more ven smut that i've yet to do ^.^ i swear i'll get to your requests soon

“No way, you have to be cheating.”

You roll your eyes at Sloan’s accusation. “That, or you just suck.” 

Sloan drops the wiimote on the couch and rises to their feet, stretching their arms high above their head. Despite being inside in the air conditioning, sweat glistens on their neck and drips beneath their tight tank top. 

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. You shift your gaze away from their golden, sweaty skin, and instead focus on the TV displaying your fourth consecutive Mario Kart win.

It’s a sweltering day outside, and though your original plan was to go to the beach, neither of you wanted to suffer the heat of the day and instead opted to stay in and play games. It had been Sloan’s idea to pull out their old Nintendo Wii and play Mario Kart, though judging by the annoyance on their face, you wouldn’t be surprised if they regretted it.

Sloan finishes stretching and slumps on the couch next to you. Their top rides up their stomach, showing the delicious stripe of skin between their cargo shorts and their tank. They grab their remote once more, the fresh scent of their deodorant wafting through the air.

“Fifth times a charm?” You tilt your head to the side.

“Why don’t we raise the stakes?”

“What do you propose?”

They smirk, and you’re immediately trepidatious. That specific toothy grin is never an indication of anything good—it's usually how you end up stealing from an artefact hoarder, or running from the police.

They run their hand up your thigh, the fabric of your shorts bunching up. “We need to give you an obstacle.” Their fingers trail dangerously high. “Something to impede your focus, make it a little harder for you to win. Put your skills to the test.”

Their sudden touch does nothing to sate the dryness in your mouth. You watch unblinking as their fingers get to the very top of your thigh, beginning to slide between your legs. Despite the heat, a shiver runs up your spine.

Then they pull away, shifting the fabric of their own shorts away from the growing bulge in their pants. “Or something like that,” they add sweetly.

You nearly get whiplash from how fast their tone changed from sexy seductive to classic Sloan. You take a deep breath, managing to stutter out, “w–what do you want me to do?”

They pop open the top button of their shorts, then the second, then the third. Heat courses through your veins as you watch them slowly drag their shorts down to their ankles, leaving them in just their pink heart boxers. The sweet illusion of their cute underwear is immediately shattered by the outline of their hard cock beneath them.

You swallow at the sight. “Sloan?” You ask.

They reach out and grab your Wiimote from your hand, discarding it on the couch next to them. Calloused fingers grab your wrist, guiding your palm to rub their length. You gasp in unison at the contact, at the feeling of their hard cock throbbing beneath their boxers.

They leave your hand there, dipping their own palm between your legs to cup your pussy. They’ve barely touched you but you’re already soaked. Their eyes meet yours, a mischievous glimmer telling you that they can feel how badly you want them.

Sloan’s smirk returns. “Why don’t you sit on my cock while we play? Keep it nice and warm?”

The heat pumping through you grows nearly unbearable, your panties undoubtedly ruined by their words and the soft stroke of their fingers on your clothed clit. To have them inside of you while you play is almost a guaranteed loss, but their cock is so hard and your pussy aches to have them inside of you.

You sigh, “alright. But this doesn’t go on my Mario Kart record.”

They let out a breathy laugh at your antics before pulling their fingers away from your throbbing heat. Glistening fingers meet their soft lips, their eyes lighting up at the sweet taste of your slick. 

“Fuck,” they laugh. “If I win this round, I’m eating you out as my prize.”

The air leaves your lungs at their brazen comments. You’re so used to your awkward, nerdy partner that it always leaves your head spinning when they show their dominant side. 

Sloan hooks their fingers in the waistband of their boxes and pulls them down painfully slow. Their hard cock springs free, slapping them in the tummy and smearing shiny precum across their sweaty abs. 

They wiggle closer to the centre of the couch, patting their thighs. “Hop on, cowgirl.”

A breathy giggle escapes you at their stupid antics. You rise to your feet on shaky legs. Your pussy drools into your panties, practically begging for their big cock to fill you up. 

You’re much quicker than them to discard your bottoms, letting them fall forgotten on the floor. Sloan’s gaze stays locked on you while you strip, a low moan coming from them when you reveal your shimmering cunt. 

You slowly walk backwards, bracing your hands on the meat of their thighs as you let yourself sink down onto their lap. The tip of their cock brushes your entrance and you wrap your hand around it to help guide it in. 

It’s a bit of a stretch, walking that delicate line between pain and pleasure as it sinks inside of you. Your walls struggle to take them in, your thighs quivering with the strain. Sloan grabs your hips, digging their fingertips into your skin to help you down. 

You take them inch after inch, giving yourself only a few seconds between each length of their cock to adjust. It’s nearly a minute later that you can feel the soft skin of their thighs beneath yours and the tip of their cock brushing deep inside you. 

Sloan relaxes into the couch, slouching lazily. They grab their Wiimote and reach around your waist, pressing select on the main menu screen. Your hands are shaking when you reach for your own remote, every little move you make forcing their cock deeper inside of you. 

Yeah, you’re definitely going to lose. 

Sloan’s hot breath tickles the side of your neck, but that’s the only indication that this affects them as much as it does you. Your walls flutter around their cock while you try to pick the character, the shockwaves it sends to your brain making it near impossible to make a decision.

Sloan’s wrist presses into your stomach as they move to select Link, the sudden pressure eliciting a gasp out of you. Their cock feels so much deeper with their hand pressed against your belly, forcing you to feel how big they really are.

By the time the countdown for the first race begins, your mind is nearly blank with pleasure. It takes everything you have to remember which button does what, and even that is a struggle. 

Sloan shifts behind you, sitting up straighter just as the countdown finishes. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone. Your hand leaves the remote for only a second to brace yourself, but that very second costs you the boost at the start of the race.

“Losing already?” Sloan taunts.

Your voice is unusually breathy as you say, “you wish.”

You clench down on them as much as you can, partly to throw them off, partly to ground yourself while you play. Sloan grunts and rocks their hips into yours once more, but the distraction is futile as you catch up. The third lap begins, and it really looks like you’re going to win.

Just as you round the last corner to the finish line, Sloan presses into your tummy once more, rolling their hips up into yours. The head of their cock presses into your sensitive, gummy walls, and you have no chance to catch your breath before your orgasm rolls over you. White hot pleasure radiates through your veins, your whole body convulsing as you cum around their cock.

The world around you fades away, the only sensations that stay with you are the bulge of their cock in your tummy and your thumb on the gas button. Sloan takes advantage of your situation, passing you at the last possible second to come in first.

They laugh triumphantly. “Looks like you came in second.”

You roll your teary eyes, though the pleasure of your orgasm is too intense for you to care much for their taunting. You sit up straight, trying to shift the angle of their cock inside of you away from your g-spot. 

The start of the second race goes about as well as the first, though your mind is left even fuzzier from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Sloan doesn’t taunt you as much this round, though every time you get close to passing them, they rock their hips into yours in warning. You don’t push them and begrudgingly take second place again.

Sloan pauses as soon as the second race is over, flopping back on the couch to catch their breath. They don’t know how they’ve managed to keep their cool for this long, but they know they won’t be able to last with your tight cunt clenching their cock so well.

“What’s wrong, Sloan?”  You ask innocently. “Can’t handle the heat?”

“Shut up.” They buck their hips, their cockhead hitting your cervix.

All the breath leaves your body and that’s when Sloan presses play on the next race. Somehow, you manage to get your bearings and take the lead almost immediately. Sloan curses over your shoulder—they know once you get into the groove, it’s nearly impossible to catch up to you.

You wiggle your hips away from theirs, leaning forward to see the tv better. You dig your thumb into the gas button and hope to god your headstart will be enough. Sloan tries to throw you off by grinding their cock into you once more, but it’s too late. 

Tremors sweep through your body, your fingers seem to vibrate against the sweat soaked remote. The back of your shirt sticks to your skin, doing little to relieve the fever radiating from your core. You’re panting, but each sharp inhale only forces you to clench harder on Sloan’s cock.

Their nails dig into your hip but the expected pain is a faraway melody. You pinch your temples in a poor attempt to force yourself back to reality, to force some of the buzzing out of your ears—but it doesn’t work.

Sloan thumbs gentle circles across your clit. “If you give up now, I’ll only brag a little.”

Liar. You’ll never hear the end of it if they win, but they’ll probably have a billboard made up if you concede. You can practically see the sign now: Y/n lost at Mario Kart because they couldn’t handle my fat cock.

No, that simply won’t do.

“No,” you repeat, “We’re going to tie.”

Sloan seems shocked by your determination, and by the twitch of their cock inside of you, a little turned on too. As they click on the final race and the camera begins to pan over the track, you slowly bounce on their cock. Gentle, miniscule bounces—not enough to drive forth your impending orgasm, but enough to sate your need to clamp down on them and never let go.

By the time the race starts, you’ve managed to soothe some of the graininess in your mind. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you keep your focus razor sharp. You cannot lose this race, no matter what.

You manage to take the lead right off the bat, but Sloan is hot on your tail. You can feel them clench their jaw in frustration behind you. Their face is so close to yours that the sound of their teeth grinding is near deafening. Still, you manage to ignore their chattering teeth and grinding hips and focus on the game ahead.

The second lap passes, and Sloan starts to slip. They ache to drive their cock inside of you, to bend you over this very couch and fuck the arrogance out of you. They thought this challenge would give them an advantage but they hadn’t thought of how hard it would be to concentrate with your pussy clenching down and dripping all over them.

As soon as the third lap hits, Sloan knows there’s not a chance in hell they’ll win. You’re too far ahead, and unless you stop pressing the gas entirely, your victory is assured. And then, a lightbulb.

Sloan slides forward at the same time they drive their hands into your lower tummy. They can feel all of your walls squeezing them now, their cock threatening to spill at any moment. It feels so good—but not as good as beating you will.

Sloan keeps scooching forward until they’re at the very edge of the couch and the only thing keeping you from falling is their cock and slick covered thighs. They take that as an opportunity to tighten their grip.

You cry out. “Sloan, w–what are you doing?”

They chuckle at your confusion, risking a glance at your screen. You’re starting to slip up, all you need is a little push. 

You start to round the last corner until the finish line, you’re so close you can hear the victory sound ahead. You press into the gas harder, victory is nigh, and then Sloan thrusts hard enough to send you toppling over the front of the couch.

You drop your remote to brace your hands against the floor, leaving you bent perfectly in front of them. Your pussy stays connected to their cock, giving them a deeper, fresh angle to keep pummeling into you. Sloan doesn’t slow their assault on your pussy as your hands scramble to find the remote you just dropped.

But it’s too late. You hear the telltale whistle of the finish line, and you don’t have to look to know that they’ve won. You have no time to bask in your disappointment, though. Not while Sloan is pistoning into your cunt like it’s the last time they’ll ever feel it. And with the stunt they just pulled, it might be.

They drop their remote on the couch and clench your hips tightly, using them as momentum to drive their cock forward. With you hanging off of them like this, it makes it even easier to shove their entire length inside.

Each thrust is deeper, needier, sloppier than the last. Every shift of their hips into yours sends electricity shooting through your tummy, threatening to unravel you. You curl your fingers, scratching at the floor for anything solid, anything to ground you. 

“Sloan,” you plead, though you’re not sure what you’re even asking for. “Sloan, I—”

“Fuck, I know.” They groan. Their voice is husky with need, desperation clinging to them the way it’s clung to you. “You’re so goddamn tight, So perfect to fuck my cum into.”

Their words are all it takes to send you over the edge. You convulse, each jerk of your muscles radiating warm pleasure. Your body goes limp, your face pressing against the ground, but you don’t care. You’re cumming and clenching and you’re somewhere far, far away. Somewhere where the only things in the world are your villainous, needy pussy and Sloan’s fat, hero cock.

Sloan keeps using you while you come, taking complete advantage of the hot slick spilling out of you and your tight, clenching walls. Their cock is so sensitive, so needy, they won’t last much longer—not while you’re gasping and crying out for them so pretty.

They slam their hips into yours once more, forcing their cock as deep as possible, and then they come undone. White hot ropes of cum splatter your walls, stuffing your cunt to the brim with their heat. They keep their grip around you tight, keeping you connected until they’ve spilled every last drop.

Sloan gives themself a minute to catch their breath before hoisting you back on the couch, their dick still tucked inside of you. You look up at them through tear-lined lashes and offer them a stupid, fucked out smile.

Sloan strokes your hot, sweaty cheeks and returns your smile. “I think it’s safe to say I’m the new Mario Kart champion.”

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Overwatch Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[astarionslittletreat]

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong. 

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.” 

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.  

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm. 

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.” 

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good. 

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips. 

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a  saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg. 

You curse. 

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being. 

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

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

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.” 

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

[the-little-ewok]

An Unorthodox Method

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Rating : 18+/E

Word count : 7600 (ish)

Warnings : It's the one bed trope!, Lil mild angst, lots of teasing, Poe being an adorable little shit, mentions of Poe having hearing problems/being partially deaf in one ear, fluff, banter, SMUT, PIV, fingering, marking (love bites and nail marks), praise kink if you squint, illusions to cum eating, mentions of oral f- receiving, overstimulation if you blink, aftercare, very brief mention of casual sex/one night stands.

Summary : All you want is a hot shower, some clean dry clothes, and to crawl into bed. What you absolutely do not want is Poe Dameron in that bed with you.

@campingwiththecharmings thank you so much for this request! I'm so excited to finally do the one bed trope for Poe! I hope you like it.

Special thank you to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

~~~~~~~~~

The rain hammers a steady ping ping ping on the window as you and Poe stand in the doorway to the room, your clothes soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your skin, your shoes leaving puddles of water.

"You have got to be kidding me!" You groan as Poe laughs.

You had been looking forward to a hot shower, a nice warm bed, and at least a good few hours of peace and quiet. The last part had already been thwarted by the fact some error in the hotel booking meant you only had one room with no others available, and now to add insult to injury there was only one damn bed.

"Well, this is going to be fun!" The pilot chirps happily from beside you, walking in to dump his bag on the chair and leaving wet boot prints in his wake.

Climbing into bed with the resistance's best looking pilot, who you were, if you were honest, a little bit in love with, did not constitute as fun. In fact, after the day you had spent with him, it was the very last thing you wanted to do.

Poe was always, and had always, been chatty, but today he seemed to have turned all his dials up to maximum. He'd talked non stop, made unfunny jokes, inappropriate innuendos that with anyone else you suspect he wouldn't have gotten away with, and done just about anything he could to make himself the most annoying person this side of the galaxy.

For what reason, you had no idea. You had started to suspect perhaps he had realised your warm feelings towards him, and maybe this was his way of making you hate him so he didn't have to let you down, and honestly, you might think it was starting to work.

Trudging into the room, your boots squelching with each step, you place your bags down, resigned to your probably sleepless fate.

"You want the bathroom first?" The pilot offers, despite the fact he's worse off than you, having given you his jacket to hold above your head the moment the downpour started. It hadn't helped much after the first few minutes, but you had been grateful for the shelter anyway.

You don't really register his question, your thoughts lost as you finger the worn leather coat remembering the way his scent clung to it, invading your senses as you splashed through the flooded streets.

"Hey," you look up to find the pilot watching you, his brow furrowed. "You okay?"

You drop the jacket onto the dresser, giving him a smile and a nod.

"Just sick of listening to you."

Poe snorts with laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt and peeling it up over his head. You purposely busy yourself pulling out some dry clothes from your pack , not allowing yourself to peek, although it's a difficult battle.

"There's nobody you love listening to more than me," Poe states, thankfully not seeming to notice your internal fight of keeping your eyes off him.

You sigh, somewhat thankful his annoying cockyness is a distraction from his semi-nakedness. Picking up your sleepwear and wash bag you head towards the bathroom, trying to ignore him. Poe however gives you no quarter, trailing along behind you.

"So what exactly are the sleeping arrangements going to be?" He asks.

Frowning you turn around, your eyes deciding to flicker over his bared torso before meeting his gaze. Even the smallest glance is enough to get blood rushing through your veins, and you can feel heat blossoming across your cheeks.

Ignoring the feeling you gesture to the bed with a raise of your eyebrow.

"But what if you snore?" The pilot asks, clearly not noticing your desire to leave the room until he's decided to put some clothes on.

You pull a face, not quite understanding his issue when he's half deaf from the war anyway. The explosion that had damaged most of the resistance ships had permanently damaged his eardrums, which Poe liked to use to his advantage when he decided he wasn't going to listen to someone, although you think he hears far more than he lets on.

"Poe, you can hardly hear out of one ear as it is! Just sleep on your good ear and you probably won't hear a thing out of the other one."

He folds his arms stubbornly. "I'll hear if you're right next to my head."

"Then you are more than welcome to sleep in the bathroom once I'm done," you offer, stepping into the tiny fresher.

"Nah, I'd rather sleep in the bed. But what if you steal the covers?"

"Then you can take them back."

"What if you cuddle me in your sleep?" He fires quickly.

You give him a withering look, trying not to think about pressing your body against his, keeping your eyes trained on his face.

"Oh trust me Poe, I won't." In fact you will do everything possible not to touch him, just for your own sanity.

"But you might. I'm very into consent and if I'm asleep-" he pauses mid sentence, opening his mouth and then closing it again before leaning against the door frame. "Actually scratch all of that. I absolutely give you consent to do whatever you like to me."

The pilot grins at you and you feel a familiar surge of heat through your body, collecting and coiling in your abdomen. Combined with your patience finally snapping, it's the last straw. You slam the bathroom door in his handsome smug face.

The lukewarm shower really tops off the day.

~

"I've been thinking" Poe starts the moment he exits the bathroom, after loudly complaining through the door about you using up all the hot water.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh, the hope that he would have calmed down and go straight to sleep evaporating. You are grateful however that he's at least finally put a shirt on.

"That must hurt."

"Oi!" He protests with a shocked expression, that at least brings a little smile to your lips. He grins at you, letting you know he took no offence at your words.

"As I was saying," he continues while you lay out his clothes to dry, the ones he dumped in a wet pile in the middle of the floor. "I've been thinking, and I know what's wrong with you. I want you to know it's okay."

The way his voice suddenly goes so gentle makes you look around. The pilot holds out his hand, wrapping his fingers around yours as he pulls you closer, holding your gaze steadily. You hope he doesn't notice the way your breath catches, or the heat blazing through you that makes your hands clammy.

"It's okay to be nervous," he continues, while your mouth goes dry. "I know spending the night with me is a lot, and it's going to be so difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself, but we are going to get through this together, and you'll be able to tell everyone about it when we get home."

You snatch your hand angrily out of his while the pilot bursts into laughter.

"Grow up and get in the damn bed!" You growl, climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and turning over away from him, your heart thundering in your chest. How, even when he was joking, did he manage to get so damn close to the truth?

"Why do you want me in bed so badly, huh? Thinking about late night cuddles?" You hear the pilot ask, feeling the mattress sink with his weight.

"No. When you're asleep, you're not talking," you bite out, still stinging from the embarrassment of your reaction when he was just being his usual annoying self.

Poe ignores your hostility and you feel him shrug.

"Listen, all I'm trying to do is tell you that we could eliminate some of this sexual tension. Well, if you wanted to."

Sexual tension wasn't exactly what you would say was between you, but there was always certainly something, although with Poe you imagine he had that with everyone. With you though, your feelings for the pilot ran a little deeper, not that you'd ever dare speak those aloud. The last thing you needed was the "it's not you, it's me" speech, especially if his behaviour was to drive you away. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

You run a hand down your face with an exasperated sigh. "There is absolutely no sexual tension, Poe. What there is, is murderous tension."

Poe lets out an exclamation of excitement.

"Oh my favourite kind!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile, lest you encourage him to continue.

"Please Poe, go to damn sleep," you whine, pulling the pillow from under your head and pressing it against your ear, trying to block out his incessant rambling.

"I will if you admit it."

"Admit what?" You groan, frustrated. Why can't he just shut the hell up and let you get through this?

"That you've thought about us."

"Poe I swear-" you take a deep breath, grabbing the cushion with one hand, rolling over with the intent on smothering him into silence. You're surprised to find the pilot on his side, almost nose to nose with you in the small bed.

"You've seriously never thought about us kissing?" Poe interrupts.

"I…I…" you’re thrown by his closeness, by his long lashes and soft smile, by the damn doe eyed look he's giving you.

You know there's no shutting him up until you tell him what he wants to hear so you take a breath. It wouldn't exactly be news to him, Poe knew just about everyone had considered kissing him at some point or another. The man did come with a reputation for having a rather skillful mouth after all.

"Fine! Maybe once or twice. Now go to damn sleep!" You growl, annoyed at him, and yourself.

The shit eating grin he gives you is enough to make you turn back over, tucking the pillow under your head and shutting your eyes tightly, as though that alone might drown him out.

"I knew it," he gloats with a happy sigh, clicking off the bedside lamp.

You grip the pillow, considering the option you still have of smothering him.

Thankfully he's quiet from that point and infuriatingly asleep in less than five minutes. You can feel the mattress move with his slow steady breaths.

Glancing over your shoulder he's laid out on his back, one arm tucked under his head, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreams, his full lips open with a soft sigh.

Turning around again you punch the lumpy pillow, trying to get more comfortable.

You will not think about kissing him. That was a one time thing. Okay, maybe three or four. Well maybe more… a lot more. You're determined tonight for once, you will not fall asleep thinking about his mouth on yours, you will absolutely not think about his lips on your skin, or his fingers caressing your breasts…

Someone suddenly shakes you and you open your eyes groggily, the room swimming and blurred as you blink sleep from your vision.

"What the hell?" You grumble, looking up at the pilot with his sleep tousled curls, still half asleep himself, one eye still shut and the other half open, bathed in the soft moonlight glow that sneaks through the blinds.

"You said my name," he mumbles, voice still sleep gravelled. "You alright?"

Flashes of his mouth sealed over your nipple, his tongue darting out to lick a path down to your navel, your hand gripping his hair, his mouth between your thighs.

Oh no. You absolutely did not have a sex dream about him. Not now, not here. Please no!

"You must have dreamt it," you swallow, desperately trying to play it cool. If Poe heard you while he was dead asleep, then you must have been loud. You feel the heat prickling the back of your neck.

"No, I definitely heard you say Poe," he insists.

"Well even if I did I'm fine so you can go back to sleep," you insist, shifting your legs restlessly. You're too warm. Well not just warm, burning hot, sweat cooling on your skin, an uncomfortable ache between your legs that screams of unsatisfied desire.

"You sure? You sounded a bit…breathless?" The pilot asks again, genuine concern in his tone. Although you can barely see him in the dim lighting you can still see the frown pulling his brows together, both eyes now open and studying you. You really don't want him to press any further. Even his voice brings back flashes of the dream, sultry whispers in your ear, his tongue lapping at your folds, the cry of his name from your mouth.

You swallow again, pushing the thoughts away.

"Really, I'm fine. Must have been a nightmare if it involved you anyway."

"Ouch." He holds his hands over his chest, collapsing back onto the mattress as though you wounded him, giving a long drawn out dramatic death rattle.

Pulling up the covers you throw them over his head with a laugh.

"Go back to sleep, Flyboy."

Laying back you shuffle as close to the edge as you can, putting as much distance as possible between you and the pilot. You wonder if it would be better for you to stay awake, just in case your dreams come back to haunt you. You absolutely wouldn't get away with saying his name a second time.

"It's okay you know," Poe speaks suddenly into the darkness as you lay rigid beside him. "If you were dreaming about me. I wouldn't mind."

You can't help but snort with laughter at that.

"You wouldn't mind if anyone dreams about you."

"True," Poe admits. You feel him shift and even though you can't see him, your eyes staring up at the ceiling, his gaze burns you.

"Let me rephrase. I'd like it if you dreamt about me." He continues.

When you don't turn to face him or grace him with an answer, you feel the shift of the mattress again as he lays back.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, and for once it sounds genuine, not a hint of playfulness in his tone. "I thought this would cheer you up. It's been a long week and you've just seemed so… I don't know. Not yourself, like you're bottling everything up. I figured maybe if you were thinking about how annoying I was, or making you laugh and fight with me, it would give you a bit of a distraction and an outlet, but I get it, maybe I took it too far, even if it is the truth."

It had been a long week, the longest in fact. While the mission itself had been a success, you had seen a lot of the First Order's destruction in the process, and it was worse than either of you had realised. You'd felt melancholy for days, the sights you've witnessed replaying in your mind. You hadn't noticed it much at the time, too lost in your own thoughts and angry that he was so loud that it was impossible to hear yourself think, but the more you think about it, the more you realise what he's been doing — trying to make you smile, keeping you distracted, making you focus on anything but what's happened. All you've done is complain to him about it.

Guilt twists hard in your stomach.

How typical of Poe to try and be helpful in the most unconventional way.

Part of you wants to reach for him, to cuddle him tight against you and thank him, to tell him you're here for him too if he needs someone. The other part keeps you rigidly pinned to the mattress, afraid to move in case so much as a finger brushes up against him, unsure if you can hold yourself back with the lingering memory of the dream.

"You mean the truth is that you really are worried I snore?" You ask, trying to break the unbearable tension.

His answer is the most serious he's sounded all day. There isn't a trace of humour, of teasing, just a tiredness, the kind that comes from pretending to smile all day, the kind that signals a surrender.

"No, I could live with that. I mean the dreaming part. I'd like it if you dreamt about me."

"Oh." You can't find anything else to say to that, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest you're sure even through his damaged ear he can hear it.

The ongoing silence suddenly feels heavy, like a crushing weight on your chest, the truth feels like lead in your belly. Poe hasn't made a single noise in a while but you get the distinct feeling he isn't asleep. You wonder if he's laying still too, muddling through his thoughts.

You can't take back your behaviour towards him but you can at least give him something in return.

"Poe?"

The response is instant, "Yeah?"

You take a breath, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting into the sheet at the edge of the bed, nervously gripping them.

"Every day," you whisper quietly.

"Huh?"

You feel a slight shift as he must turn to look at you.

You clear your throat, staring hard enough at the ceiling that your eyes start to burn, repeating yourself louder.

"I said every day. I lied earlier. It's not once or twice. I think about kissing you every day. I have for a while," you admit.

A sudden blinding light obscures your vision, making you cry out in surprise and squeeze your eyes shut against the sudden intrusion. Coloured lights flash behind your eyelids and you have to blink a few times in order to see anything.

When the room comes back into focus Poe is sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring down at you, the bedside lamp illuminating his head like a synthetic halo.

"You were dreaming about me!"

With a groan you grab the pillow and hold it over your own face, deciding if you can't smother him you could just smother yourself instead, which seems like the better option than actually having this conversation.

You feel the pillow tug back gently, but you hold fast, refusing to give it up.

"Come on, let go and talk to me. You've said it now." A grunt of effort and a hard tug on the pillow before Poe sighs. "I'm not going away so you're either going to suffocate or talk."

"Then I'll suffocate," you mumble into the pillow, already regretting saying anything.

"You know I can't hear you right? Come on." This time he tucks his fingers under yours and peels them off the pillow cover until it falls halfway off your face.

"Better," he smiles, letting go of your hands to remove it entirely. "Why are you hiding from me?"

"I don't want to see your smug smile about how right you are," you glare, trying to hide your embarrassment that you've blurted out exactly what you've been trying to conceal from him. Once more, Poe takes your attitude in his stride.

"I've thought about kissing you too, you know? In fact I've thought about kissing you at least four times since you woke me up." He gives a shrug, like you should know that, like it's completely utterly normal for someone to think about kissing you that many times in the space of ten minutes.

You bite your lip, familiar tendrils of desire reigniting in your belly. Your body, still clearly on edge from your illicit dream, thrums with tension.

"So why haven't you done it yet?"

Poe rolls his eyes, as though the answer is obvious. "Clearly I'm building up the sexual tension for it!"

You're done letting him have the upper hand in this. In a surge of confidence, and to stop the smug look on his face, you wrap your hand around the back of the pilot's neck, before you pull his lips to yours. You feel Poe's brief smile, probably of victory, against your mouth before he kisses you back.

It's soft at first, almost sweet tender kisses, short and playful, getting to know each other. He kisses your top and bottom lip, he gives you tiny pecks of affection, he licks playfully at your bottom lip.

Effortlessly he shifts his weight over you, slotting himself between your thighs as though you were made to fit together. His tongue licks into your mouth, slick and hot, sliding against your own as he presses his body against yours, your kisses descending into something much more passionate.

Maker, the rumours weren't wrong. He is good at this, better than good actually, infuriatingly good. You can't even find any fault to tease him about.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, tugging gently and causing the pilot to moan into your mouth. You give a shiver of desire at the sound, your mind filled with thoughts of how you can draw it from him in other ways. Poe's mind seems to be on a similar track, his hips grinding against yours, pressing himself against your core and causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the jolt of pleasure.

Perhaps there was a little sexual tension after all.

The pilot pulls away, his chest heaving, eyes dark and lips kiss swollen, his curls messy and tousled from your fingers.

"Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away so quickly," he apologises, swallowing hard as he clearly tries to get a handle on himself, holding his body off yours, allowing a brief respite for you both to collect yourselves.

"I don't mind getting carried away," you admit, still feeling feverish with his closeness, your mind filled with the fantasy of your dreams. You raise your hips, pressing up against his clothed length, making the pilot let out a choked moan of surprise before his eyes darken.

"Well in that case," he grins, recovering all too quickly. Desire coils in your belly and before you can drag his mouth back to yours, in true Poe fashion, he continues talking. "Why don't you tell me what I was doing in this dream of yours?"

You give him a coy smile. As if he's going to get it out of you that easily.

"Fulfilling my deepest fantasy," you answer as Poe licks his lips, eagerly leaning forward to listen.

"Oh yeah? What fantasy might that be?"

"You were quiet for a whole five minutes," you sigh dreamily. It takes a second to register with him before he leans back bursting out laughing. You can't help but start to giggle yourself.

"Okay, I deserved that!" He laughs. "My methods may be unorthodox, but they work!"

He was entirely correct in that him being his usual annoying self was exactly what you had needed as a distraction, although you're sure there were less annoying ways to achieve the same means.

"I don't know. I actually considered murdering you at least a few times. Maybe I still will, when you're fast asleep and least expecting it," you warn, running a finger along your throat in a playful threat.

Poe hums, leaning back down over you, caging you to the bed with his arms.

"What exactly makes you think either of us will be going back to sleep?"

Oh.

There's another rush of heat that tingles against your skin, shooting straight down to your aching core. It's not at all helped by the fact Poe leans down to capture your lips, his tongue slipping between your teeth as he moves one hand to grip your hip, sliding it slowly up your body and under your shirt to trail his fingers across your breast.

You moan into his mouth as he rolls your peaked nipple between his fingers, grinding yourself up against him, uncaring of whatever commentary he wants to make as long as you can deal with this rapidly intensifying desire.

When he finally pulls away once more it's hard to get your breath, especially as he continues to steal little kisses from you, his fingers still resting against your skin.

Bracing himself on one arm above you, the other slides down to tiptoe over your hip.

"Do I have your consent to remove these ugly pants?" He grins teasingly, pulling at the waistband of your shorts. They had seen better days in all fairness but you hadn't really considered anyone else seeing them.

"Hey, they aren't that bad! Not like you're the pinnacle of fashion." In retaliation you poke your finger through a hole in the leg of his threadbare sleep pants, making the pilot laugh.

"These are my lucky pants."

You can't help but snort with a roll of your eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard."

Poe raises one eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

"They got you into my bed didn't they?"

You scoff, "The hotel management got me into this bed."

"You know what, you're right. Maybe I should go thank them now," Poe muses, his grin turning into a laugh as you wrap your arms around him, preventing him from leaving.

"Will you please just stop talking?" You laugh, wondering how much of the night is even left. You swear if the sun rises and you haven't resolved this, you will combust of need, and you will take the pilot out with you.

Poe raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I would, but you still haven't answered my original question."

You stare at him, trying to figure out what exactly he's talking about before you realise.

"For the love of… Yes Poe, I give you consent to do whatever you want to me as long as you stop dragging this out like a massive tease!"

The pilot lets out a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, a soft gesture in a stark contrast to what leaves his mouth, "dangerous words, sweetheart."

You almost shudder with the flash of desire that bolts through you, making sharp heat rush across your skin and your pussy clench.

"I need you to make me a promise first though," his fingers slip across your abdomen, resting just above the waistband of your pants. The feverish desire at his touch is overshadowed by annoyance that he's still talking. Maker, you swear he won't survive till sunrise.

"Po-

"I'm going to need you to be loud," he purrs in your ear, cutting you off as his hand slips under your waistband. "I don't want to miss a single noise you make."

Even if you wanted to be quiet, the pad of his finger slipping across your clit causes your body to react in a primal way, letting out an embarrassing loud moan for such a little touch.

Poe chuckles.

"Just like that." He praises, sliding his finger down further to dip into your entrance, letting out a soft groan of his own at how wet you are, before he drags it back up, spreading your slick over your aching clit and making you whine again. "Can you do that for me? Can you be loud enough?"

The best you can muster is a whimper as he slowly thrusts his finger knuckle deep into you.

"Nu-huh," Poe chides, "loud."

A second finger quickly joins the first, stretching your walls and filling you more than your own ever could. This time you arch your back off the bed, chasing the blissful feeling as a much louder groan tears itself from your throat.

"Better," Poe grins. "I heard that one."

You want to smother him, you want to kiss him, but most of all, despite his annoying little smug smile, you still desperately want to fuck him.

You decide on option two, at least for the moment, pulling his lips down to yours.

His tongue licks into your mouth as he thrusts his fingers inside you at a leisurely pace, swallowing each whine and moan you give at the pleasure skittering and coiling in you.

Poe curls his fingers, pressing up against that spot inside you, making you pull away from his kiss to throw your head back in pleasure, a loud groan of his name escaping. You're half expecting him to make some sort of cocky comment, but Poe seems as lost in this as you are. He drops his head to press open mouthed kisses across your neck, biting and sucking, marking and claiming you as his.

When he works a third finger into you, his thumb brushing against your clit, you come undone. Normally you would feel embarrassed about how loud you are, the way your body shudders and heaves, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, but the shaky little fuck Poe groans in your ear, obliterates any notion of embarrassment.

As you come down from your high, your body still trembling from the aftershock, whining as he slips his fingers from you, you realise he's breathing almost as heavily as you are, his breath coming out in short pants as he looks you over.

"I need to fuck you," he growls, clearly struggling with his own needs.

You're already nodding before he gets halfway through his request. Whatever he needs, whatever he wants, you'll give it to him without hesitation.

He all but tears your pyjamas from you, making short work of removing them and throwing them across the room, before his join the unceremonious pile on the floor.

This time you allow yourself to look, you allow yourself to take in his broad chest, the little scars crisscrossed with a larger one, old and new, your gaze trailing down across his abdomen to the line of hair that guides your eyes down to -

"Are you done admiring?" Poe's amused tone makes your eyes snap back up to his, your face growing warm with embarrassment that you've been caught staring, although you know he has probably done exactly the same to you.

"I don't know about admiring," you shrug as though your pussy isn't pulsing at the thought of him burying his cock deep inside you. "Think the resistance needs to re-evaluate their best looking pilot status."

Poe simply grins at you, seeing through your nonchalance all too clearly.

"Good to know you like what you see. Tell me, how wet did it make you to see me earlier, all soaked and shirtless?"

"Didn't," is all you are able to punch out as he leans down, pressing his body against yours, rolling his hips just slightly so his hard cock brushes against your slick folds, holding himself at your entrance like the tease he is.

"Really?" He smirks, "Somehow I think you are lying. But alright, I'll get the truth out of you, one way or another." The threat gives you a rush of excitement, wondering exactly how he's going to do that. Not that you're going to let him know that so easily.

"Are you going to keep talking or are we going to-" your question cuts off into a gasp of pleasure as he presses himself inside you, slowly, so you can feel every vein and ridge as he stretches your walls.

"Are we going to what?" He grins.

You slap his arm in reply but there's no power behind it, you're too busy concentrating on the wet noise as he pulls out of you before slowly pressing back in, making you whimper in need. The first time your pussy clenches around him it's involuntary, the second time it's just to enjoy the little groan the action draws from the pilot.

"Stop," he warns, his head dropping to your shoulder, clearly trying to steady his breathing as you clench around him a third time, just for fun. "Taking it slow."

"You don't have to take it slow," you assure him. For a moment you think it's sweet he's considering your comfort but you're more than ready for this.

"I want to," he grits as you clench around him again. The tone of his voice lets you know he's digging his stubborn heels in and nothing will change his mind. Even so you need more than he's offering. This has gone on too long, the tension is too much, the need drumming through your veins screams to be sated.

You whine, you beg, you plead, you drag your nails along his back and arch your hips against him, but he doesn't give. He rocks into you slowly, achingly slowly, maddeningly slowly, and for all your initial protests you enjoy every second of it.

The pleasure builds just as slow, each roll of his hips winding the cord tighter and tighter until you're sure you can't take any more, and then it pulls further. You can't do anything but surrender to the bliss it offers, raising your hips to meet his in the hopes his resolve will eventually break.

"You're incredible you know?" He pants against your mouth, sweat beading at his hairline, his curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes hooded and glazed. "Not just at this, but this too."

All you can do is stare at him, somewhat dazed, wondering how he's even thinking in coherent sentences right now, let alone speaking them. Somewhere your subconscious registers his words and it accompanies a host of butterflies in your belly.

"Just you, exactly as you are. You are incredible," he repeats, only this time it comes with a much harder thrust. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your head drops back against the pillows.

"Poe, please," you beg, unsure if you are able to take much more. Clearly neither can he, his name on your lips undoing his patience. He wraps his fingers around your thigh, hoisting your leg up over his hip as he sinks deeper into you, picking up the pace.

His hips slam into yours, filling the room with the sound of flesh on flesh, accompanied only by his curses and praises that fall freely and loudly. For all his requests for you to be loud the pilot's own moans are enough to drown yours out.

Working a hand between your bodies you press a finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the hardened nub as Poe angles his hips, pressing up against the blissful spot inside you. Your whole body almost arches up off the bed with the combined pleasure catapulting through you, an almost screamed curse fighting its way out of your throat.

Poe groans low and shakily, barely holding his own climax back, his thrusts becoming messy and mistimed.

"That's it baby. Fuck wanna feel you cum, wanna hear you," he groans, completely wrecked.

That's all it takes. Your orgasm hits suddenly and brightly, your whole body writhing and stiffening as the pleasure overtakes you, coursing through your veins like lava, making your vision go white as you tremble through it. Poe had wanted to hear you, but the purely feral noise you let out, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn hotel heard you. You're sure Poe would probably enjoy it if they did.

It's almost too much for your oversensitive body to feel Poe thrusting into you faster and harder, chasing his own end, babbled curses and praises falling from his lips. You shake with overstimulation when his hips stutter, emptying himself deep inside you, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders as you cling desperately to him, your thighs trembling, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Poe half collapses on you, letting your leg down slowly as he presses soft kisses to your neck, against every love bite he's given you in the heat of the moment. You suspect there may be quite a few questions when you get back to the base tomorrow. Turning your head you press a soft kiss to his cheek, making him lean up to look at you.

"Better than you dreamt?" He grins, still flushed and panting.

"I didn't dream about that," you giggle breathlessly, shaking limbs melting into the mattress, sated and tired. Poe raises his eyebrows, letting out a thoughtful hum before he suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper and immediately miss the feeling of him inside you.

Shuffling down your body he presses a soft kiss between your breasts. You frown at him, confused by his sudden movement and how he still has so much energy. How is it you're a wrecked mess and he's still acting like he can go another ten rounds? Why can't he just be still for one second?

Another kiss to your ribs, first the right side, then the left, moving slowly down, before he pauses, looking up through his lashes at you.

"You didn't dream about us making love?"

You go to make fun of his choice of language but before you have a chance he licks a hot stripe down to your naval, making your breath catch with the sudden rush of pleasure. You're starting to question if he's able to read your thoughts, if he knows the truth of your dream already. Perhaps you had said more than just his name in your sleep?

"Nope, not about us," you breathe unsteadily, trying to hold yourself back from begging anything from him again. You suspect you know what's coming next and honestly, you're not sure if your body is able to handle it, barely over your first two climaxes. Still you weren't about to give in to his questions, he'd never shut up if you admit it. "Told you, I wasn't dreaming about you."

"You are a terrible liar," Poe states, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. The rush of cold air against your heated flesh makes you gasp and the pilot smirks, his eyes flickering down to your swollen cunt, leaking with your combined climax before coming back to you, a devilish grin taking over his face.

"'Whatever I want to do to you' still stand?" He asks.

All you can do is nod mutely, a fresh wave of need building despite your exhaustion.

"Good," Poe grins, pinning your thighs to the mattress, preventing you from moving. "Because I'm going to get the truth out of you my way."

He does exactly that. He drags the truth out of you to every question he wants answered and more, twice with his mouth, then again with his cock, reducing you to a babbling trembling mess, willing to tell him whatever he wanted to know, and he's infuriatingly smug about it.

~

Poe had been surprisingly tender afterwards. He'd carefully cleaned you up, brought you a glass of water, massaged your sore muscles, before he'd finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

Of course you had known Poe was kind, of course you knew he took care of the people he was close to, even those who only spent the night with him. There were enough stories around the base to give you a general idea of that, but for some reason you can't place this felt different, it felt intimate.

What surprised you more than anything was how quiet he was now. Appart from a few murmured words about how good you had been for him, and to check you were alright, he hadn't said much at all. It was almost unnerving after his behaviour all day. Really if you had known this would have shut him up you might have jumped on him hours ago. But now, the silence seems worrying.

"You okay?" You ask, your head still against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as his fingers draw mindless patterns against your back.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking…maybe we can do this again? Sometime soon? Be in the same bed I mean." The pilot asks. He doesn't sound like the cocky confident Flyboy you're expecting. If anything he sounds a little unsure of his own question.

You won't give him the satisfaction of the enthusiastic yes that tries to escape. The last thing you want out of this night is to become some regular casual hook-up. Poe wasn't exactly known for keeping long term relationships, citing the fact it was too difficult during the middle of a war, which you suppose you could understand. He was at least always very clear about that with whoever he got involved with.

Equally you don't want to say no. You want this, him. You want the moments of passion and quiet, you want the teasing and fights, you want more in whatever way you can.

In the end you go for the middle ground, giving him an option of more, while closely guarding yourself against this being a casual fuck.

"Hmm, suppose if you buy me dinner first then I might consider it. I don't make a habit of sleeping with people without dates."

It's disarmingly sweet when he presses a soft kiss to your head, tightening his arm around you. Your chest aches all the more for moments like this.

"Alright. A date it is." You can hear the smile in his voice, sleepy and happy.

You didn't exactly expect him to agree to that so easily, and while it gives you a flutter of hope, you don't quite trust he catches your meaning.

"I said I'd consider, I didn't say I'd agree. I might have other options," you warn, trying to get him to consider what he wants you to be to him.

Poe lets out a soft chuckle.

"You say that like your pretending it wasn't the best fuck of your life, and you're desperate to do it again."

You lean up on your arm to look at him, raising an eyebrow and fixing him with an unimpressed look at his cockyness.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenges confidently, "because if I am, then I'm just going to have to keep trying. The aim is to make you fall hopelessly in love with me eventually."

"Through sex?" You laugh, ignoring the now familiar butterflies that tell you he might be closer to his aim than he knows.

Poe shrugs, "through whatever necessary means, as long as I get to keep you as mine."

It's almost a knee jerk reaction to open your mouth and tell him you aren't a pet or property to be owned, but as you meet his gaze you realise you are once more judging him a little too quickly and all too harshly. It's clear he means more than that, his gaze open and vulnerable.

A warm feeling of familiarity, of safety, of something bigger, spreads through your very bones, something that shows there is much more than lust and affection, perhaps for both of you.

Your response is much softer than your initial reaction might have been, had you not taken a moment.

"Take me to dinner tomorrow then?"

"I think tomorrow might be today," Poe smiles, nodding towards the window where the faint pink light of dawn is starting to peek through the drawn blinds. You groan knowing sunrise both means you really should untangle yourself from the pilot and head back to base.

"Well honestly I think I've had enough of you for one day." You tease, pushing yourself off him and sitting up, debating if you can handle another cold shower. In all honesty a cold shower is probably exactly what you need after you make the mistake of glancing down at Poe, still naked, the sheet barely covering his more private parts, his curls messy from your fingers, peering up at you with a half smile.

"We both know you can never get enough of me," Poe states, before he wraps his arms around you and drags you back down onto the bed. He throws one leg over yours, effectively trapping you next to him as he snuggles up close to you.

You don't bother fighting, too tired from the night's activity to argue your way out of his grip. Sighing you sink into the bed, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

"I knew this would work," Poe hums happily in your ear. You mumble enough of a sound to make him realise you're asking what he means.

"Getting you in a hotel room with me would make you admit you wanted me."

You give another tired hum in acknowledgement before his words finally hit you, and you sit up to stare at him, suddenly wide awake. Poe grins back at you, knowing exactly what you are thinking.

"Tell me this was not some plan to get me into bed!"

Poe feigns a comedic shocked expression, holding one hand to his chest as he stares open mouthed at you.

"Of course not! What do you think of me? Why is your opinion of me is so low that you think I'd go as far to break the ship engine, so we'd be stuck here alone, find the busiest hotel on this planet, specifically book one room knowing the others would be booked already by the time we got here, ask for the smallest bed-"

He doesn't get to continue. Picking up the pillow you repeatedly hit him hard with it while Poe laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm joking. I'm joking, I swear," he laughs, grabbing his own pillow and hitting you back. "I'd never purposely break a ship."

"You manipulative little shit,"

Neither of you surrender until the bed is covered with feathers, the pillowcases empty and discarded, your limbs tangled together, lips pressed against sweat salted skin. This time it's you who pries the truth from him, your way.

"My methods may be unorthodox but -" he gets no further before you smack him in the face with your pillow, causing him to dissolve into laughter once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[nrdmssgs]

Dom König scenario

Masterlist

Ok, we had him soft and obedient, how about his other side? Because you don't call someone the King, if they are just tender little angels. Smut under cut.

You were sure, it was you, who actually initiated this all: after months of silent yearning, back and forth dynamics, pinning and practically burning alive with desire you ended up in his hands, your lips pressed against his in desperate attempt to put an end to this slow torture in any possible way: be it with or without him.

He doesn't answer on your kiss, doesn't flinch or frown. Just sits there with a half smile and looks down on you, not breaking the eye contact for a single moment.

Little did you know, you were never in charge. Every interaction, every smallest chat, every stolen smile, lingering gaze - it was all orchestrated.

König loved the good old hunt, thrived on the outrageous hopelessness with which his prey, without realizing it, rushed towards him. Tinkered little traps, mislead, confused, threaded illusions of one-sided hunger to drive you to absolute desperation for him.

He may have always been the quiet one, but one needs not many words, when he can get anything with the slightest brush of fingers, or an 'occasional' eye contact (and of course he squinted and tilted his head slightly to one side, not because he knew what it does to you).

König gradually let you closer and closer. Tricked you into believing that you're the one who's so fearless to fall for him: a living weapon of mass destruction. An absolute menace, turning friendly and smiling around you.

Little did you know, poor thing, little did you know... Until the trap was shut.

His hands barely touch your waist as if he was protecting you from falling off his lap, he doesn't try to pull you closer. You understand, that it is the end of you: he didn't react to your touch, kept silent, his heart was still and calm.

Blush washes over your face. "I'm sorry, König. Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. I didn't mean to... No, I actually meant, but not that. Sorry, I better shut up and leave you be. I promise, this won't happen ever again."

Your babbling amuses him. No, he doesn't want to harm your feelings or bully you, he knows exactly, what is going to happen very soon, but he can't help but indulge in those last moments of your alleged freedom.

It's when you try to pull away, you feel his hands clasp around your waist. "Who said, I don't want this to happen again?" His voice is quiet, lower than usual. Like honey from the Tyrolean forests, it covers your mind with a thick golden veil of lust.

You can't think straight, can't believe your own ears, and yet you dare not resist when he pulls you closer, letting you touch his lips again. Another lingering kiss.

But this time his smile widens. "Nochmal*," he purrs and lets out a low chuckle, when he sees your puzzled expression.

Don't worry, he will make sure you have enough opportunities to learn every single phrase, he might want you to understand and use on your own. He won't translate anything to you though - showing is always better than telling!

So he lets you kiss him once more. "Nochmal". And again. "Nochmal". And again... Till his tongue lazily rolls past your lips.

He tastes you like the most precious drink. Sip after sip, until you lay beneath him, trembling of need.

"My little sunshine, bearing so much love for me... Was it hard to dream of my touch every other night? Did it hurt, when you clenched around your thin, fragile fingers, fantasizing, how good can I make you feel in comparison?" You can't tell if he is genuinely concerned or just loves to fluster you that much.

And don't you even think to look away for a moment, to take a break and collect your thoughts - he'll grab your face while kissing you only to make his point: eyes on him until he commands otherwise.

Yes, commands come too pretty quickly in your life. But how can he possibly resist, when you're so eager to do anything, he lets you doing?

"You may moan into my mouth, meine Süße*, I don't mind some music*" While his fingers are knuckle deep in you. And moan do you, his sweet obedient angel.

He doesn't rush anything and more than happy to please you with his fingers and tongue first couple of times. This may come off as pretty humble, but he in fact just waits, till you are desperate enough to beg him to fuck you properly.

Poor thing too desperate, flustered and overwhelmed... Of course, he would fuck you absolutely incoherent if you ask nicely. He has such a soft spot for your wet eyes, he'd make you go limp, your eyes rolling back, little whimpers leaving your lips with every thrust, as he holds your hips tightly picking up the pace. Fucking your fears and anxieties away. Making you feel high.

Lots of reassurance, praise and confessions. Constantly. Even in the most extreme moments. "Who are you, little sunshine?" "Your fucktoy." "...and?" "Your treasure..." "Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen*... and?" "Love of your life?" "Liebe meines Lebens*."

*Nochmal - once again *meine Süße - my sweet one *Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen - go-o-o-od girl *Liebe meines Lebens - love of my life

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König masterlist

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader {Mythical AU, dubcon smut, 18+}

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

Part 1 | Part 2

Christian Woman {Romance, fluff, smut, 18+}

König x Nun!Reader | This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting. You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores, and the relationship turns out to be far from platonic. König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Possession {Dark fic, angst, smut, 18+}

König x Maid!Reader | Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT {Historical AU. Roman Auxilia soldier!König with his spoils of war gf. Slow burn, romance, fluff, eventual smut, 18+}

König x F!Reader | The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Valkyrie {Dubcon, smut, flangst, romance, 18+}

Virgin!König x F!OC | The situation had indeed taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Just Friends {Dark romance, smut, violence, heavy angst, 18+ WARNING: Not safe or sane}

König x F!Reader | She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Even Demons are Lonely {Angst, pining, König POV, yandere, 18+} He comes back after a mission {Fluff, mild smut, angst, yandere, 18+} Just Friends playlist (by @evil-squint-etc) Art for Just Friends by @shizukaay0

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just add water

words: 5k

warnings: brief illusions to sex but no smut, mermaids (like h2o mermaids), tropical storm/bad weather, really fluffy hehe, australian!reader, lots of kisses omfg these bitches in LOVE!

it's one of the few things rafe does to calm himself down. sandals held in his hand, feet pressing into the cool sand with every step.

rafe looks down the beach, the moonlight reflecting off the water as the waves gently lap against the shore. he squints into the darkness when he sees movement, hoping his relaxing walk isn't going to be interrupted by someone's public intimate moment.

he continues walking, the same stretch of beach he always does, passing by familiar houses of friends and old classmates.

his vision clears as he gets closer, eyes widening when he sees you, knees pulled up to your chest as you stare into the water.

“hey.” rafe says when he's a couple yards away, not wanting to spook. you, but it fails as you gasp and jump up to standing.

“sorry.” rafe holds his hands up, trying to show that he means you no harm. “im just taking a walk on the beach.”

you take a step back, like you're making room for him to walk past, for him to continue to leave footsteps in the sand, but rafe looks closer at you as the moon shines down, light slightly illuminating from the rows of houses with porch lights or bedroom lights left on before bed.

“im rafe.” rafe can't seem to keep walking, his feet planted firmly as his eyes roam over your face. “i don't think we've met before.”

“just moved here.” you explain quickly. “im y/n.”

“you're australian?” it's more of a statement than a question, but you nod, the accent clearly giving you away.

“i was wondering why i haven't seen you before. it's a small island, everyone kinda knows everyone.” 

“yeah.” it's a signal to end the conversation, polite but firm, but again rafe can't help himself, drawn close to you looking out onto the water just as he does.

“would you like me to give you a tour of the island? tomorrow or whenever you're available.”

“that would actually be really nice.” you smile at rafe. you were worried about leaving everything you knew in australia when your parents moved you across the country, and it's perfect luck that you meet someone your very first night in the outer banks willing to show you around.

“here.” rafe pulls his phone out of his pocket. he puts it on do not disturb for his walks, pretending it's not there, not allowing it to distract him, but he needs your phone number, needs to see you again, to see if your eyes are the same enchanting twinkling of the water in the daytime.

you take his phone and put in your name and number before handing it back, hand briefly touching his, feeling warm against your slightly chilled skin, making you realize you probably should have put on more than just shorts and a tank top for relaxing at the shore at night.

“ill text you.” rafe says, giving you one last look over before taking a step back, not turning away yet, keeping his eyes on you, as if you're an apparition thats going to disappear the minute he blinks.

rafe finally turns away to walk home, not looking back. he smiles. he can feel your eyes on him.

--

you sigh as you step into the bath, sinking in as your legs morph into a tail moments after the water makes contact with you. you never realized how much you loved showers until you couldn't take them anymore.

you have a love hate relationship with your abilities. being able to manipulate the shape and volume of water, as well as enhanced breath and super speed swimming, is amazing. but having your bottom half turn into a mermaid tail every time water touches you is a hard accomodation to make when your parents love the ocean.

you wash yourself off quickly, knowing you have to get totally dry before rafe gets here to show you around the island. 

--

two weeks in the outer banks. the time feels like it's flown by. you're surprised how much you don't miss australia. your parents tended to jump around from town to town to surf, so you never developed a close group of friends either.

two weeks spent with rafe, first showing you the popular parts of the island, then his favorite areas, the spots only locals know about, filling you in on all the nicknames that can't be found with a simple google search.

the only place he hasn't shown you yet is anything out on the water. you refuse every time he offers to take you out on his boat, and his sad face breaks your heart.

“wanna go out on the boat today?” rafe asks, just as you're thinking about it, like the idea transferred from your head to his. you hope that's not a new power developing.

“sure.” you finally concede, heart fluttering when rafes face breaks into a wide smile. you are taking things slowly, despite what is clearly forming. “but no swimming.”

you hate having to lie to rafe, pretending like you don't wake up every morning and explore the waters of the outer banks before hiding under a pier to dry off. you told him you were afraid of the water, that you didn't like going in it, merely enjoying looking at it.

rafe is excited to take you out, so much so that wheezie gives him a weird look before shrugging, deciding to herself that crushes make boys do crazy things, because she's never seen her brother act like this, so enthralled.

“here, ill help you.” rafe reaches his hand out as you step into the boat. you don't want to let go as he guides you towards the bench behind the helm, allowing you to sit down as your fingers finally disconnect.

“im gonna show you everything.” rafe undoes the lines quickly before returning to you. “and by the end of your boat tour, you'll realize that the outer banks is so much better than australia.”

rafe places an arm around your back, not caring that he now has to navigate with just one as you giggle and tuck yourself into his side.

the ocean calls to you as rafe shows you different spots, the outer banks feeling so different when looking back at the land.

rafe anchors the boat at a sandbar. you look over the edge, surprised how crystal clear the water is in this area.

“there's a spring in that marshy area over there.” rafe points towards a cluster of grass. “it feeds out into the ocean here. one of the best spots in the obx.”

“it's beautiful.” you say honestly. the sun is warm against your face, tanning your skin and relaxing you, keeping you dry enough to not turn whenever a drop of water splashed over the side of the boat onto your skin.

it's dangerous to be on the boat, but you can't help it with the way rafes eyes light up as he looks at you before ripping his shirt off over his head, catapulting over the side into the water.

“rafe!” you shout as a plume of water splashes up, soaking your arm.

rafe smiles at you as he resurfaces before his expression quickly shifts to a frown when he sees you furiously rubbing a towel against your arm.

“y/n, the water isn't dirty.” rafe didn't realize how deep your fear got. he climbs back onto the boat as you stagger back, face twisting in fear as you look at rafe.

“shit, im sorry.” rafe takes a step towards you, but you back away.

“take me back, please.” you sit down at the front of the boat, making your position clear.

rafe nods, glad the water covering him is hiding the tears that well up in his eyes as he pulls the anchor.

you stay sat far away, towel wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from getting wet as rafe drives back in silence, not speaking until he has the boat tied back to the dock, now completely dry and donning his tshirt again.

“hey.” rafe kneels in front of you. “im really sorry.”

you open your mouth to reply, to tell him it's okay, but rafe continues speaking. 

“you said no swimming. i should have listened. i saw this-” rafe places a glimmering queen helmet conch shell in your lap. “at the sand bar and wanted to get it for you. so you could remember this day.”

rafe stands up, figuring this is the last time he'd see you after his mess up. “so you can remember me.”

you stand up quickly, but make sure to carefully set the shell on the seat next to you. before you can second guess your actions, before that cautious voice in your head can convince you otherwise, you press your lips against rafes, having to rise to your tiptoes to reach.

rafe hesitates for a moment before kissing back, arms wrapping around your waist, tugging you in tight to him.

--

“this is a cute spot.” you snuggle into rafes side, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, showing all of the obx that he's taken, and you're the one who's captured his eye.

“it is.” rafe hums, looking around the diner. it's not his usual place, but rafe wanted somewhere casual to take you, so you didn't have to worry about dressing up or proper etiquette for your first official date.

you order a stack of pancakes as it's around brunch time, rafe ordering a cheeseburger for himself. you smile at the waiter as they walk away before looking to rafe. “im totally gonna steal some of your fries by the way.”

“fries and pancakes?” rafe twists his face up as you giggle.

“potatoes go with everything.” you explain, like it's a commonly known fact.

“what's your favorite food?” rafe asks. he's dying to know everything about you, wanting to sit you down and run through the list of questions in his head, but he knows it's best to take things slow, to allow things to progress naturally despite wanting to ask you about your favorite color, past boyfriends, whether you're a cat or dog person and so so much more.

you're about to answer when a passing waitress stumbles, her tray of waters heading to a crowded table dumping over you, getting your entire side wet.

the waitress goes to apologize, but you're already on your feet, mental timer starting in your head as you rush to the restroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it's just a single stall as you lock the door behind you moments before you fall to the ground as your tail appears.

“y/n?” rafe must have run after you as he jiggles the doorknob.

“im okay!” you call out. “just drying off. give me a minute.”

“are you sure?” you can picture rafe standing outside, ear pressed against the door.

“yeah. ill be out soon.” you try to reach up to the towel dispenser with little luck. “you better not eat all the fries before i get back.”

you're relieved to hear rafes laugh as you finally get the motion sensor to work, rubbing it over your side, letting out a sigh of relief when your tail finally transforms back into two legs.

you stand up, always feeling a bit wobbly at first, but you want to get back to rafe, to your date and most importantly as your stomach rumbles to your pancakes and fries.

“aussie cheesy potatoes.” you say as you slide into your seat. “my favorite food, aussie cheesy potatoes.”

--

i miss you

you send the text to rafe, smiling when his response bubble instantly appears.

i was just about to text you the same thing

you know you're in the honeymoon phase of your relatively new relationship, but you can't help the giggle that escapes from your lips, the way your heart starts to beat faster.

meet you halfway? rafe sends back before an image loads of a dark beach, camera pointing down the shoreline towards your house.

on my way <3

you quickly touch up your makeup in the mirror, deciding to stay in your pajamas since they're just a loose long sleeve shirt and comfortable shorts. you hesitate between putting on a pair of sneakers or sandals, ultimately deciding more coverage is the smarter option.

you are quiet when leaving your house, just in case your parents are awake. you doubt theyd care anyways, they probably haven't noticed how much you've been gone lately. you are an adult after all, but they stopped being protective the minute you were in your teens, letting you surf solo for the first time the day after your thirteenth birthday. 

you walk down the beach, keeping your steps fast as you look for rafe, breaking out into a jog when you finally see his figure emerge from the darkness.

you throw your arms around rafe as he twirls you, tucking his head into your neck, pressing kisses to your delicate skin before pulling back to connect your lips together.

“hey.” rafe smiles at you, lowering you carefully back to the ground.

“hey.” you peck his lips again in another kiss.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says earnestly, the words falling from his mouth. you're beautiful to him during the day too, but there's something about night time that makes you shine, like the moon calls to you.

“not too bad yourself handsome.” you let rafe string your fingers together before beginning to walk, back in the direction of tanneyhill.

you chat about your days as you stroll, mostly with what rafe was occupied with as he helped his dad, spending your first day away from each other since you arrived on the island. safe to say you're both falling fast.

“stay the night with me?” rafe asks when you're standing in front of tanneyhill, the large house frightening imposing.

“i don't know…” you trail off, but the smile on your face tells rafe you clearly want to.

“at least lay with me on the hammock for a while.” rafe tugs on your hand, and you find your feet following him. he lifts the mosquito netting up as you duck under, toeing your shoes off as rafe lays down.

you snuggle in next to him, sighing as you rest your head against his chest, the fabric squeezing the two of you together.

you both enjoy the gentle quiet, the sound of the waves and wind rushing through the leaves the only thing breaking into your peaceful silence, not needing words, just each other. 

sleep takes you both, warmed by your bodies wrapped together.

--

you're not sure what jolts you awake, but you're glad it happens as your eyes snap open, a drop of water hitting your cheek.

“shit…” you mumble, quickly pushing it off your skin as you look up at the gray sky, the events of last night coming back to you as you realize you're still in the hammock next to rafe. you don't want to move, you're the most comfortable you've ever been in your life, but the skies threatening to open and dump it's rain down on you has you scrambling.

“baby?” rafes voice is deep with sleep as you rush to put your shoes on, knowing the dew on the grass is going to turn you as you look towards the house.

“i-i need to pee!” you yell quickly, pushing out of the mosquito netting as you run, the rain beginning to fall. you're aware of every drop as you push some away with your abilities, but ultimately you can't stop nature as a few drops hit your back.

you aim for the glass doors, praying they're left unlocked as you burst inside, eyes widening when you see not just wheezie, who you've come to know pretty well, but the entire rest of the cameron family milling around in the kitchen.

you're seconds away from transforming as you find your voice. “bathroom.” you simply say before rushing into the closest half bath, glad you accepted the full tour from rafe one day when both ward and rose were away from the house.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath as you hear through the door that rafe has come in after you, mentioning something to his family about rain coming before the tropical storm set to hit in the next couple weeks if it doesn't change direction.

you grab the towel, neatly embroidered with their last name as you rub your back, glad it's only a couple drops as you're quickly able to exit the bathroom.

“sorry about that.” you say awkward, clasping your hands in front of you.

“i was wondering when you lovebirds would wake up or if the rain would do that for you.” ward smiles, eyes flicking between you and rafe. you let him lead the amount of affection as he walks and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“stay with us for breakfast, y/n.” rose says. clearly someone told the couple about you, most likely wheezie tattling on her brother. you just hope she said nice things.

“yeah, id love that.” you say after rafe squeezes your shoulder to let you know it's okay.

--

good morning gorgeous 

you smile at the text, grabbing your phone the second you were awake.

you quickly reply, a string of emojis that only lovesick you would type out.

there's a party this friday. come with me?

you glance at the calendar hanging on your wall. not a typical one filled with appointments or birthdays, but one charting the phases of the moon, letting you know when it's safe to be out at night. you let out a curse when you realize friday night is a full moon.

sorry baby i can't :( parents want me home to call my grandma back in australia

you can come after, yeah?

sorry rafe 

you leave it at that, hating telling him no, but you need to stay inside during the full moon.

you should totally go though! spend some time with your friends

rafe doesn't mention the party again when you meet up later that day.

--

“i got the party changed to saturday.” rafe says, his head sat in your lap as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“what?” you question, raising your eyebrows. you're sat in your bed, the afternoon sun pouring in from the open windows, watching some show on tv neither of you were truly invested in, just background noise as you look into each other's eyes.

“the party this friday. you can go saturday right?”

“yeah.” you nod, smile stretching across your lips. “yeah, i can.” you shouldn't be surprised rafe changed everyone's schedules just to fit yours, the party is at his friend's house after all.

you're excited to finally meet them, you've heard bits and pieces from rafe, but have never gotten to actually see them.

you spend the entire time you're locked in your bedroom on friday night choosing exactly what to wear, curtains drawn tight closed, even blankets thrown over for extra precaution, not allowing any of the full moon to peek inside.

you realize you made the correct decision when saturday night comes and you open the door to rafe, his jaw visibly dropping.

--

“oh my god, i was totally picturing someone different when you were talking about topper.” you whisper to rafe after walking away from his friends to find a quieter spot. you didn't even have to tell rafe that you were starting to get overwhelmed, he seemed to sense it and pulled you away, not caring that kelce was still going on about something.

“what did you picture?” rafe asks, hoping the talking will distract you from all the excitement of the party, finding an empty guest bedroom and sitting down on the bed together.

“i don't know why but dark hair.” you shrug. “and i always pictured glasses.”

rafe laughs as he leans against you, your hand coming to his hair to scratch at his head, the soft movements of your fingers comforting you just as much as rafe.

“thanks for meeting them. and coming here with me.” rafe says earnestly. he's always liked parties of course, going wild and getting drunk or high or whatever he felt like that night, grinding against different girls and ultimately taking one to bed. rafe never put together how all of that was just a distraction, that he wasn't truly happy.

“you make me happy.” rafe says, turning to look at you, eyes still twinkling, reminding him of the ocean, the moon, the most stunning gemstone, and something so uniquely you.

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips together. you don't come out of the guest bedroom until the morning after, giggling quietly as you sneak out of toppers house, your hair a mess and clothes askew.

--

“i just realized ive never seen you in a swimsuit before.” rafes eyes look carefully over your body, having just taken off your coverup once your arrived at the spring again, rafe vowing not to jump in again, simply enjoying laying out and tanning on the boat.

you smile at rafe, gesturing for him to get closer.

rafe crawls over the bed area at the front of the boat to hover over you, pressing his lips tightly against yours. your hands feel his muscles, skirting from his chest down to his defined abs.

“you know, there's no one else out here.” you smile up at him as you reach lower.

“naughty girl.” rafe chuckles, glancing around to make sure no boats were within view.

once you're both finished, tired and panting, skin sheened with sweat, rafe finally brings up a question he's been dying to ask.

“why don't you like the water?”

you place your chin on your hand as you turn to look at rafe, taking a moment to formulate an answer. you hate having to lie to him, but you don't want to reveal your secret yet, for rafe to look at you any differently.

“i used to love to swim, to surf.” you say honestly. “but then something happened… and it's turned me away from it. i don't even like pools.”

rafe doesn't push for more, but his face does turn to a frown, thinking about whatever happened. he's guessing you got caught in a riptide or had a near drowning experience, he would never in a million years guess that you fell into a cave exploring an island after a fight with your parents and swam through a mysterious pool to get out, waking up to surf the next day only to transform into a mermaid.

“im sorry baby.” rafe says honestly. he wishes he could fix whatever happened, to enjoy riding on a jet ski with you, or relaxing on a sandbar.

“it's okay.” you shake your head. “i like being on the boat with you.” you say. “you make me feel comfortable.”

rafe pulls you back into him, not caring if you get an uneven tan line as he kisses you again. he swears you taste like honey with the slightest hint of sea salt.

--

“we got cyclones all the time back in australia.” you tell rafe, looking out your window. the sky looks normal, no sign of a tropical storm that's supposed to be blowing in soon, thankfully it never upgraded to a hurricane.

“do you want me to come over for it anyways?” rafe smiles at you as you finish braiding your hair. “hold you just in case you get scared.”

you laugh as you stand up, dramatically falling onto the bed, placing a fanned hand on your forehead. “oh, save me rafe cameron, save me!”

rafe laughs as well, pulling you against him. your shared laughter always turns into shared kisses. it's been months now that you've been in the outer banks. you swear your accent is even diminishing ever so slightly.

but you don't miss australia. you love your life here. spending nearly every day with rafe, exploring the island and the waterways, trying out different food spots and even letting rafe give you golf lessons, despite your inability to hit the ball straight.

--

you open the door as soon as there's a knock, expecting rafe, but your face falls when you see ward standing there.

“y/n, is rafe here?” he questions, entire body soaking wet from the storm, now covered by your front porch, dripping onto the welcome mat.

“no.” you shake your head. “he should be here any minute though…”

“shit.” wards eyes are wide with worry. “he took the boat out. i was hoping he docked it here.”

“the boat?” your voice rises as your anxiety does as well. “what is he doing on the water in this storm?”

“he likes to go to the spring at the start of storms to watch them roll down the coast, but he's always back before it hits. something must have happened to the boat, i don't know.” you can tell ward is rambling. “maybe he ran out of gas or got caught in something-”

“you have to go out there and save him! the waves-” you don't need to tell ward, you're sure he knows how bad the water is going to get, how violent the storm will make the sea, even in the shallow area rafe is in.

“i can't.” he shakes his head. “i already tried the coastguard but they won't go out until the storm is over.”

“he's your son!” you argue. “you go!”

“i can't.” you can hear the pain in wards voice. “if something happens to me, sarah and wheezie will have no one.”

you know it's not an appropriate reaction, but you're so mad, so worried about rafe being out there in this mess that you slam the door right in wards face.

you walk back through your house, past the empty kitchen and dark dining room to your living room, the glass doors revealing the storm raging outside. you make a decision in that split second, opening the door and barely shutting it behind you before you take off, rain hitting you in the face. you send out a prayer to the moon to allow you to reach the water before you transform. you make it onto the sand before face planting, having to awkwardly pull yourself forward into the water.

the second you're submerged, you take off, using your speed swimming abilities to navigate through the waters and strong tides. you go faster than ever, heading in the direction of the spring and sandbar, desperate to find your boyfriend and make sure he is safe.

you see through the rain at the surface of the water his boat, letting out a sigh of relief when you see he's anchored in his usual spot.

“rafe!” you call once your surface. “rafe!” you shout again, hoping he can hear you over the roar of the wind and rain.

rafe pops up, looking over the edge, wrench in hand, clearly trying to fix whatever is wrong with his boat, a smear of oil on his forehead not washing away with the rain.

“y/n?” rafe shouts. “what the fuck are you doing?”

rafe drops the wrench, rushing closer to the edge as he looks at you. your tail flicks up. there's no hiding it anymore. you don't want to anyways. 

“babe, get out of the water theres-” rafe blinks, his eyes squinting as he realizes its not some strange fish, but in fact covering your legs.

“get in the water rafe im going to swim us back home.” you shout, eyes turning to the sky, looking down the coast. the worst of the storm hasn't hit yet thankfully. with the size of the waves coming, it's sure to capsize his boat.

“baby-” rafe swallows harshly before jumping over the side. he may not understand what's going on, but he trusts you.

you grab onto rafe, keeping his head above the surface as you swim. it's slower getting back pushing him with you, but you go as fast as your tail will allow.

“you're a mermaid.” rafe says simply when you get back to shore, deciding to go to your house instead of tanneyhill, just in case ward is looking out his windows for rafe to return.

“go inside, ill be okay in the water.” you tell rafe, just needing to make that final couple steps onto the sand.

“im not leaving you out here.” rafe simply says, glancing to your tail before back at your face. he scoops you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest as he carries you onto land, despite how heavy your tail is.

you hold onto rafes shoulders as he brings you inside. he sets you down on the plush rug in the living room as gently as possible.

“the tail doesn't go away until im dry again.” you lift your fin up and down as the rain pounds against the windows.

“ill get some towels.” rafe is ridiculously calm, coming back and patting you down in silence until your legs reappear.

“im sorry for not telling you earlier.” you say with a whisper, hand reaching out to hold rafes, shifting to sit up. “i-i love you rafe, but i understand if you want to break-”

you can't even finish your sentence as rafe leans in, pressing your lips together. “i love you too.”

--

“is that the right part?” you ask rafe, leaning yourself against the ladder as he fixes the engine on the boat, somehow it managed to stay anchored at the sandbar.

“we'll see right now.” rafe cranks the key, letting out a cheer when it turns on.

you smile as he jumps over the side in a dramatic celebration before resurfacing and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

“okay, you gotta show me again.” rafe stands on the sandbar as you swim around him, tail flicking back and forth.

you concentrate on a spot of water, lifting it into the air before popping it like a bubble, sending droplets raining down.

“you're the most amazing person ive ever met.” rafe says. “most amazing mermaid.” you correct him with a giggle and a splash of your tail.

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[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

read on ao3. series masterlist. next chapter.

Distaste is not new in the life of Joel Miller.

In particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. He is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. The years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

If anything, he’s made himself more empty.

Rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. Discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. Lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

An apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. Joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. The man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that Miller guys passed between cowardly members of FEDRA and the keep away from Mr Miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

This plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. Somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become deadweight.

“So that’s all I am to ya, huh? Dead-fucking-weight?” His brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving Joel to do what Joel does best: endure.

Somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the deadweight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

She was an exception, his Tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. They’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

She never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. Contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging Joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

Which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of Tess’ foot against his shin.

“... And then,” Frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. With a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, Bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “Otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. We were finding paw-prints for days!”

Joel's unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. As if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the German Shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“Which means I was cleaning paw-prints for days.” Bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

Frank is quick to shush him.

“I’m sorry, again, Bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “I’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

There you sit, parallel to him.

The sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. It hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

You catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

The threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which Joel can account for, mouth too keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. The battle ends swiftly as you surrender to Bill’s hardened stare, and Frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and Tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“You, sit. No one should have to clean up the food they made.”

They get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

Silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and smothering you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun behind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

Being alone, with you, is something Joel’s never mastered. The affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

Were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

Something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. The dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

Just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

The ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and Joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. He’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

The pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never-ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“He likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

As if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in Joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. Standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and Joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

To envy a creature that licks its own shit off its ass is a new low for Joel.

“Thinkin’ he might like ya more, Sol.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“Most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

He takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and Tess have made.

“You’ve got a whole load in common, you know? I think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“How the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” There he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. It helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“Well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. He’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “And have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

He’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

Discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘S easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. Doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

With you as its protector.

He doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. He watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. Your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

Survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

But I could keep you safe.

He toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. It’s not the first time he’s thought it. Truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

His memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just Bill, Frank and you. A few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night Joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was Frank who’d prompted the question. “Where were you all when... this started?” Tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’d never meet.

He never imagined her working in a bank.

Bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “Was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” He’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. She was barely out of school. “I knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” Frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

Joel had always been a good listener. Being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. Years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. All this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to Frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of Bill.

But you weren’t smiling.

He watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

The desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for Joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. With each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. He’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“You’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “Those we remember never truly die!”). He’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘Could keep you safe. There, then, the thought did cross his mind.

He’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-Could fix it, you know. I’m good with my hands.”

He almost chokes on his own breath.

I'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. And he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“What?” The question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

The mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face Joel once more.

He sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“Your watch, it’s broken.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “Don’t need ya to fix it.”

You pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. Confusion.

“Don’t you want to know the time?” You ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and Joel Miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“I don’t keep it for the time.”

You smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

The German Shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to Joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

He’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. Nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. It’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“Ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” You’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “I’ve never heard any of the Joel Miller backstory, this should be-”

“I get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

Nature falls silent.

Skies grow dull.

You juggle sadness.

There’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of Tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. The dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

Joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“Sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. Only, the gates have been shut in his face and Joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “But you’re wrong. I don’t like everyone.”

“‘S that so.” His eyes roll. The hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal Joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“Yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “I don’t like you, Joel.”

The hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

We’re staying, for tonight. Tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the QZ for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

The nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading Bill and Frank- mostly Frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. If only Joel could remember which door leads to yours.

The two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

Tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a FEDRA agent’s wife, you whisper that Frank and Bill had been fighting again recently. The memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of Tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly Bill and Frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

At some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. At another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-N’t tell me you’re a virgin.

The words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

A protest rings true in his head and his ears.

Was gonna say. Knew you were young, but not that young.

It’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“God, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. It was alright, I guess. I just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

He’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. A groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping Tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

Neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“Not much to miss?! Sweet Christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” He’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken Tess. Each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. There’s no need to bother opening his eyes, Joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I’d give up a hand for some head!”

You must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of Tess’ renewed shock fills the room. He wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

Late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“It bores me!”

“It bores you!?”

The couch beneath Joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp Tess gives. The last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

The crueler part of his mind replays your voice, I don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

You like Tess. Love her, even. It’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out Finally someone with a pair of boobs, I’m bored of the sight of my own. Joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

Maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“Must not have been doin’ ya right,” The bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. Joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. You’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. It’s oddly endearing that you think no one has noticed. Because he has, he always notices the little details that surround you. “This fella of yours.”

Joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

He does so, regardless.

“Well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “We were each others firsts.”

“That’s no excuse! Trust I left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time I went down.” Tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights Joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while Tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. No discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

You scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “What, are you offering your services?”

tThis he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which Tess has raised you to heaven on while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘As sure as I am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you I like my women a little older than you.”

He knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the QZ. It should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. But he can’t, and he won’t.

And you’re the one to blame.

You, with the glow of a thousand suns. You, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. You, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

His own self being the first he’d need fight.

Joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. Sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

The next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

He’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. Some small, meaningless little things, that ripple Joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. Others, tsunamis. Big, angry, all imposing. They’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

Amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. But the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. They catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. In the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

The currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

This evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. He reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. The gentle, barely-there croon of a Sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. Across from him is Tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. Snoring comes from below him, where Joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

You take up no space of this room.

Neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. Languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

There are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

He should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. A good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

He could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. Perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure Frank wouldn’t mind. Bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the QZ.

He would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. He imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. Skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Those words stop him from trying.

He tells himself it’s for the best.

With a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. He swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. The door’s already half-opened, and Joel nearly thanks Christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. The darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

The refrigerator.

It’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. A subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly Joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

Keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

She never lived long enough to get either.

He catches something move beneath the artificial light. Cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“Why aren’t ya sleepin’?” The words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

Beneath the light, you shrug. “Could ask you the same thing, Texas.”

He curses Tess for teaching you such a nickname.

He curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

You’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. Whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, Joel remains unaware.

He grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. The door behind him closes over and gives the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“I asked first.” You laugh, at him. Full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. The corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. He hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you. Bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘S so funny, huh?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. Perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “Just never heard the Joel Miller say something so childish. You’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

You make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. A fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. Uncouth and unbothered, Joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“You know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” You call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. The thirst does not budge. He hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

By the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“iIm making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “Make sure you take some with you when you leave. Tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

Would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? Four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his Tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. He’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Of course you would do the same. Not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. Nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. Patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. All words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. They violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over Joel’s entire persona.

He straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. The sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. His hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of Tess and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what Joel hears.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. You’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

And, suddenly, Joel’s angry. At you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. The fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

Only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

A hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving Joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. Without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise Joel gifts you.

You may leave your marks emotionally, but Joel’s will always be physical.

“Why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “Don’t ya like me?”

If not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “I don’t.”

“Hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody Tess was playing in the living room. “Sure sounds like you do.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

Joel knows he cares. It’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to Bill and Frank’s.

What Joel doesn’t know is why he cares. There’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. He’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

Maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

Instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

Not one bit.

Joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. His feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. His chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

He inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“For the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘S just like how I sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. No part of him should ever be compared to you. “I don’t like ya either.”

He’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

The knife never ceases its movement. Back and forth, back and forth. Chop, chop, chop. Blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. It’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding Joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. Perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

The hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“That’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

It’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“You only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. His wandering touch halts. “A little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what I think.”

This strikes a nerve. Fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. The realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “D’ya know what I think?”

Even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“No, unlike you I don’t care what you think about-” Joel tugs on your hair once more.

“I think you’re a brat. A silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” You could. He’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. Knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“You’re hurting me,” you whine, Joel growls.

Animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. His gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

Your dress- red, a colour Joel Miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“You like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“No, I don’-” Dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “Joel.”

He retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. Whoever Joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“Heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and Tess. The blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ Talkin’ bout your past.”

He doesn’t specify.

He doesn’t need to.

You give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“Tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. His hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. Near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “I wouldn’t.”

You say nothing. Joel pulls harder.

“Too bad I’m-” You cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. With a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, Joel watches you like a hawk. The twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. The want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “Too bad I’m not offering you the chance.”

Joel Miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. With notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“Who said anything about an offer?”

The descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

A part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

The other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. You’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

Smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs that seem longer than any tree in the Amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the Himalayas. Arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

Your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. Perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, Joel knows how to read people. And, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

Joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

You breathe in, you breathe out.

One knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. He revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

Inhale, exhale.

Your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“Hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the Texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. All he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. With the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “Don’t move.”

Where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

Lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. One flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. A wet patch, your wetness. The stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

Curiosity gets the better of him- one day, Joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers digging themselves into the waistband of your panties and around the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

In and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

The lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. A heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. He makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

Delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. There’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. Joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. He wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. He thinks it must hurt.

His fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“Ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. Though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in Joel’s peripheral vision.

“Shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “People are tryin’ to sleep.”

You scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “Tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘S that an invitation to see how loud I can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. This, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “Or a challenge?”

“It’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. Asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

As coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some Playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. So he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. He awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

It’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“You’re drippin’,” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. The view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘S actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. Is it 'cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

He can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

But first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. Much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. Perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

Cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for Joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. Soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

Rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

It happens so suddenly, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of Tess. He wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. Joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

So he does the same.

Working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. He breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

Two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“So now you shut up. ‘S the matter, huh?” He’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “Am I too borin’ for ya?”

“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever- Oh!”

A tongue meets skin.

The knife clatters onto the counter.

You lurch forward.

His hand pulls you back.

“Tess was right, ya know?” He can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. He pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. Three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “That boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

The common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better-, if you’d just let him.

‘Could keep ya satisfied.

That’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. He’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“Is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? What ya need is a man, a man like me!” The softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension. God, it’s never sounded sweet, and Joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“Well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. He imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “But if ya insist.”

Diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. The tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

Licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

He’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by experience that only comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. You’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

He’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

What a perfect excuse you are, for Joel to remaster the arts of lust.

It’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. It’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. It’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever remaining days he shall possess on his knees before you.

And all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar-sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

His only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

Hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

Burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. It does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“N- Ah,” You can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “No, don’t, not there.”

Next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

Sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip out every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. The sound of whatever record Tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

And, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

His eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within Bill and Frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. There’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time Tess tells him they’re due a visit.

Except, the oven door is made of glass.

Glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. You, with a hand gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

And then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

The image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“D’ya touch yourself, Sol?” You don’t answer him, but that’s okay. In a sweet change of pace, Joel Miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “Yeah, bet ya do. Late at night, right? Once you’re all alone in bed. Ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

You back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. Becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

Fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “Let me do the honours this time though.”

You don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. He imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

He’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

You’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. Your expression, he can’t quite read. Not sad, not happy, not mad.

Your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

The discomfort of trekking back to the QZ will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“Joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. Hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. Legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

He swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. Strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. He’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“That,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

Joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

People once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. As sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. Not today, however, and Joel Miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

It chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. There’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

That dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

He cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “No, not again. My back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, Joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the German Shepherd’s head. It whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. A scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “Not so bad, are ya? Huh?” Never in a million years did Joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and Tess had set out for their routinely visit to the Bill and Frank’s. Never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

He hears you before he sees you.

“You planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, Texas?”

He tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

The world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

So instead, it sends you.

Peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than UV rays could ever be. He’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. A few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. At the very least, he considers, I’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

The smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. When he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. He does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. Upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“Thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. You’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “Won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

A queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. He’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “No problem, thanks... for feeding Tess and I.”

“No worries!” You’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. He can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “Oh, actually, that’s why I came out here, I was looking for Tess-” Of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “Hold on!”

You shoot off back inside so quickly that Otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. With an idle pet to his head as you pass by, Joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. In your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“I wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and Joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. He can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “I know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“Why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

Pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

You show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him. “There should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

It’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and Joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

So he tries again, louder.

“Why don’t ya like me?”

“And I’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for Tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “Winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

He grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "Answer me." Like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"For someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. You don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “You sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"Answer the damn question, girl.”

“Or, what?” You’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “You gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

Had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. Truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. Perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

Instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

Joel says nothing.

“How about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and Bill make.” Inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. Clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “You get me something, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “What d’ya want? ‘Cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. I ain’t messing with none of Bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“A dress.”

“A dress?” The statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“Yes, and don’t look at me like that!” It’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “I need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

Unaware he’d even began to lean closer, Joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“Joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

Neither of you dare to break eye contact. Again, his name is yelled. This time, he manages to identify Tess as the owner of the voice. Habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of Tess or you.

His feet remain glued to the ground.

Tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “Think you might be needed inside, macho man. Your missus is calling.”

“She ain’t my-”

“You two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” Tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

Only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does Joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. In her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. You approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“I should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. He decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “Go check on the food, before it burns.”

You’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

Tess and him hit the road by noon. Earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. The bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun breaking through the clouds and heating the world with its rays. He walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from Tess and wracking his brain for answers.

Answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. Answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the QZ. Answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven Bill’s created. Answers to why you don’t like him.

I don’t like you, Joel.

It motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. If he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but Tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

Till then, he needs to find a dress.

[danytherelentless]

They Will Suffice

Jon Snow x fem!reader

summary: a pleasurable moment during your pregnancy with your husband

warnings: smut, illusions to sex, fingering, sweet talk, a little bit dirty, pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink (if you squint really, really hard)

The wind is howling and furious outside, it rattles the shutters of the windows and whistles through the gaps it manages to slither through the walls creating a chill in the air in spite of the warm pipes within the walls of the castle.

You lie in bed with your husband, a quiet and comforting moment between two lovers. Basking in the afterglow of love-making leaning back into his strong arms as they wrap around your front and caress you belly.

His bare knuckle grazes where your child kicks. A budum rhythm over and over again.

"It appears we have awoken them," you muse, looking up to see him. His handsome face is wrought with concentration, dark brows furrowed close.

"He," he corrects you.

You huff a laugh, "he? So sure are we?"

"Yes. I dream of our son in your arms. Of him playing in the Godswood with Ghost," he presses a kiss to your brow.

"Every man wishes for a son. But dreams will not make our child grow a cock if they do not already possess one," you warn. You can't help but feel a little nervous at his surety of a son. What would happen if you birthed a daughter instead?

"I would not be disappointed with a little daughter, my love. I just know that this..." he strokes the underside of your belly where there is another thump, "is our son."

You hum in acknowledgment, a small smile curling at your mouth.

"And what shall our son's name be?"

"Edric," his response is instant.

Your eyes soften, "for your father?"

"Hm. Little Ned," he is smiling now, a small, beautiful and oh so rare thing. It makes your heart swell and tears well up in your eyes.

"When we have a daughter you shall name her," he tells you, as if it is a certainty.

"And what if we shall only have sons? Or only this one child?"

"Then you can name them too. You're the one doing all the hard work," he tells you.

"I suppose you are right. Though you certainly take care of me," you respond with a teasing grin.

"I do now, do I?" he teases right back, one hand going further down to your .

"Mhm. I find myself quite satiated in your presence."

"Careful, I might become unbearable with all this flattery," his teeth graze at the side of your face. You sigh as you sink further back into his arms.

"We can't have that now, can we?"

His hand slips between your thighs, your knees parting some more to allow him better access.

"I find myself not fully satiated tonight, however," you continue, a stir in your lower belly, an urge to squeeze your thighs tightly together.

"Oh. We can't have that now, can we?"

His fingers slide between your folds, already slick once more. He had already cleaned you up after your previous bouts of love-making quite nicely, though is appears it was for nought as you would soon be a mess again.

"I'm not sure I have such energy as you," he admitted as he slid a curled finger into you, thumb circling your nub. A moan broke past your lips as he moves much to slowly.

"Well... your fingers will have to suffice," you let out another broken moan as he gathers your wetness and slides in a second finger.

"Hmm, so wet. So warm," his lips are pressed against the side of your face, teeth grazing the flesh as he whispers his sweet praises into your ear.

His practiced movements speed up, your knees part wider. His cock is hardened somewhat against your back, though not nearly at full mast.

"I can't believe I have you, so perfect, so tight, right in my arms," he speaks, lips dragging across your jaw as you throw your head back against his shoulder.

His fingers curl further, rubbing along that soft spot inside of you which had your thighs twitching and your eyes rolling back as your nails dig into his flesh.

"Right there," you moan, breathless, "please."

"Please what? What do you want?"

"I want to cum. Please make me come," you let out a louder moan.

His movements speed up, "come for me, wife. Finish for me."

You reach your peak, your third that night, fingers curling into the flesh of his thighs, a high, broken keening sound passing your lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth forming an 'o'.

"So pretty," he strokes your thighs and swollen belly, "so perfect."

You don't hear what he says next as you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, howls of the wind distant to your ears as his warmth envelopes you whole and drags you down to the depths of rest.

comments are greatly appreciated, don’t be a stranger :)

you can find me on Wattpad and AO3 by danytherelentless

let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for any of my works (character specifications and smut or not)

[prodagustd]

the road not taken 06 | myg

part five: all is fair in love and war

Summary: Not everything turned the way you wanted, but you were used to it.

<part five

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff, flashbacks, *takes a deep breath* multiple smut scenes, protected sex and not so protected sex(?), fingering, explicit language, dom!yoongi if you squint, lots of teasing, lots of kissing, also DON’T open condoms with your teeth pls !! btw english is not my first language.

—words: 14k

—a/note: literally screaming as I write this bc I haven’t been so excited to post anything everrrr. omg this was so complicated to write it has my blood, sweat and tears on it!! hope you like it and as always I’m open to discuss this part in the asks (please do) (it’s an order)

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago

It wasn’t a surprise for you to know that Yoongi was a patient man. He never rushed things;  he knew how to wait, he knew the precise moments to act and when to hold back. Tonight was no exception. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, taking his time as if the world had all the hours to spare just for you and him, he knew that the night itself was in his pocket.

He wasn’t wrong—the night was just beginning, and there was no reason to escape, rush, or leave early. But at this moment, you were anything but patient—not because you didn’t know how to wait, but because you had already waited long enough. From the way his fingers grazed your thighs during the car ride home to the kisses in the elevator, your impatience was growing rapidly. Every second felt drawn out, and you kept wondering how he could ignore the tension in the air, how you were sick with anticipation, on edge, waiting for his hands to touch you the way you truly wanted.

“It unzips from the back.” You whispered, breaking the silence of the quiet room. 

He saw your bright wide eyes shining in the dark, your swollen red lips and a strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, almost feeling guilty for all the things he was thinking of doing to you. 

“I know.” He breathed out, as if he hadn’t studied every part of your dress just hours before; where the zipper was, how long it was, how long it would take him to take it off.

You looked like you’d stepped out of one of his summer dreams, the kind that pulled him from his sleep, breathless and soaked in sweat in the middle of the night. Only this time he didn’t have to close his eyes and try to enter the same illusion again, he didn’t have to imagine the ending, he had you right there.

His lips moved slowly against yours, taking his time as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch as though he wanted the moment to last forever. He ventured one hand up your back, searching for the zipper of your dress and finding it with ease. With a smooth tug, he pulled it down in one motion, leaving it loose. A tingling excitement swept through you as his hands slid beneath your dress, dragging the shiny fabric upwards against your skin, pulling it over your head to leave you almost naked, wearing only your underwear. 

A chill traced its way down your spine, and a cold breeze swept over your body. If you weren’t so turned on by the way he was looking at you—his dark eyes roaming over you, absorbing the sight of you—you’d be embarrassed about the fact that the only piece of clothing under that dress were your black lace panties, but the man on top of you didn’t seem bothered at all, in fact, he seemed more than satisfied.

His hands were soft against your skin, he ran his fingers down your waist, your hips and over the lace waistband of your panties, making your pulse accelerate. “You're so beautiful.” He mumbled, out of breath.

"You think?" You whispered. He bit his bottom lip, nodding as his palms slowly made their way up your torso, pressing your breasts, squeezing on the flesh and brushing his thumbs over your hardening tips. You let out a quiet whimper, arching your back to meet his touch. Yoongi immediately felt tight in his pants like he was a teenager. 

You quickly became addicted to his touch—the way his lips kissed yours with a fervor that ignited every nerve in your body, how he nipped playfully at your skin, leaving a trail of electric anticipation in their wake. The way he held you tightly, as if to ensure you wouldn’t move, but you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hm, and hot." He said, trailing open mouth kisses down your neck, nibbling your skin as if he was determined to mark it. His lips traveled from your collarbone to the valley of your breasts, you felt his breath against your skin and then his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue back and forth as his other hand brushed your other breast with his thumb just for the sake of driving you crazy. Yoongi was gentle, his moves were painfully slow, you couldn’t help but choke back a moan, arching your back forward already feeling dizzy. “I dreamt of having you like this” He breathed out, his lips going to your other breast, kissing your skin and leaving you undone. “So pretty and soft, all mine.”

You were sure he could see how his words affected you, that and the feeling of the fabric of his pants grazing over your core tortuously, his heavy breath and his hands over your body made you want to shut your legs off, clenching around nothing. “Yoongi…” You sighed, trying to sound firm but inevitably failing.  He hummed, pulling away before leaving a wet kiss on your skin. “This is not fair.” You huffed, making him gaze up, finding your hooded eyes observing him with furrowed eyebrows.  “How come you’re still dressed?”

For a moment, he wanted to laugh, but from the way you grabbed his shirt as if you wanted to rip it off, you seemed dead serious. The fact that you were practically naked in his bed wasn’t going to change your attitude towards him, and Yoongi knew that more than anyone; if there was one thing he had learned over the years was not to make you angry and even if you were far from being discontent, he was not trying to tempt the devil.

The confused look on Yoongi’s face melted away, placing a cheeky smirk on his lips right after. “I almost forgot how bossy you are.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, covering your breasts.  

“Am I bossy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He did not miss the warning tone that lingered on your voice. 

“You are… really cute.” He answered, dodging your question as he watched your frown disappear from your face, you smiled, accepting the compliment. He quickly unfastened all the buttons of his shirt, taking it off and throwing it away somewhere in the room, he was pleased to grant your wishes.

You bit your bottom lip, satisfied. It was a rare sight; you could count the amount of times that you saw Yoongi shirtless, including that one time last summer—but it was different this time, his frame was broader and his shoulders were wider, you could notice the subtle definition of his arms, of his chest, you swore it could drive you insane. Fuck that damn gym.

“This too?” He asked, his fingers tightening around the belt of his pants. You looked at him through your lashes, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 

“That too.” You nodded eagerly, and he had no choice but to comply with your instructions; you were observing every move he made as you laid on his bed, with your hair scattered across the pillow looking at him like you could ask anything from him and he would give it to you. He wasted no time, straightened up and unbuckled his pants, managing to get rid of them easily. 

He bent close to you, his face inches away from yours as he locked your gaze with you, his hands reaching for the only piece of clothing that prevented you from being fully naked “What about this?” He asked, playfully curling his fingers on the waistband of your panties, his hot breath hitting your mouth. 

A tingling sensation filled you, and goosebumps spread across your skin as his fingers moved down your center, slipping between your tights and pushing your panties aside, gently gliding through your wet folds. He was careful, rubbing slow circles on your clit, teasing your entrance as if he were mocking you, playing with you. “Should I take this off?” His deep voice resonated in your ears. 

In a matter of seconds you felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable. You tilted your head, trying not to close your eyes. “Please…” You let out in a weak whisper, feeling your skin getting warmer. 

“Please?” He chuckled. “Please what?” 

You had been instantly pushed into a trance, you were too lost in the sensation to be embarrassed by how wet you already were. “Please, take it off…” You said, being washed by a wave of pleasure every time his finger taunted your entrance, only to come back to your clit, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

You were sure that with a few quick movements you could do that by yourself, but there was something about Yoongi being in control that made your stomach turn, and there was something about you, uncomfortably squirming under him, slowly moving your hips to meet his fingers and patiently waiting for his next move that made Yoongi feel like a caveman. 

“And then?” He continued to ask, “What should I do next?”

Then, like he knew exactly what buttons to push, he sank two of his fingers into you, curling inside you without further notice. You gasped softly, but the answer got stuck in your throat, lost in a sea of thoughts. One of his hands firmly gripped your thigh, spreading you out so he could have a better access to your pussy, sinking his fingers and pulling away so he could toy with your sensitive clit. 

You gripped his shoulders to find some balance while his fingers pulled out, gathering your wetness to fuck you again without hurry, taking his time so he could watch every expression you made, the soft frown in your face, your slightly parted lips, the way you bit your lip everytime you were about to make a loud sound, you were crumbling apart for him slowly, almost without noticing.

You shut your eyes, “Yoongi…” You moaned out.

“Yes?” 

You bit your lips, struggling to find the words. His voice sounded so gentle but his actions were so evil, you never imagined that Yoongi was going to be this bad, mocking and teasing you for his own satisfaction, and somehow, it felt like he fell from the sky just for you. 

“You’re being mean…” You whimpered, rolling your head back against the pillow. He slithered his hands over your chest, playing with your breast as you rolled your center against his hand, trying to chase the feeling. “Don’t play with me.”

Your voice and your words were laced with sin, he had never heard you talk in such a soft and tender manner, even if you were practically threatening him. 

Yoongi was aware he could only push the teasing so far, not only because you were too eager, but he also had to consider how tight he was feeling in his boxers, he knew he was in no position to keep playing with you. Still, he smirked, satisfied as he observed the way you melted in his hand. 

He brushed his nose over yours “What, do you want me to stop?” He said, a mocking tone in his voice. You would’ve been furious with him in any other scenario, but in this particular one you couldn’t help but feel completely flustered. 

You let out the most pathetic mewl sound you ever heard, shaking your head. 

“Mmm, thought so.” He chuckled, closing the distance between the two of you to catch your lips between his teeth and wrapped you in a fervent kiss. With an urgency, he grabbed a handful of your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tilted your head to the side and opening his mouth wide open, deepening the kiss. It seemed like the only right way to be kissed; hard, sloppy and messy, he eagerly licked your tongue in your mouth and managed to erase every coherent thought in your mind as he kept fucking you with his fingers, making you moan into his mouth.

It felt too good, his body against yours, his lips kissing you as if he was about to devour you, his fingers grazing over your clit every time he pulled them out of your pussy just to push them deep down inside you again. You wished you could prolong the moment for a few more seconds, but the familiar tight feeling on your stomach warned you that you were dangerously close to your climax.

Yoongi, incapable of keeping it together any longer, pulled his fingers out at the same time he broke the kiss apart, making you finch. You whined in protest, but he left a small kiss in the corner of your lips in hopes to keep you content. 

“Stop torturing me…” You said, already feeling frustrated. 

“Is this what you call torture?” Yoongi scoffed, his voice hoarse. He reached for the nightstand next to his bed, pulling open the drawer. You heard his hand quickly going over some clutter, removing things until he finally found what he was searching for. “What about me? Watching you about to cum while I’m fucking hard.” 

Your eyes inevitably traveled south, observing the outline of his cock under his tight boxers. You gulped, that view was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Even if he was struggling a bit with the whole situation, Yoongi knew he could die happily right there, he could not complain at all. 

When Yoongi noticed the way you were ogling him, your thoughts drifting elsewhere, he tried to catch your attention by holding up the small condom package in front of your face, its glossy surface glinting under the light. “Open it.” He just said. 

You paused for a brief second, then decisively bit the foil, opening it with your teeth.

Fuck. 

If Yoongi wasn’t completely hard before, now he felt he could explode right in this moment. 

“Fuck, you might kill me tonight," He breathed, surrender evident in his voice as his gaze lingered on you, trying maintaining his composure, though impatience was beginning to creep into his demeanor. You couldn’t help but smile. “Now let me take these off” He said, hooking one of his fingers on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and taking them off. You bit your lips in anticipation, watching the piece of clothing disappear from your eyesight. 

“It wasn’t that difficult after all.” You murmured, making him laugh. You would never miss an opportunity to pick a fight with him. 

“God, Pinky. Do you ever shut up?” He said, gripping the back of your thighs and bringing you closer to him. You rolled your eyes, but your attitude didn’t last very long; the next thing you saw were his hands, pushing down his underwear to let his cock spring free, almost making you choke with your own saliva. 

You suddenly shifted yourself up onto your elbows, ever so dramatic. “Yoongi…” You cried, giving him more than one reason to feel cocky right now. “I don’t know if I can take that.” A smirk tugged from the corners of his lips, one of his hands traveling down his length to jerk himself off, determined to drive you insane. You should’ve imagined that the fact that Yoongi was so confident and cocky was directly connected to how big he was; you wanted to punch him just for that alone. This wasn’t fair at all. 

Yoongi laughed, rolling the condom onto himself and shaking his head, not paying real attention to your concern. He settled himself between your legs, dragging his crown between your wet folds, you barely managed to bite back a moan, throwing your head against the pillows. “You’re soaking wet, baby. You can take it.” His voice sounded so deep it vibrated in your ears, the weight of his words filled with lust and the gentle feeling of the tip of his cock resting on your entrance were so overwhelming it almost made you miss the new endearment, but you heard it just right, even if you felt like were in the brink of madness, aching to feel him inside you.

“Then, hurry up.” You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. He chucked at that, never in a million years he thought he would have you like that, trapped under him, with a frown on your face, urging him to hurry up. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it. 

“No need to rush, we have all night.” He simply said, as if he was purposefully trying to annoy you, but the truth was that, as patient as he could be, having you naked under him and not being inside you was beginning to do a number on him, too.

You let out a cry when he sank into you, slowly guiding himself deep inside your pussy, groaning. Your whole body burned in flames, but it felt too good. “Take everything for me, be a good girl.” He said, his gaze meeting the way you sucked him whole, you were too far gone to make sense of anything else. Your whole body burned in flames, but it felt too good, you gasped when he pushed a leg against your torso, burying himself inside you and reaching your deepest point, you’ve never felt that full. “Look at that— fuck, you fit me just right.”

“Fuck. Yoongi, I-” You attempted to form a coherent sentence, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt his cock stretching you open, leaving you breathless. 

“How’s that, hmh?” 

Lacking a better response, you nodded, letting a small whimper leave your lips. “Please, move…” You mumbled, immediately feeling how he began to set a pace, moving languidly and enjoying how your body adjusted to him as he moved inside you. He slid his cock almost completely out of you, slamming back to meet your body once again, you felt yourself dripping down his length, certain that you were becoming a complete mess. “It’s so good.” You whimpered, not even thinking straight, you were completely focused on the way he was slipping in and out of your wet heat. 

Yoongi could only think how good you felt, just the view of you, overwhelmed with your eyes barely open, biting your lips so you made the least amount of noise possible, made his cock throb inside you, making him feel like he was on the verge of breaking. “You’re so tight, baby.” He moaned out, obsessed with the way you wrapped around him perfectly, the way your cunt pulled him back in every time he pulled away, the way your breast bounced in front of him as he drilled in and out of you. He was sure he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he knew that, considering that you were just about to cum a few moments ago, you weren’t going to last long either. “You look so pretty taking me, wish I could take a picture.”

“God- Yoongi…” You whimpered, his name slipping out, the only word you could grasp, filling every corner of your mind.. You felt your pleasure building in your belly and your thighs trembling as he kept thrusting inside you, “I’m not, oh-” Your voice got caught in your throat when you felt a particularly hard thrust hit your sweet spot, leaving you breathless. 

“You like it, baby?” He grunted against your neck leaving wet kisses on your skin as his thrusts deepened . You nodded several times, the only thing you could do was moan in response. “Tell me you like it.” 

“I- Yes, I love it, feels so good.” You slurred, feeling his lips kissing your jaw, your check and then catching your lips, kissing you softly, a gesture so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you open. 

He bit your lips tenderly “You feel so nice.” He murmured against your mouth, “Want to have you like this all night, would you let me?” Your voice was cut by a moan, as if you could find an answer for that anyway. “Would you let me fuck you all night?”

You were certain that his words were going to be engraved in your mind for a long time, you wouldn’t be able to forget the way he pronounced each syllable, compelling you into saying whatever he wanted to hear, how he looked at you without any kind of inhibition, how he touched you like your body was his only; you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

“Y-yes, please.” You moaned out, feeling yourself clench around him at the thought. 

“Such a good girl.” He said between huffs. “So perfect, like you were made just for me.”

Completely drunk on his compliments, you sobbed, digging your nails on his biceps once he began to sped his thrusts, he could see the desire spreading all over your face, moaning into his mouth “Fuck, right there.” You said in the prettiest of whimpers “I’m- so close.” 

“You gonna cum for me?” You didn’t need to tell him, he could feel the way you were throbbing around his cock, bouncing up and down and getting tighter with each thrust, it was driving him crazy. 

“Yeah, I’m-“ You struggled to finish the sentence, your thoughts were all tangled, your words stumbled upon each other, “It’s too much…” you could only feel the burning sensation between your legs, your wet thighs, his hips hitting against yours filling the room with filthy sounds. Somewhere in your mind there was a version of you that was worried about the sound of Yoongi’s headboard hitting the wall, or how loud both of you sounded, or the fact that Yoongi’s building was full of elder people who will have more than a reason to complain the next day, but if you were being honest, right now you couldn’t find the will to even care about it one bit. 

One of his hands reached to grab your jaw, making you look him straight into his eyes, but you were struggling to focus your crystallized gaze. “Want to see you cum for me.” He hissed, hypnotized by how pretty you looked, whimpering and sobbing around him. Without notice, one of his hands slithered between your bodies, running down your belly and meeting his fingers on your sensitive nub, tracing small circles on it to finish you.  “Be good for me, baby, cream my cock.”

“Fuck, d-don’t stop…” Your eyes fluttered shut, arching your back off the mattress as you felt yourself coming undone. You had never felt that way, so high on your own pleasure, a few more thrusts were enough to push yourself over the edge, tightly squeezing around him and moaning his name like a broken record. You dug your nails into his back, clinging to him as though you might collapse if you let go, but he helped you ride your high, even if the sight of you was about to push him to his breaking point. “That’s it, baby, I got you.” He said, his voice barely hanging by a thread.  His thrusts began to feel uncoordinated, a sign that he was not far from his release. “God, you’re so pretty, you’re gonna make me cum, too.” 

He crashed his lips onto yours, making you swallow all his moans as he fucked himself into you, reaching his climax. The room was filled with your heavy breath, muffled moans, the sound of his skin hitting against your as you finished milking him dry, with your forehead against his, murmuring his name in the dark as you both came down from your high.

You were tired, your whole body felt heavy and sore, but you still felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips kissed you, making you feel like you were in an alternate universe. 

“You’re not real.” He said, mesmerized as he met your teary eyes. You didn’t know where this Yoongi came from, but you didn’t want him to leave. 

You groaned, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re too much…” You said, hiding your face in his neck. 

You heard him chuckle as his body softened on top of you. “Get used to it.” 

Maybe it was time to admit that you were a bit messed up in the head, realizing you never quite knew when to let your guard down. You could excuse it by saying you'd spent so long building walls around yourself that you’d forgotten what it felt like to live without them, or you could just tell the truth and say that you were afraid.

As you rested in Yoongi’s bed, refusing to fall asleep, you observed him, wishing to be as clueless and unafraid of the future as him. 

You heard his muffled voice, Yoongi’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, as he refused to go to sleep just yet. “You never told me if you like me too.” He said as he hugged your waist.

You traced your fingers along the back of his neck, gently threading through his long hair at the nape.

“I don’t, what gave you the impression?” You joked, making him bite the skin of your neck for teasing him.

“C’mon…” He said, glancing up “Tell me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, his eyes barely open and the pout on his mouth while he asked you to confirm something obvious. 

“I like you, Yoongi. I really do.” You confirmed, as if it was ever necessary to do so.

“But since when?” He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense.

“I can't tell you that.”

He frowned, a hint of confusion crossing his face. “Why?”

You shrugged, trying to avoid his eyes. “Mmm... because it's embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t care,” He insisted, shifting to lie down beside you, settling onto the pillow with a gentle sigh. You turned towards him, mirroring his position from before and resting your head on his chest, your fingers tracing random patterns along his chest.

“I know,” You murmured, your voice softer now. “But I would.” You hesitated, the words tasting heavier than you'd expected. “It’s just... it’s a long time.”

He propped himself up slightly, looking down at you, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “How long?” He pressed. “Since college?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Longer than that.”

He tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Mmm... since high school?” His voice held a teasing edge. “I wasn’t that cute back then.”

“You were really cute in high school,” you found yourself admitting, a smile tugging at your lips as your mind wandered back. You could still picture him, awkward in his oversized clothes and square glasses, but somehow, to you, he’d been the only boy who existed.

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So... since high school.”

“Mmm…” You hesitated to answer. Hiding your face on his chest. You felt his fingers on your waist, squeezing the flesh so he could make you look at him. “A bit longer than that.”

Yoongi sighed, trying to think of a memory where he remembered you having a crush on him, but nothing came to mind. For someone you claimed to be the smartest person in the room, he seemed to be completely clueless. Perhaps because Yoongi always saw you as your brother's little sister, as this teenager that wanted nothing to do with her brother, as his friend. The idea of you having a crush on him since that long was crazy, but more crazy was the fact that he didn't notice at all. 

“God, don’t make that face,” you complained, rolling your eyes as you shifted uncomfortably.

“What face?” he asked, his voice distant, a slight frown tugging at his features as he seemed momentarily distracted.

“I told you, it’s embarrassing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it that bad to have a crush on me?”

You groaned, feeling your cheeks flush. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” He shook his head with a playful grin, inching closer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “I still want to know.”

You huffed, debating whether to tell him the truth or not.

“What exactly do you want to know?” You asked, a mix of hesitation and willingness in your voice, ready to answer his question.

“Mmm... I don’t know, when did you know?” He asked, his tone casual, though his eyes held a deeper curiosity.

“I was a kid, Yoongi,” You replied, your voice softening, as if the memory itself were a weight.

“What about it? I’m curious.”

Maybe you were the only one in the room who found it embarrassing, because Yoongi wasn’t judging you—he was simply asking, genuinely interested. But the answer… it came from somewhere deep inside, a place you couldn’t quite reach, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn’t something that could be spoken so easily, yet here you were, on the verge of telling him.

You smiled, closing your eyes. “The thing is… that I don’t think is something that I can remember, Yoongi.” You confessed “It’s embarrassing because maybe I always felt that way. I was never the kind of kid who could be easily understood, but you did, and in those moments where you didn't, you sided with me anyway. And I don't know, I felt like you saw right through me and I liked that. I guess that messed with my head, because I knew that what I felt was somewhat irrational but I couldn't make it go away, I tried but I still can't. I have always been kind of a loser.”

Yoongi’s chest tightened, as though a quiet ache settled in, deep and raw. It was as if he could sense the weight behind your words—the hesitation, the vulnerability—but he knew they were nothing but the truth. You couldn’t remember when your feelings for him began, because, in a way, he had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface of your thoughts.

He reached out, his hand gently threading through your hair before sliding down your back, pulling you closer to him.

“You're not a loser, Pinky,” He murmured, his voice low and steady as his fingers found the back of your neck, keeping you anchored to him. “And you’re not difficult to understand. You’re not irrational, or crazy, or losing your mind.” A soft laugh escaped you as you listened to him list off your most frequent self-deprecating phrases.

“Isn’t it a bit embarrassing, though?” You whispered, the words barely escaping your lips

“What, having a crush?” He asked, letting out a small chuckle.

You nodded, but a part of you wanted to shake your head, to clarify that it wasn’t just about the crush. It was the way you had fallen in love with him—because, somehow, he was the only one who could ever truly understand you.

“For this long?” You whispered. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” He replied, his fingers gently tracing through your hair, the touch soothing.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you pressed a kiss to his chest, settling closer against him. You felt a wave of warmth washing all over your body. 

“You're too good to me.”

He let out a soft laugh, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Come here,” He murmured, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer with ease. “I want to kiss you until you give me a toothache.”

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his touch as his hands cupped your face. “I’m too sour to give you a toothache.”

“No, you're sweet,” He insisted, his grip tightening around your waist. With a playful move, he slid one of your legs around his, drawing you onto his lap. “You're nauseatingly sweet. Now shut up, sit here.” You settled on his lap, still shaking your head in defiance, even as your body remained pressed against his. “I want you to ride me.”

You snorted, surprised. “I have to shower...” You murmured, trying to pull back, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders to create some distance.

“Ride me first,” he breathed, his voice low and insistent. “Then we’ll shower.”

He leaned in for a kiss, grabbing your waist to keep you pressed to his body. “We?” You asked against his lips, chuckling.

You didn’t forget the fact that you were still naked, he kept kissing you, aligning your hips so he could rub your slit with his cock, making you wince. “Don’t you want to shower with me?” He innocently asked, pressing down your body against him so there was no space between the two of you.

You bit his lip, making him let out a small moan against your mouth. “Maybe…” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Why would I want to?”

“‘Cause I’ll make you cum.” He said without any trace of hesitation in his voice.

You groaned, rolling your hips against his body. “Really?” You kept teasing. He nodded, leaning back against the headboard, his hands sliding to your ass to pull you closer. “How?”

He raised his hips to meet your entrance, teasing your clit with every movement. From a second to another, you were trapped in a trance again. “First, I’m fucking you with my fingers.” He slowly said, his voice deep as he left a kiss on your neck, his palms gripping your ass to press you closer to him. You nodded, enjoying the way he handled you as he pleased. “And when you’re close I’m gonna start eating out that lovely pussy of yours. But when you think you’re just about to cum I’ll stop.” You whimpered, your head already spinning at the thought. The only logical thought in your mind was that Yoongi should be thrown in jail for the way he spoke, and the way he was moving. “I will only fuck you with my cock when you’re begging me to fill you with my cum, would you like that?” You let out a shaky breath, nodding, not thinking much about what you were agreeing to. “Would you like me to cum inside you, baby?” 

You nodded pathetically, your eyes fluttering shut as he ease the ache between your legs every time he rolled his hips against your body. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, feeling completely ridiculous at the thought of cumming like this. Suddenly, he stopped his movements, making you open your eyes to look at him. 

Yoongi was looking at you with a mischievous smirk on his face, ready to tease you. “Or I can let you go, I don’t mind.” He murmured, leaving an innocent kiss on your lips. 

You punched his arm, annoyed at him. “Fuck you.”

It was like the secrets of the world were held inside Yoongi’s bedroom, because you haven’t left since you arrived. 

You knew you should probably leave, give your mother a New Year’s kiss in person rather than sending a quick text, change into fresh clothes, and get some proper sleep. But inside these four walls, it was as if time had not passed. You’d woken up this morning beside him, determined to be the kind of girl who slipped away early, left no trace and didn't linger. But instead of the cold chill of the morning, you felt the warmth of his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, his breath soft against your neck. So, you let yourself stay just a few seconds longer, waiting for him to wake up first.

You stayed in bed until he offered one of his t-shirts to wear and kissed your nose, he only left the bed to make breakfast.

Now you were kneeling on the floor, lowering your head to search under Yoongi’s bed for your dress. You wondered what would be worse: showing up at home in Yoongi’s clothes or wearing last night’s dress.

“What are you looking for?” You heard his voice behind you. You sat up, turning your attention to him. He was still wrapped in his morning look—gray sweatpants, a black tee, and ruffled hair, probably thanks to you. Damn, he looked good.

“My dress.” You explained “Where did you throw it?” 

“Oh, I put it in my wardrobe,” He answered casually, extending his hand to help you up from the floor. You took it, trying to keep the shirt you were wearing from hiking up—though it was a losing battle. “Why?”

“I’d better get going,” You said shyly, nodding towards the door. 

“Why?” He repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well, um…” You stammered, searching for an answer, but you didn’t have one.

“You can stay,” he interrupted, his tone firm.

“I don’t know… I have no clothes.” The words felt foolish as soon as they left your mouth.

He scoffed. “You have clothes.” He scanned your body from head to toe, but all you were wearing was an old shirt that still smelled like his perfume and a pair of boxers he’d kindly offered you after tossing your black panties in the wash. You didn’t actually have clothes. “You’re dressed right now.” He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your waist over the fabric of his shirt. You unconsciously stepped towards him, letting him cup your face with one of his hands.“I wish you weren’t, though.” 

“Yoongi…” You whined, hypnotized by the way he bit his bottom lip.

“What?” He murmured.

“My mom?…” You mumbled, making him laugh once again. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, his knee slowly pushing between your legs—was he trying to make you trip into his bed?

You gripped his shoulders tightly, determined to stay on your feet.

“I bet your mom’s just fine,” He said, his voice laced with mockery. “Unless you want to leave.”

His knee pressed deeper into your thigh, but you fought back, unwilling to let gravity win so easily.

You tried to come up with a clever, sassy response, something that would shut down his attempts to make you blush, but you were too focused on not falling into his bed. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, lowering his voice and pulling your face closer with his grip.

You pursed your lips, finally losing the battle with gravity as you tumbled into the bed, pulling him down with you. Your eyes locked for a brief moment, the room so still you could hear the pounding of your own heartbeat and the soft sound of his hands running up your thighs, squeezing the skin beneath the fabric of his boxers.

“Or do you want to stay?” He murmured, his breath hot against your ear, though the words seemed to echo in your mind.

You were too proud to say anything, he should’ve known you didn’t like to ask for things, but he was proud as well, he needed you to say it, and maybe this time you wanted to do it.

“I’ll stay...” You whispered, making him smirk. 

“Mmm… I won’t argue with that.” He murmured, pressing your nose against yours and kissing you with his mouth open, melting you under his body as his hands did the rest of the work.

And when you finished, tangled with each other, with his nose buried in your neck and his body on top of yours, he breathed out. You sighed, observing the watch on his wrist next to your head, it was only eleven in the morning. And that should be the perfect moment to run away before he kicked you out, but when you tried to move under his body, you found his gaze. 

“What?” He smiled, gripping your waist so you stayed there. 

“Nothing…” You said “Am not allowed to look at you now?” 

“No, you are.” He said “You’re just not allowed to look at me like you’re about to tell me you have to run away- I mean, that you have to leave.” 

You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, you’ll get tired of me.”

He braced himself on his arms, lowering his hands into the mattress as he hovered above you, just like he had five minutes ago before you came undone under him. The memory sent a flutter through your stomach, but now, he looked cute—confused by your words.

“You know, if you leave, I’m just going to follow you home, right?” He said, catching you off guard.

“Are you serious?” You scoffed. 

“I mean, what are you going to say? You have no clothes, you have to shower, you have to see your mom?” 

You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I want to see my mom?” You teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Leave your mom alone, Pinky,” He shot back, grinning. You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Stay with me today.”

You tilted your head, eyes searching his lips. “And what about tomorrow?”

“Stay with me tomorrow too,” He insisted, his voice soft but firm. “And the day after, as well.”

“You have no idea what you're getting yourself into...” You warned, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” He said, his gaze steady. “Trust me, I do.”

You wondered how long you could stay before you snapped out of the trance, how many kisses you could give, how many secrets you could share, how many times he could lift your shirt up your chest, kiss your stomach, kiss your neck. It was like the secrets of the world were held inside Yoongi’s bedroom, because after that you couldn’t escape his hands for the whole day.

Yoongi’s apartment suddenly became a universe of its own. He played music while you danced through the kitchen. He put on a movie as the snow fell outside, and you snuck onto his bed, napped wrapped in his arms, and woke up just in time for dinner.

For a moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place. Yoongi showed you pictures of the hotel he was planning to book for your getaway to the beach, mentioning that he’d considered booking two rooms but now didn’t think it was necessary. You received a call from Simon, but you simply wished him a happy New Year without telling him anything. You texted your mom, letting her know you were with Yoongi, and she didn’t ask any questions. You texted Minnie, but her response was quite different—she bombarded you with almost twenty texts, begging you to tell her everything. 

Yoongi was serious, he wouldn’t let you go that easily. After dinner he trapped you in bed and kissed you till you were out of breath, making you promise that you’ll stay the night again. 

“What if I have other plans?” You murmured as you brushed the hair away from his face.

“What other plans would you have?” He teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I don’t know, what if I have to see a boy?” You shot back, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Mmm, what boy?” He asked.

You bit your lip, sensing the opportunity waiting for you to seize it.

“I think you know him, actually,” You said, shifting slightly under him. You seemed to find yourself in that position more often than you realized. “His name’s Namjoon. Does that ring any bells?”

Yoongi blinked, clearly caught off guard, before letting out a soft chuckle. He grinned mischievously, then quickly reached for your sides, tickling you until you squirmed. “You’re asking for it now,” He teased, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in to nip playfully at the skin there.

You burst out laughing, trying to wiggle away. “Stop! Stop, I’m serious!” you gasped between laughs, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you tried to push him off.

Present

By the time Friday came, you had already decided you were on vacation. After a few calls with Sally and another few calls with your publicist, you had cleared your schedule completely and you were free to do whatever you wanted for the next three months. You supposed you deserved it, or that was what you were trying to convince yourself about as you had breakfast and planned what you were going to do today —which was nothing. 

As the days passed, the news, reporters, and everyone else trying to reach you for a statement began to forget about you, it turned out to be that you weren’t the most important person in the world, and saying no to a marriage proposal wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve done. The world kept spinning and everyone moved on to the next scandal, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away that quick.

You tried contacting Ian countless times. At first, all you wanted was to confront him and to ask him to tell you the truth, but by the tenth attempt, you were ready to curse him and his entire family. The fact that he had blocked your number only confirmed what you suspected—he was the one who leaked the pictures. 

Making peace with it felt impossible; it was as though you’d been lying beside a stranger, an enemy, for nearly four years. You wondered if he felt the same about you right now—if that was why he did what he did. But you weren’t the most forgiving person to exist, nor was forgetting in your nature. So even if some part of you knew it might be healthier to let go, you clung to the bitterness, feeling it settle deep inside you, a grudge you were ready to carry for as long as it took. Letting go simply wasn’t an option.

Still, you didn’t let the whole scandal ruin your main plan—an early vacation in October. But it seemed your friend Minnie, sitting across from you with a glare that could kill, was more than ready to.

Minnie didn’t keep insisting you on helping her with The Alley, but you knew that she was counting on you. You promised to go with her today, but the fact that you didn’t say a word about it the whole week was beginning to make her think that you changed your mind. 

“I’m going with you today.” You said without taking your eyes off your phone. “You don’t need to look at me like that.” 

You heard her sigh in relief. “God, I was afraid you would say no.”

“I said I would the other day, didn’t I?” You reminded her, making her roll her eyes. 

“Yes, like you are a person who doesn’t change her mind at all.” 

You laughed, letting her comment slide. 

By the afternoon, you were standing at the door of The Alley, waiting behind Minnie as she tried each one of the fifty keys of the keyring in locks of the large wooden doors. “I never know which key is.” She murmured under her breath, annoyed. 

You weren’t of much help, all you could do was observe her as she cursed Sid for not labeling the keys, hiding in your scarf just in case she took it on you as well. Minnie peered through the keyhole, as if she could glimpse the shape of the lock and somehow figure out which key would fit. You took a look around at the park, which was completely desolated, except for the view of two people approaching down the street. 

It took you exactly two seconds to figure out who that was, after all, you had memorized every tiny bit of Yoongi’s personality, including the way he walked. There he was, this time dressed casually, with a black hoodie on and a black cap over his head, laughing and chatting with a blonde girl who you didn’t recognize at all.

You turned immediately, pretending you hadn’t just seen him and that girl heading in your direction. Your first instinct was to curse Minnie for not warning you that Yoongi would be here, but, in fairness, she had mentioned he’d be around—and you had assured her it didn’t bother you. Still, you hadn’t expected him to appear the moment you arrived. For the sake of keeping your word, you played dumb, pretending not to have seen him.

“This is pissing me off.” Said your friend, straightening up and wiping the sweat off her forehead. She looked around, catching the glimpse of Yoongi almost as quickly as you did. “Oh, don’t turn around.” She warned you as she waved at him, faking a smile. “You don’t want to know who’s coming.”

“I already know.” You gritted through your teeth.

“How did you know?” she whispered, raising an eyebrow. “Did you feel him coming? How? Do you have some kind of spidey sense I don’t know about? Like… an ex-boyfriend radar or something?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. No. I saw him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, but you just shrugged, already hearing steps behind you, slowing down as they approached you.

“Hey, guys,” Minnie said with a polite smile, holding up the jangling keyring. “Am I late? I’ve been wrestling with these keys.”

Yoongi’s eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of unease flashing across his face before he shifted his gaze to the blonde girl beside him. Her expression froze for just a moment, her gaze landing on you with a slight look of recognition, but you barely acknowledged it, focusing instead on the uncomfortable pause that followed.  “Uh… no, you’re fine,” He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think we’re just a bit early.”

You murmured a quiet “hi,” watching as Yoongi stepped towards Minnie. “Let me see,” he said in that low voice of his, reaching for the keyring. Minnie handed it over eagerly, clearly too flustered to remember introductions, but you didn’t mind. You had no interest in learning who Yoongi had shown up with—not in the slightest. “I already told you which one it is.”

In what universe Yoongi knew which key opened the doors of The Alley? Apparently, in this one. In a matter of seconds he had found the key and opened without any problem, leaving Minnie thanking him. 

“I need to label it before I lose it again.” She said.

The blonde watched them both, her gaze flickering to you for just a moment before returning to Yoongi. She shifted her weight, as if she was waiting for something else to happen while Yoongi and Minnie exchanged words, but you kept quiet. You were quite used to people recognizing you on the street, especially in your hometown where every single person knew your name, that didn’t mean that you enjoyed it. 

“Look, it has different slots from the other ones.” He showed her, and Minnie looked carefully as he pointed the key. 

“Fine, I’ll try to remember.” She nodded, grabbing the keyring from his hands. “Now enter, time to work.”

Minnie clapped her hands as she stepped inside, disappearing ahead and leaving you, Yoongi, and the blonde girl—someone you'd never seen before—standing there, exchanging glances as if there were something unspoken between you all. The blonde shifted her gaze to you briefly, her expression unreadable yet somehow expectant. You felt a knot tightening in your chest and quickly slipped past them without acknowledging it, catching up to Minnie and putting the awkwardness of the moment behind you.

“You can play some music if you want.” Said Minnie, disappearing through a hall that led to the office.

You hurried towards her, leaving Yoongi and his friend behind without a backward glance.

“Why does Yoongi know how to open the doors, and you don’t?” You whispered, quickening your steps to keep up with Minnie.

“I told you, he’s here all the time,” She replied, barely slowing down as she moved ahead. “He has to fix some lights from the theater today.” 

“And... who was that?” You asked, slipping into the office and closing the door behind you a little faster than necessary.

Minnie dropped her bag on the desk with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t know—some girl he’s seeing now,” She replied, shrugging. “She’s just here to keep him company. I doubt she cares much about The Alley, but hey, not my business.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling the faintest stir of something you couldn’t quite name. You pushed it aside—no need to dwell on it.

“How do you know?” You asked, trying to sound casual. “Is he your personal friend now?”

She chuckled, sitting back in her chair. “We’re friendly,” the redhead replied, her tone light as if that wasn’t the biggest betrayal of all.

You let yourself fall into the chair across from her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” She said with a shrug. “I don’t really have a choice.” Then, her gaze met yours. “We don’t talk about you, though. He doesn’t dare say your name.”

“He doesn’t mention me but he talks about the girls he’s seeing?” You asked, crossing your arms above your chest. 

“Yes, it’s like he’s seen a ghost everytime someone says your name, it’s funny.” She said “And why are you asking, anyway? Are you jealous?” She teased. 

You couldn’t deny that the fact that Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear your name gave you a little bit of satisfaction, but knowing that he also shared the details of his most recent date with who was supposed to be your best friend pissed you off. 

“You’re a traitor, Minnie,” You muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Didn’t you say you had no problem with him being around?” She shot back, using your own words against you. “He’s helping out with everything. I can’t exactly avoid being friendly.”

You huffed, already knowing she was right, but it didn’t stop the sting of betrayal. “Still…” you grumbled, unable to hide the bitterness in your tone. “You’re supposed to be on my side, one hundred percent.”

“I have to choose my battles, honey.” She sighed, paying little attention to your tantrum. “For the sake of this place, at least.” 

You exhaled sharply, leaning back in your chair, arms still crossed. “Guess I can’t argue with that,” You muttered, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice, but it still seeped through.

Minnie slipped through some papers on the desk, glancing up to you. “Besides… I can be on your side, which I am, and still be friendly to him. I’m not trying to brainwash you, but he’s a great guy, you know? Overall…”

“I know that.” You said, defeated, “I know that more than anyone.”

Your friend didn’t need to convince you; you knew better than anyone how impossible it was to dislike Yoongi. You knew that he was a great man, a great son, a great neighbor. That he loved his mother, was the best friend of everyone and girls loved him. And yet, it was for all those reasons that you resented him. If only he were just a little less of all those things, a little more selfish, maybe—just maybe—he might have chosen you.

Four years ago

You have never been the kind of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but the next morning, tangled in sheets under Yoongi’s body, you were. 

That afternoon you inevitably had to say goodbye to him, but not without him putting on a good fight first. His mom was coming back from vacation that night and you refused to be there when she arrived just to find you wearing her son’s clothes as pajamas for the second day in a row, even if Yoongi argued that there was nothing wrong with it since she’d known you all your life. At the end he ended up agreeing with you, deciding that maybe you were right and driving you home.

You walked backwards towards the porch, blowing kisses to Yoongi, who sat in his car, trying to catch each one of them. He waited until you opened the door and winked at you, waving a goodbye before starting the car and disappearing. Closing the door behind you, you felt your heart beating against your ribcage, threatening to escape from your body. You leaned against the door for a moment, feeling the weight of the silence that filled the space around you. Your breath was shallow, your chest tight, as if the air itself was heavier now that he was gone. 

You had always been in love with Yoongi; it was a weight you had carried for most of your life. You had grown tired of trying to get rid of it, learning to live with it as if it were a curse. But this time, it felt different, it was like love was supposed to feel like. 

You wanted things to sink in and be as far from him as you possibly could, but as soon as you heard the car driving away, a sudden urge to run and look for him took over you. 

Still, you lay in bed for the rest of the day, feeling like you were sixteen again, wondering if it was okay to text him first. What should you say? That you had a great time? That you wanted to see him again? You wished he could have just appeared at your doorstep without you having to ask. You wished to hear the sound of a rock against your window, only to find out it was him, calling for you.

Later that night, you did receive a text from Yoongi, though not in the way you had imagined.

Almost all of Yoongi’s memories were of just him and his mom together. The concept of family had always been different for him than it was for everyone else, but he had learned to embrace it. Even so, he often wished things could have been different—that his mother didn’t have to work two jobs, that he didn’t have to spend so much time in other people’s homes, that the concept of a family of two didn’t come with so many complications. 

Yoongi had spent most of his childhood with nannies and Simon’s mom, observing how Lila took her of her children and hoping that image could be his instead. 

He grew up trying not to cause much trouble, working to help his mom, studying hard, and striving to earn a full scholarship. Between long hours at part-time jobs and nights spent pouring over textbooks, he found himself attending to her when her health took a turn—making meals, running errands, or simply sitting by her side to ensure she was comfortable. The weight of responsibility shaped him early, leaving little room for his own dreams, doing everything he could to lighten her burden while quietly dreaming of a future where neither of them had to struggle.

His mother had become a priority and he never complained, he loved her, but in the meantime he was slowly forgetting about himself without noticing. 

That night, Yoongi had created a group chat to inform all his family that his mother had suffered an accident on her way home from vacation. She had fallen, breaking her hip in the process, and now required surgery as soon as possible. The tone of his message was calm, almost detached, as if he were trying to keep the weight of the situation from overwhelming anyone. Still, you could feel the urgency behind his words, the unspoken worry pressing between the lines. 

His message said that she was going into surgery in a few hours and that his aunt was with him, but didn’t answer any other message for the rest of the night until the next morning, when he announced that the surgery had gone okay and that Nari was fine, though she didn’t wake up yet.  

You felt a whole carving in your chest just by thinking of him, handling the situation alone. You knew that Yoongi always tried to convince everyone he was fine on his own, that he didn’t need anyone’s help, but you couldn’t shake the image of him sitting in a hospital chair, exhausted and worn, holding it together for everyone else while no one held it together for him. 

Even if you wanted to visit Nari, to be there for both of them, Yoongi explicitly said that people could only visit her once she was at home, three days later.

That very same morning you began your ten block walk to Yoongi’s home, starting to feel your feet getting frozen inside of your monochrome black Converse, your fingers numbing inside your half finger gloves and a strange feeling in your gut that was slowly creeping up on you.

You tried to tell yourself that it was the bad taste that left you the news of the accident, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of worry, hence the anxious feeling in your stomach. Even if Yoongi had said that everything went alright, you still were worried.

You turned around and looked at the end of the street where your home was, wondering if you should go back and take your car, but you ultimately buried your hands in the pockets of your jacket and decided to carry on your way; ten blocks in the snow never killed anyone. 

When you started to approach the old building, flashbacks immediately assaulted your memory in the least subtle of ways, it was like every kiss lingered in your skin, you couldn’t wash them off.

You rang the bell, announced yourself and in less than five minutes you were in front of Yoongi’s door like you were a few days ago. 

“Pinky, I-... I didn’t know you were coming.” Was the first thing he said. 

Yoongi’s face was a map of exhaustion, his eyelids hung heavy and the skin beneath his eyes shadowed by the weight of sleepless nights. 

“Hi to you too,” you mumbled.

“Sorry... Hi. You surprised me,” Yoongi replied, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. “I wanted to see Nari. I tried to text you, but-”

“I haven’t been paying attention to my phone,” He interrupted, his gaze dropping for a brief moment, a tired sigh escaping him.

You frowned slightly, unsure if it was the weariness or something else. “Yeah, I’m sure. But I was hoping she’d be here already.”

“We arrived a few hours ago,” He explained, his voice low, as if the weight of the past few hours still clung to him.

Silence stretched between you, the kind that felt heavy, as if neither of you knew quite how to fill it.

“How are you?” You said, taking a step closer to him.

“I’m okay now that she’s home,” Yoongi admitted, his voice low and strained. “But… I was so stressed I thought I was going to pass out.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a pang of helplessness surging through you. You fought the urge to pull him into an embrace, knowing it wouldn’t erase the exhaustion carved into him.

“What exactly happened?” You pressed gently, your tone careful.

Yoongi exhaled, leaning briefly against the doorframe, his gaze distant. “She slipped and landed in the worst possible way. Her hip… it didn’t just crack. It broke clean through, but not in the middle, more on the edge, closer to where it connects to the rest of her leg. They said the pieces weren’t in the right place anymore, and they had to go in and put it back together” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. “I wasn’t even with her. It was my aunt who called me, and by the time I got to the hospital, they were already preparing her for surgery.”

“How is she?” You asked softly, glancing at him.

“She’s... recovering,” Yoongi said, running a hand through his hair. “The doctors said the bone broke just outside the joint. They had to put this metal nail inside her thigh bone and screw it into place to hold everything steady so it can heal.”

“A nail?” You repeated, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “It’s supposed to keep the bone stable. They said it’s the best way to fix this kind of break. She’s in a lot of pain, though.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for her... or for you.” You took a step closer, watching the weariness in his expression.

Yoongi let out a shaky breath. “She’s tough, though. Tougher than me, that’s for sure.”

You kept silent for a second. “Can I see her?” You almost whispered, unsure, but he quickly moved away from the door.

“Yeah, of course.” He said, suddenly remembering you were still outside of his home. “Come in, she’ll be happy to see you. I’ll let her know first.”

You stood in the living room as you watched him disappear through the hall where both of their rooms were, trying to avoid any kind of memory you had from a few nights ago. Why did you have to think of that in moments like these?

After a few seconds, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face from the hall, telling you to follow him. You followed his voice, entering Nari’s room without making much noise. 

She was laying in bed with a blanket draped over her legs. She looked up as you entered, her eyes lighting up with a welcoming smile that made her seem so much like Yoongi, and yet, not entirely. She was clearly in pain, but her cheerfulness masked it, her eyes twinkling with the same kindness you remembered. 

“Oh sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Nari said warmly, her voice a little strained but genuine. “I didn’t expect you to drop by.”

“How come? I wanted to come check on you.” You smiled, taking a cautious step closer “Simon and my mom, too. They all want to see you.”

“Oh, they don’t have to!” She waved off “I’ll be on my feet in no time, this was nothing.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before shifting to Yoongi, who was quietly standing behind you. 

You glanced over at him, catching the flicker of something unreadable in his expression before he quickly masked it. You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you didn’t dare in front of his mother. Instead, you focused on her, trying to offer a comforting smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Nari,” You said, your voice soft but sincere. “It must’ve been scary.”

“Oh, I’ve had worse.” She shifted her weight slightly, and you could see a flash of discomfort cross her face, but she quickly masked it with another smile. “It’s just a little fracture. Nothing to worry about, really.”

Yoongi shifted, his hands gripping the keys in his pocket, eyes flicking towards his mom before looking back at you. “The doctors said she needs to use a wheelchair for a while.” He interrupted, as if he was trying to remind his mom rather than telling you about it. 

Nari gave him a sharp look, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a softer, more forced smile. “I’m okay. Really, I’m tougher than I look.” She looked up at you.

You nodded, but something in the way she looked at Yoongi made you pause. There was an underlying tension there, something unspoken. You weren’t sure if it was because of the accident or something else, but it felt like you had stepped into a moment that wasn’t meant for you.

“I’ll be fine,” Nari repeated, as if to reassure both you and Yoongi. “I’m just happy to see you two together. It’s been so long since you visited.”

You smiled, trying to match her enthusiasm. “We should all get together sometime soon, once you’re feeling better.”

You could tell she was trying to downplay everything, to act like it was just another ordinary day. But the quiet discomfort in the room, the way Yoongi stood slightly apart from her, told a different story.

You watched Yoongi shift again, clearly uncomfortable with the way things were, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We should let you rest, Mom.”

Nari smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. You two go on.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in the room like a heavy cloud, but not wanting to draw it out any longer. As you followed Yoongi out, you could still feel in your stomach the feeling you had when you left your house earlier.

Yoongi held the door open for you as you stepped out of the living room, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator at the end of the hall, the silence stretching between you like an invisible thread. Yoongi pressed the call button, and the sound of Yoongi opening the door of the elevator was the only sound that broke the stillness.

Inside, the faint hum of the elevator motor filled the space as you both stood side by side. You stole a glance at him, noticing the way his hands fidgeted slightly in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor numbers on the wall.

“You okay?” You asked, looking at his soft face. He glanced up, his eyes sidetracking towards your lips before looking away. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He simply said. 

Yoongi stepped out first, waiting for you to follow before leading the way through the lobby and towards the glass doors at the exit. The cold morning air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, sharp and bracing after the warmth of the building. Yoongi stuffed his hands deeper into his jeans pockets, his breath visible in the frosty air as he exhaled. You tightened your own coat around you, walking alongside him as the wind tugged at your hair.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” You wondered out loud, watching him closing the door behind him, clutching the keys in his hand as he leaned against the stair railing beside you. 

“Nothing, she just…keeps picking fights with me. She’s been unbearable since the surgery.” He sighed, frustration heavy in his voice. “She tries to tell everyone it’s nothing but it’s not like that. She didn’t like it when the doctor told her she had to use a wheelchair, she refused.” 

You looked up at him. Yoongi had always been taller than you, making you tilt your chin just slightly to meet his gaze. “She needs time to process it. You know how she is—she’s never liked being helped. Just give her space, and she’ll come around. Don’t be too hard on her, okay?”

He let out a sharp breath. “It’s her who’s being hard on me,” He muttered. He shook his head, the frustration evident in his eyes. “Did you see the way she looked at me? The only reason she was being nice was because you were there.”

“I know it’s tough,” You said softly, “but she’s not used to this. Just a few days ago, everything was normal, and now she’s facing this huge change—she has to use a wheelchair for who knows how long. The meds might be messing with her mood too.”

“The meds are driving her crazy,” He affirmed.

“Well, see? It’s not your fault.” You said, reaching your hand to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing everything you can, she will come around.” 

Yoongi closed his eyes when he felt your fingertips close to his face, there was something about your touch that burned him through his skin, pulling him into a trance. 

A silence settled between the two of you, you shared a glance with him, your eyes meeting each other like a secret. It was like you could see everything that happened in his room a few nights ago just by looking him in the eye, like every kiss and every word were still palpable in the air. 

On the surface, Yoongi knew he should be worried about other things, that his mother was the most important thing right now, but in the back of his mind there was you, laying on his bed as you begged him for one more kiss, one more touch. Oh, how he wished he could turn back time to be trapped inside his room with you alone again, like you were the only people in the world. 

“Pinky, I-”

“Yoongi-” 

The words crashed into each other, a quiet storm of unspoken things hanging in the air between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid that night pressing down on the space between your breaths.

“We…” He tried to say, but he cut himself.  “I’m sorry for not calling.”

You shook your head, waving it off “It’s okay, I understand. I just wanted to check on both of you.”

“I wanted to call you,” He said, his voice quieter than usual. “And I wanted to see you… but I couldn’t.”

“It’s alright, Yoongi…” You murmured, but his gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes avoiding yours like they were afraid of something.

“Pinky, about the trip to the beach-”

You cut him off gently, your voice firm despite the softness. “I’m not thinking about the trip to the beach.” You paused, feeling the weight of your words. “I was worried about your mom, I was worried about you.”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, his voice tight as he looked away. 

“Yoongi, the trip can wait.” You insisted, but something told you that this wasn’t about the trip 

He inhaled sharply, his breath shaky, as if the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His gaze darted to the side, then back to you.

“That’s the thing, Pinky, I don’t think it can.” His voice cracked slightly, a crack in the armor he'd been holding up. Suddenly, you felt your chest tighten, the words weighing heavily in the air. “I just… I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I’ve been doing some thinking in the hospital, and I-” He paused, his breath hitching like he was trying to swallow something painful. “I don’t know how to say this, but maybe… we should leave this right here.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, the sudden shift in his words making it feel like the ground had disappeared beneath you. “I- What do you mean?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Pinky,” He murmured, his voice barely audible now, thick with regret. His eyes flicked away, unable to meet yours. “For everything. I wanted to call you and explain… but I couldn’t. I was afraid you thought I used you and-”

“I never thought that.” You rushed to say, confused. “Why would I?”

Yoongi looked at you, at a loss for words, but he couldn’t stand holding your gaze for more than one second, even if you desperately tried to meet his eyes, as if that could make him make some sense. 

“I don’t know, I-” He struggled to say. “I just wanted you to know that I said the truth the other night, you know that? I wasn’t lying but-”

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, your heart racing as a wave of nausea hit you.

He exhaled sharply, eyes dropping to the floor, still refusing to meet your eyes.. “Pinky… whatever happened these past few weeks… it shouldn’t have happened.” His voice was low, almost regretful. You felt a cold chill creep into your bones. The air between you had shifted, heavy and suffocating.

“Yoongi, why are you saying this?” 

You took a step closer to him, but you felt his breath hitching, attempting to run away from you. 

“Because I can’t leave to follow you, I can’t run away with you.” He firmly said, breaking your heart into a million pieces. “For the sake of everyone.”

You frowned, your chest tightening. “For the sake of everyone, or for your sake only?” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to shield yourself from the cold that wasn’t just coming from the air. It was coming from him, too.

He threw his head back in frustration, closing his eyes, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. He wasn’t willing to turn this into a fight, but he clearly underestimated you if he thought you would just stay silent.

“Pinky, don’t make things more difficult.” He begged, but that only made it worse. 

You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped you. “Yeah, but I can’t, can I? That’s always been my job, right?” You said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your anger. “I always have to make things difficult.”

He shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping him. “C’mon, I didn’t say that. You’re making things up.”

You tried to maintain your composure, but the effort was slipping away. The knot in your throat grew tight, and it felt like your chest was about to crack open. Maybe it was in your nature to make this more difficult, to create a fight, to be resentful, but you couldn’t just stand there, pretending this wasn’t nonsense, that what he said wasn’t completely different from what he said nights ago. You couldn’t pretend this wasn’t hurting. 

“Then, what is it?” You asked “It’s not me? It’s you?” 

The silence that followed was overwhelming, the weight of his words settling in the space between you like a wall.

“It’s us.” He pronounced, his words hitting the air like thunder, reverberating down the empty street, carving themselves deep into your chest.  “We are different, we- I can’t.”

For a moment it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just his voice. You swallowed hard, the burn of tears creeping into the corners of your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “Wasn’t it always like that?” You managed to choke out, your voice trembling, raw with hurt. “Because this isn’t what you told me the other night. What was it? That you wanted me? That you couldn’t stop dreaming of me? That I was the solution to all your problems?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Am I just supposed to walk away and accept it was all bullshit?”

You felt your cheeks burning red and your hands trembling as you closed them into fists. Your heart pounded so loudly in your ears you could barely hear your own words anymore.  Handling your emotions the correct way wasn’t one of your qualities, because you hadn’t even realized you were raising your voice until Yoongi took a step forward, the heat of his presence forcing your breath to catch in your throat. You faltered, trying to steady yourself, but it was impossible.

“I told you I wasn’t lying to you.” He reminded you, his voice filled with emotions. “It wasn’t bullshit, I meant what I said, you are a dream of a girl, Pinky. But you… you drive me crazy.” He sighed, as if the words were tearing him apart. “Even when everything that was happening with my mom, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you, do you know how fucked up that sounds? I can’t let you do that to me.”

“What?” You spat. “Would that be so bad?”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shutting briefly, as if to block out the entire world. “Please, you know this.” His voice was strained now, almost pleading. “We can’t ignore it forever, I have to stop it now. You could never stay in one place, and even if I wanted to run away with you, I can’t. I have to stay here.”

“I was not going to run away. Not with you here.”

“And next year?” he asked, his tone sharp with frustration. “What happens next year? Or in five years? When you realize this isn’t what you wanted and you pack your bags again?—because I know you, do you think I don’t? You can’t stay, you never do. And I can’t leave.”

It was as if every cruel word the world had ever aimed at you, every harsh truth or bitter lie, was now coming from the lips of the one person who had always been on your side. You could understand that Yoongi was sad, tired and angry, but this was crossing the line. 

You tried to fight the tears, but they fell anyway, unable to defend yourself. What could you say? That it wasn’t true? Betraying your dignity and trying to convince him that staying with you was worth the shot? That it wasn’t as crazy as he made it sound? No. You had spent your life waiting for people to like you, but today you were stopping it. You stood there, not willing to wipe your tears and pointed to his chest, angry.

“God, you’re a fucking coward.” Your breath trembled, uneven, trying to hold it together.

“Pinky, please,” He breathed out, his voice low and desperate as he reached for your face.

“Don’t call me that.” You took a step back, shaking your head, your chest tightening. “I know you, too, you know? And I know this isn’t about me this time, this time it’s about you being afraid like you’ve always been.”

“Stop, please,” he begged again, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. But you couldn’t stop; anger burned through you, mixing with the ache in your chest, with the tears threatening to spill. You were angry, you were upset, you were fucking sad.

“Why?” you snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. “Is this not what you expected me to say? Or did you want me to admit that you’re right, like you always are—that I’m unpredictable, and a mess, and that I just don’t fit into your life like a normal girl would?”

“Y/n, I didn’t say any of that.” He replied softly, his eyes wide and pained, his shoulders sinking under the weight of your words.

The sound of your name ringed in your ears, but you ignored it. He didn’t say that but that was exactly what he meant, he couldn’t deny that.  

“You know, I don’t even care about the road trip,” You said, your voice trembling with restrained frustration as you stepped down one step, still facing him. “There would have been plenty of chances for that, fine. Whatever.” You paused, gripping the railing, your breath unsteady. “And your mom? Of course she needs your help now, I wasn’t gonna complain, how could I? And next year? Sure, she’ll probably still need you. But in five years?” You looked straight at him, your eyes sharp, filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. “In five years, your mom’s going to hate that the only thing you ever did with your life was take care of her.”

Your voice cracked then, but you didn’t stop. “And me? Even if I’d love to do it, I won’t be here to tell you I told you so.”

Yoongi’s face was a mix of disbelief and hurt, the corners of his mouth tightening as if trying to hold back a response that wasn’t coming. You turned around, not sparing him another glance as you almost ran towards your home, ignoring your name being called over and over again from the voice of the man who just broke your heart. 

Yoongi was painfully always there in your life. He was always the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have. When you turned the corner at the end of the street, determined not to look back, you decided that maybe now was time for you to accept it and finally move on. 

taglist: taglist: @kingofbodyrolls, @overtherainbow35, @namin13, @p34rluv, @moonchild1, @yoongisoftface , @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts , @yoongisducky , @bangtansmauyeondan , @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater @ot7stansthings @curiouslioncutie @jalexad

[dinsbeskar]

Subjugate the Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

Sauron has a nightmare. You are only too happy to oblige in making him forget; or:

Sub!Sauron makes a lengthy appearance. Plot, what plot?

Set in my In The Dark series, but works as a standalone (alludes to trauma mentioned in other chapters, but it is literally just smut) // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Disease by Lady Gaga, Don't Let Me Go by Raign, Like a Prayer by Madonna, Oh You Are Not Well by Chloe Foy

Playlist!

Warnings: 18+! Dom/sub - gentle dom, needy sub; just pure smut; literally Plot What Plot (though there is a bit if you squint); P in V sex; oral sex (male and female receiving); copious amounts of bodily fluids (sorry, like for real); cockwarming; dry humping; handjob; begging/denial/teasing; praise kink; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; unresolved trauma; tiny bit of violence but it is just an illusion; very soft!Sauron, so tender. We make him cry and that's all I wanted to do.

A/N: I've been working on this for a few days, it is ummm filthier than anything I've ever written, like I really don't know where it came from. The warnings are just what's on the menu at this point idk.

I pictured Annatar for this one, but you guys can imagine whomever you like (@troublesomesnitch he's got that chest hair though!!) Sub!Halbrand would be a treat ngl.

Excuse the gif guys, I just want to see him cry :)

Word Count: 4.2k (!!)

Sauron does not sleep. Ordinarily.

However, you make it look so peaceful, he has to try it occasionally. Of course he usually finds you in your dreams, takes all the attention you can spare and more, leaving you wanting until waking when he can ravage you again.

Sometimes however his dreams come unbidden. Instead of slipping into your mind, he falls deeper into his own, unearthing old memories he'd rather stay buried, burned beyond recognition.

You always know when this happens; your usually calm and collected lover wakes in a cold sweat, clutching at your skin, his face in your neck, desperate to forget what his mind has shown him. He has never told you the details, but you can only assume it has something to do with his master, with his cruel and unusual forms of punishment.

Tonight is one of those nights, worse perhaps as he moans and writhes in his sleep, rousing you immediately. You can't seem to wake him from his torment, every gentle touch, every kiss to his temple only seems to fan the flames. You end up atop him, each of your thighs either side of his abdomen, trying to shake him awake.

Visions of Morgoth in his wrath; illusions of you partaking in his torture at his master's hand; pain and terror in his heart, as the nightmare refuses to cease, even as you try to soothe him.

What makes you think a servant as worthless as you deserves a love like hers?

Morgoth's words hold him in a vice grip; he can't break free, the unshed tears behind his closed eyelids threaten to leak onto his cheeks, stricken with fear and pain.

"I've got you, you're okay, you're here with me." You stroke his face, your hair brushing his chest, unsure of what to do except hold him.

When his eyes finally fly open, he grasps your arms, and with a leg hooked behind you, flips you onto your back, a dagger at your throat.

You're fairly sure his weapon isn't real, but he is a master of illusion, and pain is merely a construct of the mind; he could hurt you if he wanted to.

In this state, you're reminded of just how dangerous your husband is, even between dreaming and waking. His eyes are black, unseeing, with a terrifying expression you're sure would have annihilated any enemy he could have been dreaming of.

Your hands shaking, you reach up slowly and try to take the knife; surely enough, when you clutch at it, it disappears like smoke between your fingers, so you take his hand instead, still clenched unfeeling around his shattered illusion.

You pull his hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart flutter against his fingers.

Slowly but surely, you bring him back to you, his daze broken but his psyche bruised and bleeding.

Your shallow breathing evens out as the light returns to his eyes, and for a moment he looks at you confused as if his position above you is of your own making.

His eyes dart from his hand on your chest, to your fiercely fixed expression, attempting to soothe his nerves but unable to hide how shaken you are.

"Is this real?" He's still breathing hard, for someone who doesn't really need to breathe. "Are you really here? Is it you?"

He's so tender, tracing your cheekbones, your cupid's bow, gently raking your hair with his fingertips.

"Of course, beloved, I'm right here, I'm always right here." You try to hide your confusion, assuming he's still walking the line between dreaming and waking.

He slowly pulls himself away to nestle at your side, reluctant to break eye contact with you as he does so, still clutching at you to ground himself.

"What did I do? Tell me I didn't hurt you, love." He's so quiet, it's unnerving, but you take him in your arms anyway, crading his head to your chest.

"All is well, my love, it wasn't real, you're here with me, no one can touch you here." Some nights, holding him close and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear is enough to soothe him; tonight he needs a little more from you.

All you want to do is tell him you love him, that he deserves you, that you're his, that he deserves everything you want to give him, that you ache for him when he's not by your side.

But he's hard against your hip, a fact you're trying to ignore; taking advantage of him is the last thing on your mind, not that he would protest, even when he returns to his right mind.

He listens to your heartbeat for a while, focusing on the strong rhythm to forget his waking nightmare, marvelling at how your heart beats in tandem to his, running his trembling fingers across your exposed skin, up your arm, across your collarbone to your throat, watching the artery jump in time with your heart. He knows you so well, so intimately, that when you notice his erection, your heart skips a beat, and he can guess exactly what you're thinking, not needing to peer into your mind for himself.

You feel him grind against you and you release a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

"Love..." You murmur into his hair, absentmindedly running your fingers over the sensitive pointed tips of his ears. "Come now, you need to rest, darling."

He can't show you what he saw, what he went through, the horror and the agony of his master's worst torments. The image of you performing the worst of it is tattooed on his eyelids, a reminder of Morgoth's favourite form of punishment. He can't show you, can't tell you, but he can ask you to make him forget.

"I need you," he whispers in your ear, strangled groans peppering his sentiments, making you gasp, "need you to feel good, need you to know how much I adore you-"

Your eyes widen as blood rushes to your cheeks, the heat of his words enflaming your core.

"I want you too, love, but right now? Are you sure?" You ask him through ragged breath as he turns his attentions to your neck, licking and sucking and blowing cool air over your wet skin, before warming it with his tongue once more.

You're so close to giving in, wanting to give him all he craves and more, and he knows it.

"Use me," his breathy moan breaks on your skin like a wave on the shore, tingles washing down your spine, filling your core with empty warmth as he bucks his hips into yours, which respond in kind as you turn your head to meet his hungry kiss.

"I'm yours. Make me yours."

His words thrill you, but his tone makes you feel incredible; needy, wanton, desperate to please you.

You glide your hands over his torso, relishing in his hot velvet skin and the soft hair that covers him; taking your time as he tries to kiss you senseless, his heated skin glowing with sweat that you can't resist tasting for yourself, salt and smoke on your tongue.

"Use me... take me... love me..." he begs you, with less and less breath left in his lungs with each command, as you gently lay him on his back, straddling his thighs, grinding your core into the hard muscle.

You slide your hands between the layers of fabric separating your skin, stripping him slowly and laying him bare for your viewing pleasure alone.

He arches his back for you, baring his neck and thrusting his hips into the ghost of your touch, chanting your name and praying for you to take his aching cock in hand.

You trace the contours of his thighs, his firm abdominal muscles, the stiff peaks of his nipples, earning you a shudder and a moan that shoots straight to your core, hot wet arousal dripping onto his thigh.

His fingers move to gather your nectar instinctively, wanting to savour every taste of his wife, but you grip his wrist and raise it above his head, and he gasps. You've never denied him before, not in the eons you've adored him, but it turns him on beyond belief.

Sauron watches you hazily, through heavily lidded eyes, in disbelief that the goddess above him is his and his alone to enjoy and to ruin. You are a sight to behold, as your hair cascades down your back, lips parted and breath ragged; your breasts bounce as you ride his thigh, hypnotising him, drawing him deeper into your thrall.

He tries to lean up to kiss you, lave every inch of your skin with his desperate tongue, but you push him back to the bed.

"Not yet, soon but not yet." You want his mouth on you, the aching between your thighs only amplified by the distinct lack of your husband’s throbbing length inside you, but tonight is for him; he needs to surrender to you first.

"I don't think you've let go quite enough yet." Your warm breath breaks on his sensitive neck, washes down his spine, straight to his cock, throbbing in his need for you.

You haven't touched him yet, hands firmly in place on his chest; his eyes plead with you to be lenient, and as his loving wife, you're only too happy to oblige him as he continues to beg for all the care and attention you can give.

"Please, love, please, need you to-" he gasps as you run your fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the copious amounts of precum pooling on his stomach to ease the glide over his flesh.

"Is that better, love?" You can't help but smirk at his pained gasps, as you languidly stroke his shaft, circling the sensitive head with your thumb, your eyes locked on his.

His cock twitches in your hand as he moans your name, begs for release, begs for your cunt, begs to be remade.

"That's it, love, let yourself go. All you need to do is feel good for me, my love," you lean down, whispering in his ear, "please me, show me how much you deserve your release."

His breath hitches and you hear him swallow hard; his expression is a masterpiece, eyes wide, jaw slack, as he begs you to show him mercy, groaning and whimpering as you pump his length.

"Please..." It's only one syllable, but it feels like a lifetime as he chokes out his plea, tries to touch you to no avail as you hold his hands above his head, placing them in a death grip on the headboard.

"Please, what? You might need to be more specific, my darling." You edge down the bed, holding him in place as he tries to follow you, until your head rests on his thighs.

"Need you to... fuck!" He growls and curses and grips the headboard as his hips jerk and writhe to meet you.

"Need me to...? What, my sweet, tell me?" You are enjoying teasing him, perhaps a little too much, and you will pay for it later, but right now he's so deeply needy for your love and attention that he'll take whatever you bestow upon him.

"Touch me..." he groans, as his cock visibly throbs with need, "your fingers, your mouth, I don't care, I need you, you're the only one, only one who can make me feel like this..."

His pleas and whimpers cut off with a sharp gasp, as you take his cock in your mouth as deeply as you can manage. He feels the opening of your throat on his tip and loses his mind, his oversensitive flesh shooting stars up and down his spine, heat pooling in his abdomen that almost immediately spreads like wildfire throughout his body, as your fingers and tongue and lips work together like an orchestra, drawing an irresistible melody from the depths of his pitch black soul, and all the seed his cock can muster.

You pull away and let him spill himself over your thighs, your abdomen, your hands; he looks mortified but he can't stop now he's started, pearly white splattering your skin, making you his.

"I belong to you," he keens and stutters but you hear him through his orgasm, his whimpers becoming moans that reverberate through you.

You can only watch him adoringly as he finishes quaking and moaning beneath you, unable to quite believe that he is yours, even after all this time.

You sit up, licking him from your fingers, and your smile is so radiant, he forgets where he is, who he is, all the evil he has ever done. For one shining moment, it is just you and him, all he'd ever need.

"Proud of you, love, so good for me." You murmur as you lean down to kiss him softly, giving him that tiny confirmation of your affections he needs right now.

"...thank you, needed you. Ahh- Need you." He is grateful, oh so grateful, but his still-hard cock betrays him, and you can't help but grin.

"Oh love, did I not do a good enough job? Have I left you wanting?" Your faux sincerity pains him and he immediately starts apologising.

"No, no, not that, never that, always so good to me, my beautiful wife, love you so much, my sweet..." His cunt-drunk ramblings are adorable but you put a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, I know, I've got you," you smile at him; he returns it so radiantly, you have to kiss him, to be the one to destroy it.

His pretty moans flutter to your cunt, arousal dripping from you like honey from the hive, and he looks up at you, gloriously wide eyed, begging to be allowed to taste your nectar, to sate his thirst for you.

You can't help but feel absurdly powerful, a Maia fallen apart at your fingertips, never mind this Maia, this beautiful demon who vowed to never relinquish his control again. It's an honour and a privilege to see him submit to you like this, submit to himself like this, let himself just feel without exercising his need to dominate, to just let go with the one person in the world he knows he is truly free with.

"Please, my love... remake me, make me yours," His breathless plea is like no music the Valar have ever sung, his moans a spell all their own, enrapturing you even as you hold the key to his release, as you take command of the Maia who values his control of others above all else.

"I do believe, dearest, that you made quite the mess, actually, perhaps you'd be so kind?" You gesture to the cum that still drips down your thighs, sticky and uncomfortable and definitely ready to be washed from your skin.

He is only too happy to oblige.

You lie back and beckon him to you; he works his way up your body, methodically but no less desperately, licking up every drop to please you, content to savour every inch of you. When he tries to make a detour to your mound, you gently yank his hair, reminding him of his task, revelling in the absolute control he's given you.

"Oh love, you did make a mess," you moan as you stroke his hair, "so good for me, cleaning me up, such a good husband, always so good to me."

Receiving such praise is almost cruel and unusual for Sauron, who is frankly more used to giving it to you, and receiving wrath from all others. A tiny voice in his mind tells him he should be embarrassed; but what is worship if not praise? Your devotion, your care, your undivided attention; all for him, giving him that for which he yearns above all else.

He can't resist stealing a kiss, crashing his lips to yours as he cradles your face. You taste his seed on his lips, something that feels strangely forbidden, thrilling in its taboo. The aching in your core has only intensified with his efforts, and you feel it is about time he served you with his silver tongue in the way you both crave. You push his head to your cunt, with which he gladly complies, settling between your thighs, gripping your legs firmly apart to allow him to feast on you.

Before his tongue can delve into your folds, he holds back, locking his gaze on yours.

"Please? Let me taste you, let me show you how much I love you."

"Fuck, yes, love, yes," you chant his name as he finally puts his tongue to excellent use, seeking out your swollen clit, lapping at your entrance, sucking at the velvety skin of your inner thighs.

He keeps his hands in view; you haven't told him he can touch himself, and he won't break this spell now.

Like a starving man at a banquet, he indulges in you, exquisitely. Every tiny moan that escapes him vibrates over your folds, making you whimper in return; he flicks his tongue over your entrance before sliding two fingers deep inside you, hooking them and stroking that delicious sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He watches you the whole time, basking in the chorus of your pleasure.

You feel the heat coil in your abdomen, and you pull him away sharply; his disappointment is evident but you want him inside you when you finally claim your orgasm.

"Lay back, love, hands on the headboard." It is intoxicating, having your husband obey your every command, and as he settles into the mattress, looking up at you expectantly, you vow this won't be the last time the two of you play this game.

Sitting astride him, you feel as if he's never been so deep inside your cunt before now. You hiss a little at the intrusion but he's so familiar, every time he enters you, it feels like coming home. You grind your hips into him, capturing with your lips every whimper that forces its way past his clenched teeth. Tracing his firm chest, running your fingers through the smattering of soft hair, feeling every curve and contour slowly, languidly, while he writhes beneath your thighs, caging him inside your wet heat.

His strangled moans and gasps echo throughout your chamber; every time he reaches for you, you press a kiss to his palm and hold it above his head, until he learns to behave.

"No one could love me like you, care for me like you, knows how to take their pleasure from me like you, beautiful wife, only yours." He feels like he's losing his mind, slipping further into some deep quiet space where it's just the two of you, where nothing matters but you on his cock.

"Only you can put me back together, can sing the song my soul yearns for-" you interrupt his pretty words with your fingers in his mouth.

"Hush, my love, focus on me, only me, you don't have to speak, you don't have to beg for me unless you want to, just let it happen." You trace the shell of his ear with your tongue, savouring the tiny sighs that escape him, before nipping the pointed tip and relishing his sharp moan.

"Bound together, you and I, for all eternity... and I wouldn't have it any other way, sweet husband." You groan out between thrusts, every movement within you the sweetest form of torture.

No other thrill in the world will ever compare to this; your divine husband laid out beneath you, looking up at you with blissful wonder, eyes black with lust, golden hair mussed and tangled by your fingers, your name tumbling from his swollen lips like a prayer and a curse. Right now, you'd take either.

"Darling, please," his broken gasp spans an octave, jumping to a breathy moan as you descend on his cock once more.

"I know what you need, love," you moan as you ride him, the drag of his cock inside you fucking delicious, but the look on his face is a feast in comparison.

His eyes widen as he clutches the bedsheets, refusing to look away but requiring every iota of self-restraint to stay present with you, not to lose himself to the unearthly sensations you've introduced him to tonight.

"I've got you, just let it go, give yourself to me, beloved, let your mind empty-" you kiss him deeply and swallow the groan building in his chest.

"So proud of you, so good for me, doing so well," you let out a throaty moan as you clench your walls around him, feeling his cock throb within you.

"I know what you need..." You murmur as you lean over him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, "nothing in that head, cock wet and wanting, heart full and happy."

His ragged breath hitches as the last shred of self-control slips through his fingers. He thrusts up deep inside you, throbbing, aching to fill you, as you grab his hands and pull them to touch you finally, a precious relief to you both.

As he runs his hands up your bare skin, he kneads your soft flesh, worshipping every inch as if he's never beheld anything so perfect in his long life. His large hands encircle your abdomen, grasp your hips, pull your ass impossibly closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins; not that the distinction is important anymore.

He rests his hands on your back, fingers splayed as if to encompass you within his flesh, as if being wrapped around you, caged inside you, isn't enough contact, like the two of you enjoined in body and soul isn't enough, will never be enough to sate his hunger for you.

Finally, you let him lean up to join you, his torso flush with yours, gliding against you, slick with the sweat you've provoked in your teasing. He kisses you hard, tongue tangling with yours, teeth hungry, lips swollen, your breath mingling just as your souls are entwined, a maelstrom of pleasure in which you'd be happy to be imprisoned forever.

You brush back his soft hair, grip the roots, and pull his head back, bearing his throat to your greedy lips. You grind on his cock as you press harsh kisses, soft bites, to his tender flesh, laving his skin and savouring his moans under your tongue. He fucking whimpers under you, and you pull away to take him in, in all his ruined glory.

There are tears in his eyes, his lips wet and parted for your kiss; his expression is nothing like you've ever seen, so completely has he given himself to you and your pleasure.

You softly trace his throat before grasping him firmly, feeling every breath, every sob, every whimper, reverberating through you, inflaming every nerve in your body.

His Adam's apple bobs under your fingers, firm in your grip but tender in your passion. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes, falling down his glorious face and filling your heart with such love, such adoration, such utter and complete devotion, that it scares you for a moment, pushing you over the edge at last.

You clench around him, milking his sensitive cock for every last drop of seed, as you ride this new high, this indescribable feeling of power that his submission has wrought in you. You think if you could just hold onto that feeling-

"I feel it too-" his strangled moan is cut short, all the stars in the sky paling in comparison to the pleasure he feels beneath you right now.

You feel him paint your insides, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you until he is spent. Your foreheads pressed together, your limbs entangled, every breath shared in tandem; you would stay here forever. And he would gladly grant his goddess that wish, and any more that your heart desires.

You roll onto your side, limbs shaking with exertion, pulling him to join you, refusing to allow him exit from your wet heat. He huffs a small, relieved sigh, not wishing to be parted from you either.

His iron embrace never fails to comfort you, and it is especially firm tonight. Your heart swells at the thought that even after surrendering to you so entirely, so perfectly, he still needs to hold and shelter you, can't give up his role as your protector even at his most vulnerable.

"We should do that again, love." You murmur, feeling his smirk against your neck.

"Whatever you desire, my Queen," he peppers your neck with tender kisses, sensing you are close to sleep. "I am yours, you are mine-"

"And always will be." You interrupt with a sleepy smile, provoking a chuckle.

Sauron can only watch you enthralled, as you drift off, content, your limbs entwined with his, reluctant to follow you into sleep after tonight's events. Perhaps, yielding control is something he should master, he muses; after all, you did seem to be utterly delighted with the turn of events, and he is nothing if not a loving Lord, a devoted husband enthralled by his wife to distraction.

You slip into dreaming, holding onto him as if for dear life, relishing in the feeling of being so loved, so obeyed.

Your brain is empty, but your cunt is full, and your heart is happy.

[unsolved-duvall]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨) - 𝐞.𝐦. (𝟏𝟖+)

part one | part two

older rockstar!eddie x reader

summary eddie munson was an asshole, you knew that now. and the truth was you hated him, so much so that you couldn't stop thinking about him.

eddie munson hated himself, and he couldn't stop thinking about you. (16.3k)

warnings 18+ minors dni, age gap (reader is 22, eddie is 40), angst, asshole eddie, references to abuse, drinking (reader gets drunk), reader hurts herself (not intentionally!), very brief mention of blood, smut, making out, oral sex, penetrative sex, fingering, an overuse of nicknames. if i have missed anything please politely let me know <3

Seven Months Later. 

There’s this theory called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. It’s the scientific explanation for why you start to notice something, or someone more when your awareness of them increases. 

It’s an illusion. Your brain creates a cognitive bias. The truth is that thing was there all along. You just never cared enough to notice it before. 

Like Eddie fucking Munson. 

.

.

.

The fall air was heavy with a bitter chill as it slinked in through your half-open window. You were barely conscious, your body still heavy with sleep, but you felt the cold wind embrace you in an unwelcome hug and you pulled your thick comforter over your head in a bid to escape it. 

You weren’t sure what time it was, your mind hazy as memories of last night came flooding back to you. You attempted to push them to the back of your mind, you didn’t need the self-loathing to begin already, you could get to that after you had managed to at least eat breakfast. 

Your arms felt heavy as you lifted them, stretching them above you. Your movements caused your comforter to fall around you, your eyes squinted to adjust to the harsh light that bled through the curtains. They were second-hand and made from really sheer material, they almost made no difference. But you kept them up anyway; you were a young woman living in a city by yourself, so you couldn’t afford to lose the small amount of privacy they granted you. 

Dragging your limp body out of bed (fuck you, college) you made your way over to your closet, grabbing the first crumpled-up clothes you saw and throwing them on, not bothering to even look at what you were now wearing.

And no, you didn’t shower, and yes you knew you should have. But quite frankly, you barely had the energy to get out of bed and go to class; asking you to shower and wash your hair was asking far too much from you. 

You had two exams today and a shift at the diner afterwards. None of which you were particularly looking forward to, but there wasn’t a lot you could do about that now except grin and bear it. 

Which is what you did. It was what you always did. 

As you stepped out of your apartment complex you felt the frost-bitten wind caress your face. You swore under your breath, pulling your coat tighter around you in a feeble attempt to warm yourself up. 

Looking up your eyes landed on the obnoxiously large billboard that sat opposite your building. And on it, of course, was none other than Corroded Coffin, with Eddie sitting front and centre. Promotion for their upcoming tour. 

You stared at it for far too long to be considered a passing glance. And just before you turned on your heel to walk to class you pulled a cold hand out of your pockets and pointedly gave it the middle finger. 

Fuck you, universe. 

.

.

.

“I’ll tell you what you can do Marianne, you can shove your ideas and fuck-” 

“Okay, you’re done” John slammed his hands down on the table in front of him, pushing his chair back as he got up and all but manhandled Eddie, pulling him out before he could add more fuel to the fire, “Get out, come on. Jesus fucking Christ-” 

It was early. The sun could have only just risen when he woke up and he could hear the fucking birds chirping kind of early. 

It was 9 AM. 

He could easily have stopped John from dragging him out of the meeting room like a petulant child, but that would take energy he simply didn’t have. And the energy he did have he was more than happy to use on shouting at people who, in his humble opinion, were being pretty fucking stupid for it being the crack of dawn. 

9 AM. 

So instead he raised his calloused hands in mock defeat as he let John lead him down the wide corridor, a warning hand on his shoulder, and into another room. The room was identical to the one he had just been in; but there was no one in there, which made it much preferable to him. 

The harsh morning light beamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the exterior wall. The wall adjoining the room to the corridor was also made entirely of glass. Eddie leant his body weight against it, running his hands over his face as John shut the door behind them. Eddie’s eyes flicked to him briefly and he saw his body tense. He knew that he’d pissed him off. But he didn’t care, these moments were second nature to the both of them by now.

None of them dared speak first. Both of them quietly assessed the other, figuring out how explosive this was about to get. 

Very. If the past was any indication. 

Eddie being, well - Eddie, pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, his hands fumbling around his many pockets trying to remember where he had last put his lighter. 

“You can’t smoke in here.” 

John’s curt voice cut through the thick tension clouding the room. Eddie’s eyes snapped to Johns, fucking insufferable bastard, and his hands halted their searching of his pockets. 

“If I don’t smoke I’ll turn into an asshole” Eddie bit out the words, a sarcastic smile painting his face. 

“Ah, so no different than usual then? Put the cigarette down and stop being a dick,” John walked over to the meeting table and pulled out a flimsy chair, sitting down with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m tired of playing your fucking father.” 

“You’re barely five years older than me.” Eddie’s voice was harsh as he snapped back at John, but his face was heavy with some emotion that even John couldn’t place. He knew bringing up Eddie’s father was a bad idea. He only pulled out that card when he was desperate. 

“Exactly. I have two kids at home. You’re old enough to be their father, so don’t make me speak to you the way I speak to them. Shit, they’re better behaved than you are.” 

Anyone who knew John knew that he really did care for Eddie. He treated him like a brother, but Eddie didn’t yet return the same sentiment. John figured he probably never would, and he was okay with that. 

He knew Eddie’s history. All of it. He understood why Eddie was the way he was. He just wished he could help him. He also knew that if he told Eddie this, he would most likely leave with a black eye if he dared show any ounce of pity for him. 

Eddie liked to be treated a certain way. Harsh words shared between people on the most basic level. It made him feel safe. If he never connected with anyone he couldn’t hurt them. 

Or be hurt when they left him.

So John never mentioned any of what he knew. But Eddie knew that he was aware of his past, and he hadn’t abandoned him yet, so that was good enough for him. 

“You keep pulling shit like this and the label will drop you. It’s as simple as that.” 

Eddie scoffed, fiddling with the still unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I’d like to see them try.” 

“Okay, listen to me” John leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, feet planted as if he was ready for a fight any minute. “You leave to go on tour in two hours—your first show is tomorrow. Figure your shit out. Drop the asshole facade you’re so desperately trying to hide behind,” 

Eddie didn’t say anything, he feared if he did he would only regret it. He simply stayed leaning against the wall, not looking away from John once. His stare was cold, calculated. 

“You’re not better than anyone in that room. No matter what the girls you’re fucking every night might be saying to you.” 

Eddie held his stare, a smirk pulling at his mouth. 

“They don’t usually say a lot actually. It’s hard when they're being fucked dumb, poor things can barely string a sentence together when we’re done” 

Eddie was looking for a reaction. He wanted a fight, needed a fight. 

John bit his tongue, biting back the words he knew Eddie was waiting to hear. He wanted Eddie to tell him he was an ass. That he was pathetic. That he deserved everything that had happened to him. 

He wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. 

“What? Do you not get that sort of reaction from your wife after you’ve fucked her? That’s poor show John, I can teach you a few things if you need me to?” Eddie’s venomous tone hit exactly where he intended it to, he could tell by the way John clenched his jaw, “Or I could just fuck her for you.” 

“What the fuck’s happened to you, Eddie?” His voice was suddenly soft, concerned. Eddie hated it. “Is this all about that girl, because-” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie said with a deafening calm, “I’m going for a smoke.”

And with that Eddie turned and left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty corridor. 

“You better not miss the flight later! You can’t fuck up everyone else’s life like you’re doing to your own!” John sighed as the words landed on deaf ears, Eddie already too far gone to pay any attention to him. 

It was going to be a long long tour. 

.

.

.

Carpe Diem. That was a thing people said right? Well, you were here to tell them that was bullshit. 

Seize the day. Whatever that meant - it was certainly not meant for broke college students who had recently been fucked over by a world-famous rockstar, had almost certainly just failed their final exams and now had to endure a seven-hour shift at a diner. 

No, that saying was intended for people who already had their life together. Middle-aged moms living in the suburbs with their two children and a perfect husband. Who woke up each morning and decided between going to a new yoga class or a coffee morning with their book club girlfriends. 

Those were the type of people Carpe Diem was meant for. 

Not you. 

You had managed to get caught in the rain on your way to your shift. The cold rain soaking through your clothes and onto your skin enhanced every emotion you were already feeling. The cold wind was biting as you swerved through the bustling crowd on the sidewalk. It was nearing 10 PM, and you wouldn’t be home until the early hours of the morning; you rarely picked up night shifts. You had been working there for almost three years and you could count on one hand the number of times you had worked a night shift. But right now you needed the money, so when the shift was offered to you, who were you to turn it down? 

Once you had finally arrived you had almost immediately snapped at your manager when you walked through the heavy doors of the diner; she had made some innocent joke about how you would have been drier if you had swum here. 

She quickly realised you weren’t in the mood for jokes and told you she had a change of clothes in the back you could borrow. You nodded your head and forced an appreciative smile onto your face. You liked your manager, she was maybe a decade older than you, give or take, and she always made sure the chefs cooked you some food during a long shift. 

You ignored everyone else, one chef and two other waitresses who would be leaving soon, as you made your way to the staff room at the back of the diner, heading straight to your manager's locker and grabbing the clothes she had folded and placed on the top shelf. 

You threw on the jeans but hesitated as you unfolded the all too familiar shirt. You recognised the design instantly and you felt a lump form in your throat. You had the exact same shirt at home, although yours was lying abandoned in the back of your closet, and you had been content never to see, let alone wear it, again.

The worn-out corroded coffin logo stared back at you. 

Well fuck. 

It had taken you all of two seconds to decide that you would rather spend your night in a half-soaked t-shirt instead. When your manager had seen you walk back out, apron tied around your waist and a damp t-shirt clinging to you, she hadn’t questioned it. Instead, she pointed to your area for the night and told you it shouldn’t be too busy, she smiled a genuine smile and rubbed your back, like a caring mom, before leaving you to it. You could tell by the look of concern she tried to hide that she knew something was wrong. You seemed tense, which you never were. 

You hadn’t told anyone what had happened. You weren’t the first girl to be fucked over by Eddie and you certainly wouldn’t be the last. You felt ridiculous for being so hung up on what had happened. 

But there was just something about him. And you hated him for it. 

You saw pieces of him everywhere you went. Heard his voice in every store or cafe you went into, and every time it cut into you a little bit deeper than the last. He had left his mark on you and you had no idea how to get rid of it. The truth was you weren’t sure you wanted to. He made you feel safe. Which was insane given his reputation, but every time he looked at you it felt like a summer breeze wrapped itself around you. He smiled at you and it felt like running into the ocean for the first time on holiday. Like nothing could hurt you as long as he was there. 

But then he had been the one to hurt you, so fuck him, right? 

Yeah. Fuck him. You had tables to serve, people to pretend to like, and a myriad of awful attempts at flirting to politely ignore for the next… seven hours. 

It was going to be a long long night. 

.

.

.

The truth was Eddie had tried relentlessly to avoid coming back here. To this city. 

To you. 

But it hadn’t worked. His team had asked him multiple times why exactly he was so adamant about avoiding this place, but hell would have to open up and drag him down there before he would tell anyone it was because of you. 

You had fucked him up more than anyone ever had. And he had spent one night with you. 

He barely knew anything about you. He knew your name, and he knew how old you were. He also knew what you sounded like when you came. 

He hadn’t told anyone about you. John knew, of course. But every time he would try to mention ‘that girl’ to Eddie he would shoot him a look that said “I am not above punching you in the face” and that was that. 

So now here he was. In the one city on earth, he would have happily avoided for the rest of his godforsaken life- 

“Do you want to go straight to the hotel? I already made sure the security stopped people hanging around outside, so you don’t have to worry about that.” John’s voice sounded from beside Eddie, although he was barely listening. 

The moment the plane landed he felt his heart race. Which was stupid, because as far as he knew you didn’t actually live here. You might have been here on holiday or just came for the concert. 

Fuck he hopes you didn’t come just for him. 

“You know tour used to be fun, we used to do shit. Get fucked up.” Eddie didn’t turn to look at John whilst he spoke, choosing instead to smoke a cigarette out of the barely open window. The torrent of rain outside still managed to slip in through the open space, leaving raindrops to settle on Eddie’s hair that fell around his shoulders. 

Eddie had a habit of avoiding other people’s questions, even simple ones. John had picked up on that fact rather fast. It was best to let Eddie lead the conversation, so that’s what he did. 

“I remember,” John replied, staring straight ahead from the back seat, watching the traffic they were attempting to drive through, “That was ten years ago, things change, you know that.” 

Eddie did know that. It didn’t mean he had to like it. 

When Eddie didn’t bother to respond John cautiously said “they all have families now, Eddie. A wife and kids. Can you blame them for not wanting to get high every night and fuck up a hotel room?” 

Eddie clenched his jaw, flicking the burnt-out cigarette out of the window and onto the rain-soaked road, “You have a wife and kids, why are you here with me? Not with them, with your perfect little picket-fence family, huh?” 

“Because I’m working. I don’t spend time with you out of the goodness of my heart, you know. You pay me to be here, to make sure some insane fan doesn’t stalk you or some shit.” John tried to sound lighthearted, adding some humour to his all-too-true words. But it didn’t help. 

Eddie once again went quiet, whispering something under his breath about it all being “fucking bullshit” but that was it. He hadn’t apologised to John about that morning, the comment about his wife. He couldn’t bring himself to admit he was sorry. And he knew that made him the asshole everyone said he was, but he had been wearing that badge of honour for a long time, he’d be damned if he let it bother him now. Maybe he just was an asshole. 

“Do I assume you do just want to go straight to the hotel?” John asked again, he knew not to push Eddie but he really needed to let the poor driver know where he was taking them. Although with the traffic at a standstill, they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

“No” Eddie’s blunt response would have been enough to have most people stop talking to him. 

“Well, where do you wanna go then? I’m not driving around with you all fuckin’ night I’ll tell you that for nothing.” Eddie finally turned in his seat to look at John, although his gaze seemed to be focused on the window behind him instead, “It’s gone midnight, you may be a rockstar but I’m old. I need to sleep.” 

“Here. I’m hungry.” 

John turned, confusion evident as he furrowed his eyebrows and breathed out a barely audible “what?”. The car had stopped outside a diner, open twenty-four hours, based on the worn-out sign hanging in the window. There was no one inside, except a waitress. This was probably the only place in the city Eddie could go to without being spotted and harassed. 

“Are you serious? They have room service at the hotel and-” 

“I fucking said I wanna eat here, is that so hard to understand?” Eddie snapped, his hands fiddling with the bracelets and pieces of fabric he had tied around his left wrist. “I- can we just get out here, I’m fuckin’ starving” 

“Well if you would have eaten on the plane instead of insulting the food-” 

“That shit looked like I could have made it. Would you eat my cooking, John?” 

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” 

“Exactly.” Eddie took off his seatbelt and waved his hands toward the door on John’s side “let’s go.”

John reluctantly moved to open the door, stepping out into the cold rain. Eddie followed suit, taking in his surroundings as he waited for John to tell the driver something, probably asking him to come back in an hour. 

The bell hanging over the door rang out into the quietness of the diner as they both walked in, glad to be out of the rain for the brief time they were in it. It was quiet, save for the soft hum of a radio playing behind the counter. A woman stood behind it, her back turned and windswept hair flowing over her shoulders, an apron tied around her waist. Eddie could see that her shirt was damp and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt that rang through him as he realised she must have gotten caught in the downpour on her way here. Eddie had never had to work a service job before, but he knew damn well if he did and his clothes were soaked through before he had even started, he would have gone home. No questions asked. 

He made a mental note to try and be nice to her. He never did that, but he promised himself he would at least try. 

John hesitated a minute before walking over to an empty booth and sitting himself down, his eyes trained on the girl behind the counter. 

Eddie sat opposite him, stretching his legs out under the table and picking up the menu that was left on the table. He decided on the first thing he saw and threw the menu back down, sliding it over to John, but he still wasn’t looking anywhere except at the waitress behind the counter. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Eddie asked quizzically. John’s whole body language had changed the minute they had walked in. Sure, it wasn’t the most high-end place they had ever eaten, but Eddie had never taken him for a snob. 

“Okay, you’ve got about ten seconds to decide if you want to just get up and leave.” 

“What-” 

“Too late,” John said suddenly, his eyes darting back to Eddie “don’t be an asshole.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what the fuck was he talking about? He looked around to see that the waitress had turned, now facing both of them.

And she was looking straight at Eddie. 

You were looking straight at Eddie.

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.

.

There are certain feelings that you’ve never been able to explain to people. You’ve never been particularly good at expressing how you feel because you’ve rarely been able to understand or process your own emotions. 

But as you stood in the diner, at 12:46 AM, and saw Eddie sitting across from you. You knew exactly how you felt. 

You felt angry. 

You felt heartbroken. 

You felt confused. 

You felt the happiest you had felt in seven months.

And then you felt the world fall out from underneath your feet. 

You felt like Eddie was about to rip your heart out all over again. 

You hadn’t moved. Shit. What the fuck were you meant to do? Eddie hadn’t moved either. But John had, and he was walking right towards you. 

“Hey,” he was tense, you could tell. “Listen, I don’t know what thoughts are running through your head right now. But, I can imagine at least one of them is that you’d like to punch him square in his face, right?” John tilted his head to the side, trying to gauge your reaction. You still hadn’t moved. You weren’t totally sure you were breathing. 

“I’m gonna trust that you won’t do that, if I’ve been able to hold off from smacking him every day for the past seven months I’m sure you can too.” 

John laughed awkwardly and cleared his throat. Something told you he wasn’t joking. 

“Now, there’s a bar over there.” He pointed past you, out of the window, towards the dive bar sitting directly across from the diner “And even though I can’t drink whilst I’m working. I am going to go there anyway. I’ll be gone twenty minutes. Talk to him. Ignore him. Throw him out of here, for all I care. Do whatever you’ve gotta do.” 

And with that John turned and walked out of the diner. The sounds of the city filled the diner as the door swung open and shut again. And then it was just you. And him. 

And those two old guys sat at a table in the corner. Ignore them. 

You shifted your weight on your feet, you wanted to talk to him. Needed to talk to him. 

Your feet had carried you over to his booth before you had realised what you were doing. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, and for a second you thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but then- 

“John ran out of here as quick as he fucking could, didn’t he?” Eddie… laughed? Genuinely laughed as he said it, a honey-thick smile covering his face. 

“Yeah, he basically floored it to the bar over there” you pointed awkwardly, even Eddie was sitting with his back to the window, and couldn’t see. He smiled again anyway, dropping his gaze from you to stare at his hands that were resting on the table. 

When you didn’t smile back you saw his whole body tense up. What did he expect from you here? To take him to the back room and fuck him? 

“Can you sit down, and talk for a minute, maybe?” 

“I’m working if you hadn’t already noticed.” You responded, voice slightly harsher than you meant for it to sound. 

“I know- shit, I know. I didn’t mean that you weren't, I just meant,” he was stumbling over every other word, and you know it should have given you some satisfaction to see him like this. To realise that maybe you weren’t the only one who came out of this whole thing scorned. But you felt sorry for him, his eyes were heavy with something sad. His usual cocky facade was nowhere to be seen. 

“I can sit for a while, it’s okay.” You hated how soft your voice went, Eddie heard it too, he bit back a smirk and sat up a bit straighter as you sat down across from him. 

“Your shirt is wet,” Eddie said, making a vague gesture with his hand. It was still wet, you guessed, although it was much drier than it had been. “They really made you work in wet clothes? They had nothing for you to wear. You must be cold, that’s all.” 

“My manager gave me some clothes to wear, yeah. I just kept my top because I didn’t feel like wearing hers.” 

Eddie cocked his head to the side, a silent question as to why. 

Well, fuck it. “She’s a big fan of yours. I didn’t want to walk around in a Corroded Coffin top all night so, here I am.” 

There it was. He had been waiting for it. The moment he couldn’t avoid it any longer. 

“Y/N I’m-” 

You cut him off, you weren’t ready to hear whatever sorry excuse he pulled out of his ass. “Sorry? An asshole? A bastard? Take your pick, seriously.” Eddie watched you, his face blank as he took in every word you said. 

You saw his jaw clench. The same way it had when he had left you alone in that hotel room. 

“You want me to say sorry? For what, exactly?” You physically flinched at his words, the harshness of them. That honey-thick smile was nowhere to be seen, his eyes had gone distant. 

“You want an apology because I treated you the same way I treat every other girl I fuck? Listen, sweetheart, you knew what the deal was from the start, don’t act like some fucking innocent party in all of this.” You felt the breath go from your lungs, he had leaned forward as was speaking to you, leaning on his forearms as he broke your heart again. 

“You’re telling me you didn’t go around telling anyone who would listen that we had fucked?” Eddie spat at you. 

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was quiet but definite. “I didn’t tell anyone.” 

Eddie paused for a moment, something flashed across his face. Relief? Confusion? Anger? You truly couldn’t tell. You weren’t sure he could either. “Maybe you should have. Gossip tabloids will pay a lot of money for shit like that” he turned his head, looking away from you. You wanted to get up and walk away. Shout at him. Tell him how much he had hurt you. 

“You asked me to sit down so you could insult me, was that it?” you asked him, “well you’ve done that so can I go now?” 

“What did you think I was going to do? Profess my undying love for you? Tell you I tracked you down just so I could tell you how sorry I was?” Eddie shot back, he had built that wall back up around himself the minute you had snapped at him. He couldn’t bring himself back from that ledge, no matter how much he wanted to. And he so desperately wanted to. 

Because whenever his eyes landed on yours felt his heart break, he truly believed you held the whole world in your eyes, a world he longed to be a part of. 

“I thought you could be a decent fucking human being, Eddie.” Hearing you say his name made him feel like he was drowning. Your voice dropped as you decided you needed to get it out of your system.  “I thought you would have some respect for me. Do you know how fucked up I’ve been over this? I fucking cried over you.” 

Eddie didn’t try to interrupt, he didn’t have any reaction to what you had just said. You could almost believe he wasn’t listening to a word of what you were saying. 

He was. 

“I get it, okay. This is what you do. Fine. Good for you, if you’re happy like this then please don’t let me, or anyone else, stop you.” You weren’t sure where your confidence had come from, but you felt like this would be the only time he would be sat in front of you again. “I didn’t want to like you. I thought you would be a complete asshole, and I was fine with that.” 

Your gaze dropped from his face to his hands, where he was pulling at the jewellery he had on his left wrist. His hands gave away everything he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t think he was even aware of how much he was giving away. A couple of seconds later his hands stopped moving, and he moved them off the table, onto his lap. He hadn’t realised you were watching him so closely. He hated that. 

“Eddie, listen to me, I liked you. I felt safe with you” Eddie’s eyes scanned your whole face as you spoke, almost as if he was looking for any proof you were lying. You spoke slowly, determined for him to really hear you, and understand what you were saying. “You’re a good person, Eddie. You are not what everyone says you are. Maybe you try to be that guy, but you’re not. You care about other people, but I don’t think you care about yourself.” 

Eddie’s face had softened, he swallowed and shook his head, barely. But you saw him do it, nevertheless. 

“I don’t know you, I know that. But I think you want to be happy, you want to be a good person. But you can’t let yourself. I’m not saying this because I want you to fall in love with me, or some shit. But I hope one day you will fall in love with someone. And I hope you’ll let yourself love them.” 

All of a sudden it was too quiet. You hadn’t even noticed that the two older gentlemen who had been in the diner had left. A twenty-dollar bill was left on the table. The radio played dimly in the background, the rain clattered against the windows and roof. The muffled sounds of the city nightlife outside. Eddie hadn’t said anything to you. You nodded your head and shuffled out of the booth, prepared to leave him alone until John got back. 

You walked back over to the counter, picking up the money as you went. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You had made yourself a coffee and were about to start tidying up when you heard Eddie move. His heavy footsteps echoed off the floor, his leather jacket rubbing against itself. You looked up, expecting to see him walk out. But he didn’t. 

“I’m– we’re playing a show. Tomorrow. If you want to come, that would– fuck, um.” you had never heard his voice sound like it did right now. Soft, but still him. That confidence was hidden just below the surface. “Please come. If you don’t want to watch the show, then come when it finishes.” 

You were the one not saying anything now. You were so angry with him, he still hadn’t apologised. He had barely said anything to you, apart from the insults he had thrown at you. So why the fuck did you want to go. Why could you not imagine this being the last time you saw him? 

“Come to the door, ask security to get John. He’ll make sure you get in okay, I promise.” 

You didn’t have time to even nod in agreement before Eddie was heading for the door, he opened it and you couldn’t drag your eyes away from him. Even with the promise of seeing him tomorrow, it felt like too much of a risk to not take him in as much as you could whilst he was there. 

“I’m sorry.” 

And then he walked out, letting the door shut behind him. Only this time he had said something to you before he left you. And you knew, no matter how much it would make you hate yourself, that you would see him tomorrow. 

.

.

.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Genuinely, I’m genuinely asking you, this isn’t a joke anymore.” Eddie knew John would be insufferable on the drive to the hotel, but if he knew he would be like this? Eddie would have walked. 

“I apologised to her. I invited her to the show, whatever she does is her decision.” Eddie bit out, John laughed at his words. The kind of laugh that said are-you-clinically-insane? Eddie couldn’t find it in him to disagree with that. 

“Eddie, I have known you for almost as long as that girl has been alive-” 

“Okay well that’s not what I need to hear right now, John for fuck-” 

“No, listen to me. I have known you since you were barely older than her. And I have never ever seen you be so fucked up over someone else. I have never seen you care about someone else the way you do that girl– and don’t try and bullshit me here. Because you do care about her.” John sounded blunt, harsh. But Eddie knew he only sounded like that when he loved someone and wanted them to be okay. He only pulled out that voice when he needed to slap some sense into Eddie. 

Eddie had never told him, but he did love John like a brother. He might tell him someday, maybe with you next to him. Maybe. 

“For the past seven months, there is not a day gone by where I have looked at you and you weren’t completely zoned out. You were thinking about her, every time. I knew that. So now, here’s your chance. Not everyone gets those, you know that better than anyone.” 

Eddie held back a shaky breath. John saw it, but he knew they needed to have this conversation. 

“You are not your father, Eddie.” John needed him to truly understand that. “You never have been him, and you never will be. You won’t ever hurt that girl, in whatever way you’re afraid you will.” 

Eddie froze, and then– “I don’t want to hurt her. I would never, I promise. But what if–” 

“You are not your father,” John repeated “I know the kind of things he said to you, how he treated you. And how he treated your mother.” 

Eddie nodded his head, tears welling in his eyes as he let John talk. 

“The idea that you are even related to that man is astounding. And, how you got this reputation is beyond me.” John laughed, remembering something “You– you forced me to adopt a kitten you saw outside your trailer when I first met you, told me it needed to live with someone who had a ‘fancy-ass’ house. You gave her to me and threatened to tell my girlfriend if I said no.” Eddie laughed through the tears that were staining his cheeks. 

“Don’t let your father win. He’s not around to control you anymore. If you ask me, you should have gotten on your knees and begged that girl to forgive you; begged her to give you a second chance.” The car stopped and John looked out of the window, the lights from the hotel flickering through the rain. John turned back to Eddie as he took off his seatbelt “Now, I don’t know if she’s going to turn up tomorrow. But if she does? Then she could be the happiest girl in the world if you just let yourself be vulnerable.” 

Eddie nodded again, afraid that if he spoke his voice would break with all the emotions that were running through him. 

“I assume I’m chaperoning this girl during the show tomorrow?” John said as they both climbed out of the car. 

Eddie nodded, and John flung an arm around him as they walked into the hotel. 

“I do not get paid enough for everything I do for you.” 

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After Eddie had left the rest of your shift flew by. No one else came in, which was normal for a weeknight. You spent the last couple of hours of your shift trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that were clouding your brain. Once the sun had started to rise and the orange sunlight began to flood through the windows you felt yourself heave a sigh of relief. 

Your manager popped out from the back office every now and then, if she was aware of your run-in with Eddie she didn’t say anything. She never worked the night shift (being the manager had its perks), but the other waitress had called in sick earlier, and there was no one else to cover her. 

She had told you she would drive you home, there was no way she was letting you get a taxi. You didn’t argue with her, thanking her and telling her you’d give her gas money, considering your apartment was in the opposite direction to yours. She was adamant you would do no such thing. 

Just before 5 AM, the morning waitresses came in. You wouldn’t call them friends per se, but they were nice enough. One was in her mid-forties, with mousy brown hair that she always wore in a long ponytail, bouncing with each footstep she took during her shift. The other was around your age, and you were closer to her. You had been for drinks with her a couple of times, she was loud and extroverted so you never had to do much talking, which you were perfectly happy with. 

They made polite conversation as they walked in, asking you how the night had been and if anything eventful had happened. 

“Nope, it was pretty boring, to be honest.” There was no way in hell you were telling them that Eddie Munson had been sitting not even a foot away from where they were standing. 

You politely dismissed yourself and went to find your manager. You ran into each other in the back hallway, she laughed telling you she was just about to come and rescue you. 

The drive home was quiet, casual conversation was shared between the two of you, but nothing more. Soon enough she pulled up outside of your apartment building. You thanked her and went to get out of the car, but before you could she placed a hand on your arm. 

“Y/N if there’s something bothering you, you can talk to me, you know? You’ve been quiet for a few months now. I don’t want to intrude or push any boundaries, but I care about you. And not just because you’re a good waitress.” You both laughed, and you assured her you were okay. Maybe one day you’d tell her what had been going on. But not just yet. 

You went to bed as soon as you stepped foot into your apartment, only making time to pull off your clothes and throw on the oversized t-shirt you slept in. The mattress seemed to swallow you whole as you threw your body down and pulled your comforter over your head. 

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You only realised you hadn’t set an alarm when you woke up that evening, with a couple of hours left before you needed to leave. 

To see Eddie. 

Oh fuck. 

You stumbled through your apartment to your bathroom and jumped in the shower. The cold water stole a breath from you and made sure you were awake. It took far too long for the water in your building to warm up, and to be honest, you figured taking a cold shower before you saw Eddie couldn’t be a bad thing. 

Coming out of the bathroom, a fluffy towel wrapped around you, you turned on the lamps you had dotted around your apartment, the daylight quickly fading. 

Your apartment was nice, you were incredibly lucky you had stumbled upon it when you moved here. It was only a studio, but what more did you need when it was just you? You separated your bedroom from the lounge and kitchen with a curtain that hung from the ceiling. It had been there when you moved in and you didn’t question how exactly the previous residents had got it there in the first place. 

The rest of the apartment was undoubtedly old-fashioned. With 60’s and 70’s architecture but you made it your own. You brought all of your furniture from thrift stores, leaning into the 60’s look that you had been lumbered with. A variety of rugs covered the floor, lamps were placed on tables and plants were in every corner. It felt homely, certainly far from perfect but it was your own, and that was all that mattered. 

You spent an hour or so doing your makeup, hair and getting dressed. You had never been the most confident person, but tonight you felt genuinely pretty. But you barely gave yourself time to let yourself feel that before the nerves took over your body. You felt lightheaded, a telltale sign that your anxiety was about to get the better of you. 

So you did what you should never do in those situations. You eyed up the bottle of vodka you had out on your kitchen counter, left over from the other night when your friends had come over. 

You told yourself you’d do one shot. Ease your nerves and loosen you up so you could at least talk to Eddie when you saw him. 

Now, you would like to reiterate that this was the worst decision you could have made. 

After the first shot, you called a taxi. And then you took two more shots before leaving your apartment. 

You were a lightweight. This is important to note because you were already tipsy. 

You arrived at the venue about five minutes before the concert started, meaning it was relatively quiet outside, everyone else was already inside, excitedly waiting for it to start. You remembered what Eddie had said about speaking to security and asking for John. It was cool outside, but not cold. The soft air hits your face and sobers you up slightly, you rested against a wall for a minute, asking yourself what the fuck you were doing. 

Eddie had said sorry only after he had shouted at you. Accused you of telling anyone who would listen that you had fucked him. And maybe you were crazy, maybe you were being stupid. But… you looked at him and you felt like you were wrapped in a warm hug, his eyes were deafening. One look into them and time slowed down, any music stopped playing, and everyone stopped talking, all because you were looking at him. 

You couldn’t ignore that feeling. It was the feeling you read about in fairy tales as a child. So here you were, wearing your heart on your sleeve. Trusting Eddie not to break it. 

You made your way over to one of the entrances and spoke to the man standing there. You asked him to get John. He asked your name, and when you told him a knowing look crossed his face. He smiled and told you to wait there. 

Has Eddie told everyone about you? No, no he wouldn’t do that. He probably told John to let security know you were coming, so they wouldn't turn you away. 

Whilst you waited for John you felt the alcohol really take an effect. Oh no. 

Before you had time to curse yourself for your decisions John rounded the corner, he smiled at you and waved you forward. 

“I really hoped you would turn up. I don’t know why, but I did.” John told you, there was something in his voice you couldn’t place. He sounded happy, amused almost. A complete turnaround from his demeanour when you first met him. 

“Eddie could convince anyone to do anything.” your voice was slightly shaky, trying to act sober will do that to a person. John looked at you as he led you to the balcony you would watch the show from, a knowing look crossing his face. 

If he knew you were drunk, he spared you the embarrassment of pointing it out “He really could.” John pushed back a curtain and signalled for you to walk through. The balcony was big, and there were plenty of people up there. Some were sitting on the sofas that were dotted along the back wall, others were leaning over the railing watching the concert. It had just started, and the noise was deafening as you walked in, the music was almost drowned out by the screams throughout the arena. 

“I’ll come back to get you at the end” you nodded your appreciation and walked over to the railing, a couple of people smiled at you. You assumed they were all family and friends, and suddenly you felt incredibly out of your comfort zone. You focused on the show instead, ignoring the eyes that you could feel staring at the back of your head. You didn’t blame them for being curious as to who you were, you just wished they would stop staring at you. 

Twenty or so minutes later someone who obviously worked the bar brought over a tray of cocktails for everyone. Given your already tipsy state, you were inclined to pass on them, but then a sweet woman brought you one over. She was all wide smiles, sparkly eyes and gentle conversation. And soon enough you were downing another cocktail whilst she told you all about herself. 

She was the wife of the drummer. They were high-school sweethearts and had a kid together. It was nice, she didn’t pressure you to tell her exactly why you were there which you were grateful for. You weren’t sure how to explain you were a one-time hook-up who was now here for… you still didn’t know what you were here for. But you felt yourself relax as you finished the cocktail and you ended up enjoying yourself far more than you had anticipated, a smile was plastered across your face when the concert ended and John came up behind you, a gentle tap on the shoulder to get your attention. 

“Eddie asked me to take you straight out to the car, he’s already there,” John said as he held an arm out around you. You were drunker than you thought. 

“Why are we going to a car? Wait–” You turned around comically fast, John held back a laugh when you held your arm out to steady yourself “did you tell Eddie I was… drunk?” you whispered the last word, for some reason. 

You were so far gone it would have been funny any other time. Right now you wanted the floor to swallow you whole. 

“I popped my head in halfway through and saw you down a cocktail. Considering I could smell vodka on you when you got here I made the safe assumption you wouldn’t be sober.” your face dropped at his words and he noticed, “hey don’t worry about it. Eddie is in no position to judge anyone for this, trust me, sweetheart.” 

You nodded and let him lead you to the car, the cold night air a welcome feeling on your warm skin. John opened the door for you and you looked in to see Eddie with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Oh no he’s gonna laugh at me John” you sounded like a child who had been caught eating chocolate when they weren’t supposed to. John couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“Yeah he might, but it will be out of love” you tilted your head at his words. ‘Out of love’ was a saying, but the idea of Eddie loving you made your heart jump and your brain shut off.

John asked for your address, and when you questioned why exactly he needed to know that, he said Eddie was taking you home. 

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“Okay you’re like Bambi on ice here sweetheart, give me your hand” 

You had arrived at your apartment soon enough, the flickering city lights and the motion of the car enough to make your head spin. Eddie noticed and told you to rest your head on his shoulder. You did what he said, practically burying your face in his jacket to stop the dizziness from getting worse. Now you were attempting to make it up to your apartment, which was proving to be a much more difficult task than it should be. You had sobered up compared to earlier, but you were still tipsy and your balance was questionable at the best of times. You were still tipsy enough to be far more relaxed than you were expecting to be around Eddie. 

Eddie held a hand out for you and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, balancing yourself as you walked down the corridor.  

“I am much more graceful than Bambi ever was,” you told Eddie, trying to search for your keys in your pockets as you stood outside your door. 

“If you say so” Eddie laughed, it was a sweet laugh, one that filled your whole body with warmth and made you feel all gooey inside. Gooey was not a word that existed in your daily vocabulary, but apparently, it was when you were drunk. 

“Please tell me you have your keys–” 

“I have them! These pockets are just– oh! See, I’ve got them!” 

“You sure do” Eddie watched you as he kept a gentle arm around you, he wasn’t touching you, he was just ready for you to go down at any minute. 

You not-so-gracefully managed to get your keys in the door and swing it open, Eddie was hesitant, waiting outside your door as you swept your apartment, turning on the lamps and closing your curtains. “You can come in, you know” 

“I just wanted to make sure you got home safe, that’s all.” 

“I thought you wanted to talk to me?” you asked him, had he changed his mind? You felt tears well at the back of your eyes and you silently cursed yourself. 

“Tomorrow. If you want to. I’ll give you my number, and you can call me when you’re not drunk, okay sweet?” 

“O-okay. '' he watched you search for something for a minute, and then you were signalling for him to come in. He did, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. 

“Here. Write your number down for me,” you told him as you held out the pad and paper. A smile spread across his face and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. 

“I could just put my number into your phone, sweetheart. I thought I was meant to be the old one here.” 

“Shut up, it’s cute this way,” you whispered under your breath, but he clung to every word. You were different in your own home, Eddie thought. More relaxed, although that could be the alcohol. But no, the way that you walked around, comfort seeping into you as you relaxed back into your own space. The way you had slipped your shoes off instantly, your socks padding across the floor as you turned on the lights. It suited you, he thought. 

Eddie nodded his head to the table in the corner, asking if he could lean against that to write his number for you, as you had insisted. You mouthed a ‘yeah’ at his request. He seemed to take in everything around him as he walked over to the table, looking at the decor you had lying around. You suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. 

He was in your home. This man was still arguably a stranger. But that pang of vulnerability was soon replaced with a feeling of contentness. Eddie suited domesticity. He fit right into your space, his style a contrast to your apartment, but it wasn’t unwelcome. 

You pulled your eyes away from Eddie long enough to try and grab yourself a drink of water. But as you leant your hands on the kitchen counter you placed your hand right on a knife you had left out earlier. In your drunken state, you attempted to pick it up and put it away, but you managed to grab the sharp edge. You pulled your hand back quickly, but there was still a cut on your palm, blood pooling around the injury. 

“Oh shit,” you hissed, pain evident in your voice. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie practically jumped out of the chair he had sat in, dropping the pen he was holding and making his way over to you. 

“I picked up that knife,” you told him. 

“What– why– why did you do that?” Eddie asked you, with genuine confusion in his voice as he gently took your hand into his, looking at the damage you had done. 

“Well I thought it would be fun to– I obviously didn’t do it on purpose!” you said defensively, but you were smiling at him despite the pain. 

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie hadn’t heard any of what you had just said, you could tell by the flatness of his voice, “come on, let’s get you sorted out.” 

You suddenly felt nervous, his hand on your sending heat rising throughout you. “No, it’s okay. You go, I can just stick a bandaid on it. It’s all good.” 

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight knowing I left a lady in distress.” Eddie joked, you couldn’t help the blush that flooded your cheeks at his words, “besides your hand could still fall off.” Eddie said in a dead-serious tone. One that made you burst out laughing. 

“I think it’ll be okay,” you said through breathy laughter. 

“Let me take care of you and we’ll know for certain,” Eddie said. You nodded and he asked you where your bathroom was. You stared at him for a second and then pointed to the only door in the apartment, besides the front one. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the smartest cookie in the jar. But that was okay. 

Eddie led you to the bathroom and you sat down on the counter next to the sink, holding your hand out in front of you. 

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” Eddie asked you gently. 

“In the cupboard below the sink,” you told him, moving your legs to the side so he could get to it. 

Eddie bent down and grabbed it off the shelf. He stood back up and placed it next to you, opening it and grabbing out what he needed. You moved your legs so Eddie could stand between them. He picked up your hand and looked at it once more before he gently cleaned it. You watched his hands the whole time, the way he was so soft with you, whispering out little apologies when you whispered out a complaint once that it hurt. 

Eddie wrapped a dressing around your hand, you asked if it was too much but he said the cut was deeper than you realised. So you simply nodded and watched his hands wrap around yours. Once he had secured the dressing he looked up at you, breathing a “done” and holding your hand in his.

You meant to say thank you, but that wasn’t what came out “You’re really pretty.” 

Eddie smirked and dropped his head, you could tell he was trying not to laugh at your brutal honesty. “So are you angel.” 

A sickly-sweet smile crossed both of your faces. You wanted to kiss him. 

You should kiss him. 

You moved your head ever so slightly, but Eddie caught on to what you were doing and brought his spare hand up to rest on your cheek, a sweet movement but one that was intended to stop you from doing what you were about to. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“I’m tipsy,” you insisted. 

“I’m not gonna kiss you. Not tonight, sweetheart.” You pouted at his words. A childish move and quite frankly it confirmed to him that you were far from sober. 

“When I kiss you again, I want you to remember it.” you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his. His hand on your face, and his voice and his eyes and it was all-consuming. 

“Come on, get into bed,” you smirked and he swore every time you smiled at him you took a little piece of his heart with you. “By yourself, smartass. Get into bed by yourself.” 

“My makeup,” you told him. It was barely a full sentence but it was the best you could do when he was standing so close to you. 

“Yeah, I like it.” He said. He rubbed his thumb under your eye and you held back a laugh. 

“No– I can’t go to sleep in my makeup.” you clarified. He sighed out an ‘oh’ and then dipped back down to open the cupboard below the sink. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but then he came back up with makeup remover and a washcloth. A smile that tugged on his star-filled eyes flooded his face. 

Your heart broke for him all over again but for a different reason this time.  

“Close your eyes, angel. Don’t wanna blind you.” 

You did as he said, slowly closing your eyes after you saw him tip some of the water onto the cloth. He was incredibly gentle with you, barely applying enough pressure to remove the makeup, but you didn’t tell him that. 

After a minute or so you felt his hand leave your face and you hesitantly opened your eyes. He smiled at you and tilted his head, taking you in. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

“Shut up old man.” you let out an obnoxiously loud laugh. In your defence, in your current state, that was the height of comedy. 

“Oh wow. You have a talent for running perfect moments don’t you doll.” 

“I’m sorry. You’re not old” You told him, moving to get down off the counter and make your way into bed, “You’re middle-aged” 

Eddie huffed out a laugh as he followed you, “I’ll take it.” He sighed, you couldn’t see but his eyes were full of love as he watched you get into bed. You hadn’t bothered to change into pyjamas. That felt… too much. You were drunk enough that you could easily fall asleep in your clothes. 

“Do you need to lock the door after me,” Eddie asked quietly. 

“The door locks automatically, as soon as you shut it. I’ve been locked out too many times to count,” you told him, your voice muffled by the pillow your head was smushed against. 

“Okay.” Eddie ran a hand through your hair that fell around your face. “I’m gonna go, angel.” 

You were too tired to verbally respond anymore, sleep had quickly taken over when your body hit the mattress. You heard Eddie move around, but didn’t lift your head to see what he was doing. And then you heard the door open and shut. 

Your eyes shut to the sound of his walking down the corridor. 

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When you woke up the next morning your first thought was of Eddie. 

And that was how you knew you were officially fucked. 

You sat up and a glass of water on your bedside table caught your eye. You didn’t remember putting it there but you gratefully leaned over and picked it up, taking small sips as you assessed how bad your hangover was. 

It wasn’t. That was your saving grace. You were still young enough to avoid bad hangovers; you had a slight headache and the sunlight seemed slightly too bright. But it was nothing a couple of painkillers wouldn’t sort out. Sitting up fully you swung your legs out of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. 

You put the now-empty glass back down and a piece of paper grabbed your attention. Picking it up you saw a number written down. And an ‘-E’ next to it. 

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Eddie got back to the hotel to find John waiting outside his room. 

“It’s creepy to stalk people, you know?” Eddie announced as he pulled out the card to open the door. 

John ignored him, “How was the girl?” heasked, tiredness seeping from him. 

“You know her name, what’s with calling her ‘the girl’ all the time?” Eddie asked as he stepped inside. 

“I like it. Makes it sound more mysterious.” John said as he leaned in the doorway, watching Eddie make his way down the hallway and into the bedroom. 

“She’s passed out in bed,” Eddie shouted loud enough for John to hear him. 

“Good. The poor girl’s gonna have a hell of a morning.” 

“She’s young, she’ll be fine,” Eddie said, coming back out from the bedroom and leaning against the wall. 

“Right. And you? You’ll be fine too?” John asked sincerely. 

“If you let me get some damn sleep I’ll be great.” John nodded and pushed himself off the door frame, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Eddie didn’t sleep much that night. He tossed and turned until the early hours of the morning, finally falling asleep when his body physically couldn’t stay awake any longer. 

He was thinking about you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. 

Which is why when his phone rang halfway through the morning, he jumped off the couch and practically lunged for his phone that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice was loud against the quietness on the other end of the phone, for a minute he worried it wasn’t you calling. His chest suddenly felt heavy, but then– 

“Hi. It’s me.” You. 

Your voice rang through his head and he would never admit to anyone that a smile graced his face at the sound. 

“How are you?” Eddie asked, he swore you could hear his smile in his voice. 

“I’m alive.” you said, laughter bubbling up, “No, I’m okay actually.” 

“Enjoy it, you won’t be young forever, doll,” Eddie told you as he fidgeted in his seat. 

“Yeah– yeah I know.” something deeper seeped into your voice, a seriousness coming through your words. “Can we talk? I know you wanted to last night, and I’m so so sorry, I’m so embarrassed that I–” 

“You’re all good, sweetheart,” Eddie responded and he heard you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Do you want to come over? I can send a car for you, come and pick you up?” Eddie asked, holding his breath as he waited for an answer. 

“No I can just get a taxi, it’s okay.” Eddie already knew better than to argue with you, so he didn’t. “Where are you? Some fancy hotel for rich people I’m guessing?” 

Eddie chuckled, he liked it when you made fun of him, because he could always hear the adoration in your voice as you did, “yeah I’m at uh– the same hotel I was last time.” 

“Ah, yeah okay. So it’s okay for me to come over, you’re not busy?” You asked sweetly, nerves peeking their head. 

“No. Never.” Eddie told you. 

Eddie told you the floor and room number before you hung up. 

Shit. Okay. 

He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t fuck this up again. 

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The drive to the hotel was the longest you had ever experienced. Every emotion was running through your body as you rode the elevator to Eddie’s floor. Your leg bounced underneath you repeatedly as you fiddled with the ring on your middle finger. Eventually, the doors opened and you stepped out, smiling at a couple as they walked past you. 

You checked the number on each door until you reached the one Eddie had told you was his. 

You could still turn around. 

No. 

You were already knocking on the door. And you heard someone move around through the door. You realised you were scratching your hands and quickly dropped them to your sides before the door opened, and you saw Eddie standing there. 

He looked like he always did. Messy hair framed his face. Freckles dotted his nose and under his eyes. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice alone could convince you to do anything he asked of you, it was one of those voices that managed to seep into your veins and completely engulf you. 

“Hey,” you responded, feeling that calm overtake you. The same calm and safety you felt whenever he looked at you, “Can I come in?” you asked when he didn’t say anything. 

He was taking you in. He was also going over everything he wanted to say to you. He was terrified. Truly. 

“Yeah– shit, yeah of course,” Eddie uttered, moving to the side to allow you to walk in. 

It wasn’t the same suite as last time. This floor was higher up, but it was almost identical. The same layout, the same rooms, the same corridor he had left you standing in. 

You walked in and made your way to where you knew the living room was, the same decadence overwhelmed you, and you had to take a minute to get used to it again. Eddie followed a couple of steps behind you - the air was thick with tension, neither of you entirely sure of what the other was about to say or do. 

You turned to look at Eddie and  inclined your head towards the couch, asking if it was okay for you to sit down. He nodded and you both sat yourselves down on either ends of the couch, enough space between the two of you for another person to fit there. 

The TV played silently, a movie playing that you didn’t recognise. The floor-to-ceieling windows that covered the wall to the side of you let sunlight drown the room in a warm golden glow. 

“I–”

“Do you-” 

You both cut yourselves off as you spoke over one another. It could have been an awkward moment, but the feeling faded into something sweeter. A tender moment that showed each other just how nervous you both were. For some reason, knowing Eddie was just as nervous as you were made you feel better. 

“Sorry, I just– I had some… stuff I wanted to to tell you, say to you.” Eddie told you, watching your face ccarefully. “If that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine. I’m sorry, go ahead.” You settled back into the couch, lifting your legs and crossing them as you turned to face Eddie. 

“Okay I’m not promising I’m very good at articulating myself, or fuckin’ whatever, so you’re gonna have to give me a minute.” Eddie said, his voice shaky. 

“That’s okay.” you told him, your voice soft and bareilly above a whisper. His eyes had glazed over with something like fear, you wanted to lean across and rest a comforting hand on his, but you didn’t. Not yet. 

“That morning, when I left you–” you tensed up as the memory flooded back, Eddie noticed it too but carried on, “I have regretted that every day since then. I’ve done some really fucking stupid things, maybe one day I can tell you all of them, but that? Leaving you? That is the worst thing I have ever done.” 

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat and he coughed before carrying on talking, giving himself a minute to gather himself. 

“I thought I would move on. Forget about you– and I know, that makes me sound like a complete asshole, but I’m tryna be honest here. I wanted to forget about you. I needed to. Because the way I felt when I looked at you, scared me so much I didn’t know what to do.” 

The emotions you were both feeling were palpable in the comforting silence of the room. You didn’t try and interject, letting Eddie talk. You had never heard his voice sound so genuine. Almost like every other time he had spoken he had been putting on a mask, pretending to be someone else- pretending to be the rockstar everyone so desperately wanted him to be. You liked this version of him a lot more. 

“When I was a kid my–” he paused for a minute, unintentional, as if he wanted to speak but he couldn’t form the words for a second, “my mom used to tell me that when you meet someone who makes you feel so happy it terrifies you, you should hold onto them.” 

“Because that’s when you know its real. She told me you couldn’t love someone without being scared to death at the same time. Because loving somsone? Fuck, it’s a big feeling, you know?” You laughed gently at that, for someone who famously wrote his own music he really did have an interesting choice of words, but you found it endearing. 

“It takes over every part of you and when she would tell me that, I thought she was lying, or something. Because if falling in love was so terrifying I didn’t understand why people would do it.” Eddie was moving his hands as he spoke, punctuating every word with a gentle movement. “And then I never felt that way, towards anyone. In forty years I never looked at someone and felt the world fall out from beneath my feet. And I was glad I didn’t, because I didn’t want to hurt that person.” 

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, your moth dropping open slightly to ask him what he meant. But then he was talking again, and you settled back into listening. 

“Sweetheart I am not here to try and emotionally blackmail you into staying, or being with me, or anything, okay?” Eddie’s voice went more serious, his eyes staring into yours in a way that made you think he could see right through you and read every thought that was running through your mind. 

“And I’m not going to sit here and tell you some cliche sob story about how I had a shitty childhood and it fucked me up or anything.” You hadn’t realised it but you had moved closer to Eddie, your knees grazing each others as you listened to him talk. 

“I did have a crappy childhood- I mean it wasn’t the worst, by any means but it wasn’t an all-American family with a white picket fence, you know? My dad was- my dad was the worst man I’ve ever met in my life, he treated my mom like a fucking piece of shit and I hated him for it. I listened to them fight, argue, I would leave my bedroom door open so I could hear if I needed to go and help my mom.” 

You felt tears well in your eyes as he spoke. He was being completely honest with you. You could tell. This wasn’t easy for him to talk about. 

He had never spoken about this. 

“He’d hit her, do other things too but I remember when he would hit her. I remember the noise it would make. I would try and grab his arm but he would just swing back at me and throw me against the nearest wall– and I was a skinny kid you know? Fuck there was nothing of me, so I had no chance against him.” 

Eddie seemed to quickly realise how much he had just said, what he had admitted to you and his face dropped. “Fuck I– I only told you that because one day, after my mom had left, and we were fighting he told me that– he told me that I was just like him.” 

“He said when he looked at me, he saw himself. Which I didn’t understand at first, because I was the spitting image of my mom. Hair, the eyes, everything. But then he laughed and told me that one day I’d realise it too, that I was gonna be exactly like him, whether I wanted to or not.” Eddie shifted his body weight on the couch, moving his hand to rest over the back of it. 

“So that day I promised myself I would never fall in love with someone, because I would never put someone through what he put me and my mom through.” Eddie wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, he wasn’t crying but he obviously worried he was about to. 

When he didn’t carry on talking you said, “Eddie can I say something?” he nodded and you moved your hand to rest it on his knee that was next to yours, his eyes followed your hand movement and then flicked back up to yours when he realised what you were doing. 

“You just sat and told me that you’re biggest fear is turning into your dad, right?” Eddie nodded slowly, waiting to see what you were going to say. “But the fact that you just told me that? That means you are nothing like him.” 

Eddie swallowed a lum in his throat, “I don’t want to hurt you, in any way. But what if there’s something inside me that is just bad.” 

“What if there’s something inside of you that is just desperate to love and be loved?” 

Eddie moved his hand to rest over yours, and you interlaced your fingers together. 

“There’s more I want to tell you, but I can’t right now, I’m just not ready but I will, soon. And I will spend every minute of every day aplogizing for leaving you, for being an asshole to you at the diner, for everything. I promise you I–” 

‘Eddie, I know you will.” you truly did know that. 

“Okay.” his voice come out soft, gratefulness tinging his voice as he realised you genuinely meant it. And then an understanding flicked between the two of you. 

You two were far from perfect. This situation was far from a fairytale. And maybe to everyone else you would seem crazy for what you were about to do. But you didn’t care. Because when you looked at Eddie you felt the most terrified you have ever felt in your life, because you knew you wanted to see his face every day for the rest of your life.

Eddie knew that too. He knew there was no other option anymore. He had to wake up next to you every morning, he had to fall asleep next to you every night, and there was no other choice expect that. 

“Can you kiss me now?” you asked, a smile tugging on your lips and lighting your eyes up in a way that had Eddie falling head over heels all over again. 

“Yeah– yeah, sweetheart. Come here,” Eddie leaned forward at the same time you did  and cupped your face in both of his hands, you titled your head to the side and then all of the planets aligned and nothing else mattered except the press of his lips against yours. 

The kiss started off slow, sweet and deep like you were both trying to saviour this moment for as long as possible. Eddie’s lips moved gently against your own and you reached up to take one of his hands that was cupping your face, and interlace your fingers together. 

His lips were soft and you felt like you were floating on a sun-kissed cloud everytime he guided your head to the side, allowing him to kiss you harder, deeper. Soon enough that feeling built up inside you again and you took a leap of faith; opening your mouth and letting your tongue run softly over Eddie’s bottom lip, a desperate plead for more. 

Eddie pulled back, you leaned forward trying to chase his lips, and he couldn’t help the love that consumed him at the look of serenity that painted your face. You didn’t want to be away from him for even a second. And neither did he, but he didn’t want to ruin this, or seem like he only wanted one thing.

“Sweetheart– we don’t have to.” Eddie told you gently, his hand caressing your face and his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.  

“You don’t want to?” You asked, if he didn’t want to you would stop, of course you would. 

“No! I mean no, yes– I do want to, fuck of course I do. I just don’t want you to think-” 

“I don’t think that Eddie, I promise.” you cut him off before he could finish speaking, already knowing what he was about to say, the worry that flashed across his face told you everything you needed to know. A sickly-sweet smile spread across his face before he leaned back in to kiss you. Your lips moving against each others in perfect harmony, like this was what you were meant to do all your life. 

Eddie let his tongue run over your bottom lip, you let him deepen the kiss and your tongues met in a cataclysmic way, both of you desperate to taste each other. The kiss was fast and slow, deep and soft, it was everything you had been craving for the past seven months- even when you hated him, you couldn’t forget the way his lips had felt on yours. 

You could have been making out for five minutes or five hours, time had no meaning when you were with Eddie, it was all him and nothing else. But then you felt him push you back slightly, he relucatlanly pulled away from you, his lips still grazing yours as he told you to lie down. 

You did as he asked you to, clumsily manouvering your body until you were lay flat against the soft couch cushions, Eddie moving to lie on top of you. One of his hands rested on your waist, his fingers grazing the tiny slip of skin that was showing where your jumper had raised up. He rested his weight on his forearm next to your head, carefully moving your hair out of the way before he did so. 

You breathed him in as he lowered his mouth to your jaw, planting gentle kisses over your face. His hair fell around both of you, and if kissing Eddie felt like heaven then you didn’t have the vocolabury to describe what it felt like to be underneath him, completely consumed by everything that was so undeniably Eddie. 

His curly hair, his soft lips, the little sighs he let out when he kissed a new spot on your body, the way his ring-clad fingers graze your skin. It was as close to a religious experience that you would ever get. 

Eddie trailed kisses down your across your jaw and down your neck, you lent your head back further, giving him more room and you felt his lips turn up into a smile against your skin. 

Your hand raised to rest in Eddie’s hair as he kissed your neck, instantly finding your sweet spot again, as if no time had passed and every sound you had made and reacted to his every touch came flooding back to him as he tasted your skin. 

He was determined be soft with you. Take things slow and savour every moment. You were too, but then Eddie gently grazed your sweet spot with his teeth and you found yourself pushing his head further into his neck, desperate for his touch. 

Eddie listened to you, the hand on the back of his head told him everything he needed to know. He gently sucked a lovebite over your pulse point; the breathy moans that fell from your mouth were music to him, he would do whatever it took to hear those noises for the rest of his life. 

Eddie continued to mouth at your neck until he needed to kiss you again. He lifted his head from your neck only to be met your heavy eyelids, mouth slightly parted and a look of complete comfort on your face. He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head back up to him. Your noses touching before he connected your lips, and you kissed like the world was ending tomorrow. 

This was perfect, but you needed more. You felt that familiar aching start to grow within you and you languidly moved one of your legs to wrap around Eddie’s waist, pulling him flush against you. 

Your movement caused Eddie to falter in his kissing you, for just a second. And then he had his hand on your jean-clad thigh and he was carefully grinding his hips down into yours. Determined to keep the soft atmosphere you were both bathing in. You panted into each other’s mouths, neither of you kissing anymore, your lips only moving against each other because of the gentle movement of Eddie rocking against you. 

Neither of you said anything, you didn’t need to. Your soft pants and whimpers filling the soothing silence in the room. Both of you perfectly content to just take each other in, feel each other’s bodies move against each other, without any rush for more. 

You lasted like that for a while. Sweet kisses shared between the two of you. And then Eddie made one move with his hips that had you moaning louder than you had before, and suddenly it wasn’t enough. 

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. 

“Yeah, angel?” Eddie asked you, his own voice sounding fucked out already. 

“Need more,” Eddie pressed a kiss to your lips in response, he would give you whatever you needed. 

“Yeah? tell me sweetheart, I’ll give you whatever you need, you just need to tell me.” Eddie’s soft voice settled over you and tightened your grip on him, grounding yourself. Trying to remind you that was real. This was really happening. Eddie made you feel so safe that you didn’t feel any embarrassment in telling him what you needed. 

“I need- fuck, need your fingers, please.” Eddie whispered an okay and managed to slip his hands between your bodies, sitting up to undo the buttons on your jeans, his hands were shaking slightly. Yours were too. 

“Can you just lift your–” you did what he asked before he got the question out. Somehow, despite him lying over you, he managed to take your jeans and underwear off. You both laughed quietly when it became slightly awkward, both of you moving around as you needed to. Soon enough he had your jeans placed on the floor next to you. 

Eddie placed kisses along the top of your thigh, moving up to kiss over your waist and stomach, gently pushing up your jumper once you signalled it was okay for him to do that. He already had your pants off, and yet he wouldn’t even lift your top up without getting your permission again. 

Eddie was kissing every square inch of your body, his plump lips leaving sparks everywhere he touched you. As content as you were to bask in the affection, you really needed him to touch you. 

You tapped his shoulder and pulled him up to you, moving him where you wanted him, exposing his neck so you could kiss it. He let you, tilting his head to side and letting small breathless whines fall from his lips as yours caressed his neck. 

You felt his hand slip between your bodies again and then his fingers fell to between your legs and he ran them through your slit, gathering the wetness he found there and moving them up to your clit. 

“Fuck doll, you’re so wet, so fuckin’ perfect for me.” Eddie was breathless just from feeling how needy you were for him. He already knew he would never get over the affect he had on you. 

You moaned out in response and Eddie circled your clit. His fingers sedning sparks through your body, “Oh god– Eddie”.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, let it out. Let me hear you.” Eddie cooed at you, applying slightly more pressure and just barely speeding up, and  when your back arched off the sofa he smiled, knowing he’d found the perfect way to touch you. 

Eddie dipped down to kiss you, and you pulled him closer to you. You werne’t sure you would ever be close enough to him. He kissed you as his hand worked you to your breaking point, he swallowed your soft whimpers and moans, letting out little shh shh shh’s and comforting praise when you got too worked up. 

“Fuck oh my god– inside me, please Eds,” The nickname broke his heart and he kissed your forehead before dipping his two fingers down to press them gently inside you. 

The stretch of his two fingers was definitely there, but it was clouded by the pleasure that spread through your body, and the relief of him touching you the way you needed. 

“You’re okay, sweets?”  Eddie asked when he saw your eyebrows scrunched together, eyes closed. But then you moaned and nodded your head with such certainty it would have been comedic if he wasn’t so completely enamoured by the way you were falling apart underneath him. 

He slowly started moving his fingers in you, your wetness making it feel even better. Eddie was barely even pulling them out of you, instead he rocked them gently inside you, and when he curled his fingers upwards you swear you died for a second. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth dropping open in a soundless moan. 

You were so despeate you knew from the start you wouldn’t last long, but he had barely been going for two minutes and you felt that knot get tighter in your stomach and you knew you were so close to being thrown over the edge. 

Eddie felt you get tighter around his fingers and he was grinding his hips down into your thigh without even realising he was doing it. Feeling his hips move against you was all you needed to send you to your breaking point, Eddie noticed instantly in the way your breath hitched. 

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” you nodded as he kissed your cheek, your nose, the side of your mouth; anywhere he could reach. “You can come angel, come on. Just let go for me, I’ve got you. Need to feel you come all over my fingers for me” 

His words sent you over the edge and you barely even recognised the sounds you let out, your ears were ringing and you were sure your vision blacked out for a second. Eddie never let up, working you through your orgasm, drawing it out for as long as possible, letting you ride it until it got to be too much. 

When it did, your hand flew down to his hand, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. Eddie carefully pulled his fingers out of you and your eyes went wide with need when he raised them to his mouth, cleaning your arousal off of them and dipping down to kiss you. 

The taste of yourself on his tongue was all-consuming. Eddie moaned against you and you pushed your hand between you to feel his cock through his pants. His hips stuttered and he swore under his breath.

“Fuck sweetheart, keep doing that.” Eddie practically begged you, and who were you to say no to such a pretty man begging you to touch him? 

You kept plaming him over his pants, he was moaning into his neck and when you undid his zipper to slip your hand underneath he almost bit down on the skin he was sucking on to stop himself from distrubing the rest of the hotel with the sounds that were falling from his mouth. 

“Shit, okay– I need to be inside you, angel. Is that okay?” Eddie asked, his eyes clouded with arousal and his skin flushed. 

You nodded and shorty after Eddie was pulling you up from your position on the couch. Eddie stood up and held his hand out for you. You took it and he led you to the bedroom across the hallway. Time slowed down as he delicately placed his hands on you hips and pulled you against him, kissing you as he placed his hand behind your head and lay you down onto the bed, climbing to rest on top of you. 

You kissed him until you felt him tense against you. You bit back a laugh at how desperate he was, he didn’t want to rush you, of course. But he was certain if he didn’t get inside you in the next two minutes he was going to go insane. He needed to feel you around him. 

You pushed Eddie’s shoulder and he pulled away from you to see what you were doing. 

“Fuck me, Eddie.” you said breathlessly. 

Eddie didn’t need to be asked twice. 

He backed off you to throw off his trousers and top and grab a condom. You watched him intensely and felt the wetness cover your thighs at the sight of him. 

You had almost forgotten how perfect he was. Almost. 

He moved back over you, kissing you as he wrapped your legs around his waist loosely. He guided himself into you, rubbing himself over your clit a couple of times until you were whimpering for him to please fuck you. 

He remembered the last time. How it took you a second to adjust to him. He was gentle as he pushed unto you a few inches. He stold your breath from you for a second, the stretch not feeling as painful as last time, instead you were already begging for more. Moving your hips to get him deeper. 

Eddie smiled and carried on pushing into you. Watching your face for any sign that you were uncomfortable, but it never came. Soft whimpers and moans fell from your lips and your legs tightened around him as he bottomed out inside you. 

It felt so right. Nothing felt as right as Eddie being inside you. 

“Fuck, good girl– taking me so fucking well.” Eddie praised you as he began to move inside you, pulling out almost all the way and then back into you. 

He found the perfect rhythm. One that had you both whispering soft praises into each others mouths and had your nails digging into his back. His forearms were back on either side of his head as held his body weigh off of you. 

But when you whimpered out in protest at the small piece of space left between you he lowered himself, his chest flush against yours and his head buried in your neck. 

His ring-clad fingers held onto your thigh around his waist- despite the gentleness, you were sure you would have marks there afterwards. 

Eddie normally lasted a while, but being inside of you sent him flying towards his release ridiculously fast. He mouthed at your neck and when he hit that sweet-spot inside you, you let out a moan that could have made Eddie come there and then. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good– oh god,” his voice was muffled against your neck, never stopping pressing kisses into your skin. 

“You feel so good too, fuck Eddie.” 

Eddie wanted you to come again before him, he pushed one of your legs up, holding it against you and the change in position had you clawing at his back and pulling his head up so you could kiss him. 

You could tell Eddie was close by the whimpers he was letting out, his head dropping to rest against yours and you could hear him right in your ear, sending your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Fuck I want you to come for me, Eddie,” you whispered against his hair. 

He pulled up to look at you, he looked completely fucked out and you wondered how he hadn’t come already. 

“Want you to come first, angel, okay?” Eddie asked you, desperation seeping through his words. 

“No, no it’s okay. Please I want you to come. I need you to come for me, please baby–” 

Eddie mewled and you pulled him down into a fiery kiss, the gentleness that had permeated everything you had done before suddenly disappearing. 

“Jesus sweethear, you;re gonna kill me, oh fuck–” 

Eddie groaned and you felt his hips stutter against yours as he came. You ran your fingers through his hair as he came. His grip on your thigh loosening and your leg dropping back against the mattress when his whole body went limp. 

If he wasn’t already flush against you he would have collapsed. 

You both breathed heavily as he came down from his high. You don’t know how long you lay there for, but Eddie slid his arm underneath your back and pulled you impossibly tighter against you as his head found its place back in your neck. 

You were glad he was so fucked out, because you didn’t want him to pull out yet. You loved the feeling of him inside you. 

“Sweetheart?” Eddie said into your neck. 

You ran your nails along his scalp, humming in answer to his question, telling him you were listening. 

“Thank you, fuck you’re. I–” Eddie stopped himself when he looked at you. 

But you knew what he wanted to say. He just couldn’t yet. You understood. 

“I know. I know, Eddie.” You comforted him and he kissed you, his tongue running over your lips and you stayed like that for a while. Soft, deep kisses shared as you both came to terms with what had just happened. What it meant. 

Soon Eddie moved off of you, pulling out gently and tidying himself up. You expected him to come back with a warm washcloth to clean you up to. But when he walked back into the room he pulled you to the end of the bed and knelt down in front of you, pulling your legs over his shoulders. 

“Eddie, what–” 

“You didn’t come, sweetheart. That just won’t work.” Eddie said before he ran his tongue over your sensitive cunt and your hands dived into his hair and your back arched off the bed and the whole world seemed to go quiet again. 

His tongue ran through your slit, alternating between sucking on your clit and dipping his tonuge inside you. You mewled and whimpered and he held his arm over your waist to keep your body pressed to the mattress. But leaving you enough space to grind your hips into his face, he mewled and pulled back to tell you how good you were being for him, that he wanted you to use him until you were seeing stars. 

You didn’t last long after that. Your hand covered his that held your waist down and you threw your hea back, letting your hips mvoe against him and not hiding the moans that fell from your half-open mouth. 

“Oh fuck me, Eddie– I’m gonna–” 

“I know, come on angel, come for me.” 

That was all it took for you to go over the edge for the second time. Eddie worked you through your orgasm again, only moving his mouth away from you when you were physically pulling back from the overstimualtion. 

When you opened your eyes, as you felt the mattress dip around you, you saw Eddie. His star-flecked eyes looking at yours and you held him against you. 

No one else could ever make you feel the way he could. 

And no one else could make him feel the way you did. 

.

.

.

You and Eddie spent the rest of the day in bed together. Limbs tangled and your head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around you as he softly scratched your back whilst you talked about anything and everything. 

It didn’t matter what you were talking about, it just mattered that you two were together. 

You had sex a few more times that day, each time taking your breath away just like the first time. It was all slow and intended to show the other just how much you meaned to each other. 

You fell asleep that night completely exhausted. You wrapped yourself around Eddie and he felt sure this was how he would fall asleep for the rest of his life. 

You weren’t perfect. Neither of you were. But you didn’t want each other to be perfect- you just wanted you to be yourselves. And you were. 

There was a lot to figure out, Too many things you had to discuss and learn about each other. But for now, this was enough. 

And when you woke up the next morning, the sunlight hitting your faces from forgetting to shut the curtains, you only pulled the comforter over both do your heads. 

Eddie stirred awake and pulled you tighter against him, his arms wrapped around you and you settled back against him, your face in his neck as he rubbed his hands up and down your back, lulling you back to sleep.

.

.

.

thank you so much for reading! <3

taglist @harrys-four-nipples @choke-me-eddie @hbaramas @cardiganquinn @etherealeddie @eddies-girl-22 @tlclick73 @c0untryclub @eddiemunson95 @harrys-tittie @bestofbucky @somethingvicked @emma77645 @bebe0701 @bibieddiesgf @ganjas-shit @corkadymu @digitalhearts @specialsnowflake-gabbi @littlestarfighter03 @mandyjo8719 @hargrovesswifee @eddiesguitarskills @sunnytkm23 @bpj519 @ajeff855 @sebastiansstanswhore @marriedtoeddie @manda-panda-monium @kissmyacdc @tayhar811 @husherstan @teary-eyed-egg @ourautumn86 @whenshelanded @alana4610 @tabloidteen @tobesolovelysstuff @damon-loves-pie @georgiapeaches-world @josephsfavoritegirl @angel-jz @kittenslovie @boinkybarness @sadpetalsstuff @sashaphantomhive @winterton-reads @hermadroyalhiney @loveberrie (i'm sorry if you asked to be on the tag list and you're not here, it got chaotic and i tried my best 🤍)

[kwanisms]

The Library of Illusion — Lord of the Castle on the Hill

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➮ feudal lord!San × fem!Reader wc: 7.2k summary: Stumbling into the history section, Y/N soon learns she has somehow infiltrated the palace of a very wealthy feudal lord but instead of having her imprisoned or executed, the lord asks her to dine with him. The very handsome lord. genres/themes/au: smut; fantasy, historical drama, feudal era, Joseon era; non idol au, historical drama au, feudal/Joseon era au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, implied alcohol consumption, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @seonghwalover @atinypurr @aikyubi

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny @ateezstanforever @justiny @jeongwangjessmina

special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasangelbaby

join my taglists! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: this wasn’t easy to write. I had to restart it a couple times but finally, I found something I liked and stuck with it. A special shout out to my lovely bestie Sky☁️ cause I know you'll read this. Enjoy your San smut cause Jongho is coming ;) thank you all so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

smut warnings: waterplay (fooling around in a hot spring. do not do this lol), fingering (f receiving), edging/orgasm control, oral (f receiving), face riding (m receiving), nipple play (f receiving), light impact play (spanking, pussy slapping), marking (f receiving, m receiving), possessive!San, very light knife play (San uses a knife to cut open the front of Y/N's dress), use of pet names (baby, kitten, kitty, sweetheart), lace kink (if you squint), unprotected sex (wrap it up), cumplay (San cums on her ass and pussy and pushes some into her), and I think I got all of it. If I missed anything, please let me know!

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“I trust you were successful?”

You walked over to the desk, climbing the few steps to drop the second key on the desk before Seonghwa who looked down at the metal before looking back up with a smile. “Perfect,” he said, moving to scoop up the key and place it back inside the box before looking back up at you.

“Where to next?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. You narrowed your eyes down at him. “That’s it?” You asked, anger flowing through your veins. After what you’ve been through? That’s all he had to say?

Seonghwa stared innocently up at you.

“I’m sorry?” he asked as you walked around the desk, reaching forward to grab the front of his shirt. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through!?” You screamed, fist shaking as Seonghwa stared up at you with wide eyes.

“Aliens and spiders and massive spider creatures! Do you know what I’ve had to do to get these keys?! And you have the audacity to act like I’m just walking in there and grabbing the key before coming back!”

Seonghwa let out a sigh but you weren’t finished yet. Not by a long shot.

“I watched a man get ripped in half! I thought he was dead!”

You gestured down at your appearance. “I still have his blood all over me!”

“I’m the one out there in the field while you sit here comfortably and wait for me to come back so you can offer some witty and sarcastic remark while I’m risking my fucking life?!”

You were beyond pissed but you failed to see that Seonghwa was beyond annoyed.

In a flash, he stood up, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm before pushing you over onto the desk, pinning you down.

“Do not test my patience, mortal,” he hissed, the heat from his breath fanning over the back of your neck. “I’m entirely aware of everything you’re doing out there. I see everything that happens in this library,” he continued in a low, gravelly voice.

“Never forget that.”

He let go of your arm, allowing you to stand up and turn to face him. You rubbed your wrist, glaring at him as your chest heaved. Seonghwa stared back just as angrily. “Now,” he said in a much calmer tone, moving to stand in front of the desk and turn to look at you.

“Where to next?”

You looked away, blinking back tears as you looked at the doors before settling on one. “That one,” you said, pointing to a door with a sign above it that read History.

Seonghwa nodded wordlessly and walked over to the door, waiting for you to join him. When you finally did, he unlocked the door and opened it. “Your life is less likely to be in danger here,” he explained as he held the door open. “Of course, it’s never safe,” he added. “You’ll never be safe in the Library.”

You walked past him into the dark hallway. “But at least there won’t be aliens or giant spider creatures,” he added as you glanced back at him. “Tread carefully,” he continued. “This may not be the science fiction or horror sections, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier. Man is sometimes the most dangerous beast you’ll face.”

With that, Seonghwa shut the door with a soft click and you were left to your own devices. You turned and started down the corridor, just as before, the shelves lined your path, books and stacks of paper filling each shelf.

As you walked, the corridor seemed to grow darker and darker and as you stepped forward the books and shelves were gone in the blink of an eye and instead you were standing in a long hallway lined with rice paper walls.

Looking around, you saw lanterns providing light outside the walls and you surmised it was night time wherever you had been transported. Continuing on, your boots echoed against the wooden floor. Not a soul in sight as you went on.

You finally reached the end of the hall and slid open the door. Beyond was a vast courtyard complete with a rock garden, manicured bushes, trees, and even a beautiful pond with a small gazebo.

You walked down the stone steps and looked around. You were inside some sort of castle complex. A palace it seemed. As you continued on, you looked around, noticing how the only light came from lanterns and the moon. Not even the stars were visible which you found strange.

‘Where am I? Why aren’t there any stars?’

“You there!” A voice called, causing you to jump and turn around.

A man stood behind you, dressed in armor. ‘A guard?’

“Who are you?” The man asked. “How did you get in here?”

You found yourself unable to speak, too stunned.

Backing away slowly, the man seemed to think you were about to bolt. “Halt!”

Following your gut, you took off in the opposite direction.

‘Curse that damn Seonghwa.’

You darted through the garden, dodging plants and rocks as you went. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw your pursuer was joined by another guard.

You jumped over a low stone wall and turned the corner only to run into another guard who was quick to grab you. The other two caught up as the one pinned your arms behind your back and your wrists were quickly bound.

“Bring her to the Lord!”

You were hoisted up to your feet and pushed along as two guards led the way while the third, the one that caught you, brought up the rear.

The walk across the complex was short and the maze of corridors long until the doors were opened and you were pushed into a room full of men. All the men were wearing robes of varying colors as they looked up from papers and towards the door as you were shown in.

“What’s this?” one of the men, an older gentleman with a pointed gray beard asked, looking from the guards to you and back. “Found her near the garden,” the first guard said. “She tried to run but we caught her.”

Another man looked up from his papers, thick brows furrowing in anger. “A spy!” he roared. You shook your head. “I’m not a spy!” you shouted only for a heavy blow to hit your stomach, causing you to double over in pain. “Silence!”

“You know what we do to spies,” the gray bearded man sneered.

“Execution!” another man shouted to murmurs of excitement.

You looked up, eyes wide with fear. ‘Seriously? Safer? Fuck you, Seonghwa!’

“Yes, execution!” an older man with white hair and facial hair cried. As the shouts for your execution grew, another voice rang out.

“SILENCE!”

You glanced up to the front of the room, sitting atop a platform with steps leading up was a much younger man than the others in the room. He had shorter black hair and wore dark blue silks. He had cat-like eyes as he peered around the room.

“But sire,” another man said. The man atop the platform turned his eyes upon the man, glaring at him. “Hold your tongue or I’ll have it cut out,” the man said, his underling shying away instantly.

Your stomach churned as the young man turned his attention upon you.

“Bring her here,” he instructed, his voice no longer loud but still just as commanding. One of the guards grabbed your bound wrists and pulled you up, a sharp pain shooting through your arm. You hissed in pain.

“I said ‘bring her,’” the young man ordered. “Not ‘break her arm.’”

The guard apologized and helped you to your feet, escorting you to the base of the platform. “Unbind her,” he said. The guards exchanged looks before one carefully undid the ropes binding your wrists.

Your eyes wandered, landing on something that glistened in the light of the lanterns. It was the same old metal you’d seen in the other sections. The same old metal Seonghwa held in his pocket.

‘The key.’

It hung on a hook next to the young man. Clearly it was something he held in high regard and protected. ‘He must be the Guardian!’

You blinked, realizing he was speaking to you.

“Come here,” the younger man said to you, his tone much softer now.

“Sire, I must protest!” one of the older men said. “She could be an assassin!”

The younger man narrowed his eyes on the speaker. “I seriously doubt that. What kind of assassin gets caught this easily?”

He turned his gaze back to you, expression softening instantly.

“Come here,” he said again, beckoning you forward.

Slowly, you ascended the steps, stopping on the second or third, bringing you eye level with the man. “Will you tell me the truth?” he asked to which you nodded wordlessly. “Are you a spy?” he asked. You shook your head. “If I was, I wouldn’t be a very good one, would I?” you answered to his amusement.

“And you aren’t an assassin?” he asked, tilting his head. You shook yours again. “No,” you replied. “I can’t even kill a spider.”

The man smiled, holding out at hand for you to take. You took it without hesitation and allowed him to pull you up onto the platform and guide you to take a seat. “You might want to rethink that,” he said softly, drawing your attention. “Most of these men are no different than spiders or snakes.”

His lips drew into a smirk, prompting you to return the smile.

“Sire, this is most unusual,” one of the men said. The man beside you dropped his smile and turned his head to look at the speaker. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” he said, the same annoyed tone back in his voice.

Clearly he didn’t like these men if the way he spoke to them compared to you was anything to go by. “It is late, leave us,” the man said before turning to one of the guards. “You stay.”

The room cleared as the men gathered up their papers and followed one another out of the room in a single file fashion, some murmuring and whispering as two of the three guards left the room, shutting the doors behind them.

“What is your name?” the man asked, drawing your attention.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you answered softly, looking at his smiling face. He turned to look at the only remaining guard. “Please have a room prepared for Y/N and ask the attendants to draw a bath for her,” he instructed. The guard nodded and exited the room through a side door as the man turned back to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.

“I’m San and this is my castle.”

“Your c-castle?” you stammered. San’s smile widened, a certain fondness in his eyes. “Yes,” he answered. “Are you some sort of emperor or something?” you asked curiously. San chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he answered. “A lord, actually.” Your eyes widened. ‘A lord? Were you supposed to bow? Or curtesy? How did you greet a lord?’

“I didn’t know,” you simply replied. San chuckled again. “It would seem you don’t know much about where you are,” he said, tilting his head. “How did you end up in my castle without anyone seeing you enter?”

Figuring it would be better if you feigned ignorance, you shrugged. “I don’t remember,” you lied. “I woke up in a long corridor and at the end was a door and when I opened it, I was here.”

You had no way of knowing whether or not San believed you but when he didn’t press further, you considered yourself lucky.

Before San had the chance to answer, a guard returned.

“A room has been prepared in the east wing,” he said. “The attendants are drawing a bath as we speak.” San sighed and turned back to look at you. “Let me show you around.”

The tour consisted of San showing you from a distance parts of his compound. It was much larger than you previously assumed but it was very pretty, even in the dark. It was obvious there was chemistry between the two of you and the tension between you was more than palpable.

The walk to your room didn’t take long and as you reached the door, San pulled you to a stop.

“Y/N, I’d like it if you'd join me for dinner,” he said, catching you off guard. “D-dinner?” You mentally kicked yourself for stuttering like an idiot.

San nodded. “If you’d rather eat alone, I understand,” he replied. You shook your head quickly. “No! I’d like to join you,” you stammered. The smile that spread across his face made your heart leap into your throat.

“Perfect. Bathe, dress, and then you will be shown to the dining hall,” he replied before giving you a small bow, eyeing you up and down once before turning to walk down the corridor, his guard in tow.

You pulled open the door and were greeted by two smiling faces. They were the attendants San must have called for. Both were dressed in traditional dresses in pastel colors. “Come, Miss,” one of them said, beckoning you to follow.

The room you’d been shown to was a suite of some sort. It was a large rectangular room with wood decor and furniture. The bed stood on a platform, a large round window on the wall behind. “The bath is over here.”

You were led out of the room to a small private hot spring.

“Please undress and we will help bathe you,” one of the attendants said. You felt suddenly self conscious as they both moved about.

You carefully and slowly undressed, setting your clothes aside. As one of the women grabbed your clothes, you turned to her. “Please don’t throw those away,” you blurted out. “And leave the undergarments, please.”

She gave you a shocked look before complying. She left your underwear but took the other clothes, promising to have them washed and returned.

The bathing process was much different than you were used to and after you were cleaned, you were finally allowed to dip into the hot springs, sighing in relief as you did. The hot water felt amazing against your sore muscles and aching joints as you relaxed in the water. “I will come back to check on you soon,” the attendant said before drawing a curtain to offer you some privacy.

‘I could get used to this,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Except I have to find a way to get that damn key!’

You tried to force that from your mind for the time being, wanting to enjoy this as much as possible.

San walked down the hall towards the room he’d had prepared for you. It was meant to be for his wife yet San still had yet to find a wife. He knew he was young and had some time before he needed to settle so he felt the room was perfect.

Especially as it had its own private hot spring much like his own quarters.

Walking past the entrance to your private chambers, he continued down the steps and to the gardens, following a path until it branched off between some dense bamboo. San continued to walk and walk until he reached a private seating area that just so happened to overlook your private onsen.

San arrived just in time to see you already relaxing in the hot water.

He smiled to himself, watching as you closed your eyes and rested your head against the rocks. His eyes started to wander, following the curve of your neck, scanning your collar and the way your breasts dipped into the water, only the tops visible in the dark, steamy water.

Before he knew what he was doing, San started to strip, setting his clothes aside before carefully making his way into the pool, dipping below the surface with a deep breath.

You must have dozed off because you sat up abruptly, woken up by a splashing sound. Looking around, you saw the water ripple, the surface having been disturbed by something. You peered around, trying to see if you could spot what had disturbed the water but found nothing.

As you settled back against the rocky wall, you felt something brush against your leg under the water and pulled back quickly, staring wide eyed at the water. Just as you started to play it off as your imagination, something grabbed your ankle and before you could scream, a figure surfaced, another hand coming up to cover your mouth.

You were staring into the face of—

“San!” you hissed as he removed his hand, smirking at you. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled, drops of water rolling off his skin and hitting the water.

“Are you surprised?”

You glared at him before remembering you were entirely nude in the water. Bringing your hands up to cover yourself, you sputtered as you tried to save your dignity. “Y-you can’t be in here!”

He slowly drifted closer. “Why not?” he asked softly, a teasing tone to his voice as he smirked at you.

“Because! I’m bathing,” you replied. San merely shrugged.

“We can bathe together,” he replied. Your cheeks burned and not because of the hot water.

“Isn't that inappropriate?” you asked quietly.

San snickered at you. “Is sneaking into someone’s home also not inappropriate?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I did not sneak,” you retorted. “I told you I don’t remember how I got in here.”

San offered a mischievous grin. “I don’t remember how I got in here,” he replied, making you roll your eyes. “Now you’re mocking me,” you pouted. San scooted closer, pushing your knees apart and ignoring your gasp. “Not mocking,” he replied, bringing one hand up to take your chin in his hand.

“I was inspired,” he answered. You narrowed your eyes again. “Liar,” you replied. San placed a hand over his chest. “I’m offended,” he said, sounding anything but.

“Stop mocking me!” you hissed. San chuckled, moving his hand to the back of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, eyes dipping to look at your lips. “Let me apologize.”

You knew what was coming but it still caught you off guard as his lips met yours. Before you had a chance to lean into it, you pushed him back. “What about the attendants?” San nuzzled your nose gently. “They won’t come in here unless I tell them to,” he murmured, taking your lips in another soft kiss.

You melted against him, hands moving up to his shoulders. “Tell me to stop and I will,” you heard him whisper. Shaking your head, you kissed him again. “Don’t stop.” San let out a groan, one of his hands ducking below the surface of the water and skimming down your chest and stomach, dipping between your thighs.

“Say it again,” he said breathlessly. “Say it.”

He pulled back to meet your gaze, pupils dilated. “Don’t stop,” you repeated, moaning as he pulled you into another kiss, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it slowly. You moaned against his lips, thighs squeezing around his hips as his fingers worked you up, barely slipping into your aching core.

“San,” you breathed. “Please don’t tease me.”

San chuckled against your skin, peppering kisses down your neck. “Keep begging me and I’ll consider it,” he replied. You whined, hips seeking more friction against his fingers but San pulled them away, his hand moving up to cup your breast.

“Beg for it,” he repeated. “Beg for my fingers, kitten.”

You moaned as he massaged your breasts, kneading them carefully. “Please San,” you whispered. “Louder,” San replied. “Beg for it, kitten.”

“P-please,” you stuttered. San chuckled darkly, taking your lips in a searing kiss as he sank his fingers into your cunt with a sigh. “So warm,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

You hadn’t entered the history section with the intention to fuck the guardian but then again, you hadn’t intended to fuck the other guardians either but stranger things had indeed happened.

You let out a whine against his lips. “Would you like that?” San asked as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of your pussy. “You want me to fill this pretty little pussy with my cock and fuck you?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his thumb draw circles against your clit, his fingers inside your cunt curling and coaxing you towards orgasm.

“Say it,” San whispered, watching your face contort with pleasure. “Say you want my cock inside you. Tell me you want me to fuck you and make you mine.”

“Yes,” you gasped, walls clenching around his fingers as he pressed light kisses to your cheek. “I want your cock inside me, San. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard and fill me up. I want you to make me yours.”

San growled, fingers moving faster as he rested his forehead against your temple. “M’gonna fuck you so good, kitten,” he murmured, curling his fingers against your walls.

Your orgasm was just within your reach, your moans growing in pitch before San pulled away, his fingers leaving your cunt aching and wanting more. “San!” you hissed as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry, kitten,” he cooed. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Without another word, San climbed out of the water, grabbing a robe and disappearing behind the curtain. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you went over what just happened in your head, only three words coming to mind.

‘Desperate. Pathetic. Whore.’

Once you were dried off and dressed, you were escorted to the room where you would be dining with San. You spent the entire walk over composing yourself and attempting to seem indifferent to the way he left you hanging.

Once shown inside, you took a seat and waited for San to arrive, surprised he wasn’t already there. The room was long and skinny with 20 places to sit. You suddenly wondered if you’d be dining with more than just San.

The quiet allowed you time to think. To plan.

Just how were you going to get the key? No doubt that room was heavily guarded so there’s no way you were going to just walk in and take it. You’d have to apply a bit more cunning to the situation.

One of the doors slid open and San entered the room, dressed in a different outfit but much like the one he’d been wearing when you first met him earlier. San moved to take his seat and looked up, noticing how far away you sat. He cleared his throat before nodding to the seat adjacent to him.

Looking around, you noticed the guard standing by the door nearest you. He wasn’t looking at you but you knew he was paying full attention. Getting up slowly, you walked down the room to your new seat and sat down.

“How do you expect us to talk when you’re sitting so far away?” San asked as the door across from you opened and several servants walked in, carrying different plates and platters.

You watched as they set them down, arranging them neatly on the table before moving and disappearing out the door they entered. The guard stepped out and shut the door, leaving just you, San, and one guard in the room.

“Please,” San said, gesturing to the food. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You thanked him and dug in immediately, not realizing just how starving you were. While you ate, San watched you closely, eating at his own pace. You felt very self conscious, having him watch you eat like that.

"So you really cannot tell me how you got into my castle?" San asked as he lifted his cup, taking a sip of sake. You shook your head silently.

How were you supposed to explain it? You were transported from a magical library? Or that all of this land, this entire world, was in the Library? How would he not think you were crazy after that?

No, it was better you simply pretend you didn't know.

San watched you carefully as you ate in silence. You glanced up, meeting his gaze and a smile slowly spread across his face. "You can tell me, you know? I'm not going to judge you."

Your heart leapt into your throat, like you'd been caught, almost as if he'd been reading your mind, listening to your thoughts. You still said nothing as you ate and drank silently. San continued to watch you, making you feel anxious, almost as if he was working everything out in his head.

Finally, he spoke again.

"I promise you can tell me anything," he said as he leaned in, keeping his eyes trained on you. His close proximity made your skin grow warm, heat creeping up into your face as you shifted nervously in your seat.

"Even if it seems impossible or outlandish," San continued, reaching a hand out to place over yours. "You can tell me."

The moment his skin met yours, it was like a fire was ignited in your veins. A desire not unlike what you'd experienced in the other sections. A deep, carnal craving bubbled from the pit of your stomach, your thighs clenching together under the skirt of the hanbok San had graciously lent you.

Your skin erupted into a thousand bumps, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. It took every ounce of willpower not to jump the man. That would only end poorly.

Instead, you pulled your hand from his quickly and apologized and continued to eat, taking a sip of your drink.

Sensing the subject needed, changing, San provided just that.

“I do apologize about earlier,” San said, prompting you to look up, meeting his gaze. “It wasn’t very nice of me, leaving you like that,” he continued. You lifted your glass to take a sip and nearly choked as you felt his hand pushing the skirt of your dress up. “Shh,” he whispered, eyes flickering to the guard and back to you.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said softly when you glared at him. You shook your head. “Shall I keep going, then?” You nodded, biting into your bottom lip when you felt his fingers skim against the skin of your inner thigh.

“Keep quiet, baby,” he murmured, moving his hand to scoot your seat closer to him before his hand darted under your skirt again. You’d chosen to put your lace underwear back on and you were glad you did because as soon as his fingers met the material, his eyes widened, eyebrows raising as he felt around, inspecting.

“What is that?” he whispered. “Lace?” You nodded at him, resisting the urge to giggle. “Lace undergarments? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

Looking away from your face, San cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the only remaining guard. “Please step outside and do a perimeter check,” he ordered. The guard hesitated before nodding and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door shut, San stood up, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up, dragging you away from your seats to the other end of the table. “Up,” he ordered, pushing the place settings out of the way, ignoring the plates and utensils that fell to the floor. You climbed up, settling on the table at the end.

San pushed your skirt up, pulling the chair up and taking a seat between your spread legs. He pushed your skirt higher, exposing your lace covered core to his gaze and instantly letting out a groan.

He peered down at them curiously. “It really is lace,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he lightly brushed his fingers over the material.

Your cheeks burned even hotter. “Y-yes,” you answered. San looked up to meet your gaze. “Lace undergarments,” he repeated. “I’ve really never heard of anything like that before.” His eyes moved back down to your lace covered core. “It sure doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” he added.

You nodded. “Lace is usually see through,” you reminded him, highly embarrassed to be explaining but also extremely turned on.

“Well,” he said softly. “These need to come off,” he added, sliding his hands up your thighs and grabbing the waistband of your panties. “May I remove them?”

You nodded much too quickly but you didn’t care at this point. You were dripping, soaking the black lace and ready to explode at any second. San luckily didn’t make a show of it and instead dragged them down as you lifted your hips.

Your cheeks burned as he held them up to inspect.

“They’re so… thin,” he said softly.

“San,” you whined, pulling your skirt up and showing him your glistening core. His eyes dipped down to look and he immediately grabbed your hips, your lace panties still in his hand. “Lay back for me, baby,” he instructed, tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

You did as he said, leaning back, propping yourself on your elbows as he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the table. “Don’t hold back,” he said suddenly, looking up to meet your gaze. “No one cares if they can hear you.”

Your cheeks burned as San’s head disappeared under your skirt. “This is highly inappropriate,” you said breathlessly.

San chuckled lightly, hands grabbing your hips and holding you in place as he licked his lips. “It is,” he answered, eyeing your glistening sex before looking up to meet your gaze. “But I’ve decided I really don’t care.”

Without another word, he ducked his head, licking a slow strip up your slit, the tip of his tongue meeting your clit and toying with it. You let out a low moan, head falling back as his tongue explored your core, groaning at the taste.

You whined as he pulled away, his hands moved, spreading your folds before diving back in and attacking your clit with his tongue, suckling on the sensitive nub. Your back met the mattress as you fell back, chest heaving as San continued to lick and suck on your clit, teasing you and drawing whimpers and moans from you.

“S-San,” you moaned as your head fell back. “Keep doing that,” he murmured. “I like the way you say my name.” You gasped as you felt his hand make contact with your clit, giving it a light slap. “Say my name,” he said again.

“San!” You cried out as he gave your cunt another harsh smack. “That’s it,” he murmured before ducking his head again, tongue flicking mercilessly against your clit before spreading your folds again, exposing your hole to him.

His tongue moved down to your entrance, licking into it and making you groan as he pushed further into your cunt. The wet sounds of him eating you out like a man who hadn’t had a meal in years made your cheeks burn with an intensity you weren’t used to. It felt almost as if you had a fever.

‘What is this? Why does he have such an effect on me?’

“Oh shit,” you gasped, one of your hands moving to comb through his dark locks. You felt him smirk against your cunt as he continued to tease and toyed with your clit, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he suckled on the sensitive nub.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you groaned, spreading your thighs a little more for San. You let out a squeal as you felt his teeth lightly graze the sensitive skin. San’s arms moved around your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to lick and suck. The flicks against your clit continued to draw you closer and closer to orgasm, your thighs and abdomen twitching as San teased you to the edge.

Before you could cum, he stopped, pulling back much to your chagrin. “Saaan,” you whined, head falling back before looking back down between your thighs as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Put your feet here,” he instructed, patting the arms of the chairs.

You followed his instructions, uncertain of what he was going to do. “I want you to ride my face,” he continued. “Do not stop until you’ve come.” Your cheeks burned as you nodded, watching him lower his mouth to your cunt once more, tongue instantly moving against your clit.

Your head fell back again, a moan escaping your lips as your hips started to move, using the arm rests of the chair for leverage. San kept a firm hold on your skirt, matching your movements with his head. “Shit,” you hissed, your fingers tangling in his hair again as you grinded against his tongue, mewls, whimpers and moans leaving your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groaned as your orgasm rapidy approached before finally crashing over you as your thighs shook, hips continuing to move and ride out your climax until you started shuddering.

San pulled back as your back hit the table top, breathing heavily.

San stood up, moving to undo his top and pulling it back. “Come here,” he growled, pulling you up and into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, groaning into the kiss.

“San,” you moaned against his lips. “I need you.” He pulled back, moving one hand down to undo his pants, pulling at the ties. “You need me? What do you need, kitten. Tell me what you need.”

You laid back on the table, pulling the skirt up to your waist and reaching between your thighs to spread yourself. “I need your cock,” you whined. “Right here. I need it inside me.” San let out a groan, pushing the fabric of his pants down and pulling his hard cock free. You didn’t get the chance to see it from this angle as he quickly stroked himself a few times before lining the tip with your entrance.

“You need it that badly, baby?”

You nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I need it so bad. Need you to fill me up. Bury your thick cock inside me and fuck me.” San growled as he grabbed your hip, pushing the head of his cock into your wet hole.

You let out a hiss as San sank further into you, fingers digging into the cloth of his shirt. “Fuck,” you heard him growl. “So fucking tight,” he sighed. He gave you a tentative thrust, groaning as your walls squeezed him, hugging his cock.

You grabbed onto his shirt, pulling yourself up into a sitting position, one hand moving to steady yourself on the table. San gave you another tentative thrust and he quickly set a steady pace, one hand moving down to pull your hips closer so you were almost hanging off the edge of the table.

“Ah! Right there,” you gasped, feeling the head of his cock hit a soft gummy spot deep inside your walls. San gave you a measured, angled thrusts, chuckling when you cried out. “Right there?” he asked as you held onto his shirt tightly.

Each thrust had your ass bumping against the table, the wood creaking beneath you as San pounded into you. You let out a yelp as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head to the side to expose your neck which he immediately sank his teeth into, making you moan as he bit and sucked on the sensitive flesh.

“Keep doing that,” you heard him whisper as your walls clenched around him. “Fuck, keep doing that, kitten.” You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” you moaned. “Ah, fuck, don’t stop!”

When San was satisfied that your neck was marked sufficiently, you were quick to return the favor, pulling the fabric of his coat aside and leaving bites and marks on his shoulder and part of his chest, enjoying the way he moaned and growled into your skin.

You let out a squeak as he pushed you down, your back hitting the table as he grabbed a nearby knife. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him pick up the utensil but relief flooded your senses as he used the knife to cut the middle of your dress open before tossing it aside.

With the fabric out of the way, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue flicking against the bud quickly as his hips continued to move, slamming into you with renewed vigor. “Shit, feel so good,” you groaned as his cock dragged against your walls, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein.

“You like how my cock feels, kitten?” He murmured against your chest, leaving a wet trail of kisses from one breast to the other as he took your other nipple in his mouth, tongue lapping at it as his thrusts grew more erratic.

“You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me properly?” you retorted.

Almost as quickly as he’d started, San pulled back, his cock slipping out of your cunt. He quickly set you down on your feet. “Turn around,” he growled, spinning you to face the table before hiking up your skirt and pushing you down onto the wood as he took his cock in his hand, lining back up with your hole and pushing back into you.

As soon as he was back inside, he resumed the same relentless pace, gathering your skirt up and pushing it up to your waist, exposing your back to him. You let out a cry as you felt his hand strike your ass once. When your walls gripped his cock, he knew he was doing something right.

“Of course,” he huffed, sounding slightly amused. He gave your ass another smack, groaning as your cunt tightened around him. “Kitten likes to be punished?” he asked, taking hold of your hips, moving faster, the sound of your skin hitting his filling the room. “Mhm,” you moaned.

“I like being punished,” you answered. San let out a breathless laugh.

“Such a naughty little kitty.”

You felt his hands spread your cheeks and then a cold wet sensation against your asshole.

“What’re you—hng!” you moaned as you felt his thumb slip into your unused hole. “San!” you gasped as he kept his thumb still, his hips still pistoning, driving his cock in and out of you.

You pushed yourself up, peering over your shoulder at him. Your orgasm was close and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer at the rate he was moving. You planted your palms, pushing back to meet his thrusts, moans and mewls leaving your lips with each pound.

San let out a deep moan, removing his thumb and grabbing your skirt with one hand while the other grabbed your shoulder, pushing your chest against the hard wood of the table.

“Be a good kitty,” San growled, hips smacking your ass with each thrust, whimpers leaving your lips with each thrust.

“And stay down for me.”

You were suddenly reminded of how Yunho had pushed you down, ordering you to stay down and your walls clenched, remembering the way his alien cock had felt inside you.

The image had you coming with a moan, your cunt convulsing around San’s cock and string of curses leaving your lips. San had a hard time helping you ride out your high. Your walls constricted around him, hugging his cock tightly as he continued to ram into you.

You gasped, breath coming out in heavy pants.

“S-San,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop, fuck don’t stop!”

You heard him chuckle, one of his hands moving up to grab the back of your neck. “If you insist.”

You let out a scream, your hand moving up to cover your mouth as San’s hips somehow moved even faster, slamming into you repeatedly. Each thrust of his hips had you screaming in ecstasy as your cunt convulsed around his cock.

“You gonna cum, kitten?” San asked, chuckling when you nodded, unable to speak.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Be a good little kitty and cum for me.”

His thrusts grew in intensity, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room, barely drowning out your muffled cries.

Your thighs shook from the intensity of your orgasm as you whimpered, trying to keep your voice down but San growled in your ear, hips ramming into yours and pulling scream after scream as you were sent hurtling towards your next orgasm.

“Let everyone hear you,” he rasped.

“Let the whole castle know who’s fucking you this good, sweetheart.”

You could feel his cock throb inside your walls as he no doubt was close as well. “Almost,” he groaned. “Almost there.” Your second orgasm hung just over your head, needing more. Without a word, your hand moved between your thighs, fingers circling your clit in time with his thrusts just enough to push you over the edge and coming with another cry, walls gripping his cock like a vice.

The feeling of your cunt constricting around him sent San over the edge.

“Fuck, M’gonna cum,” he said, his voice low as he gave you a couple more thrusts before pulling out of you and finishing himself off, thick spurts of his release painting your bare ass and dripping onto your swollen pussy.

San let out a growl as he rutted his cock against your ass a couple times, holding onto the table for support. “Shit,” he cursed. “Look at this mess.”

You shivered as he ran his thumb over your sensitive core, smearing some of his cum as he slowly pushed some of it into your cunt. “I really wanted to fill your cunt,” he murmured, looking down at your abused pussy.

“But, fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

The clean up was rough and just when you thought San was going to send you back to your room, he produced the key. “I know you’re here for this,” he said, holding it out. “So take it.”

You thanked him, taking the key before pulling him into a kiss. “Your clothes should be in your room,” he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling your lace panties out. “But these,” he continued, pulling back as you tried to grab them.

He tucked them back into his pocket.

“These are staying with me,” he said. “If you want them back, you’ll have to come see me again,” he added with a wink.

You rolled your eyes and thanked him once more for the key before sneaking out of the room and taking the back corridor to your room where your clothes were cleaned and folded nicely on the bed. You changed quickly before sneaking back out and making your way through the garden.

It took you longer than you expected to find the door you’d entered from and soon you were hurrying down the dark corridor, relief flooding your body as the rice paper walls shifted into bookshelves and the door into the lobby came into view.

You grabbed the knob and turned it, opening the door and looking up as you entered the lobby where Seonghwa was standing, half sitting on the edge of the desk, a pocket watch in his hand.

Upon seeing you, his eyes narrowed, the smile he’d greeted you with before no longer present as he shut the lid of the pocket watch. You walked over cautiously, eyeing him with uncertainty. “So,” he said softly, still eyeing you.

“How was your trip back in time?”

[stsgooo]

Misclick.

✩࿐ summary: an evening where you feel particularly confident leads to an embarrassing and bountiful encounter.

warning(s): minors and ageless blogs DNI! suggestive talk, teacher!geto au, kinda crack fic, mutual masturbation, phone sex, afab!reader, descriptions of female anatomy, not proof read. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): geto suguru x fem!reader, shoko x fem!reader (if you squint).

a/n: trying to get practice writing smut and smut adjacent things. please lmk what i could work on :)

divider 1

TODAY WAS YOURS TO CLAIM.

Everything was falling into place for you. The third years were at your beck and call, Gojo hadn’t been a particularly loud problem today, and the set you ordered a few months ago came in.

When you got the notification on your phone, you thought the stars finally aligned and some higher being was thanking you for your hard work. Finally, you would be able to just live and have some fun while doing it.

After work, you practically skipped out of the school, blatantly ignoring Gojo who made some backhanded comment about rainbows coming out of your ass. You had priorities. One of which was getting home as quickly as possible and putting that lingerie set on so you could just lay about with some overbearing sense of confidence. A part of you wanted to be smug, while another, a tiny part of you, worried about what it’d look like.

The sticker less box was sitting against your apartment door when you arrived. The only identifying thing on it was your name address then a big smiley face thanking you for your purchase. Almost scandalized, you quickly brought the box inside and went to your room. Taking a quick shower before putting on the set.

The lingerie set was something you had found together with Shoko on one of your many girls nights. Both of you had been laughing at the obscure designs of some of them, making comments how it would be better to not wear anything at all than a thin piece of fabric. When it caught both of your eyes. The model for it was gorgeous, that’s probably where you both initially got stunted. She was practically exposed right there on the webpage, winking at the camera. You were about to scroll away when Shoko had loudly proclaimed: You would look so hot in that. And your fate had been sealed.

Now, standing in front of your large mirror, you silently thanked Shoko for her amazing intuition. You looked hot and you looked very fuckable.

The lingerie set was a soft purple color, the fabric was entirely lace so it left little to the imagination, but the little dark purple hearts over your nipples gave you some illusion of modesty. The girdle was snug against your upper thighs and the stockings felt almost like silk against your skin.

The sight of yourself in the mirror made you blush, eyeing it all in a new way. You looked amazing.

All things considered, you felt incredible.

Your phone on your nightstand vibrated and you felt a little giddy as you grabbed it. A text from Shoko and three other texts you weren’t going to pay attention to now. You had texted Shoko while you were leaving about the set arriving and she had just responded with an enthusiastic show it to me!!

You raised an eyebrow.

You

do you want to come over or…?

It took one minute for Shoko to respond.

Shosho ❤️

no time. just send a picture please. 🙏 need to see your hotness in all its glory! thx

You

i’ve never taken a picture like that before.

Shosho ❤️

it doesn’t have to be high quality, you’re not in a porno. don’t deprive me of being right.

You

fine. but don’t complain when you can’t see any of the juicy details.

Shosho ❤️

my heart is breaking.

You smiled stupidly at your friend’s behavior and looked to the mirror. You were never exactly one to take pictures of yourself. Shoko practically had to hold you at gunpoint when it came to it. Most of your pictures were of food and whenever Gojo got his grubby hands on your phone to take a million photos of himself and his students. But you were feeling nice tonight, you were feeling like you were definitely worth the cloud space usage being used on yourself for once.

With your little knowledge on lewd pictures, you found yourself in various positions.

First, you had opted into taking pictures of yourself in the mirror next to your bed. The first photo had been you simply sitting with your legs folded on either side of you, your face obscure but the set clear. The next photo was you on your knees, now opting to ghosting your fingers over the bra strap. The last picture was a little more risqué. You had your chest to the floor, your back arched and your ass raised. It was dark in your room but you could just make out the outline of your cunt in the mirror.

You figured the pictures would be enough, but, high on a streak, you switch positions to your bed.

You took only two photos there. One with you looking up at the camera with a wink and a grin, pulling the bra down just shy of your nipple, pressing your legs together. The next one was the boldest. Your face was no longer in frame, with more focus on your body. The bra now gone, an arm thrown over your breasts to hide your nipples, but your legs were spread to show off the little dark patch where your slick was collecting on the underwear.

Okay, maybe you were getting too into it.

After the pictures were taken, you figured that it would be both funny and relieving to send all of them to Shoko. After all, she would probably want to bask in her glory.

You gathered all six photos, typed will this satisfy you? and pressed send, then threw the phone off to the side.

Now, nervousness took ahold of you. There was something jarring about the whole thing. But you tried to remind yourself that Shoko had asked. This would all be a great opportunity to get out of your self deprecating shell. Tonight was about you-

Your phone vibrated and you practically jumped to read whatever response the woman may have drummed up.

It was Shoko, but with nothing you expected.

Shosho ❤️

okay, how can someone naturally sexy take this long to take pictures? don’t tell me you bailed.

Immediately, you were confused.

It hadn’t taken you super long to take the pictures. You briefly convinced yourself that it was simply taking too long to send. But the painfully blank screen on your side was making you sick.

You quickly backed out of your texts with Shoko and into your bank of unread and forgotten contacts. You didn’t have to look far. Right under Shoko’s name with the “Attachment: 6 images” proudly displayed under it. The last person you wanted to send these to.

Geto Suguru.

You and Geto had never really gotten along. You didn't have any ill feelings towards him. In fact, when he first started, you had an embarrassing and rather childish crush on him. He was attractive, extremely pretty, it wasn't hard to feel a little nervous around him. However, he had appeared indifferent towards you. There weren't many opportunities for you to get to know one another, so you had counted your losses and moved on with your life. There was a silent agreement between the both of you, you just never spoke to him unless he initiated first or you really needed something.

But here you were now. Sent him photos where you're practically dripping and you barely spoke to the man.

You were going to kill yourself.

You found yourself returning back to Shoko with tears pooling in your eyes.

You

i misclicked and sent them to geto.

The read read receipt was instant, however Shoko’s response came two minutes later.

Shosho ❤️

i would love to see his face.

You

shoko, this is serious.

Shosho ❤️

has he seen them yet? if not, just try explaining it away.

You quickly clicked the back to Geto’s messages and hoped to see that he was busy and just hadn’t seen them. Your heart dropped further when you saw the read receipt under the photos. It’d been five minutes since he first saw them. You paled and felt like you could just about throw up when you saw the three dots on his side appear, disappear, then appear, then disappear. He was definitely typing up a storm about how inappropriate this was and that they’d be having a discussion with Yaga tomorrow morning.

However, his message was nothing of the sort.

Geto.

?

Nice bra.

Or lack thereof.

Still mad at you about the curses BTW.

You’re seriously going to kill yourself. This was it.

Your face flushed red, embarrassment and shame took ahold of you in an instant.

You

Geto, I’m so sorry. These were meant for someone else, this was a complete accident. Not an excuse, I should’ve been paying attention.

Again, I’m so sorry.

Your fingers shook as you typed out your deeply apologetic message.

Of all the people to accidentally send it to, it was the guy that acted like he had a bone to pick with you. The one guy out of the entire staff that just didn’t appear to like you.

You silently pondered and wished it had been Gojo you accidentally sent them to. He would’ve acted like a pervert and probably teased you about it for weeks on end, but he was friendly. He knew your limits. You feared exactly what Geto would do.

Geto.

You could make it up to me.

Can you call?

You

Sure.

The call came through in an instant, as if he had been hovering his thumb over the button waiting for your response. You answered and were about to apologize profusely, offering to take care of all his assignments for the next two months. You were about to until he spoke up.

“I’ve been thinking,” Geto’s voice was smooth and low on the other end, yet soft. As it always had been. His tone always as if he’s observing something interesting. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

You weren’t exactly sure what you expected from this call, but this definitely wasn’t even in the top twenty.

You blinked, your gaze on the ceiling. “You’ve been… thinking about me?” You repeated slowly, feeling suspicious.

Geto hummed. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about you. About how we barely talk and I was trying to talk to you then… then you send those pictures.” He sounded a little breathless on the other end.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Geto, seriously, I’m so sorry-“

“Don’t apologize.”

You pressed your lips together at his interruption. He was definitely going to chew you out.

He took in a shaky breath, something that was terribly soft and unsteady. It made you tense up, eyebrows raising. "Seriously, don't apologize. You're, uh," he released an airy chuckle, "You're really hot."

You flushed. "Huh?"

"I said, you're really hot." He repeated himself and it was apparent by his tone that he was smirking. Your cheeks burned and you almost felt like your heart stopped completely. "And I've thought that for a while too."

"You have?"

"How could I not?"

You almost felt blindsided by his words. A nervous laugh leaving you. "You've never acted like I was anything worth a second glance." You tried to hide the vague hurt that lingered in your voice, but it was harder than you thought.

You prayed that he couldn't hear it, but it was apparent he had when there was an audibly shift from his side. "I will... I will apologize for that. I will apologize for that right now." He cleared his throat. "Y/N, I'm deeply sorry for how I've acted towards you. I've always thought you were interesting, but I just, uh, there was never ample opportunity for us to talk."

"Apology accepted," only because you wanted to continue to hear his sweet voice like this. And you couldn't stay mad at him. "You're only apologizing because of those pictures, aren't you?"

"No, no, no. I've been wanting to apologize for a while."

You weren't entirely convinced. "I'm sure."

Geto chuckled. "Sure, it was definitely a motivating factor, but I've been wanting to apologize and to talk to you for a while. Satoru keeps calling me a pussy, but I can't help it when I see you. I get nervous." You furrow your brow when you hear him take in a sharp inhale of breath. "I can't lie right now, I'm really hard."

Your heart skips and you feel your cunt give an involuntary clench. "Is that so?" You uttered, your hand subconsciously ghosting over your chest. A featherlight touch that made a slight thrum of your pulse start in your core.

"Y-Yeah," Geto's voice was a breathless whisper, shaky, but still butter sweet. "I couldn't help it when I saw those pictures, y'know? Especially that one of you laying down, your tits looked amazing and I just wanted... I wanted to feel them."

Your fingers ghost over your erect nipple. In response, you gasp softly, your eyes fluttering close. "Geto..." You sigh softly, grabbing your breast.

"Ah, f..." Geto stutters. There's a shuffle on the other end, then the distinct sound of a zipper. His breath is heavy when he seemingly returns the phone next to his ear. "Are you touching yourself?"

Moving your attention to your aching cunt, you roll your fingers over your panty clad clit. "I am now." You breathed.

"Me too."

The thought of Geto stroking his cock right now while sitting on the phone with you, brought goosebumps to your skin. Enough to make your cunt pathetically clench around nothing and for you moan softly under your breath. Was he thick and heavy? Probably. You have no doubt he was endowed especially with his beauty.

As if reading your mind, he spoke, "my cock is aching for you, baby. Barely even touched myself and I'm already leaking-- you got me so worked up. I wish I was there with you so I could fill your tight cunt up." His breath is shuddering and heavy. His voice deep and smooth as he speaks into your ear. "I wanna feel you squeeze around me."

In tandem with his words, you clench around your fingers, desperately grasping around what isn't there. "Fuck me." You choked out.

There's an audible sound on the other end as if Geto's spitting, then there's a squelch, and his panting becomes harder. "And then after, I would eat you out and watch it all spill outta you." His words were slurring together as the pleasure mounted up. But you didn't care as you moaned and mewled in response to his words. "T-Then, I'd do it all over again--- Fucking... squeezing me."

It was almost surprising the noises that emitted from you and your body. Your pussy was clenching and squelching as your fingers worked endlessly and in tandem with the assumed pace Suguru has on his cock. You could feel the familiar ball in your gut tighten and the almost itching feeling in your clit heighten. The image of him burying himself deep within you, filling you up until you were spilling everywhere-- it was almost enough to send you over. You wished to feel his tongue against your clit, the kissing and the licks he place against it. To taste himself and you on his tongue..

You pressed your head back against your pillows, your back arching. "Faster, Suguru." As if he was in the room with you, as if he was the one touching you and not your fingers frantically chasing after your orgasm. "R-Right there."

"Right there? You like it there?" It appeared that Suguru was fully willing to play along with your fantasy. Maybe it was his too. His words a mere growl amongst the moans and pants between the both of you. You pictured his face flushed, his bangs sticking to his sweat covered forehead, and his eyes staring at you from heavy lids.

You wished you could see him.

You clench your teeth as your walls desperately clench and your legs shake. "I-I...I'm so close, Suguru." You resisted the urge to close your legs as the overwhelming feeling inched closer. Your abdomen and your entire body threatening to stiffen up as you came all over your fingers.

"Mm," Suguru's hum was deep, "Me too. I'm going to too."

There wasn't a moment wasted as you cursed under your breath, the familiar wave of bliss washing over your body as you sung his praises. You were barely paying attention as he grunted out your name with a long groan. Too busy with your jolting hips as your rubbed lazy circles over your aching and overstimulated clit. It was good. Just on the phone its was so good and your heart pathetically ached at the thought of this just being phone sex.

Your legs fell limply to the bed and your eyes closed. You weren't entirely sure how you were still holding onto your phone as everything felt so heavy and light at the same time. However, you could hear Suguru trying to recover on the other end.

It took his a few moments, but he finally seemed to regain himself.

"That was..." Suguru cleared his throat, sounding awkward and amused at the same time. "Five minutes... that's a little embarrassing."

"I won't judge." You said without hesitation.

He giggled. Giggled. You felt your heart sputter. "How kind." He stuttered a nervous breath and you felt it all come to a close. So much for more than phone sex. "Hey, I-I've made quite the mess, so I gotta clean up. We'll talk tomorrow before work, yeah?"

"Okay." You breathed, not at all hopeful that there'd be a conversation being had with the both of you tomorrow.

"I was serious when I said I think about you. Some lewd photos don't change that." His tone was serious but tender all the same. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Suguru."

The call was dropped quickly. The phone being quickly thrown to the side as you pressed your hands against your red face. You ignored the numerous texts Shoko sent asking for updates and hoping you hadn't decided to really end yourself this time over some guy. As if some guy hadn't spent ten minutes on the phone, stroking his dick while you came with his name on your lips.

It was certainly a turn that you hadn't expected. To be pushing your fingers in yourself while Geto Suguru fucked his hand on the other end of the phone. Embarrassment would kill you tomorrow. Awkwardness would weigh over the both of you and Gojo would definitely--

Before you could continue your descent into madness, your phone vibrated again. Thinking it Shoko, you decided to open it.

Instead, it was Suguru.

It was an image attachment and, for whatever reason, you hadn't expected what it was.

It was taken from the back camera, pointing down as he laid down on what appeared to be his bed. His sweatpants were pushed down to his thighs and his softened cock was resting against his abdomen where a pool of cum was. His left hand rested right next to it, also covered in his cum. He was thicker than you imagined and definitely long. This was him soft?

Your eyes widened further as you read his message.

Geto.

Hope you keep that set around for next time x

You were so fucked.