#like…. at least pretend you’re a normal book not smut

[lilmeowmeowsagelesath]

30 seconds into hot shot ch1—

[inklore]

I’ve seen your reblog ‘“i’ve been thinking about you all day” as they’re filling your pussy’ and I was wondering if it was okay to request this with Jordan Li (established relationship)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

pairing: jordan li x (f)reader

contents: foreplay, p in v, oral, this is very soft, it’s basically fluff with smut, both of their presenting forms involved, everyone is love sick and clingy idk | wc: 860

note: they're everything to me!! i have something much longer in the works for them but i needed to write something quick and yearny.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, their fingers twined with yours as they hold you in place, as if you’d ever escape them, leave them, or try to. 

As if you could go anywhere with their body pressed against yours and their hips moving between your thighs. 

Slow thrusts that make you feel every inch of them moving inside of you. Fucking you at that languid pace that comes from the frustration of long days and the yearning that pricks at one’s heart from being separated for too long. 

Course work and keeping your rankings are chores in and of themselves, but living up to the expectations it sets is even harder. So if a day goes by and Jordan can’t have you pressed up against them, at their side, or at the very least your nose in your test books laying against the other sprawled on their bed, each of you doing your own thing: their day just doesn't feel right. 

Doesn’t feel normal if they can’t pull you to the side in the hall and press a kiss on your lips. 

Can’t get the death glare you always give them when they forget to eat lunch because they were too busy helping Brink, and you surprise them with dinner and dessert—the dessert usually forgotten and turns into you between their legs or vice versa. 

Their days aren’t normal unless you’re in them. 

They haven’t felt normal since the two of you decided to try this. To be together. 

“You’ve rewired me,” they mumble against your shoulder as the two of you try to fall asleep one night. The clock on your nightstand glowing 1:00AM in big, haunting letters. Your night supposed to be spent working, but there are only so many sneaking glances and innocent touches against skin before you are both done pretending you want to do anything besides have the other naked and against you all day. 

And you know that they’ve rewired you too. 

Made the fucked up in your life a little less fucked, made the days easier to endure when there’s the constant pressure of greatness looming over you. 

You could crash and burn, and you know you’d still have their support, just as they would have yours. And that’s a higher score than rankings could ever give you. 

It’s rare the two of you will go a day without seeing each other, without ending up pressed together in bed—weed filled lungs laughing until the haze lolls you to sleep and you’re waking the next morning to Jordan’s alarm clock and the shifting groan of both their forms pulling their pillow over their head. Pulling you back down into bed when you actually do something crazy like get up and not lay with them for five more minutes. 

But nights like these make up for days when you are both swamped and Brink needs Jordan for something, and you are stuck alone with your nose in a book or forcing Marie and Emma to get Vought A Burger with you. 

Nights where there’s no rush. No need to go fast and get off as many times as your body aches for—as many times as the other wants to swallow and taste the pleasure each time you come against them, on top of them, or inside of you. Like you’re both dying of thirst, and only the others come will do. 

These nights are slow. Savored. Like you’ve been away at war rather than occupied over a span of twenty four hours. 

Jordan kisses you achingly slowly these nights. Let’s their tongue linger in your mouth for longer than normal, nipping at your bottom lip with gentle teeth. Their fingers stripping you of your clothes like they need to press their lips to every bit of skin they free. 

And when their tongue finally makes contact with your pussy it feels like you can finally breathe. Like you’ve been holding your breath for days—all night—for them to finally soothe the ache that they’ve caused. 

Their hips buck against the air when you switch positions, and your tongue presses between their thighs. A slow tease of teeth and tongue tracing down their hip bones until you’ve reached where they’re soaked, or hard for you. 

Neither of you letting the other come until Jordan is inside of you. 

Until you’re both sighing from that first initial push inside, the head of their cock easily fills you with how wet you are—how wet they’ve made you. Gasps breathed into mouths from that first slow roll of their hips. 

It’s heady and fucking torturous, and you love it. 

You both do. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” they murmur against your lips. Their fingers flexing against yours as they keep them above your head, as they completely take control of your body and show you just what they’ve been thinking about. “You take up every part of my brain, and it’s a problem, but I fucking love it.” They moan into your mouth; roll their hips in that way that has air whooshing from your lungs and your pelvis pushing up to drive them deeper. 

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Keeping Our Secret (Alex Blake x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You and Alex are keeping a secret from the team

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: 18+, smut, soft dom!Alex, face sitting, praise kink

“So,” Morgan said, sitting himself down in the chair across from you, “how was that date you went on last night?���

You looked up from the case file, pen tapping against your bottom lip. He wasn’t the only one tuning in to your conversation. JJ was turning her body towards you and Spencer had glanced up from his position on the sofa.

“I didn’t realise I’d told you about that,” was you response.

“You didn’t,” he said, “but Garcia overheard you talking on the phone in the bathroom yesterday about finding the perfect outfit. Apparently you really wanted to impress this girl.”

You had to fight to keep your eyes focused on him.

“She’s worth the effort,” you said.

“So it went well then?” JJ asked.

“I… think so,” you said, hesitant, “I’m just hoping she did too.”

“I’m sure she did,” she reassured you.

You nodding, doing your best to not shift your gaze to the one person you really wanted to look at. You weren’t going to do that to yourself.

“So what did you do?” Morgan asked.

“It was just dinner,” you replied.

“What kind of food?” he continued

“Italian,” you said, beginning to feel like you were in an interrogation.

“What was the name of the restaurant?” he asked.

“I don’t remember,” you replied, “are you trying to figure out if I lied about going on a date?”

“Was it La Mia Rosa?” Spencer asked.

“That sounds familiar.” You nodded.

“That’s because Blake has been talking about going there,” he replied.

You finally let your eyes alight on her. She looked up as if feeling the weight of your gaze. You pressed your lips together, doing your best not to smile at her the way you wanted to, the butterflies erupting in your stomach. She was so beautiful. You had to look away before you did something you’d both regret.

“How do you not remember the name of the restaurant you drove to?” Morgan asked.

“She picked me up from my place,” you replied.

“You let a stranger know where you live?” he demanded.

“She’s hardly a stranger,” you scoffed, then realised what you had said.

“Oh?”

“That’s all you’re getting Morgan,” you said, “I’m not telling you who she is.”

“Why not? Got something to hide?” He smirked at you.

“Yes,” you replied, smiling across at him, “like my entire personal life.”

“Well how about this,” JJ said before Morgan could try and come back with a zinger, “did you at least get a goodnight kiss?”

You felt your cheeks heat and you ducked your head. You couldn’t look over at Alex, not for even a moment, but you really wanted to.

“That’s my girl,” Morgan laughed.

You kept your head ducked, pretending to go over the case file again and again until the plane landed. You weren’t going to give in to Morgan any more than you already had. You weren’t going to say any more than you already had. You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of being able to guess the woman you’d spent the night with.

You shifted in your seat, spending most of the flight going over the night before. The press of lips against your skin, the tongue tasting you, the fingers making you see stars. You could still feel the simmering desire you’d woken up with, her hands mapping your body as you lounged in bed.

When the jet landed it was all hands on deck, your desire pushed to one side. It felt easy enough to slip back into your usual role, comfortable and familiar. And if your eyes lingered a little longer than normal on a certain linguist then that could be put down to being lost in thought.

Except that night, having stopped in at the hotel to shower and sleep, the flare of hope in your stomach was uncontainable. Freshly washed, in sweatpants and a tank top, you were curled in the bed with a book open in your lap. The soft knock on your door was a relief.

You pulled the door open, lips caught between teeth, a pleased flush spreading over your skin. Alex was standing on the other side, blazer abandoned in her room, enough buttons undone on her shirt to make your mouth grow dry. You held the door open further.

“Come in,” you said.

Her fingers brushed along the back of your hand as she entered the room, not quite looking at you. Something in your stomach tightened and the butterflies become something worse. You closed the door.

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked, “or are you here on business?”

Instead of answering you, she turned around, finally looking at you. There was a smirk flirting at the corners of her mouth. Your breath caught, just for a moment, and you reminded of the moment you’d realised exactly how bad you had it for her.

You’d been out on a case, somewhere in Colorado, on a trail through the forest. Stumbling over a root, her hands had automatically come up to catch you, arms wrapping around your waist. You’d looked up in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the tree branches above, and it was like the heavens had opened up. Lit up in the warm light, you’d realised how beautiful Alex was, holding you up, arms around you, holding you close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. She was smiling, as if she knew exactly the reaction she was garnering, and it had made you breathless. It had yet to stop making you breathless.

“Were you really trying to impress me last night?” she broke into your thoughts.

“You see me all day in works clothes. Can you blame me for wanting to make it special?” You shrugged, “you seemed to appreciate it.”

“Oh I did. I appreciated getting to take it off you more.” She took a step towards you, “you’re so incredibly beautiful.”

The last of your lingering anxiety dissipated. You held out a hand to her, sighing when she took it, drawing you closer to her. With soft fingers, she tucked your hair behind your ear, lingering on your skin until you thought you might be going crazy.

“You were such a good girl today,” she murmured, “not letting on to the rest of the team who your date was with. Keeping our secret.”

Her fingertips trailed over your collarbone. You shivered, your breath shaky, wondering if you could start touching her too. You wanted to, more than you could say.

“Am I really worth the effort, sweetheart?” she asked.

“You’re worth even more than that,” you replied, letting your free hand skim her side.

“You’re really asking for a reward, aren’t you?” She sounded so amused.

“I just want you to know how special you are to me,” you said, “but if you choose to reward that then I won’t stop you.”

“Come here, sweet girl.”

She pulled you in for a kiss, soft and sweet. Tongues brushed together, making your knees feel weak already. You slid your arm around her waist, grounding yourself to her. Her fingers buried themselves in your hair, guiding your head up to kiss you deeper. You whimpered, pressing yourself against her, feeling the vibrations in her chest as she groaned.

Pulling her hand from yours, she placed it on your hip, guiding you back. You took a stumbling step then another, letting her control your direction. The back of your knees hit the mattress and you sat, pulling her with you, not ready to stop kissing her. You would never be ready to stop kissing her.

You crawled backwards into the bed, hands on her, forcing her to follow you. She was kissing you like you were something precious, something within you igniting. Simmering flames curled around your body, desperate for more.

Her lips trailed down your neck, tongue flicking over your skin. You made a noise in the back of your throat, arching up into her. She took both your hands, lacing your fingers together, pinning them to the bed. You moaned her name as she sucked on your pulse point, your blood racing. Barely twenty four hours of being hers and you were addicted.

“So pretty moaning my name,” she murmured into your skin.

She sat back, looking down at you. You squirmed, heat flushing your skin, as her eyes trailed over you. You loved being on display for her, but you wanted her to touch you again. Her tongue dragged along her bottom lip as her head tilted to the side, considering you.

“Alex,” you whined.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she asked.

“I want you,” you said, “please.”

“All you had to do was ask, baby.”

She kissed you again, letting your hands go to trail her fingers down your body. Pushing past the hem of your tank top, her touch was like electricity on your stomach. You arched up, practically begging her. It felt like an eternity for her to pull the shirt from your body, flinging it away.

She drew away again, your whine cutting off as she cupped a breast, thumb brushing over a hardening nipple. She was watching you as she touched you, drawing moans from you, that half smile on her face as you sighed her name. Her own hands were on her hips, fingers digging in.

Leaning down, her hair brushed along her skin. Lips wrapped around one nipple, tongue brushing against it. Your fingers buried themselves in her hair, arching into her mouth. Lavishing her attention on you had you glowing. You had to press your legs together, squirming under her, wanting even more. You knew you were being greedy.

Instead, you let your own hands wander down, unbuttoning the last of her shirt, exposing the black bra underneath. Head bent, mouth still on you, it was impossible to see her the way you wanted to. She let you push the shirt from her shoulders, fingertips trailing down the skin of her arm. Running your hands up her back, you revelled in the feeling of her skin under your touch.

Her lips wandered back up your neck before she sat back, shaking her hair from her face. Raking your eyes down her body, you could have moaned just from the sight. She was so beautiful.

“You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Uh huh.” You nodded enthusiastically.

“I could spend all night just on these.” Her hands were cupping your breasts, gently squeezing.

“Alex,” you whined, “please.”

“Please what, baby?”

She began to roll one nipple between thumb and forefinger. You arched up into her touch, your nails scraping down her spine. She smirked down at you.

“Need you so bad,” you moaned.

She let you pull her bra from her body, surging up to press kisses to her chest. Her head fell back as your tongue tasted her skin, finding her own nipples, lavishing all your attention on them. Her own hands were still playing with you but you were losing yourself to her, wanting her to feel good, wanting to please her.

“Baby, this is your reward,” she sighed, “not mine.”

You looked up at her from under lowered lashes. There was a pleasant flush on her cheeks and her eyes were dark. Her back arched into your mouth despite her words and her hips shifted. You let your fingers run along the waistline of her slacks, dipping under just slightly.

“Later, sweetheart,” she said, grasping your wrist, pulling your hands away from her skin, “let me take care of you first.”

She guided you back onto the bed, ignoring your pout. She kissed you, taking her time with you, your indignation fading as she stole your breath. Crawling down your body, she pulled your sweatpants from your legs, looking delighted when she discovered you weren’t wearing underwear. Her fingers ghosted over your core, making you whine again.

“Look how pretty you are,” she said, hands pulling your legs apart, “all spread out for me. So desperate. So needy.”

Her tongue running through your folds had you bucking up against her mouth. Her chuckle vibrated through you, making you moan out her name. Her hands curled around your thighs, keeping them open as she settled herself more comfortably between them.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” she said, “I’ve got you.”

You didn’t have time to catch your breath before she dove in. It was as if she knew exactly how to touch you, to taste you, to make you gasp her name. Your fingers buried in her hair, anchoring yourself to her as your hips rolled against her mouth. It was so easy to lose yourself, eyes closing as you let the sensation roll over you.

She tapped the outside of your thighs. You blinked your eyes open, looking down your body at her. Dark eyes stared up right as she gave your bundle of nerves a soft suck. A curse burst from you. She didn’t let you look away.

When you fell apart it was like wave after wave of pleasure rolling over you. Your fingers tightened in her hair, maintaining eye contact as her name fell from your lips like a prayer. But in truth, you felt as if you were the one being worshipped.

She sat back on her heels, wiping at her chin. With shaking hands you reached out for her, landing on her bare waist. She let you pull her towards you, kissing her, loving the way you could taste yourself on her tongue. She moaned into your mouth and you felt as if you might combust. You wanted to touch her so badly.

“I want these off,” you mumbled against her lips, tugging on her trousers.

“You do?” she hummed.

“Mmhm,” you replied.

She crawled off you, standing at the foot of the bed. You rested on your elbows, watching as she slowly unbuttoned them, pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. She shot you a smirk before taking her time as she peeled her trousers from her long legs, booted heels kicked off. Left in nothing but her underwear, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, heat curling in your stomach. This was the kind of sight you could stare at forever.

“Anything else, sweetheart?”

You sat up, reaching for her. She went willingly, pushing your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ears. You traced the lace pattern on her skin before hooking your fingers under it, pulling it down, exposing her to the air. She tilted your chin up, kissing you deeply as she kicked her underwear off.

She climbed back on top of you, crawling as you laid back down. Your fingertips tracing patterns onto her skin, so much skin for you to touch. With fingers curling around the back of her thighs you tugged, urging her further up.

“Are you sure, baby?” she asked.

“Please, Alex,” you replied, “please.”

“Okay, anything you want. Just tap my leg if you can’t breath,” she said.

As she lowered herself onto your face you realised what a privilege this was, to have her right in this position with you. You took a moment, staring up her body, her eyes smouldering as they looked down at you.

She tasted like heaven. That was the best description for it. As she sat fully on you, she was all there was, invading every sense. Your fingers dug in to her thigh as you lapped at her. She groaned and her head tipped back. Finding her clit, you watched as her hand came up, fondling her own breast. The sight made you moan and her hips ground down against you.

She rocked against you, growing faster, making your tongue work harder. You wanted her to feel the way she made you feel, like you couldn’t remember your own name from how good you felt. You barely noticed how difficult it was to breath, so focused on her, watching her chase her high on your tongue.

You tried to taste deeper, more, hoping to commit the moment to memory. It hadn’t been like this the night before, much more traditional. But this was something you’d been imagining since almost the moment you’d met her. There was something about her that was made for face sitting. You could feel her legs begin to tremble.

She came with your name tumbling from her lips, praise mixed together with curses as she rode out her high. You gave her what she wanted, liking the sounds she was making.

You had to help her off your face. Her eyes swept over you, lingering on your mouth. You dragged your tongue over your lips, still tasting her. With her own hands she cleaned the mess on your chin, throwing the tissue into the trash.

She settled back against the headboard, holding her arms out to you. It was a relief to curl against her side, head resting on her chest, listening to the thump of her heart. Her fingers carded through your hair, gently massaging your scalp as you relaxed against her.

“You did so wonderfully, sweetheart,” she said, kissing the top of your head, “so perfect for me.”

“Really?” You looked up at her.

“You were amazing.”

She pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. You melted against her, letting her pull the covers over both of you. Your legs tangled together and you sighed.

“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart,” she murmured after turning off the light, “I think your date went well too.”

The next morning, walking with Spencer back from the diner with a round of coffee for the team, you could feel how hard he was thinking. Rolling your eyes, you looked him over. He was squinting into the light.

“Just say it, Reid,” you said.

“Say what?” He wasn’t looking you in the eye.

“Whatever it is that’s on your mind,” you replied.

“Your date the other night,” he said, “it was with Blake, wasn’t it?”

“What? No. Why would you say that?” You tried not to give the game away.

“I have the room next to yours,” he informed you.

“Oh.” Your cheeks flamed, “I’m sorry.”

“I also figured it out when you said which restaurant you went to,” he said, “Blake has been talking about it a lot but then didn’t ask your opinion on the jet. She’d only do that if she’d been there with you.”

“Can you… not tell the others about this yet?” you asked, “I hate to ask but it’s still really new and we don’t really want to be the butt of the joke right now.”

“Of course,” he said, “but maybe you could be not so loud while we’re in the hotel?”

“You’ve got a deal, Doctor Reid,” you said.

Alex laughed when she found out about the conversation, and then promptly made you break your promise.

Tags: @trippol-threat @theclassicgaycousin

[rmnamjoons]

The Bodyguard [KNJ]

➳ summary: You’re the daughter of the ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe, working as a diplomat to help your mother with her endless meetings and politics. After a kidnapping attempt gone wrong, you and your protective bodyguard Namjoon are on the run across Europe, jumping from trains, stealing cars, and pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon to stay hidden. As the would-be kidnappers close in, Namjoon promises you that he’s going to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

➳ pairing: bodyguard!Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating/fake marriage, road trip (kinda), very slight angst

➳ word count: 62.9k – this is a complete, VERY long oneshot

➳ tags: hotel owner seokjin cameo, main pairing is on the run and traveling all over to stay hidden, mutual pining, slowburn, bed sharing, accidental cuddling while sleeping, pretending to be a couple, protective namjoon, unrequited love that’s actually very requited, masturbation and accidental voyeurism, lots of horny thoughts/fantasies, smut, oral (f receiving), biting, soft dom namjoon has an oral fixation

➳ a/n: I originally started writing this in December of 2019, and I’m very proud of it! It’s the length of a short novel and I put a lot of work into it, so I hope everyone likes it 💜 Also, it takes places in winter (because that’s when I started writing it), and I never say what country Y/N is from or what country her mother is the ambassador to, to keep it as self-insert as possible. Enjoy!!!

!!!!!!! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS !!!!!!!!

➳ warnings: very brief sexual harassment mention in the very beginning, a main character gets shot but is fine, the underlying threat of being kidnapped by unknown men is a theme throughout, guns tw, shooting tw, blood tw, unnamed character death tw, both Namjoon and Y/N shoot and kill bad guys

***

***

***

“It was complete shit, Joon. A shit show. A fucking circus. Did you see the way that American aide kept leering at me? I should’ve slapped him when he winked at me. Ugh, fucking asshole,” you grumbled, pacing around the luxurious first class compartment you’d booked for your more than twenty-four hour train ride home.

You’d been on this line before — many times, actually — and you found the long trip relaxing, mostly due to the fact your compartment was nearly the size of a normal hotel room. Even if there was no wifi or cell service for a few hours of the ride, you loved it. It let you relax and disconnect from the world, if only for one night.

You’d kicked off your heels pretty much immediately after getting to your compartment, but you were still in the light pink skirt and blazer you’d worn to the summit earlier today. You’d smiled to your bodyguard Namjoon that morning as he’d escorted you down to breakfast at the hotel, asking him if you looked like Elle Woods in your outfit. He’d smiled to himself and responded with a quiet “Yes, ma’am,” and you swore he’d tried to hide the fact he was blushing, though maybe that was just you projecting your intense crush onto him, making you see things that weren’t there at all.

“I thought it went pretty well. The summit, at least. Not the American,” Namjoon replied from his seat at the small table by the window, glancing up at you every few moments while skimming through the book he’d brought on this trip. The empty plates from the dinner the two of you’d been served a couple hours ago were still stacked there in front of him, Namjoon having not gotten up yet to put them out in the hall. “I still think you should’ve let me talk to him.”

“Of course you do,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “I remember the last time I let you ‘talk’ to someone for me. How many of that man’s ribs did you break?”

“He had it coming,” Namjoon mumbled after a moment, not looking up from his book, though you could see the small smile he was trying to hide. You smiled too, remembering how the man in question had pinched your ass at a charity banquet when he’d thought no one was looking. You’d gasped and looked up at the man with scared eyes, before running to Namjoon and telling him what had happened, tears streaming down your face.

Your bodyguard had said he would just have a word with the man, dragged him off to another room, and the next thing you knew paramedics were rushing by to take the man away, now groaning and clutching his stomach.

“Some random rich asshole is one thing; the chief aide to the American ambassador to Russia is another,” you commented, now standing in front of your suitcase and folding some of your clothes, seeing what you had left that was still clean. “Besides, the whole summit was stupid. Nothing happened. Barely anything was even discussed. The trip was such a waste of time. Then again, when aren’t they?”

You’d mumbled the last sentence, but Namjoon still caught it. You knew he agreed with you by the tight-lipped expression that came over his face, but he said nothing, eyes still glued to his book. He was never one for speaking his mind on the political aspects of your or your mother’s jobs.

Namjoon had been your personal bodyguard for almost three years now, ever since your mother had accepted the position of ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe. When she was first appointed, you were freshly graduated with a useless degree and unsurprisingly unemployed, so she’d brought you with her to serve as an unofficial aide and representative for public events. Your mother handled the important business, while you were stuck at never-ending luncheons and banquets and casual meetings with wealthy businessmen trying to make political (and sometimes romantic) connections with you and your mother.

It was stupid, mind-numbing, degrading work, and it bothered you a lot that nepotism was the only reason you’d gotten the job, but you tried to tell yourself that ambassadors’ grown children often had positions like yours, helping represent their embassy and country to the public – more celebrity than politician, a role to play instead of a job to do.

In the time you’d known him, Namjoon was the only person in your life besides your mother who treated you like a normal human being instead of a spoiled princess. You spent nearly every waking moment together, and despite his professionalism, he was friendly, sweet, even goofy with you. He was your friend. Your big, sexy, funny, intelligent, charming, perfect friend you were kind of a little bit in love with… who your mother paid to never leave your side.

You sighed, closing your suitcase with a thud and turning back toward the table, your mood soured by thinking about your pathetic and very unrequited crush on Namjoon. You moped over and slumped down in the chair across from him, sighing again as you crossed your arms.

“You okay?” Namjoon’s deep voice interrupted your thoughts, making you almost jump out of your seat. He’d put his book down on the table and now sat up straighter, tilting his head as he looked at you, concern in his warm brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling weakly but not making eye contact with him. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking? Sounds dangerous,” he said. He had a teasing tone in his voice, like he wanted to be playful with you. “What are you thinking about?”

Your heart was racing now, though you knew this was just him checking on you and doing his job. He was always so attentive, so wonderful and kind to you, like a boyfriend instead of a bodyguard. His caring nature and how sweet he was did not help your crush on him at all.

“Nothing,” you lied. “Just plans for the week, what else I have to do, stuff like that. Nothing important.”

“You looked upset. You had that pout you get when you’re lost in your head,” Namjoon said. “Something coming up you’re worried about?”

“Nope,” you said, still not looking at him. “And I wasn’t pouting.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, voice gentler now, thankfully not pushing anymore. “I saw you pouting, ma’am. You looked like this.” Namjoon made the most pathetic pout you’d ever seen, batting his eyes and sticking out his bottom lip, making you giggle. He reached across the table and tickled your stomach, your giggles turning into near-screams of laughter and joy as you tried to squirm away from him in your seat.

He showed mercy and stopped, letting you catch your breath as he watched and smiled at you.

“Y/N,” he said, serious again, and you finally looked up at him, surprised by the use of your name instead of the usual ‘ma’am’ thing he insisted on continuing, despite your many objections. “You know you can talk to me, right? What’s on your mind?”

A small part of you wanted to just blurt out your feelings, but you could never do that to him. It was beyond inappropriate, in both the friend aspect and the fact your mother employed him. What if he felt pressured to say he liked you back, out of fear of losing his job? What if confessing your feelings made him quit to get away from the insane, spoiled ambassador’s daughter lusting after him? You were stuck, cursed to live secretly in love with your bodyguard-best friend forever.

Before you could answer him, your stomach growled loudly, making your eyes widen comically as you looked down at yourself in surprise.

“Oh, I see,” Namjoon said, a knowing, relieved smile growing on his face. “Are you hungry again? Is that what put you in a pouty mood?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your pout slowly turning into a smile too, thankful for the perfectly-timed distraction. “Joon,” you cooed to him, giving him your best pleading eyes. “Would you be willing to get us some food from the dining car? Something sweet, like cookies or chocolate? Please?”

Namjoon’s smile grew wider, looking down and shaking his head a little, as if laughing to himself. You knew he had a complete inability to refuse you whenever you batted your eyelashes at him and gave him puppy eyes, and you exploited that fact often.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his cheeks turning red. “Preference on cookies or chocolate?”

“Chocolate cookies are my preference, then chocolate, then cookies. Nothing with raisins. Thank you, Joonie,” you said, drawing out his name cutely, like how you always did when you asked him for a favor.

You grinned at him, watching the way his dark eyes sparkled at your joy. He sighed, standing up and stretching a little before heading out of the compartment, setting the plates from dinner outside the door on his way out.

***

Namjoon slid the two packs of double chocolate chip cookies he’d bought into his jacket pocket, cautiously picking up the two cups of hot cocoa and stepping to the side to get out of the way of the snack counter’s line. He knew all about your insatiable sweet tooth and love of chocolate, so he thought he’d surprise you with what he knew to be your favorite drink, especially on cold nights like this.

Namjoon wondered how he’d ended up so lucky, to have gotten a job like this, taking care of and protecting you. His entire existence revolved around keeping you, the love of his life, safe and happy; he got to spend basically every waking moment with you, worried over your safety, in charge of protecting you no matter what, and he actually got paid for it. He would do this for free in a heartbeat. Hell, he’d give up his life savings and all worldly possessions to be the one by your side, your protector, the one person you trusted more than anyone else.

Part of him, though, sometimes wondered if this job was actually torture. He would never be able to confess his feelings; he could never do that to you. How would you feel if you found out the man you’d trusted your life with was secretly a pervert who thought of you as his, who fantasized every night about putting his head between your legs, who jacked off in the shower every morning while moaning your name?

Even earlier today, when you’d paced around after dinner, he’d kept sneaking glances and staring at your ass in that tight little skirt, fantasizing about bending you over the desk in the compartment. He knew you’d feel disgusted and betrayed, so he kept his mouth shut and accepted it, because getting to dote on you forever was the most wonderful torture he could possibly imagine.

He was so whipped for you, too, and he knew it. All you had to do was bat your eyelashes at him and he’d drop everything to please you. You had him completely wrapped around your finger, and you didn’t even realize it.

This job was either heaven or hell: protecting the most beautiful woman in the world who he loved more than anything, who would never have any idea how he felt. He couldn’t kiss you all over like he wanted to, so instead he took care of you a different way, translating the kisses and devotion he wanted to give you into favors, friendship, and, most importantly, protection.

Namjoon turned to head back, moving slowly to balance the very full hot cocoas in his hands and smiling proudly to himself at just the thought of getting to surprise you with something you loved.

As he headed out of the dining car, he spotted two men sitting at one of the tables, each with a small, barely noticeable black object in their ears, and his heart stopped. The two men were dressed casually, no logos or patterns, but Namjoon recognized the black boots they both wore as being tactical, police or military-grade by the looks of it.

He didn’t react or slow down, instead setting his jaw and continuing on his way, not wanting to draw attention to himself or let them know of the suspicion he felt. He would check into that as soon as he got back to you, after fortifying the room you were in. You were his only priority, and if these guys weren’t a threat to you, they weren’t his problem.

By the exit, a third man sat at a table by himself, also with a hidden earpiece and tactical shoes. This one was reading a book, and Namjoon glanced at his face, seeing his eyes not actually moving or reading.

Namjoon swallowed thickly, but didn’t react otherwise.

He swore he could feel eyes on him, maybe the two men at the table or the employee working the snack counter behind him. Everyone on this train was now a potential threat, as far as he was concerned.

Once he left the dining car and the windowless door slid shut behind him, Namjoon immediately cut to the side, ducking into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He then dumped the hot cocoas in the sink, burying the cups in the little trash bin on the wall before pulling out his cell phone.

“Shit,” Namjoon muttered under his breath, smacking the side of his phone. The train had already reached the two-hour stretch of the journey where there was no service or wifi, up in the mountains. He would have no way of scanning any databases for who these guys were, no way to call for help or letting anyone know about the situation. He couldn’t even text you to warn you not to open the door for anyone but him.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he didn’t actually know if these men were here for you. He didn’t want to freak you out or scare you unnecessarily, and he needed to stay calm and in control. The only thing that mattered right now was getting to you and fortifying the room. He had a gun and plenty of rounds. He knew he could protect you.

Namjoon moved to leave, but froze when he heard someone enter the other bathroom across from him. He heard a man’s voice, and Namjoon pressed his ear against the bathroom door to listen.

“We just reached the dead zone. Target is confirmed onboard. Only one guy with her,” the man said, his hushed tone so quiet Namjoon had to strain and close his eyes to hear him. Nobody was responding to what this man was saying, which meant he had some kind of satellite phone that worked without normal cell service. In the past, Namjoon had repeatedly requested a satellite phone that would work on this train route, but the security team back at the embassy had deemed it unnecessary.

“Yeah, I had eyes on them both when they got on the train,” the man continued, his American accent thick. “He’s a pretty big guy, potentially armed, but he won’t be a problem.”

The man paused for a moment before continuing, “Came in the snack car a minute ago. Didn’t suspect a thing. Bought her some cookies,” the man laughed. More silence. “Yeah, he just went back to the girl.”

Namjoon bit his lip, hearing his suspicions confirmed.

These men were here for you.

They had military-grade gear, they were coordinated, and they had phones or communicators that still worked up in the mountains where nothing else did. They were far more prepared and equipped than he was, and he was definitely outnumbered.

Namjoon strained to hear what else the man said, catching only a few words like “engine room” and “eliminated” over the low hum of the train. The man said something else, and then it sounded like he signed off. A few seconds later that door slid open again, and then Namjoon heard firm footsteps heading back toward the dining car.

Namjoon waited for a few seconds, staring at his phone and watching the time pass on his clock app. He listened as hard as he could for hints that anyone else was in the hallway, but all he could hear were the sounds of the train. It would only take one of these assassins or kidnappers or whoever they were being in the hallway outside to spot him, and then they’d all know he’d heard everything.

His heart was racing, the only thought in his head being how badly he needed to get back to you and protect you. Someone could be waiting right outside this door to ambush him, or breaking into your compartment now, hurting you or taking you somewhere, away from him.

Namjoon took a deep breath and slid open the door, peeking around carefully before stepping out. The hallway was empty, and the sleeping car a few meters away was mostly vacant, with only a family with small children sitting near the back.

Namjoon walked down the train car, smiling pleasantly to himself as he passed the family. He didn’t want them to freak out or see him running, but he couldn’t help but pick up his pace the moment he passed them.

Once in the next (thankfully empty) sleeper car, Namjoon broke into a jog, rushing to get back to you. The first class cars were all at the back of the train, farthest from the loud locomotive, and you’d rented the very last one, with its own little private balcony on the very back of the train. His heart and mind were both racing, but he tried to tell himself that he needed to stay calm. Panic would just make him less helpful and only put you at risk. You, the woman who trusted him with your life, the one person he’d die for in a heartbeat.

When Namjoon reached your door, he found it still locked and in place. He fumbled with his key, nearly dropping it before finally getting the door open, immediately sliding it shut again the second he was inside.

“Y/N, baby, get up right now,” he said, locking the door behind him.

You seemed to be frozen in place, your wide eyes confused and watching him.

“Huh?” you said, still not moving as you watched him pull the mattress off his bed and throw it against the door.

“Up,” he said, coming over to you and grabbing you by your arms, pulling you up as gently as he could in his urgency. “You have thirty seconds to put necessities in my backpack. We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” you said, standing still and blinking in confusion as Namjoon turned and grabbed his backpack beside his now bare bed frame, throwing it down in the chair you’d just been sitting in. He still had his bag of toiletries in there, along with a first aid kit, his glasses and extra contacts, his passport, and a few other things, so he figured he was set.

He started to pull your mattress off the bed too, but noticed you still hadn’t moved.

“Y/N,” he said, coming back to you and holding your face with both hands, making you look up at him and focus. “I need you to get whatever you need and put it in my backpack right now. There are men on this train who want to hurt you. We’re leaving.”

“What? Who are they? What do you mean ‘leaving?’ We’re on a moving train in the middle of nowhere,” you said, panic rising in your eyes and voice.

“Sweetheart, I need you to stay calm,” he said, dropping one hand to your shoulder and moving his thumb in little soothing circles. “I’m always honest with you, and right now’s no different. I’m gonna keep you safe, but I need you with me and focused. I heard them call you ‘the target’ and they know you only have one guard, so we need to move right now.”

“Are we jumping off the train?” you said, and when you blinked he noticed your eyes welling up.

“No, angel,” he said, bringing his hand up to cup your face again, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his touch, looking up at him with a scared expression that made his heart ache. He realized he was calling you pet names in his attempt to comfort you, and didn’t care to stop himself. “It’s my job to keep you safe, remember? I wouldn’t be a very good bodyguard if I made you jump off a moving train, now would I?”

That made you smile a little, and Namjoon smiled weakly, happy you weren’t as panicked as before. Keeping you calm was almost as important as keeping you safe right now; he couldn’t afford to have you panicking, but he needed you to understand the seriousness of the situation. You were an adult. You could handle being scared. It was his job to keep you safe in scary situations like this and handle everything else.

“I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you put some of your stuff in my backpack? Please?” he said gently, and you nodded, biting your lip. God, he wished he could kiss you right now, hug you close and tell you he loved you and would die to keep you safe. “I’m working on a plan to get us out of here,” he continued. “I promise I won’t make you jump.”

When you sighed and nodded, he squeezed your shoulder gently before turning away.

He was able to get the small desk and coffee table both pushed in front of the door, and he rearranged the setup so the mattresses both leaned against them. Behind him, he could hear you putting things into his backpack, finally.

Namjoon went to his suitcase, on the floor beside his bed. He had a small case hidden under his spare clothes, which he pulled out and set on the bed frame. He noticed you watching him now out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop or let himself think about it.

He opened the case and took out his handgun, quickly loading it before pulling off his jacket and taking out his shoulder holster and strapping it on. He stuffed extra rounds into his pockets, as many as he could fit.

Once his jacket was back on and his gun secure and concealed, Namjoon pulled out the bulletproof vest in your size he always travelled with, hidden away in the bottom of his suitcase. He rose, quickly pacing toward you and handing you the vest, which you looked down at like you had no idea what it was.

“Put that on under your jacket,” he said, tucking the rest of his extra rounds into the backpack on top of your toiletries, wallet, and change of clothes. He also saw your iPad in there, which he figured was smart. If these men were after you for your political connections or information about your mother, leaving behind something like a tablet full of information was definitely not a good idea.

“Now,” he said, glancing up at you when he noticed you still just standing there holding the vest.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” you said, jumping into action, as if suddenly realizing he was talking to you.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling weakly and turning away to give you privacy.

He figured you were most likely in some kind of state of shock, and he couldn’t exactly blame you. He’d been trained for how to react calmly in dangerous situations, while you most definitely had not. He knew how important it was to stay patient but firm with you right now.

When you finished, you made a small noise to get his attention, and he turned back to see you buttoning your blazer back up.

“Ready? Got your pills and everything?” Namjoon asked, zipping up the backpack and pulling it on. He knew you took a birth control pill to help with your periods, along with a low dosage of an ADHD medication, and he knew how much it bothered you to miss doses of either of them. He even had a daily timer set on his phone, since he knew you liked to take them at the same time every day and he could remind you if you forgot.

You nodded, and he glanced down, seeing you still standing there barefoot.

“I think you forgot something,” he said, making you gasp when you realized.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, running back to your suitcase. “I only brought my heels and a pair of slippers for the hotel.”

“Which can you run in?”

“Neither?” you grimaced, worrying your lip as you glanced around the room, as if looking for better shoes to magically appear. “I’d probably be better barefoot.”

“Put your heels on,” Namjoon said, securing the straps of his backpack. “We’re up in the mountains, it’s cold outside. Can you wear a pair of my socks with them?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, standing in place as you watched him get a pair of socks out of his suitcase.

Once you were ready, Namjoon led you to the back door of the compartment, leading out to the small balcony on the back of the train. Namjoon went out first, gun out, making sure nobody was waiting to surprise the two of you just outside.

When he was fairly sure it was safe, he tucked his gun away and pulled you out by your hand, your hair whipping around your face wildly in the cold wind.

Namjoon wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet. The thought had crossed his mind about jumping, but he’d promised you he wouldn’t make you do that, so that would be his last resort. He knew he couldn’t call for help with any of the train’s staff, since he had no idea if the men had infiltrated or bribed them, and his phone didn’t work here anyway. Triggering any kind of alarm could make the men speed up their plan and let them know he was onto them. He needed to be subtle, but he wasn’t seeing many options.

“Maybe I can decouple the last car,” Namjoon said, more to himself. “The caboose is just our compartment, so if we uncouple it, it’ll just slowly come to a stop, and then we can get off and walk to a town and use the internet there.”

He had no idea how to access or operate that though, since he was sure it was very mechanical and complicated, and that there wouldn’t just be a button labelled “decouple train car” on the wall somewhere. He’d probably need some kind of tools or access code, if it was even possible to do while the train was moving.

“How many men were there?” you asked, your voice quiet. He was still holding your small hand, and he squeezed it gently when he realized you were shaking.

“At least three,” he said, glancing your way. “Probably more.”

You nodded, looking out at the track behind the train. Snow flurries whipped around the car, gently falling to the ground and covering it in a light dust once out of the wind.

Namjoon peeked around each side of the train, half expecting to see men climbing along the side towards the two of you. Instead, he saw the rest of the long train, a thick forest on either side of the tracks, and a mountain straight ahead.

The train was about to go up a hill, Namjoon realized, which meant it’d be going much, much slower. If he remembered this trip correctly, it almost felt like the train wasn’t even moving at all for parts of the steep mountain pass.

Inside, a sudden thud made both you and Namjoon turn around, looking back into the room. Someone had just tried to knock down the door to your compartment, throwing their weight against it. It looked like the lock was still holding for now, and hopefully Namjoon’s barricade would help hold them off for a few extra seconds.

“I think we have to jump,” you said suddenly, making Namjoon look at you in surprise.

“No, Y/N, we’ll find something else,” he said, squeezing your hand again, but he knew you were right.

The train lurched, nearly throwing both of you off your feet as it reached the incline and slowed down dramatically, the engine running louder as the locomotive pulled the train up the hill.

“We need to, now,” you insisted, biting your lip like you always did when you were scared or nervous.

“Fuck,” Namjoon mumbled under his breath, walking up to the balcony’s railing on the side farther from the door leading into your room. You stayed by his side, pressing against him as you both looked over the railing at the maybe two meter drop to the ground. Another loud noise inside the train car made you jump even closer to him, and he dropped your hand and put his arm around you protectively.

“Let’s just do it,” you said quietly, looking up at him. “The train’s going so slow now, we can do it.”

“Are you sure?” he said, even though he knew it was your only option now. There was no going back to uncouple the train, no calling for help, no chance of him fighting off that many trained, armed men on his own without also risking your safety.

“I trust you,” you said, your big eyes so innocent and terrified, and Namjoon wanted so badly to kiss you, comfort you, tell you he loved you, but he held it all in, instead climbing up onto the railing and holding out his hand for you.

“We’ll jump together,” Namjoon said once you’d slipped off your heels, picked them up, and climbed up with him. The two of you now sat side-by-side on the railing, feet dangling over the side of the train. “Try not to tense up. Bend your knees as you land, like you’re squatting or bracing yourself. Think superhero landing pose. Try to jump away from the train a little, if you can.”

Before you could respond, another loud bang rang through the room, making you flinch. You looked up at Namjoon with scared eyes when you heard an American man’s voice yell, “Search the room!”

“Now,” Namjoon breathed, and the two of you jumped together.

The little broken noise you made in pain when you hit the ground would haunt Namjoon’s nightmares for the rest of his life. He’d landed solidly, bending his legs and bracing himself with his hands, but you’d landed barefoot in the snow and had fallen to the side, groaning in pain and trying to be quiet once the immediate shock wore off.

“Fuck,” you moaned, rolling onto your back and bringing your leg up, clutching your right ankle with both hands. You whined in pain, a noise that stirred something deep within him, something protective and primal.

“We need to go,” Namjoon said quietly, picking you up and making you squeak in surprise. He wanted so badly to see if you were okay and fix whatever was causing you pain, but the two of you needed to get away from the tracks as fast as possible. Just one of the men looking out the back of the train could mean life or death for you.

After you reached over and grabbed the heels you’d dropped, Namjoon stood carefully, holding you bridal style against his chest. The snow was coming down a little harder now, swirling in the air and landing in your hair and eyelashes.

He carried you into the forest, running out of sight and away from the tracks. The spot the two of you’d landed on was already covered by the gently falling snow, as if you’d never been there at all, and the train sounded far away already. Namjoon couldn’t hear anyone running or see any signs of life in the quiet forest, but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean you were safe.

Once a few meters away from the tree line, Namjoon walked parallel to the tracks, opposite the direction the train was heading. He held you tighter to him when he felt you shiver, and tried not to shiver himself when he realized he could feel your warm breath on his neck.

After maybe ten minutes of walking, Namjoon set you down on a fallen tree, squatting in front of you and carefully setting your injured foot on his knee. He rolled off his sock you’d put on, slow and gentle as he pulled it around your ankle and heel.

“How’s the pain, on a scale from one to ten?” he asked, his voice soft.

Your ankle was a deep shade of red, but the cold air seemed to help it not swell. He held your leg gently, one hand under your calf to support it and the other under your heel as he looked closer, seeing if any bones looked broken or out of place.

“Maybe a four,” you sniffled.

“Can you move your foot around for me a little, please?” he asked, and when you did it, rotating your ankle and wiggling your toes, Namjoon smiled. “That’s good. If it was broken, you wouldn’t be able to move it, and it’d feel more numb than painful. I think it’s just a sprain. Can you try to put some weight on it and see how it feels?”

You shifted on the log, and Namjoon helped you move forward, moving back a little to give you space. You put your bare foot on the snowy ground, gasping softly and curling your toes at the cold before biting your lip and powering through it. You stayed sitting down, but gently put some weight on it, grimacing as you tested it.

“It feels tender, but it’s not that bad,” you said, relaxing your muscles and letting yourself sit normally with your foot on the ground. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk in heels, though.”

“I’ll carry you until we get you some walking shoes,” Namjoon assured, not caring if the closest town was a thousand miles away.

You nodded, sniffling a little from the cold air making your nose run. Your cheeks were flushed, and when Namjoon saw you shiver again, he immediately took off his backpack so he could slide off his jacket and wrap it around your shoulders.

“No, you need it more than I do, I already have my blazer and the vest,” you tried to protest, but Namjoon already had your arms in the jacket and was zipping it up for you.

“I’m fine,” he said, picking up your discarded heels and putting them in the backpack so you wouldn’t have to hold them. “You just focus on staying warm.”

“Now you’re just in a shirt, though,” you said, putting your hand on the thin material of his dress shirt over his bicep.

“It’s long-sleeved,” he defended. “Plus you’re the one in a skirt, young lady.” He reached up and tickled you on the back of your knee on your bare, non-injured leg, making you squirm and giggle.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling as you watched Namjoon set your foot back down on his knee and begin digging for something else in his backpack. He reached in nearly elbow-deep before finally pulling out a little plastic container with a red plus sign on it, which he immediately opened and took out a small roll of gauze from.

“Your ankle will feel better if we compress it,” he explained, unrolling the gauze a little and starting to wrap it around your ankle. “That and the cold will help keep the swelling down, plus when I carry you it’ll be kind of elevated.”

You hummed in understanding, nodding a little, and watched him work as he carefully wrapped your ankle. His hands were so large and gentle, you couldn’t help but stare.

“What are you thinking?” you asked after a moment, and you saw the way his brow furrowed slightly at the question.

“I’m thinking about how we’re gonna keep you safe,” he said, not looking up from your ankle.

“And what’s your plan?” you asked.

He glanced up at you, setting his jaw before answering.

“We’ll walk along the tracks until we find a town, where we can buy some more clothes and other basics,” he said. “We’ll have to stop at an ATM and withdrawal as much as we can, so we can stay off the grid after that in case we’re being tracked through any of our accounts. In town we’ll find wifi and contact the embassy and arrange some kind of pickup or extraction. After that we’ll just need to stay hidden until our ride gets there.”

“Seems simple enough,” you said flatly, “But what if the closest town is hours away? I think you missed the part about us probably freezing to death overnight out here. We’re up in the mountains, remember?” You hadn’t meant to be like that, but your panic rose as you spoke, and you ended up almost shouting by the end of it.

Namjoon didn’t answer, instead just finishing up with your ankle and tucking the end of the gauze in so it’d stay wrapped. You moved your foot a little to get his attention, and when he looked up at you and saw you expecting an answer, he sighed.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, pulling your sock back on and putting the first aid kit back into his backpack. “I’m sure there are at least buildings along the tracks. And you know how close together everything is in Europe. We’re probably just a mile or two at most from a nice, warm bed and breakfast.”

“If you say so,” you said, making a face at him when he looked up at you.

Once his backpack was back on, you scooted forward a little, holding out your arms for him as he moved to pick you up. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him as he carried you bridal-style again.

“Where do you think we are?” you asked, holding onto him tighter as he began walking in the dark again. He stayed close enough to the tree line so that he could still see the tracks, stepping awkwardly over fallen branches and tall weeds as he moved.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I think the mountains with no service or wifi are in southern Poland or Slovakia. I never paid much attention to the route, but I’m pretty sure it dips south.”

“I think you’re right,” you agreed. “There’s a mountain range on the border between those two; maybe that’s where we are. There’s no way we’re far enough west to be in the Alps or Dolomites yet.”

He hummed in agreement, the silence after he spoke drawing your attention to the stillness of the forest, the only sounds Namjoon’s breathing and his feet crunching in the snow.

“When we find civilization, we need to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, whenever we find that town with the nice, warm bed and breakfast I promised you,” Namjoon said after a moment. “A well-dressed woman with a bodyguard walking into town injured and barefoot is going to be weird, and people might talk about it or remember us. You brought extra clothes, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding.

“You can change whenever we’re close. We’re going to tell people we’re a couple on our honeymoon, backpacking across Europe. If anyone asks, we can say we got mugged a few days ago, lost all our credit cards, your backpack, and our passports. That way we can pay cash and won’t have to show our passports anywhere and put ourselves on the map. We’ll say that we already filed a report with the police, but they said there was nothing they could do. We’re on our way to the capitol to talk to the embassy about getting replacements.”

“And if people find it strange that we don’t know what country we’re in?” you teased, reaching up and poking his dimple.

“They don’t need to know that,” he said, smiling so you could feel his dimple better. “We’ll see a flag or license plate somewhere. We can bluff until we figure it out. We’re going to have to avoid people anyway, so we won’t be getting questioned by every person we come across.”

“You sure did think of everything, didn’t you?”

“That’s my job,” he said, smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

You rested your head on his shoulder, snuggling in against him as you felt him squeeze you closer to him.

“We’ll be okay,” he promised. You believed him.

***

Namjoon ended up being right, which didn’t really surprise you.

After maybe an hour and a half of walking, the two of you spotted a road cutting across the train tracks, and when you reached it, you could see the lights of a town just a little ways away. It looked pretty small, but you could see a gas station and other signs of businesses, and you hoped one of them was that bed and breakfast Namjoon had promised. At this point, though, you’d take anything with heat.

Namjoon ducked back into the forest again and handed you your change of clothes, helping you get a solid footing before turning away and facing the road. You swore that even in the dark, you could almost see his cheeks and ears turning red.

Your change of clothes wasn’t exactly practical. You’d packed the only clean clothes you’d had left, which were a set of pajamas: a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. You weren’t sure which was worse, that or the business outfit you’d been in, but at least the pajamas looked like they could be hiking clothes, you figured. Not exactly ideal for snow, but it was the best you had for now. You put on the bulletproof vest and then your t-shirt, moving awkwardly as your socks got wet in the snow and you tried not to put weight on your injured foot.

You still had Namjoon’s jacket, so he tucked his gun into the back of his pants, untucking his shirt to hide it. He put his holster in the backpack along with your dress clothes, and picked you up again to carry you down the road.

His hand was now on your bare leg as he carried you, due to how tiny your shorts were, and you noticed the way he tilted his hand away from you, not letting his fingers touch your skin, ever the polite and professional bodyguard.

You sighed, and Namjoon must’ve thought you were cold, so he rubbed his hand on your arm, warming you up.

“Almost there,” he said, smiling at you, dimple on full display.

When you reached the town, you saw a license plate with “PL” and the European Union symbol, so you figured you were in Poland, or at least close to the border. The town seemed pretty much deserted, all the stores closed and nobody out walking around, though you knew it must be close to eleven at night by now.

Namjoon pointed out an inn a little further up the road, its quaint wooden sign saying “wypoczynkowy,” which you couldn’t even guess at the meaning of. The inn and its sign were both illuminated and inviting, and a small English sign by the window read “vacancy,” which almost made you tear up in relief.

Before heading there, Namjoon stopped at the gas station, seeing an ATM out front. He used his work card and withdrew the maximum amount, which ended up being five thousand of the local currency. Neither of you knew how much that was, and you hoped it would be enough to cover at least one night at the inn.

The two of you ducked into the gas station, and while you sat in the empty little cafe, Namjoon found a sweatshirt for you and a hat for himself, both with a drawing of a mountain and the word “Tatry.” He bought them at the counter, along with a couple snacks, two big bottles of water, and two phone chargers.

Namjoon came back over to you, setting the bag and waters on the table as he sunk down in the chair across from you. You were pretty sure he’d just carried you at least three miles, so you knew he had to be exhausted, despite doing his best to hide it.

“All this only cost like twenty złoty, so hopefully that’s a good sign for this not being an expensive area,” Namjoon said, smiling weakly when you looked up at him. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t see any shoes for sale here.”

“It’s okay. I still can’t get any service on either of our phones,” you mumbled, motioning toward the two devices laying uselessly on the table in front of you. “You think that inn has wifi?”

“Probably,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he cracked open his water. “It seems pretty rural here, but I’d honestly be shocked if it didn’t have internet.”

Namjoon drank half his water in one go, tilting his head back as he chugged it. You stared at the thick column of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, your eyes glazed over in lust, nearly drooling at the sight. Your eyes quickly un-glazed and snapped back down to the phones as he finished and took a deep breath, sighing as he set his water back on the table.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” he said, crossing his arms as he lounged back in his chair. “You about ready to get going?”

“Better, and yes,” you said, tucking the phones back into the backpack he’d left by your chair. “I should walk the rest of the way, though. I don’t want anyone to know I’m injured, in case people come through asking about us. I feel fine enough to walk.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, sitting up straighter now, his brow furrowed.

“Yep,” you said, getting to your feet and pulling on the backpack, figuring it was definitely your turn by now. Jesus, this thing was heavy – how had he carried both it and you for so long without his arms falling off?

“Okay,” he said, voice unsure but standing up with you. “Hold on to me as you walk, though?”

“I will,” you said, smiling up at him as he came around the table. You pouted as he pulled the backpack off of you and slung it over his own shoulder, though you didn’t push it. You’d let him have this.

Sighing, you took his arm when he offered it to you.

You headed out of the gas station together and up the road towards the inn, wobbling in your heels the whole way. You had a slight limp, though your ankle wasn’t hurting too badly now. Namjoon wrapping it had definitely helped a lot.

You held onto his arm tighter as the cold settled back in, a gust of wind blowing snow in your faces. Namjoon reached over and brushed the snow off your hair, mussing it up in the process, which made you laugh and squeeze his arm tighter.

You were so thankful for him. You wished you could cuddle up to him and kiss him all over his face and thank him for saving you, though you knew it was inappropriate and unwanted. He’d saved your life today, and then carried you for miles in the snow to get you to safety. If you couldn’t kiss him all over, maybe he’d at least let you give him a massage later, to thank him and help ease the pain he must be feeling in his muscles.

“Remember,” Namjoon said quietly as the two of you approached the front of the inn, “We’re on our honeymoon, backpacking through Europe together.”

“How long have we been married?” you asked him, moving to hold his hand instead of holding onto his arm, doing your best to hide your limp as you reached the door.

“Let’s say two weeks,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Aw, happy two week anniversary, honey,” you cooed up to him as he opened the door, making him roll his eyes and blush as he smiled.

The inn’s small lobby was cute, in a dusty fairytale kind of way. What looked like handmade vases full of fake wildflowers sat in each windowsill, where the yellowed blinds had all been closed for the night. The furniture was all made from the same light-colored wood, the couches and chairs covered in colorful quilts and pink and yellow pillows. In front of you, behind the counter, sat a kindly, stout, middle-aged woman, who jumped off the little stool she sat on when she realized customers had suddenly come in.

The woman said something to you in Polish, her eyebrows near her hairline in surprise, and you winced, putting on your best ignorant foreigner act.

“Hi, do you speak English?” you asked, grimacing awkwardly, and the woman eagerly nodded.

“Yes, hello,” she said, accent heavy and grin wide. “Do you need a room?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Namjoon said, laying on the charm thick. The two of you approached the desk, and he moved to put his arm around you. “Do you have a honeymoon suite available, by any chance?”

The woman smiled knowingly, looking between the two of you with a sparkle in her eye.

“We do,” she said, opening a drawer and taking out an old-fashioned bronze key. “How long will you be staying?”

“We aren’t sure yet, ma’am. Do you have wifi?” Namjoon asked.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we don’t,” the woman said, “It’s so expensive to get it in this area, so we just have telephones in the rooms, and a wonderful internet cafe just down the road that opens at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect, thank you,” Namjoon said to her, and you felt him move his hand on your shoulder a little, as if comforting you.

“How much is a room per night? And can we pay in cash?” you chimed in then, smiling politely at her.

“Well, the honeymoon suite is one hundred złoty per night,” she said, flipping through some papers on her desk as if double-checking. “That’s about twenty-two euros, or twenty dollars if you’re American. And yes, we accept złoty and euro, in addition to card and traveler’s checks.”

You nearly choked on air hearing that, looking up at Namjoon with wide, excited eyes. Namjoon mirrored your expression, glancing down at you before nodding eagerly.

“Yes, we’ll take it,” he said quickly, pulling out some of the money he’d stuffed in his pocket. “We’ll start with three nights, if that’s okay.” You wondered why he asked for more than one night, but tried not to react in front of this woman. Maybe he was just planning ahead, in case you ended up stuck here in this town for a little while.

“Of course,” she said, taking the money with a smile. “Breakfast is served tomorrow morning at nine. We all eat together every morning.” You glanced toward Namjoon, remembering how he’d wanted to lay low, but he didn’t react, still just listening to the woman with a polite smile on his face. “Your room is on the top floor,” she continued, “You’ll have the whole floor to yourself, and there’s nobody staying in the two rooms underneath right now. Lots of privacy.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon said, winking at the woman and pulling you closer to him, and you were pretty sure both her and your hearts fluttered simultaneously.

“Here’s your key,” she said, her face now bright red. Namjoon took it with a smug smile, dropping his other arm from around your shoulder and holding your hand again.

“Thank you so much for everything,” Namjoon said, practically oozing charm now. He led you toward the stairs, glancing back to smile at the woman again, while you tried your best to hide your limp, thankful the woman seemed much more interested in looking at Namjoon than you.

She hadn’t asked you for ID or even your names. Was that normal for hotels in Poland? What about incidentals? Maybe she was just distracted by Namjoon and forgot to ask.

The moment the two of you were around the corner and out of sight, Namjoon picked you up again, making you gasp in surprise.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” he asked quietly, carrying you up the stairs like you weighed nothing. He definitely earned a massage after this.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I can walk, you know.”

“You saw how tall this building is. It’s probably six floors up. No way I’m letting you walk on a sprained ankle up that many flights of stairs,” he insisted, raising an eyebrow at you when you gave him a look.

“Oh!”

Namjoon froze when you both heard a voice behind you, and you both turned enough to look back and see the woman at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the two of you like you were the most romantic thing she’d ever seen.

“Sorry, he’s always like this,” you quickly explained, attempting to laugh lightly. “He keeps insisting on carrying me into our room every night. I don’t think anybody told him that tradition was only meant for the first night of the honeymoon, carrying your new wife over the threshold and all that. He gets so carried away sometimes.”

The woman said something to herself in Polish, putting her hand over her heart and tilting her head to the side, smiling and sighing wistfully. Namjoon leaned in and kissed your cheek, and you willed yourself not to gasp or widen your eyes at the feeling of his plush, warm lips on your skin. The two of you giggled like a couple in love, pressing your foreheads together, and you thought your heart might burst out of your chest.

“It’s our honeymoon, how could I not?” he asked you, his voice sweet and just loud enough for the woman to still hear him.

You waved goodnight to her, and Namjoon resumed carrying you up the stairs, speeding up a little when he rounded the bend in the staircase.

“That was good thinking,” he murmured once he passed the fourth floor, now definitely out of earshot from the woman. You could tell he was feeling tired by the way his arms strained holding you now and how he’d slowed down a lot, but you didn’t push it, knowing he wouldn’t put you down no matter how much you insisted you were fine.

When the two of you got to the top floor, there was just one door, which Namjoon walked up to and bent over slightly in front of, allowing you to unlock the door without him letting go of you. You pushed the door open as best you could, and he turned and walked in sideways, careful not to bump your feet on the doorframe.

You flipped on the lights, kicking the door closed with your non-injured foot, and Namjoon reached down with you still in his arms, making you giggle as he attempted to lock the door and move the swing guard in place without putting you down.

“Having fun?” you asked, reaching up and locking the door for him, putting him out of his misery.

“Totally,” he said, stepping into the room and heading straight for the room’s one very large bed. “Think she noticed you were in shorts, socks, and heels?” he teased as he set you down gently, nearly dropping to one knee in his effort to ease you down as carefully as possible.

“No way. She was too busy lusting after you,” you laughed, kicking off your shoes and vowing to yourself to never wear them again.

“Oh, come on,” Namjoon said, shaking his head as he eased off the backpack. You grinned when you realized he was blushing, though he turned away and tried to hide it, setting the backpack down on the cozy little chair that looked like it was meant for two people sitting very close together. Even though he’d turned away, you could see his ears turning red. Did he not know how hot he was? Did he not realize that most people he met were attracted to him?

“She was totally in love with you. I think she would’ve asked you out if I wasn’t there,” you laughed, relaxing back on the bed on your elbows. The quilt laid over the sheets matched the ones down in the lobby and felt wonderfully soft, like real cashmere.

Namjoon glanced your way, and you swore he did a double-take when he saw the position you were in. You watched him shake his head and focus back on the backpack, where he was currently setting out his spare rounds and putting your bag of toiletries and his on the table beside the bed.

“You should get some sleep. I think exhaustion’s starting to get to you,” he mumbled, his already deep voice lower than normal. You quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment on that.

You were about to say something when he pulled his gun out from the back of his pants, doing something mechanical with it that seemed like checking the rounds inside. He looked so professional and efficient, the muscles in his wide shoulders and thick arms moving slightly as he worked. You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as you watched him.

He walked around the bed to the desk across the room, where a landline phone sat plugged into the wall. He put the gun down carefully on the table and picked up the phone, and you watched him immediately dial a phone number he must have memorized.

You sat up straighter, pushing your horny, distracted thoughts out of your head and preparing for the serious conversation Namjoon was about to have with the embassy about you being in danger. You watched him standing there as it rang, and he turned back to face you as he waited, giving you a weak smile when you made eye contact.

Namjoon frowned then, pulling the phone away from his ear and glaring at it.

“It said something in Polish, and then it said in English that this caller is out of my network,” he said, hanging up the phone before immediately picking it up and trying again. This time even you could hear how it immediately went to what sounded like a dial-up noise from the 90’s.

He tried again, and you sighed, watching him as he started to get frustrated. You stood, limping over to him, and felt Namjoon jump a little when you put your hand on his arm.

“I’ll go check in the lobby and see if she can fix it or get us another phone,” he said, sighing. He glanced toward the old-fashioned clock on the wall, which read it was almost midnight now.

“Hold on,” you said, catching him by his hand as he turned to leave, making him look at you. “Just stay. Please.” Your voice was quiet, exhausted, pleading. “We can just go to that internet cafe in the morning. Let’s just sleep, Joon. You must be so tired.”

“I need to call the embassy and let them know what happened,” he said, shaking his head a little, his hand still in yours, though. Up close you could see the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged.

“Please,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “We’re safe here. Let’s just sleep and call in the morning. If those men had followed us from the train, they would’ve found us in the forest, so I really think we’re safe here. Please, stay with me. Don’t leave me.”

Namjoon bit his lip, sighing as he seemed to consider it. He squeezed your hand back before nodding, some of the concern melting from his tired eyes when he saw you smile.

“Just tonight,” he said, bringing his hand you weren’t holding on to up to stroke your hair back from your face. “First thing in the morning, we’ll make the call. We might have to check out and keep moving tomorrow if it’s not safe here, so we do need to rest.”

“Sounds perfect,” you sighed, letting go of his hand and heading over to the backpack.

You slid off his jacket and laid it over the back of the chair, before pulling off your t-shirt so you could take off the bulletproof vest. Behind you, you heard Namjoon inhale sharply, and when you glanced over your shoulder you saw him turned away, facing the opposite wall.

“Are you planning on sleeping in your dirty dress clothes?” you asked him, taking off your bra before putting your shirt back on. You wanted to start a conversation that could somehow non-awkwardly lead up to you offering to give him a shoulder massage, in a way that didn’t sound inappropriate or too intimate. “I don’t think that’ll be very comfortable, plus you’ll get the sheets all dirty.”

“It won’t matter, since I’ll be sleeping on the floor,” he said matter-of-factly, like it was obvious.

You turned around now that you were fully dressed again, glaring at him, though the effect was lost since he was still facing away.

“Oh no you aren’t,” you said firmly, crossing your arms when he turned to look at you again. “This bed is huge. It could fit five people! You are not sleeping on the floor.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” he said, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt and making your heart skip a beat. “You just lay down and get some sleep. You need to rest your ankle.”

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t sleep in this bed, then neither will I,” you said, grinding your teeth and setting your jaw. When he raised an eyebrow at you, you raised one back, challenging him to keep arguing. “It’s up to you. Either we both sleep in this giant bed, or we both sleep on the floor. You walked for miles tonight, carrying a person after jumping off a train. You’re sleeping in a bed, even if I have to make you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes and unbuckling his belt. You tried to maintain your resolve and not think about the sight of him pulling his belt out of the belt-loops, but he was making it really hard for you.

“Fine,” he grumbled, laying his belt across the chair in front of the desk.

“And don’t even think about getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor after I fall asleep, mister. If I wake up and you’re not still in bed, I’m sleeping on the floor every night for the next week. I don’t care if we’re back home tomorrow night, I really mean it. I’ll do jumping jacks on my twisted ankle too, just watch me.”

“I believe you, ma’am,” he said, laughing a little at your stubbornness.

“Why’d you even ask for the honeymoon suite if you were planning on sleeping on the floor?” you snapped, going over to the bed and throwing the sheets and quilt back.

“I thought a suite would be more private, and it helped sell our act,” he said, taking off his watch and setting it on the desk. “We need to be as believable as possible to stay undercover and inconspicuous. Plus it won’t seem weird if we don’t leave our room, if people think we’re in here… honeymooning.”

“Honeymooning, right,” you scoffed, flopping down on the bed and crossing your arms again, pouting at him angrily.

Namjoon ignored your comment, coming over to the backpack again and pulling out both your cell phones, along with the bag from the gas station with the chargers. He started opening them, walking back to the desk slowly as he concentrated.

You sighed, knowing you’d gone a little too far with your anger. You wanted him to take care of himself and not put himself through any more struggles on your behalf. You were upset with him because he was trying to be professional and considerate, not because he’d actually done anything wrong.

“Hey, Joon,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Are you okay after carrying me and walking that far? Do you want me to give you a shoulder massage or anything?”

He was plugging both your phones in, bent over as he reached behind the desk to plug in the chargers, and you tried to ignore the great view you had of his ass. You heard him mumble something, letting out a short grunt as he strained and reached, before standing back up and turning to face you.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” he said simply, shrugging. “And it’s okay, really. You don’t have to apologize.” He looked devastatingly handsome, his hair ruffled up a little from bending over the desk, white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease a glimpse at his large, firm chest. You almost groaned at just the sight of him; this was so completely unfair of him, to look this good when you were trying to apologize.

“It’s not okay,” you said, picking up the pillow behind you and hugging it to your chest. “You saved my life today and got me out of there when I was kind of in shock. You wrapped my sprained ankle and carried me for miles in the snow. I shouldn’t snap at you.”

“It’s okay, ma’am. I was just doing my job.”

You blinked as you processed what he said, your lips parting as you felt your heart shatter. Namjoon seemed completely indifferent, just standing there looking at you blankly, and you set your jaw, huffing, trying so hard not to show how devastated you felt by that little reality check.

You were just his job. That’s all you were to him, that’s all your life meant to him, even now. He wouldn’t even let you apologize, because he was so professional and saw you only as a coworker – not even a coworker; he saw you as a task, a thing to protect for money, a job to do instead of a friend or someone who loved him.

You felt silly and stupid for even being upset by this, because of course you were just his job. You already knew this, so why did hearing him say it affect you so much? Why did it feel like a punch in the gut instead of a reminder of something you’d thought you’d already accepted?

When you didn’t respond, Namjoon turned back toward the desk, double-checking that the phones were both plugged in and charging before walking toward the bathroom. You heard the door close and the sink turn on, and you laid down, turning away from the door and curling up into a ball on your side.

You bit your lip as you tried not to cry, hot tears stinging your eyes as your throat and lungs tightened painfully. You felt so exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and you tried to tell yourself that being tired always made things feel worse. Tomorrow you’d wake up, feel a little better, and things could begin going back to normal between you and Namjoon.

You told yourself what you already knew, repeating it in your head to yourself as you tried to fall asleep. You’re just his job. He doesn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t love you.

***

Namjoon had shared hotel rooms with you a few times before, but never the same bed, never close enough to feel your body heat pulling him in.

He wanted so badly to turn toward you now and spoon you, kiss you all over your neck and shoulder and whisper promises about how he’d always keep you safe, but he knew there were lines he wasn’t allowed to cross. He felt guilty even thinking about it in your presence, like his perverted thoughts alone somehow violated you.

Though laying here now in the dark, listening to your gentle breathing as you slept, he found it hard not to let his fantasies run wild.

He hoped you weren’t uncomfortable by him sharing your bed or what he’d done to maintain your cover. The honeymoon thing, while helpful, definitely hadn’t been necessary, but he hadn’t been able to help himself, seeing it as the perfect excuse to have fleeting moments of intimacy with you, however fake and convoluted.

You’d gone along with it perfectly, and then you’d insisted on him sharing a bed with you when he’d tried to keep everything professional, ever-careful of your boundaries and what would make you feel uncomfortable. He just wanted to keep you safe and happy, and you were being such an angel, as always. His angel, he thought to himself with a lazy smile.

When you’d tried to apologize to him, he’d shut that down immediately. He knew you were stressed and tired and that normally the two of you never even disagreed on anything, so he’d tried to reassure you that everything was fine and that you had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t want you to feel like you owed him anything. You’d been so cute when you were angry, all pouty and passionate, and even when you were upset, you still cared about him and checked on how he was doing, caring about his wellbeing. It made Namjoon’s heart ache.

You’d reacted oddly when he’d told you that it was his job to protect you, your expression becoming unreadable. You were already asleep when he’d come out of the bathroom, so he tried not to think too much into it. He knew you must be exhausted, scared, in pain from your injury, stressed, still coming down from being in shock earlier, and more. You probably just needed a good night’s rest and to get out of this scary situation and back to the embassy.

Beside him, you sighed in your sleep, shifting a little.

Namjoon closed his eyes, mentally replaying the noise you’d just made, that contented, gentle, relaxed, beautiful sigh. He imagined you making that noise as he kissed down your body, spreading your thighs and putting his mouth on you for the first time. What would you sound like when he sucked your clit between his lips, or when he fucked you with his tongue? What would you say when he told you you had the most beautiful pussy he’d ever seen, that you tasted sweeter than honey and that your pussy belonged to him? Would you pull his hair and whine, maybe have that adorable pout on your lips as you looked down at him? What would you feel like when he finally slid his cock so deep inside you, your legs wrapped around him or up over his shoulders, his hands in your beautiful hair as he kissed you breathless and made love to you again and again, until you knew nothing but his name? Your perfect little pussy would squeeze him so hard, and he’d pound into you until you came for him, sighing and moaning and making the most beautiful sounds in the world.

Namjoon groaned quietly to himself, rolling onto his side facing away from you. He reached up and grabbed the second pillow he wasn’t using from his side of the bed, hugging it tight against his chest. It was a poor replacement for you, but he needed to stay professional, and a raging boner and sex dreams about you were as far from professional as he could get.

He had a job to do. He was here to protect you and keep you from being kidnapped or assassinated, not to fantasize about you inappropriately. He’d put his gun in the nightstand beside him, and he reached out and felt the handle of the drawer it was in, memorizing how far it was from him in the dark and where exactly the handle was in case he had to suddenly reach out and grab it. He needed to be ready.

As he tried to relax, Namjoon listened to the sounds of the hotel, the hum of the heater in the corner of the room, your gentle breathing as you slept. It was peaceful, and he already felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Beside him, you sighed again, and at that he closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

***

When you woke, Namjoon was still asleep, thankfully still in the bed and not on the floor. You’d been serious about your threat and were happy he’d listened, for both his sake and yours.

You stretched a little in place, your ankle throbbing in pain when you moved it, making you hiss and bite your lip. Your muscles throughout your whole body felt stiff, and you wondered if it was from jumping off the train, since it certainly wasn’t from walking.

You turned your head to look over at Namjoon, your heart aching. He looked so peaceful as he slept on his side facing you, his cheeks looking rounder and cuter, his hair all mussed up from sleeping well. He wasn’t quite snoring; it was more of a gentle purr, a quiet rumble in his chest. He’d slept shirtless, you realized, seeing his bare shoulders peeking out from under the covers, and just the thought of that made you squeeze your legs together.

God, you wanted to kiss him. His plush lips were parted and looked so soft, and the adorable noises he was making made you want to lay your head on his chest and feel the vibrations of his sounds. He’d been so warm when he’d carried you last night, like a human furnace, and you wondered if he was still that warm now, if cuddling up to his body heat would put you right back to sleep. You wanted him to hold you forever, the two of you never leaving this bed ever again.

Namjoon groaned to himself, rolling onto his back and stretching. He grimaced when he moved his shoulders, and you quickly closed your eyes when you saw his eyes start to open.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice deep from sleep. “I saw you.” He was teasing you, and when you cracked open one eye and peeked at him, he smiled lazily. “Are you pretending to be asleep?”

“No,” you said, closing your eyes again and trying to hide your grin.

He hummed softly instead of responding, a low noise you felt the vibrations of through the mattress. His head was turned toward you as he laid on his back, smiling contentedly as he just looked at you. It felt intense, so intimate and domestic, and you looked away, feeling a blush staining your cheeks and not wanting him to notice, though you could still see him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, and you tried not to look at the way his large, bare chest rose and fell with his slow breathing. You imagined running your fingernails along his skin there, making him gasp and squirm beneath you as you rode him. You sighed, pushing away those thoughts as quickly as they came.

“Good,” you said softly, your own voice groggy and quiet. “You?”

“Good.” He was still just laying there watching you, and you were sure you were bright red by now. “I think we overslept,” he added, smirking a little.

“By how much?” You remembered the kind woman from the lobby’s words about her guests always eating breakfast together, and you weren’t eager to break her rules so soon into your stay.

“It’s almost eleven,” Namjoon said, laughing softly at you when your eyes went wide.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head. “Guess we needed it.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still on you.

The sheets and quilt had fallen enough for you to see his defined pecs, tiny brown nipples you kind of wanted to put your mouth on, dark hair in his armpit when he raised his arm and tucked his hand behind his head, relaxing. They were such small details about him – you’d certainly never thought about his armpit hair or nipple size before in your fantasies – but you felt yourself becoming wet, your skin feeling hot and flushed. The moment was so intimate, showing you such small details about him and his body that you’d never even considered before. He was here and real. Even just the way his large chest expanded as he breathed made you want to touch him everywhere.

“I think I’m gonna run down to the internet cafe by myself,” Namjoon said then, making your eyes refocus on his face. You really, really hoped you hadn’t actually been staring at his chest when you’d zoned out, or at the very least that he hadn’t noticed. “I can grab breakfast for us and bring it back, and see if there’s anywhere I can get some more clothes for us. Definitely shoes for you, at least. I’ll be gone an hour tops, and you can stay here and stay hidden.”

“Joon, shouldn’t we stay together?” you said, furrowing your brow. “What if they find me while you’re gone? What if they break in and take me?”

“I’ll look around first and see if there’s anything suspicious,” he said. “I can survey a bit before I leave the inn, ask if anybody else checked in or asked about us. I won’t leave you unless I feel like it’s completely safe.”

“Can’t I come with you?” you said, aware you were now pouting at him and giving him the puppy eyes you knew always worked on him.

“You should rest and stay off your feet. You need to recover,” he said, sighing, and your heart skipped a beat as you watched him glance down at your lips.

He was just looking at the fact you were pouting, you told yourself. There was no way he’d actually looked at your lips like that, while shirtless and sharing a bed with you and looking like he wanted you, and there was definitely no way he’d actually licked his own lips while looking at yours. You had to be imagining things.

“I’ll only be gone a little while. I promise,” he said, turning onto his side to face you fully. “Besides, just me walking around will be much less noticeable than both of us, especially if you’re limping. And you shouldn’t walk on your ankle anyway, especially not in those heels.”

You made a quiet humph! sound, crossing your arms and glaring at him with no heat. You couldn’t actually be mad at him, but you didn’t want him to leave you here even for a moment. Namjoon smiled softly, reaching over and stroking your hair back from your face.

“If I leave now, I can be back before noon,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Your heart was racing now, and you hoped Namjoon couldn’t feel it. “Later, if everything looks safe, we could go sit somewhere. Maybe there’s some place cozy downstairs, by a nice warm fire. It’ll be nice to get out of the room if it’s safe.”

“That sounds nice,” you mumbled, pouting again.

He still had his hand in your hair, and you almost wanted to moan, feeling how warm and soft his big hand was. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, to feel those big long fingers inside you, but he was just being nice and comforting you. You remembered his words from last night: I was just doing my job. It was so hard for you to remind yourself of that now when he was stroking your hair and being so sweet to you.

Namjoon dropped his hand to your shoulder, squeezing once before turning away and throwing back the covers from his side of the bed.

You sighed, pulling the covers around you closer, not at all ready to get up yet as you watched him sit up and swing his feet to the floor. His back was now to you, and you took in a deep breath, letting yourself ogle the broad expanse of his bare shoulders. He had a couple of little moles on his back, just like the ones on his face you’d imagined kissing so many times, and you wanted to reach out now and touch him, trace the constellations on his golden skin with your fingers and lips.

Namjoon stood, and you tried not to gasp as your eyes bulged. Not only was he shirtless, but he’d slept in just his boxers. You figured that made sense, since he’d only had his dress clothes he’d worn to the summit yesterday and they’d gotten kind of dirty in the forest, but seeing him parade around the room now in just one little piece of clothing made your mouth water. His thighs were so muscular you almost moaned out loud, imagining how strong and powerful he must be. He was so big and muscular, it made your pussy ache to be filled.

“I’m gonna borrow that sweatshirt I bought you,” Namjoon said, standing in front of the chair with the backpack, facing away from you. “I think it’ll fit me. I got one a little big for you. That way I’m not in the same weird, dirty outfit I was in last night.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” you said, your eyes not leaving his ass. You were currently fantasizing about squeezing him there while he fucked you, digging your fingernails in and feeling his muscles clenching and moving as he thrusted, and you almost missed when Namjoon turned around to look at you again.

“I think we passed a cafe on the way here from the gas station. I hope they’re still serving breakfast,” he said, pulling on the sweatshirt. “If not, I’ll get us something like sandwiches or soup.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing down at his crotch in the brief moment his eyes were covered by the sweatshirt as he pulled it on.

“You want extra raisins in your food, right?”

“Yep, totally,” you said, not at all hearing him.

Namjoon smirked, and you looked back up at his face, blinking in confusion.

“Somebody seems distracted,” he said, coming back toward the bed. He climbed across the bottom, sitting cross-legged by your feet. “Is your ankle hurting?”

He pulled the covers off your legs and took your injured foot in his hand, handling it carefully as he held it up to examine it.

“Just a little.” You hoped he actually believed you were distracted from the pain, not from how fucking sexy he was, parading around in his underwear.

Namjoon began slowly unwrapping the gauze, revealing your red and somewhat swollen ankle. You tested moving it, and it ached but gave no resistance. Namjoon moved his hand up, holding your leg up by your calf, and you imagined him moving his hands up even farther and bending over and eating you out. God, you needed to get ahold of yourself.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he said, glancing up at you. “If you stay off of it, you should heal pretty quickly. Walking as little as possible would definitely help.”

“So are you becoming my butler in addition to my bodyguard and doctor? Just gonna dote on me and carry me around all day?” you said, smirking up at him from where you laid.

The covers were off of you now, and you were just in your tiny little shorts and the thin t-shirt with no bra you��d slept in. You watched Namjoon glance down at your chest and shorts before answering, his voice a little deeper than normal, like when he’d first woken up.

“I already dote on you,” he mumbled, and you swore he was blushing. He looked away from you, down to the floor beside the bed, unable to make eye contact. He gently laid your foot back on the bed, the bottom of your foot against his knee where his legs were crossed.

“You’re so good at it, too,” you teased, pressing your foot against him playfully.

Namjoon blinked a few times, sucking in a breath, before suddenly standing up and walking around the bed. You pouted, not wanting him to leave you yet or quit the teasing game you’d been playing.

“Here,” he said, picking up a pillow that had fallen to the floor by his side of the bed. He came back around and propped up your injured foot, using the pillow to elevate it. “Just stay relaxed like this, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oh, whatever,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

“Do you want your phone before I go, so you can play games? Do you need help going to the bathroom?” he asked, completely serious, and you rolled your eyes at him, laughing.

“Just go if you’re going,” you said, ready to throw a pillow at him.

He smiled, walking back over to the backpack and pulling on his dress pants. You watched him take his gun out of his bedside table and tuck it into the back of his pants before heading out the door.

***

It took you about twenty minutes of laying in bed alone before you got bored and decided to get up, Namjoon’s advice about elevating your foot be damned. You needed to pee and really wanted to shower, so you got up and hobbled on over to your bag of toiletries, heading into the little bathroom that desperately needed updated and cleaned.

As the shower heated up, you sat on the toilet that alarmingly wobbled a little, staring at the closed door and thinking about Namjoon. You’d never seen him shirtless before, and his big chest muscles and broad shoulders were all you could think about. He was a god, an Adonis, an angel on earth, a marble statue come to life. And where on earth had he been hiding those massive thunder thighs? You’d always known he was a big boy, but good fucking god.

When you got in the shower, you used the inn’s little bottles of shampoo and body wash to clean yourself, groaning at the fact you would probably have to put back on your dirty clothes after your shower. You were grateful to be clean though, and more grateful to have something to do to distract you from your thoughts.

The hot water felt nice, and you stood there for a moment once you were clean, closing your eyes and letting the heat soak into your injured ankle and sore muscles. The water was hot enough to make the whole bathroom steam up, the mirror over the sink fogging up and condensation running down the walls.

Standing there with your eyes closed, you let your mind return to Namjoon and his body. You sighed, remembering how fucking sexy he’d looked this morning with his bare chest on display, and you imagined him rolling over and getting on top of you, covering your body in kisses and touching you with his big, gentle hands. He had such long, elegant fingers, and as you stood there imagining them, you let your own hand drop between your legs, feeling your slick heat and circling two fingertips around your clit.

“Joon,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes closed tighter, your breathing picking up.

Each flick of your fingers sent a spark of pleasure through your body, and you imagined Namjoon on his knees in the shower in front of you, his mouth on your pussy and tongue moving in and out of you. He’d pull one of your legs over his shoulder, holding your ass with both hands as he fucked you with his tongue, his dark brown eyes focused on your face as he ate your pussy.

Your whimpers and moans echoed off the tile walls of the shower, and you moved your fingers back and curled two of them deep into your pussy, now imagining Namjoon standing behind you and fingering you. You imagined him holding you against his big firm body with one arm, his hand on your tits as he played with you, grinding against your ass with his massive cock.

“Joon, fuck me,” you whined, whimpering with every exhale and imagining him bending you over right here and entering you from behind. He’d fuck you so good, slam against your ass over and over, and he’d take his pleasure from you and make the most beautiful noises, moaning and growling in that deep sexy voice.

Your moans devolved into gibberish noises of pleasure, barely able to say his name anymore as you drew close. You were breathing hard, your eyes closed as you fucked yourself closer and closer, thinking of vague parts of Namjoon and how much you loved him instead of imagining specific scenarios. You thought of his lips, the way he’d carried you yesterday, how sexy his thighs had looked, and came with a cry of his name that you swore shook the walls, your body tensing as you felt yourself throbbing as you came all over your fingers.

As you started to come down from your high, you sighed, rinsing off your fingers under the running water. You smiled lazily to yourself, imagining Namjoon’s lips sucking your fingers clean. You wished you could cuddle with him right now, feeling so contented and satisfied from your orgasm, you swore you could fall right back asleep.

Sighing, you turned off the shower, stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body.

***

Namjoon had gotten back from his errands a few minutes before, and now sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands as he listened to you touching yourself in the shower.

Your whines and moans had made him hard in seconds, his lips parting and eyes rolling back in his head every time you made yourself cry out in pleasure. Part of him wanted to pull himself out of his pants now and stroke himself, his cock practically aching for it, but instead he just sat there and listened, committing every second of this to memory.

You were the sexiest thing on the planet, and right now you were making the most beautiful noises he’d ever heard. He imagined barging into the bathroom now and dropping to his knees and fucking you with his mouth. He wanted to more than anything, but he knew you were just letting off steam and doing this to relax. This wasn’t about him, and he would never go there and make you feel uncomfortable.

Still, he had his fantasies. He wanted to eat your pussy so fucking bad, it was something he imagined pretty much constantly. He’d always known he had an oral fixation, but with you, it had become so much more intense, sometimes he only imagined eating you out and not even actually fucking you.

He imagined bursting into the bathroom right now just to throw you over his shoulder, carry you out here, and toss you down on the bed, spreading you open under him and eating your beautiful pussy until you screamed for him. He closed his eyes and imagined it, imagined you pulling his hair and begging him to let you come, but he wouldn’t let you, not until you were in tears and crying nothing but his name and “please.” And then he’d let you come, just to keep licking your pussy through it, through three or four more orgasms, one after another, not stopping even if you screamed in overstimulation.

He wanted to destroy you with his mouth, reduce you to a pathetic crying whore, his angel he’d make fall apart and shatter just so he could put you back together. Maybe you’d squirt all over his face; he’d drink up every last drop of you, never taking his mouth off your pussy ever again.

Namjoon was so caught up in his fantasies, he almost didn’t hear what he swore sounded like you moaning his name. His heart skipped a beat when he heard it, his entire body frozen and eyes wide as he tried to listen, because there was no way in hell he’d heard that right.

“Joon, fuck me,” your beautiful voice moaned so loudly, and Namjoon groaned, his eyes closing and mouth falling open as he came in his pants just from hearing you.

Namjoon looked down at himself, the shock of the situation making him just sit there with his mouth hanging open and eyebrows near his hairline. He’d never blown his load in his pants like that before, not even when he was a hormonal teenager.

More importantly, there was no fucking way you’d actually just moaned his name while masturbating. His fantasies must be turning into actual hallucinations, because it was completely impossible that you were masturbating while imagining him. There was just no way.

He heard your moans crescendo as you came, and he bit his lip, imagining you coming all over his face. He let himself imagine it then, just for a moment, that you were actually touching yourself while thinking of him, and he almost got hard again at just the idea.

The mess in his pants was starting to feel disgusting and uncomfortable, and he desperately wanted to change and get clean. He needed to take a shower as soon as you were out, and he needed to get in there without you realizing he had a giant wet stain on the front of his pants.

When he heard the shower turn off, Namjoon quickly stood, going over to the bags of clothes he’d bought at a little boutique next to the internet cafe. He pulled out some of the ones he’d bought for himself, holding them awkwardly in front of his crotch while he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. Part of him felt guilty for having listened to you, but he tried to tell himself that he hadn’t done anything terrible. This was a shared space. You’d known he was coming back soon. He tried to tell himself that, but it didn’t ease his guilt.

The door opened a moment later and you walked out, wrapping your hair up in a towel. You gasped when you saw him, your eyes wide, and he watched you try to play it off, smiling awkwardly and coming over to him. You were only wearing a towel, your body still dripping wet from the shower, and Namjoon ignored the way a brief fantasy flashed in his mind, imagining himself grabbing that towel and throwing it off to the side before dropping to his knees and making love to you with his tongue.

“Hey,” you said, peeking into the bags of clothes he’d bought. “How long have you been back?”

You’d tried to ask it casually, but he could tell you were on edge. He swore he could smell your scent over the cheap hotel shampoo, and it made his heart rate spike, his jaw setting as he tried to push aside his horny, possessive thoughts. Despite your nerves, he could tell that you were glowing from your orgasm, and he wanted to kiss you so bad his whole body ached from it.

“I just walked in a couple seconds ago,” he quickly lied, hoping to ease your nerves. He stepped around you, heading off to the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower real quick too. Lunch is in that brown takeout bag. Feel free to start without me.”

“You know I’ll wait for you, Joonie,” you said, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him. Namjoon’s heart ached looking at you, so fucking sweet and angelic and perfect.

“Well, look through the clothes I got you then,” he teased, smiling back to you. “Or better yet, get off that ankle and elevate it like I told you, young lady.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, fake-saluting to him, and Namjoon ignored the way his cock twitched hearing you call him that. He started to turn to head off to the shower, but you casually asking “Oh hey, Joon, what’d you hear?” made him freeze in place.

“Huh? Hear what? I didn’t hear anything,” Namjoon said quickly, turning back to look at you with wide eyes.

You looked confused, tilting your head and blinking.

“I meant, what’d you hear from the embassy?” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh,” Namjoon said, biting his lip and nodding, unable to look up and make eye contact with you. “Uh, yeah. The embassy.”

He made himself be serious, shifting into work mode and speaking calmly as he explained how that conversation had gone, still awkwardly holding his clothes in front of his crotch.

“They passed on the information to your mother, so she knows you’re all right,” he said blankly. “There was, uh, a bit of a situation though, so they can’t come get us yet. Your mother’s fine, but an unknown terrorist group attempted to breach the house last night, so the embassy’s on lockdown. If I had to guess, I’d say it was the same group that had men on our train last night. It can’t be a coincidence that it happened at the same time.”

He waited for a moment, letting you process that. You looked scared for a split second, before taking a deep breath and nodding for him to continue.

“Your mother’s secure at the embassy with the rest of the security team,” he continued, watching your reaction. “They told me to get you somewhere safe and stay hidden, and then in the next few days they’ll arrange an extraction and get you home.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding and looking down at the ground. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, shrinking in on yourself, and the scared look in your eyes you tried to hide made Namjoon’s heart hurt. You shivered, still standing there in your wet towel, and he wanted to go to you and hug you, warm you up, and tell you he’d always keep you safe.

“There’s a bus to Kraków at three o’clock today, and I want us on it,” Namjoon said instead. “It’ll be much easier for us to hide in a city, and it’ll be safer to get away from a town that’s right by the train tracks. The attack on the embassy means this is an even bigger operation than I’d thought, so I want us to play it safe.”

“Who are they?” you asked, ignoring what he’d said and frowning.

“I don’t know. The rest of our security team is trying to figure that out now. They’re working with the Polish authorities and our embassy here to get more information, and to arrange an extraction for you as fast as they can.”

You looked lost in thought, looking down to the ground and frowning again as the gears turned in your head. Namjoon wished he could put his hand on your shoulder comfortingly or do something, anything, to help you feel like things would be okay, but he was still holding his clothes in front of his crotch and didn’t want to risk moving.

“After lunch, we should pack up and get ready to go. We only have a few hours,” you said quietly, setting your jaw. Namjoon’s heart swelled in pride, seeing how determined and brave you looked. His wonderful, strong, brave angel.

“I’ll go shower, then,” Namjoon mumbled, trying to hide his dumb smitten smile and heart eyes as he turned to leave.

Once safely inside the bathroom, he sighed, his entire body relaxing as he turned on the shower and set his clean clothes down on the counter. He braced himself there, staring down at the sink as he tried to collect his thoughts and get ahold of himself.

You hadn’t moaned his name. He had to have imagined it. It was his fantasies coming to life, him projecting his desires onto you unfairly after he’d listened to you masturbating, like a complete pervert. He’d crossed a line today, and the idea of doing something like this to you, choosing to listen to you when he knew you were having an intimate moment, was way too far.

Namjoon bit his lip as he let his guilt overwhelm him. He squeezed his eyes closed, gripping the counter painfully hard and trying to focus only on his breathing.

Why had he not gone out into the hall and waited there once he’d realized what you were doing? Instead of respecting you and giving you privacy, he’d been so selfish, caring only about his fantasies and lust and eavesdropping on you in a moment you obviously didn’t want anyone to hear. He was a pervert, and he’d disrespected you. He’d projected onto you, to the extent of imagining hearing you moan his name. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Namjoon stripped off his clothes, feeling numb. He turned and stepped into the shower, making the water as cold as he could stand it.

He should give your mother his two weeks notice the moment he got you back to the embassy safely. It was the right thing to do, the only way to redeem himself after doing something like this. But the thought of leaving you, of leaving this job where he spent every day by your side sounded worse than any punishment or torture he could think of. Maybe that’s why he should do it: he deserved it, after this.

Namjoon washed himself quickly, trying to calm his mind and not think about you. He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t pressed his ear to the door or gone out of his way to listen to you; he’d just come back to your shared hotel room, and was able to hear you.

That didn’t help him feel any less shitty about the situation, though. As he rinsed his hair and turned off the shower, he sighed, shaking his head in disgust at himself.

He decided it then. Once you were safely home, he would tell you everything. How he felt, that he was in love with you, and that he’d heard you. He’d leave it entirely up to you: if you were uncomfortable, he would leave, and that would be that. It was the only thing he could think of doing that didn’t make him feel like he was lying to you or violating you. It gave him a sliver of hope, while letting him feel at peace with his conscience.

Namjoon dried off and got dressed quickly, trying to push away his stress and worries before coming back out to you. He didn’t want you to feel like anything was wrong, so as he went to open the door, he sighed, making himself smile weakly.

True to your word, you’d waited on him to eat.

After you’d gotten dressed in the clothes he’d bought for you, you’d set out the sandwiches and fruit on the little table in the corner of the room. Namjoon smiled when he saw you standing there setting it all up like it was a picnic or fancy dinner, not takeout in a hotel room. You were now putting napkins and plastic silverware by each of your takeout boxes, your adorable face deep in concentration as you made sure everything looked perfect.

Namjoon swore he’d never felt deeper in love with you than that moment, his heart swelling in emotion.

“Thanks for waiting on me,” he said quietly, tossing his dirty clothes over toward his backpack. You smiled up at him, realizing he was there, and he felt like his lungs and heart were being squeezed by invisible hands in his chest.

“Of course,” you said, sitting down at one of the seats and motioning for him to join you. “It’d be rude not to wait on my hero, who saved my life and got me new clothes and food.”

“All in a days work,” he mumbled shyly, sitting down across from you and ignoring the way his heart sang at hearing you call him your ‘hero.’

The two of you ate in comfortable silence. If you were suspicious about him potentially having heard you when you were in the shower, you didn’t show it at all, smiling to yourself and looking up at him every few minutes, the same friendly smile on your face as always. Namjoon kept catching himself smiling at you and watching you without even realizing, and he really hoped you weren’t noticing. He needed to get ahold of himself.

He was really going to miss this. A few days from now, when he confessed everything and you fired him for being such a perv, he’d look back on right now and all the times like this, when the two of you had wonderful moments alone together, eating or talking or joking with each other. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like once you were out of his life forever; he couldn’t bear to think of it, so instead he glanced up at you, watching you enjoy your lunch and look around the room with a pleasant, relaxed look on your beautiful face.

“I found a bed and breakfast in Kraków I thought we might like,” he mumbled after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “I didn’t book it obviously, but the website said they take cash, and it’s not too far from the bus station. It looked private and off the beaten path, but still safe and clean.”

“That sounds nice. Maybe this time we can actually enjoy the breakfast and not just the bed,” you giggled, making his heart soar.

“We’ll still need to lay low in case anyone’s still looking for you. Kraków is the closest city to where you were last seen.” Namjoon was trying so hard to be serious and professional, but your giggles and good mood and how fucking good you smelled were all short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, maybe on the way out of town when we’re extracted, we can drive by the touristy spots in town, at least. I’ll see everything through a bulletproof window in a car,” you said, making Namjoon laugh.

The rest of the meal was quiet, and afterwards, Namjoon cleaned up, insisting you stay off your foot. He brought a pillow from the bed over, putting on the chair he’d sat in, and brought your foot up, resting it carefully on the pillow. You pouted at him for not letting you help him pack, insisting that your foot felt fine now, and Namjoon just shook his head, smiling.

From there, he packed up his backpack, which was now stuffed full and barely able to close. If he saw an opportunity somewhere, he’d try to get you a bag of your own, so the two of you would look like normal backpackers and you could carry your own clothes. You were pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon, after all. You should at least look the part.

Once done packing, Namjoon got down on one knee and helped you into the shoes he’d found for you, a simple pair of white sneakers he hoped were your size. He was pretty sure he knew your shoe size, and as you slid your non-injured foot into the shoe perfectly, Namjoon let himself sigh in relief.

He tied up your shoelaces for you, double-knotting them and smiling up at you once he was done. He glanced down, suddenly noticing the fact he was on his knees in front of you as you sat, your legs slightly parted. He swore he could almost smell sex on you, and it made him part his lips as he imagined himself leaning in and kissing your pussy over the pants he’d bought for you. He’d inhale you, pressing his face against your cunt and just breathing you in until he got off on just that. He felt savage, like an animal in heat, like he needed to rub his face all over your pussy and mark you as his. That faint smell, undoubtedly from you getting yourself off earlier, was like a drug to him, and he felt like he could get high from it, from you.

Namjoon quickly stood, turning away and clearing his throat.

“We should get going soon,” he said, his whole body tense. He heard you stand up behind him and didn’t dare to look back at you. He didn’t trust himself. “We should get our tickets and make sure nobody’s looking for us near the bus station.”

“Okay,” you said softly, your beautiful voice a siren song pulling him in.

Before he could say anything else, Namjoon felt your small hand on his shoulder. He instantly melted under your touch, the tension leaving his body as he turned toward you.

“Are you alright?” you asked, looking up at him with your beautiful, concerned eyes. You could tell he felt off, because of course you could. You knew him better than anyone, so you could obviously tell he was acting weird.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his heart full from how sweet you were. “I promise. I’m just worried about keeping you safe.”

“Hopefully, we’re already past the hard part,” you tried to encourage, and Namjoon nodded. He wanted to reach out and squeeze your hand, but knew better.

“Hopefully,” was all he could manage to say. How could he feel completely level-headed yesterday when those men were busting into your room on the train, but now, just standing in front of you, he was a nervous wreck?

“Either way, I know I’m safe with you, Joon,” you said, and Namjoon bit his lip, taking in a deep breath.

You were an actual angel, a goddess among mortals. He was sure of it.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “I promise. We’ll get to Kraków by tonight, and we’ll be fine. No matter what, you’re safe with me.”

Namjoon’s heart jumped when you suddenly hugged him, your face pressed against his chest as you squeezed him. He was frozen only for a split second, and then he hugged you back, tightly, securely, and, most importantly, platonically. He wanted you to trust him and feel safe in his arms, because you were always safe with him. He was your bodyguard, your protector, and he had a job to do. His whole purpose was making you feel safe.

You stepped back and smiled up at him, and Namjoon was sure you could ask him to rip out his heart right now and give it to you, and he’d do it without hesitation.

The moment passed, and the two of you began getting ready to leave. It was almost two in the afternoon already, and the bus for Kraków left at three. You had plenty of time to get to the station and get your ticket, and he was glad the two of you didn’t need to rush.

Namjoon put on his jacket and the Tatry hat he’d bought yesterday in the gas station, while you pulled on the matching Tatry sweatshirt. The two of you looked like a couple of tourists, which was smart, he figured. The less you looked like the daughter of an ambassador, the better. The two of you were a young, foolish, cheap couple on vacation. Not a targeted political figure and bodyguard.

When you left the bed and breakfast, Namjoon checked out with the kind woman at the front desk, got a refund for the nights the two of you didn’t stay, and then quietly left out a side door he’d found earlier, instead of directly out onto the main street. He led you by the hand to the back of the inn, and the two of you walked along the town’s secondary road, much smaller and without a sidewalk, but it had much fewer cars passing by compared to the large main road.

It wasn’t snowing today, but a dirty slush still covered most of the ground, especially by the roads. The wind had a sharp edge to it that Namjoon noticed made you shiver. He squeezed your hand, wishing he could warm you up.

At the bus station, he bought two tickets for Kraków, and the two of you sat in the back corner of the empty little station, his arm around your shoulders as the two of you waited. He had his gun in his holster under his jacket, and he felt on edge, watching the door in case the men from the train suddenly burst in. He hated having you out in the open like this, though he knew he had no other choice right now.

“This town is so empty,” you mumbled, nuzzling in against his side. The building wasn’t heated, but at least you were out of the wind.

“Everybody’s probably at work,” he answered, matching your quiet tone. You had no reason to be quiet in this empty room, but it still felt safer. “Plus it’s not tourist season. Maybe they get more visitors in the summer, when people can go mountain-climbing or whatever.”

“We should come back here,” you said, turning toward him. “Once everything’s safe and those men are caught. We could come back in the summertime, maybe.”

“Sure,” he said quietly, wondering if he’d still be in your life then. If you didn’t fire him in a few days, maybe you could come back here together.

The bus rolled up right on time, and you and Namjoon were the only ones to get on at this stop. It would take almost four hours to get to Kraków from here, so you would definitely be arriving after sundown.

Namjoon led you by the hand to the very back of the bus, eyeing every other occupant on the way. There was a young couple cuddled up together near the front, a few elderly people, a small family, a few backpackers. No athletic men with tactical gear or earpieces.

Namjoon had you take the window seat in the back row, and he stored his backpack overhead, still looking around the bus warily. It all felt too easy, but he made himself sit down beside you, settling in for the ride.

***

It was now a little over two hours into the bus ride to Kraków, and you were pretty sure Namjoon was going to have a heart attack from stress.

You’d tried to hold his hand and talk to him, but you could tell he was on edge. The bus stopped every twenty minutes or so, a few people getting off to stretch their legs, a new passenger getting on every once in a while. It was a completely normal bus journey, but Namjoon didn’t take his eyes off the people outside the bus, the other passengers, even the driver.

The only brief break he’d taken from worrying was at exactly five o’clock, when a silent alarm lit up his phone and he’d reminded you to take your birth control and ADHD medication. Amid all the chaos and being on the run, you would’ve completely forgotten that today if not for him. Even when stressed out of his mind, he was still doting on you.

You understood Namjoon’s concern about the kidnappers, to an extent. You were definitely nervous too, but you felt safe enough. If you hadn’t run into the men from the train yet, you figured it was very unlikely to happen now, in the middle of rural Poland, at the random bus stops in little towns like Nowy Targ and Rabka-Zdrój that you’d never even heard of and definitely couldn’t pronounce. The further you got from the train tracks, the safer you felt, but the more tense Namjoon became.

“We’re fine,” you said, reaching over and taking his hand again and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

The bus was now stopped in Rabka-Zdrój for about ten minutes, and the driver and other passengers had all gotten off to use the bathroom and stretch their legs, leaving the two of you alone.

“I won’t feel like we’re fine until we’re in a locked room in Kraków,” Namjoon mumbled, watching a family with kids outside the bus. You wanted to tease him and ask if he thought that family and their toddler were part of the terrorist group, but figured Namjoon wasn’t in a joking mood right now.

“I was thinking about that, actually,” you said, turning toward him fully, leaning back against the window. You still held his hand in your lap, and you tilted your head, catching his gaze and pulling him away from the suspicious terrorist toddler outside. “Would it be safer for us to stay in a real hotel, one with a security guard and a front desk and everything, instead of a bed and breakfast?”

“I’m worried they’ll expect you to go for a nicer hotel, if they think you’re used to luxury,” he said, still keeping his voice low even though the bus was empty. “But we don’t have to stay in a bed and breakfast. We can go for some kind of hotel, if you want.”

You nodded, figuring that made sense, though you weren’t sure how much it mattered. After escaping the train last night but then having a relaxing night at the inn, you didn’t really feel like you were in danger anymore. They probably gave up on looking for you when they didn’t find you on the train.

You opened your mouth to speak, but froze when you saw Namjoon’s eyes widen in fear.

You looked over your shoulder and saw two tall men, both dressed in black clothing, walking out of the bus station’s little ticket booth. They looked like wannabe FBI agents, right down to the tactical boots and dark sunglasses. One was blond and talking on a clunky satellite phone, while the other, a balding man in his late 40s, had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning all of the people in the outdoor part of the station.

They stood together, in the middle of the platform, like they didn’t care who saw them.

A passenger from your bus – a tall East Asian backpacker traveling alone – walked out of the bathroom, and the two creepy men both went on alert for a moment, looking at the backpacker as he walked by, one of them saying something urgently on the phone.

The backpacker kinda looked like Namjoon, you realized. The assassin-kidnapper-terrorist-whatever men saw a tall Asian man and went on alert, because they’re stupid and racist Americans, but they were looking for you and Namjoon. If they got on the bus here, they would instantly see the two of you.

The two men realized the backpacker wasn’t Namjoon, one of them sighing while the other said something else on the phone. Beside you, Namjoon looked like he was trying to think of an escape route and failing, the gears in his brilliant mind spinning. The bus had no bathroom, no hiding spots, no exits besides the main one at the front and the emergency window exits. You knew Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate breaking a window to get you out of here, but that wouldn’t exactly be subtle.

“One of them was on the train. The blond one. He was in the snack car,” Namjoon said quietly.

“What are we gonna do?” you mumbled, turning back toward him fully.

“I’m thinking,” Namjoon said, not taking his eyes off the men outside. He was still holding your hand, and he squeezed it once, comforting you.

You glanced back at the men, and your heart stopped when you saw them walking toward the bus. Namjoon quickly reached up and grabbed his backpack, pushing it to the floor in front of him and pulling you down in your seat. The two of you crouched down on the ground, hiding just as the two men stepped onto the bus.

Namjoon had his gun out, you realized, and he turned the safety off as quietly as he could.

Oh, god. He was going to shoot them if they came back here.

You held your breath, resting your shaking hands on Namjoon’s back, your heart racing. He had positioned himself so he was fully between you and the aisle, slightly higher off the ground than you, so you were completely shielded. You couldn’t even see the aisle around him.

The men were on the bus, talking quietly to each other, and you wished you could take off your bulletproof vest from under your clothes and make Namjoon wear it instead. You heard the men coming closer, their heavy boots loud on the rubber floor of the bus.

They were coming down the aisle, walking slowly as they checked each seat.

“They were definitely on this bus,” one of the men said in a stereotypical Midwestern American accent. “The tracer says they’re nearby, too, so they can’t have gone far.”

The tracer? Were they tracking you somehow? You thought of your cellphones, wondering if it was even possible to track someone if they didn’t have data or wifi. By the sounds of it, they somehow knew you were on this bus specifically, other than just tracking your location.

You thought back to when Namjoon had bought your bus tickets earlier today; you hadn’t really gotten a good look at the ticket seller, but you could see him describing you and Namjoon to these thugs, especially for a bribe or under threat. These men could’ve been right behind you this whole time, gotten the information they needed from the ticket seller, and hopped in their car and caught up to the bus, their trace on you confirming it all for them. How else would they know you were definitely on this bus? Had Namjoon mentioned it on the phone when he’d called the embassy?

Regardless, a trace on your phones meant these men had been right on your tails, and you hadn’t even suspected it. Well, Namjoon had, but you hadn’t. If you’d stayed in that little town another day, would they have found you in the inn, burst down the door and killed you in your sleep? Maybe they would’ve killed Namjoon and kidnapped you, held you for ransom or in exchange for secrets about your home country?

You’d been so stupid to think you were safe, and now, they were here.

You felt Namjoon tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. He took in a deep breath, and you bit your lip, terrified he was about to do something stupid. Maybe the men would leave on their own. Maybe the driver would come back and ask to see their tickets, and kick them off. There had to be something else besides Namjoon putting his life in danger.

Namjoon suddenly jumped up and fired off two shots in less than a second, before you could even move or register he wasn’t in front of you anymore.

A few people on the platform outside screamed, several ducking down, most of them taking off running away from the bus. At least, you thought they’d screamed; your ears were ringing from the gunshots, and now everything was muffled by that and maybe from the shock of the situation. You blinked a few times, your eyes wide and mouth open, your hands still up where they’d been on Namjoon’s back, frozen in midair.

Namjoon stepped out of his seat into the aisle, heading for where the two men had fallen. You stood on shaky legs, unsure of what to do or what just happened, really. Your hands were trembling, your heart racing, your mind empty.

Namjoon had just killed two people. He’d fired his gun and scared everyone outside. The two men here were dead. One of them had been on the phone when he’d been shot, so whoever he’d been talking to had heard it.

You looked over your shoulder and saw the family with the toddler; the mother had picked up the child, clutching it to her chest, and the father had his arms wrapped around his family, looking around in fear as they crouched on the ground. Other passengers from the bus were running away from the station, covering their heads and crouching as they ran. A few were on their cellphones, undoubtedly calling police to report a shooting.

You turned back and saw Namjoon turning off the man’s phone before tossing it into a seat.

“We need to go, now,” he said, coming back to you and grabbing his backpack. “Police will probably be here in a few minutes. I have diplomatic immunity, but we can’t afford to stay here if these guys know what town we’re in.”

“You shot them both,” you said numbly, letting Namjoon take your hand and lead you down the bus aisle.

“Come on,” he said, his voice a gentle murmur as he squeezed your hand. He was trying to rush, but you could tell he wanted to comfort you.

You passed one of the men, the balding one, who’d fallen sideways into a bus seat. He had a bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead, blood rolling down toward his nose. His eyes were still open, his expression not even surprised, like he hadn’t seen Namjoon coming at all and was now frozen in that state. If you couldn’t see the bullet hole, you’d think he was just staring off into space.

You couldn’t look away from the man’s eyes, your entire body frozen before Namjoon could pull you out of it, dragging you along toward the exit. It was like the dead man’s eyes followed you, making unbroken, unseeing eye contact, before you forced yourself to look away.

Namjoon had killed both of these men with perfect headshots. You hadn’t even known he was that good of a marksman. What had he done before becoming your bodyguard? Where had he worked? How many people had he killed?

You figured there were a lot of things you didn’t know about Namjoon.

Outside, the station was now empty, but you could hear sirens far off in the distance. There was a security camera above the door to the ticket booth, and Namjoon quickly ran over to it, pulled out his wallet, and held up his badge that the embassy had given him, the one that showed he was protecting a diplomat. He held it up right in front of the camera for a moment as he looked around the empty station and you walked up behind him.

That was the badge that gave Namjoon diplomatic immunity, but you wondered if it was enough to stop a manhunt after a public shooting. Would local police even care? Was this camera even on and recording?

“Come on,” he said, putting his wallet back in his pocket and taking your hand again. “We need to dump our phones and get away from here.”

“My iPad, too,” you mumbled, and he squeezed your hand, nodding.

The two of you went out to the street, seeing it completely empty. The passengers had all run away, or maybe some were still hiding in the station and you just hadn’t seen them. You were on the outskirts of a little town, but you could see shops and businesses just down the road.

Namjoon led you in a fast walk toward the shops, and then around back, behind the gas station. The two of you took your phones out of your pockets, and Namjoon got your iPad out of the backpack, tossing it onto the ground.

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped when Namjoon suddenly stomped on the iPad, cracking the screen and crushing the thing. He stomped on it a few times, thoroughly breaking it beyond repair.

“I’m going to factory-reset our phones and leave them here, so they can still think they’re tracking us while we leave,” Namjoon said, slightly out of breath as he still smashed the now misshapen iPad. “I’m destroying this though, so they can’t hack into it and recover any of you or your mother’s information.”

“That’s smart,” you said, flinching as Namjoon gave the tablet one final stomp before kicking it under the dumpster.

He then looked at his cell phone in his hand, typing something, and you stepped over and looked at his screen. Namjoon didn’t tilt the phone away, fully letting you look at what he was doing. You saw the text he’d just sent to the head of security back at your embassy, thankful you at least had cellular data in this tiny rural town.

Resetting and dumping our phones. We’re being tracked. I’ll check in as soon as I can. Don’t text this number again.

After that, Namjoon went into the phone’s settings and factory-reset it, before you did the same to yours.

“Couldn’t we just turn our phones off and keep them?” you said with a sigh, handing your phone over.

“Phones can still be tracked if they’re off or on airplane mode,” Namjoon said, kicking both your phones under the gas station’s dumpster. You heard one of them bump into your smashed iPad. “It takes NSA-level tech to be able to do that, and I didn’t think they had resources like that, but I was wrong. They were able to track us when we had no service, it appears.”

“Do you think they’re with NSA, then? Or the CIA or something?” you said, furrowing your brow.

“I doubt it, but I’m not ruling anything out,” Namjoon mumbled, coming over and taking your hand again. The two of you began walking, and you felt him lace his fingers with yours. “The American government loves to meddle, but to come after you this hard, when you’re not exactly a big fish politically and you’re from a country with close ties to the States… it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I feel like it’s most likely ransom-related, and they’re just some rogue terrorist group or something, especially with the attack on the embassy on top of this.”

You nodded, figuring that made sense. You’d almost forgotten about the attack on the embassy Namjoon had told you about earlier. Your mother must’ve been terrified after that; she would’ve been scared about her home being attacked, and then to hear about you being in danger on top of that? And you hadn’t even texted her before resetting your phone. You owed your mother a huge apology after all this was done.

The two of you walked through a small field behind the gas station, and then were on a road in what looked like a residential area. You began walking down the street, unsure of where to go or where Namjoon was taking you. You just let him lead the way and trusted him to keep you safe. In the distance, you could hear police sirens approaching the bus station. No cars passed the two of you on the street you walked down.

“That was an amazing shot you made, back on the bus,” you said after a moment. “Well, two amazing shots, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m qualified as a sharpshooter, technically,” Namjoon said, but that only raised more questions for you. “I wasn’t sure I’d still be able to do that with a handgun, but I guess I still got it.”

“Why didn’t you do that on the train?” you said before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon sighed, and you felt him move his thumb on yours a little, almost comforting you.

“Because I didn’t know how many there were, and we were being ambushed. We had the element of surprise here,” he said. “On the train, it could’ve been a dozen men bursting in, all with their weapons ready. I also don’t particularly enjoy killing people, even if they’re trying to hurt you. I will, but I’d rather avoid it if possible. They’re bad men, but their families don’t deserve to lose them.”

You nodded, understanding his reasoning.

The two of you walked about twenty minutes, passing small homes, most with smoke coming out of their chimneys and warm glows from lights turning on as the sun set. It was probably around 5:30 or 6 by now, and the winter sky was already getting dark. Soon, you and Namjoon would be walking around in a small Polish town after dark, with those men still after you. And now, maybe the police, too.

“Hey, look,” Namjoon said quietly, and you looked up at him, seeing him nod his head forward, motioning down the road a ways.

Up ahead, you could see a family packing suitcases into a minivan, skis strapped to the roof of it. They looked like they were leaving for a vacation, and you saw the other car in their driveway, a beat-up old sedan that looked like it was built during the Soviet era.

“Are you thinking of stealing that car?” you said under your breath, your eyes going wide.

“It wouldn’t be reported missing for a while, since they’re leaving,” Namjoon said, raising an eyebrow at you when he saw the look you were giving him. “We could just borrow it, take it to another town’s train station, and leave it there. When they report it missing, it’ll be found right away. I’ll even leave them some money in the car for their trouble.”

The dad at the minivan closed the trunk, and three rambunctious kids jumped into the car, sliding the side doors closed behind them. You heard the mother yell something out in Polish, and she sounded happy. You hoped it wouldn’t stress her out too much, to come home and find the family’s other car gone.

The parents got into the minivan and started the car. They backed out of the driveway and turned, and you realized they were about to drive right by the two of you, and there was nowhere to hide. Namjoon didn’t exactly blend in in rural Poland, so this family would see very recognizable strangers in their neighborhood, and then come back to find their car stolen.

Your heart began racing as you looked around, your eyes wide as you started to panic. Should you run? Should you and Namjoon grab each other and start making out, like people did in movies and romance novels, as some kind of distraction? They’d see you any second now and you were running out of time.

As if he’d sensed what you were thinking, Namjoon squeezed your hand.

“Act natural,” he mumbled, smiling pleasantly. “We’re just a couple on a walk. They won’t know it’s us who took the car, and if they do, we’ll be long gone by then. Acting suspicious will make us stick out more.”

Against your judgment and panicked thoughts, the two of you simply continued walking, hand-in-hand. As the minivan passed the two of you, Namjoon looked down at his feet, the front of his hat hiding his face as he looked like he was just casually glancing down. He swung your hand a little, like the two of you were a couple on a romantic little walk… in the middle of winter, in a non-touristy town, in a residential neighborhood, with police sirens in the distance from the shooting Namjoon just committed.

The minivan was gone, and the two of you kept walking. The family’s house was small, maybe three bedrooms at most, and a spike of guilt rose in your throat like bile at the thought of stealing from them. They obviously weren’t well off, but Namjoon dropped your hand anyway, walking up to the little sedan and peeking inside.

“Keep a lookout,” he said, and you immediately turned away, not wanting anything to do with this.

You looked at the other houses on this street, crossing your arms as the wind picked up. The windows were all empty, at least, as far as you could see. It was around dinnertime, so most people were already sitting down and in for the night, nobody coming or going or looking out their windows. You saw movement in a second-story window across the street, but realized it was just a cat walking across the windowsill.

Behind you, Namjoon was rustling with something, and you wondered if he was just going to shoot the car’s window to get inside.

You jumped when you heard the car’s door open. You spun around just as Namjoon was tucking something metal back into his pocket, what looked like a pocket knife of some kind. He pulled the door open further, threw the backpack onto the backseat, and sat down in the driver’s seat.

You rushed to the passenger side, and Namjoon reached over and unlocked it for you, both of you closing the doors as fast as you could to get out of the cold and out of sight.

“You can’t drive,” you said, rubbing your hands together. “What are you doing on that side?”

“I still need to hot-wire the car,” he said, reaching down below the steering wheel and messing with a panel you couldn’t see.

“You can hot-wire a car but not drive?” you said, almost laughing, and you raised an eyebrow at him when he shot you a look.

“I can drive,” he said as he eased the panel’s cover to the ground and began messing with wires. “I had my license revoked a few years ago, so now I just say I can’t drive.”

“What? What’d you get your license revoked for?” you said, your eyebrows now near your hairline in surprise. Namjoon had always told you that he couldn’t drive because he was scared, and because he was too clumsy to drive a car. You’d never really believed that, given how talented and fearless of a bodyguard he was, but you also hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d lied to you about it.

“Reckless driving,” he said, winking at you as the car suddenly roared to life, the engine starting up and heat thankfully turning on.

“Should I be worried?” you laughed, watching him ease the panel back into place below the steering wheel.

“I’m usually a safe driver. There was just an incident a few years ago, before I started working for you. I needed to get out of somewhere fast, and cameras caught me breaking a few traffic laws,” he explained.

“How many is a few?” you said, buckling your seatbelt as Namjoon eased the car out of the driveway and went opposite the way the family had gone. “Don’t they usually just give you a warning before revoking your license?”

“Okay, maybe more than a few traffic laws,” he said, glancing over at you. “And I might’ve caused a few accidents while driving recklessly.”

“Were you in a car chase or something?” you asked, and when he didn’t answer immediately, you gasped, laughing as you tried to imagine it. Namjoon, speeding through a city, causing accidents and breaking laws and getting his license revoked.

“Anyways,” he said, pulling onto the town’s main road now, “I can drive. The rest isn’t important. We’ll follow traffic laws so we don’t get pulled over.”

“Where are you taking us, anyway?” you said, relaxing in your seat. The sky was becoming dark now, and Namjoon turned on the car’s headlights, illuminating the empty road in front of the car. He was following the speed limit exactly, his hands perfectly on the wheel like he was taking a driving test.

“West,” he said, his eyes not leaving the road. “They thought we were going north to Kraków, so we’re going a completely different direction. We can go to a train station, and then maybe head into the Czech Republic or Slovakia. A train will be much faster than a bus, and we can try to get to a larger city and then on a direct train that won’t stop as much.”

“Are we going to try and go all the way home on our own?” you asked, and you watched Namjoon clench his jaw as he thought.

“If we have to,” he said. “My priority right now is just getting you far away from here.”

After that, the two of you drove in silence for a while, the Polish countryside a dark blur outside.

The family’s car had no radio, and the heat stopped working about twenty minutes into the drive. You found a little piece of paper with what looked like a grocery list, along with a pen, so you wrote on the back “I’m sorry, we needed your car for an emergency” on the back and tucked it into the cup holder. You were planning on holding Namjoon to his promise of leaving money for the family, and would have to make sure the cash was hidden, so nobody else tried to steal their car after you ditched it.

After about an hour and a half of driving, you tilted your head back, your eyes falling closed. You really didn’t want to fall asleep, but outside the car was only darkness, and Namjoon didn’t appear to be in a talkative mood. You blinked slowly, trying to will yourself to stay awake, but you knew it was a losing battle.

Namjoon’s hand came over and rested on your knee, squeezing once.

“You can sleep,” he said quietly, and you looked at him, seeing him glance your way with a sweet smile. “I’ll drive, and you just rest.”

You sighed, unable to even answer him. You didn’t know how you were this tired; you’d slept until almost noon today, and then sat around a hotel room and then on a bus. Still, you felt yourself dozing off, and this time you didn’t stop yourself.

***

You’d only slept about a half an hour before you felt Namjoon park and turn off the car. You groaned, stretching in place, and heard him laughing a little beside you.

“Sleep well?” he asked as you rubbed your eyes and let out another little groan.

“Mmm,” you hummed instead of responding, still attempting to open your eyes.

It looked like Namjoon had stopped in a parking lot beside a river. To your left, you could see a large, lit-up sign saying “Merkury Market” and pointing away from the river. Through the trees on the riverbank, you thought you could see lights of more buildings.

“Where are we?” you grumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“The town’s called Cieszyn,” he said, taking out his wallet. He tucked five hundred złoty under your note in the cupholder, shrugging because you both had no idea how much that translated to. It seemed like a lot, but you had no idea. You wished for it to be worth a thousand euros. “I wanted to leave the car in Poland, so it has a better chance of getting back to the owners. We’re right across the river from the Czech Republic. There’s a train station on that side that can take us to Ostrava, and then we can get on a direct train to Prague or Vienna, maybe even Berlin.”

“How do you know all this?” you said, giving him a look, and he smiled to himself.

“I’ve traveled and lived all over,” he said cryptically, and when you raised an eyebrow at him, his smile grew. “Okay, and I stopped and asked a little old lady for directions to a train station. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up, me rolling down the window and talking to her.”

You laughed, stretching again as you finished waking up. Namjoon somehow turned off the car, messing with the wires again, and then reached to the backseat and grabbed the backpack before stepping outside.

You followed, shivering the moment you stepped out into the cold. It was windy here by the river, and you hoped the train station wasn’t far. You were just thankful your foot wasn’t hurting anymore.

Namjoon locked the car before shutting his door, and came over and took your hand. You were pretty sure you were safe here, but you still liked him holding your hand and touching you. You remembered what he’d said earlier. No matter what, you’re safe with me. You believed him wholeheartedly.

Namjoon led you past an old building, a restaurant with “Pizzeria Wenecja” painted on the side, and you held his hand as tight as you could. His hands were so big and warm, easily enveloping yours, and when he felt you shiver, he brought your hand up, holding it with both of his hands now.

The two of you walked across a large cobblestone bridge, and at the other side there was a small sign saying “Český Těšín.” You weren’t sure what that meant, but you knew the difference between Czech and Polish enough to know you weren’t in Poland anymore.

It crossed your mind then that today, you’d technically stolen a car and crossed international borders. Namjoon had even killed two people! Despite your fear of those men finding you, it was all kind of exciting. You felt like a badass international criminal, the kind of person who drove in exciting car chases like Namjoon. You just hoped that family would get their car back, though. Some criminal you were, worrying about things like that.

You and Namjoon walked in silence for about ten minutes, following the signs that had a little symbol of a train on them. You wondered what Namjoon was thinking about, glancing over and seeing him looking around, his eyes scanning the area as you walked. He looked at every person you passed, every car, every license plate, every window and storefront, his jaw clenched and mouth in a tight line, as if he were in deep concentration. He was supposed to be acting like a man on his honeymoon, happily strolling to the train station with his wife, but he was in bodyguard mode, not willing to let his guard down even a little.

“Joon,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “Relax. I know we need to stay alert, but you look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

Namjoon didn’t respond, but he gave you a weak smile, squeezing your hand, too.

When you got to the train station, Namjoon was able to get two tickets for Ostrava, the closest big city he’d told you about, with some spare euros he’d had on him. Neither of you had any Czech koruna, so you were thankful they took euros too. You’d have to find a currency exchange somewhere soon.

The train station’s small gift shop sold backpacks and took złoty, euros, and even dollars, so you bought one, a little pink thing you were pretty sure was actually meant for kids. It was plain and didn’t have logos, but you noticed the zippers were sparkly and came with a unicorn keychain. Namjoon also got two waters and a bag of pretzels, which you assumed was going to be your dinner.

You sat together in the back corner of the station, your train not for another half an hour or so. You worked on moving some of your things from his backpack to yours, attempting to carefully work around the extra rounds for Namjoon’s gun, not wanting to jostle them too much or let anyone else in the station see them.

As you worked, Namjoon looked around the station, studying every other person in the large room.

“People are going to think you’re weird,” you whispered to him, elbowing him lightly in the ribs after you zipped up your new little backpack.

“I’d rather be weird than ambushed,” he mumbled back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. Your heart skipped a beat at his gesture; he hadn’t acted this couple-y since last night, checking in at the bed and breakfast.

“What’s the plan once we get to Ostrava?” you said, turning toward him as well as you could. He still had his arm tight around you, his hand rubbing little circles on your shoulder.

“I’m thinking we could go to Vienna,” he said, like he was deciding what to do right now as he spoke, making it up as he went along. “I have a friend there who owes me a favor, and he’ll have a place we can stay.”

“That’ll definitely be unexpected,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap. You wished you had your phone, so you could tell your mother you were okay, or at least have something to do to pass the time. “Do you think we can get there tonight, or will we have to stay somewhere and continue tomorrow?”

Namjoon looked at the clock on the wall and you followed his gaze, seeing it was almost eight. Your train was at 8:05, and it would take about an hour to get to Ostrava.

“It’ll be late, but I think we can make it,” he said. “The ticket seller said there was a connecting overnight train to Vienna, and another to Prague if we decide to go that way. I think it’ll be best to keep moving.”

“Okay,” you said, sighing. “How long will that take?”

“Ostrava to Vienna is about five hours.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, sinking down in your seat. This was going to be a long night.

Namjoon squeezed your shoulder, like he was trying to make you feel better.

“We’ll get dinner at the station in Ostrava, and you can sleep on both trains. I’ll keep a lookout and make sure you’re safe.”

“What about you?” you said, turning toward him again. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, and you wondered if his shoulders were still hurting from carrying you yesterday.

“I’ll get some coffee in Ostrava to keep me up,” he said simply. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I slept on the drive here. It’s your turn to rest, Joon,” you said, aware of how silly you sounded.

You wanted to help him and let him get some rest, but really, what could you do if those men showed up while Namjoon was sleeping? You’d never held a gun before. You’d never even taken a self-defense class, though Namjoon had suggested it on more than one occasion. You felt like a child or old lady: completely, utterly, annoyingly helpless. It made you feel foolish and like a burden, though you tried to tell yourself that this was literally the whole point of Namjoon’s job, to keep you safe in situations like this.

“Thank you, but really, it’s okay,” he said, smiling at you. “You can rest if you want when we’re on the train. I’m fine.”

“I’ll stay awake with you,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and pouting.

You glanced over and saw Namjoon still smiling at you, his eyes glancing down at the pout on your lips. You wondered if he was going to make fun of you for pouting, but the train pulling into the station made you jump in your seat, the horn suddenly blaring through the wall behind you.

“That’s our ride,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. You reached up and took it, letting him help you to your feet.

***

The ride to Ostrava was completely uneventful.

Namjoon had only been able to get the cheapest seats available, which were right by the bathroom at the back of the first train car. The smell wasn’t exactly pleasant, and you wondered when the last time the bathroom was cleaned.

Namjoon kept his arm around you the entire time, you in the window seat and him by the aisle. You couldn’t complain, enjoying his warmth and closeness and loving his protectiveness. Well, he’d always been protective of you, but this, how borderline-possessive he was, made you almost shiver in excitement. He was acting like a protective boyfriend, and it made you want to giggle and turn toward him like a teenager in love.

You needed to stop being so silly, you told yourself as the two of you got off the train in Ostrava, your hand in his again. You were in a deadly situation, and you were acting like an idiot. You needed to pull your mind out of the gutter and your heart out of clouds. Namjoon was being overly cautious, eyeing everyone the two of you passed, while you only had eyes for him. You needed to focus and stop being foolish, at least until you were somewhere safe.

It was so hard, though, with how safe Namjoon made you feel. You kept catching yourself looking up at him and sighing wistfully, before shaking your head and making yourself look at the other people in the train station too.

When you went to the bathroom, Namjoon waited right outside, arms crossed over his large chest. He would probably terrify anyone who passed by, but when you walked out, drying your hands on your pants after washing your hands, you smiled up at him like he was the moon and all the stars in the sky.

From there, Namjoon led the way to a little currency exchange machine, where he got nearly three thousand of the local koruna for five hundred złoty. You had no idea how much either of those numbers meant in currency familiar to you, but based on all the signs you could see that listed prices, it was more than enough for tickets and dinner. Eastern and central Europe weren’t expensive, so you took a moment to be thankful you weren’t currently traveling through somewhere like London or Paris.

The two of you got tickets to Vienna and then dinner, sitting in a little cafe near your platform. Namjoon was throwing back a large black Americano, while you nursed a small coffee too, much to Namjoon’s disapproval. He’d insisted again that you could sleep on the way to Vienna, but you ordered your coffee and he couldn’t stop you.

By the time you finished dinner, however, your hands were trembling from the caffeine. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, you thought with a shaky sigh.

After eating, Namjoon took you back into the main part of the station, and then, to your surprise, over to a different platform than the one your train was scheduled to leave from. The sign above the entryway here said Praha, Hlavní Nádraží – 11:10, and you knew Praha meant Prague, but you weren’t sure why Namjoon would’ve brought you over here.

“Joon?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Hold on,” he mumbled. He held your hand tightly, his fingers laced with yours, but his eyes searched around the platform, looking for something or someone.

You opened your mouth to question him, but stopped when he suddenly stepped forward, pulling you with him.

“Hello, sir, do you speak English?” Namjoon called out to an elderly man sitting by himself on a bench. The man nodded, and Namjoon continued politely, “My wife and I were mugged yesterday, and we lost our cellphones. Would it be okay if I borrowed your phone, just for a second, so we can call our hotel? It’ll only take a moment, and I’ll stay right here the whole time so you don’t think I’m running off.”

“Sure,” the old man said, apathetic. He looked like he wouldn’t even care if Namjoon did run off with his phone.

“Thank you so much. Děkuju,” Namjoon said, nodding to the man and taking the phone with both hands, smiling innocently.

Namjoon took your hand again and pulled you just one step away from the man, who immediately started dozing off. You watched Namjoon dial a number from memory and then held the phone up to his ear, waiting.

After a moment, you heard someone answer, their voice a cartoonish mumble.

“Hey, it’s Kim,” Namjoon said quietly, his eyes now scanning the platform for anyone potentially watching the two of you. “She’s safe. We’re in Ostrava, Czech Republic. We’re headed to Prague and should get there in a few hours. Our train leaves at 11:10.”

You looked up at him, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” Namjoon said in response to something you couldn’t hear. “Yeah. When we get there, I’m thinking the Grand Hotel Europa. That one right off Wenceslas Square. It’ll have security and all that, and they won’t expect her to hide somewhere so nice.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he raised one right back, smirking to himself.

“Okay,” Namjoon continued, his voice serious. “I’ll call as soon as I can. I got a burner phone, but I’m still worried someone’s tracking us. I’ll probably dump this phone when we get there, as soon as I can get another burner. Yeah, no contact unless there’s an emergency. Perfect.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Namjoon looked smug, like he was proud of how clever he was, and you supposed he deserved to feel proud after coming up with all this.

Namjoon hung up the phone after signing off, and you crossed your arms, looking up at him expectantly.

“Thank you so much again, sir,” he said, turning back to the old man and returning the cellphone. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, okay,” the man said, pocketing his phone and rolling his eyes.

Namjoon took your hand and the two of you went back into the station, and then over to the platform that said Vienna, Wien Hauptbahnhof – 10:00.

“You going to explain your big evil plan now, mastermind?” you asked, the two of you sitting down at the very end of the platform. You both took your backpacks off and set them down by your feet.

“They think we’re going to Prague, and that phone is going to Prague, too,” Namjoon said simply, shrugging.

“No, I got that. I meant why you lied to our own security team about where we’re going.”

“We need to know if anybody’s listening in on their end. Our embassy phones are supposed to be secure, so now we’ll see if they really are,” he said, watching the end of the platform, where two young women came in and sat down. He continued, “The thought also crossed my mind that someone at the embassy could be working with the men after you. I thought it would be best to trust only ourselves and stay off the grid until we can contact your mother directly on a secure line, or until they figure things out.”

“You actually think someone in our security team is a mole? Wouldn’t they have already helped the terrorists get into the embassy by now?”

“Potentially,” Namjoon said, putting his arm around your shoulder, like he was a boyfriend or husband cuddling up with his lover. “But I want to make sure. Wenceslas Square has a live feed people can watch anywhere in the world, since it’s a big tourist spot. I’m going to try and get ahold of something with internet in Vienna and watch it all day tomorrow, and we’ll see. If our friends show up there, we’ll know we can’t communicate with the embassy, because there’s a mole or because someone’s listening in. Either way, this will prove it.”

“Unless they hack into this station’s cameras and see us get on the train for Vienna,” you said. You ignored how he somehow already knew which spots in Prague would have a live feed.

“They have no reason to think we’re lying. I doubt they’d bother, since we gave them all the information they need.”

“And what if they track down that old man in Prague? Since they’re tracking his phone now.”

“Even the best, most advanced government-grade trackers aren’t that exact. It’ll only lead them to a general area, like a building or city block. And I said I was planning on dumping my burner phone, so that man will go wherever he’s going, and they’ll think that was me dumping the phone. By the time they realize we’re not in Prague, we’ll be settled in and safe.”

“Well, you’ve certainly thought of everything,” you said, almost wanting to laugh.

“That’s my job,” he said proudly. He became more serious, sighing before continuing, “We stayed all night at that inn with our phones on, and they didn’t show up. They didn’t know where to look until I called the embassy and said where we were. It might’ve taken all night to get into our phones, or it might’ve been my call to the embassy that made them know where to start looking. Either way, it’s not a risk I want to take. I want us to be as careful as possible from now on, taking all precautions.”

You looked up at him. This close, you could see three tiny moles on the right side of his face, a constellation across his cheek.

“I trust you,” you said, not breaking eye contact with him.

You watched him set his jaw, his expression flashing dark before he looked down and away from you. You almost would’ve sworn he was blushing.

“Like I said earlier, you’re my priority. Something weird is going on here, and I don’t want to trust anyone but you.”

“And your friend in Vienna who owes you a favor?” you teased.

Namjoon almost rolled his eyes before catching himself, shaking his head, like just the memory of this friend made him want to laugh.

“And him. I wouldn’t trust him under most circumstances, but I do trust him with my life.”

“How ominous,” you said, giggling. “And oxymoronic. A friend you don’t trust with anything but your life. Would you trust me alone with him?”

“Absolutely not,” Namjoon laughed. “He thinks he’s a real ladies man. He’ll steal you right out from under me, and I’ll be out of a job.”

You wanted to tell him that all of the attractive and eligible suitors in the world combined couldn’t steal you from your Joon, but the train for Vienna pulled into the station, screeching to a halt in front of you.

You both picked up your backpacks, heading onto the train the moment the doors opened, holding hands again.

***

Despite all the excitement and coffee, you were asleep within fifteen minutes of the train pulling out of Ostrava.

Namjoon looked over at you as you slept. You’d lolled to the side, resting your head on his shoulder, and he relished the moment, feeling your gentle breathing as you leaned on him. You looked so precious and small, but he knew how fierce and brave you were. You were his everything, his whole world, and just looking at you sleeping so peacefully made his heart swell in emotion.

As the train zipped through the Czech countryside, distant dots of light marking villages and highways, Namjoon tried not to think about what had happened earlier today. It had been way too close of a call on the bus. Those men could’ve killed him, and then they would’ve taken you or hurt you.

He had no idea what their intentions were, but he knew he’d die to keep you safe. If they somehow caught him and you got away, he’d let them torture him, and he’d never give up even one word of information about you or your whereabouts. He was your protector, and that meant something to him. His life revolved around you, and the only thing that mattered was your safety and wellbeing.

You were hugging his arm in your sleep, and Namjoon smiled to himself. He resisted the very strong urge to turn and kiss the top of your head. That’d be crossing another line, and he’d already crossed too many of those in the last twenty-four hours. He wasn’t a hormonal teenager. He had self-control.

Still, this close, Namjoon could smell the cheap hotel shampoo you’d used, along with your own scent underneath. He closed his eyes for just a moment, leaning his head back against the headrest and letting himself have a few seconds. The two of you were in the very last train car, and nobody else was in this car or the one in front of it. He felt safe enough to close his eyes for a moment, especially since he didn’t feel sleepy at all.

You smelled so fucking good, just your scent made Namjoon feel high. He didn’t turn his head and smell your hair directly, but fuck, he wanted to. He felt like such a pervert, especially since you were sleeping, so trusting and innocent, hugging his arm like a teddybear. He imagined a version of himself where he’d let himself smell your hair like a complete creep. He’d plant his nose and mouth right in your hair and inhale you, maybe rub his face around so he could get your scent all over him.

That thought made him think of another part of your body he wanted to inhale, and he stopped himself, opening his eyes and staring at the back of the seat in front of him. The last thing he needed was an erection to hide, in case you suddenly woke up. His depraved thoughts made his heart rate spike, but he couldn’t do this now. Not in public, not around you, not when you were in danger.

You sighed in your sleep, snuggling in against him, and Namjoon bit his lip and wondered if this was the universe punishing him for being such a pervert. You’d hugged his arm tighter and accidentally pulled his hand into your lap, between your legs. He’d imagined his hands there a million times, but this was wrong. You were sleeping, and you’d never actually want him like that.

Namjoon quickly pulled his hand away, back to the safety of the outside of your leg. He looked out the window at the dark countryside, the moon a thin sliver of light low in the sky, and he wondered what he’d have to do in his life to deserve an angel like you.

***

Three in the fucking morning.

You yawned to yourself, not bothering to cover your mouth as you and Namjoon walked through Vienna’s main train station, nearly empty at this late hour. Or rather, this early hour. You felt like a zombie, barely able to keep your eyes open as Namjoon led you by the hand outside, but the blast of cold air and snow that hit you the moment you stepped out woke you right up.

For some reason, Namjoon didn’t want to risk a cab, so the two of you were walking to wherever his friend was. Part of you wanted to pull the whole “I twisted my ankle the day before yesterday, remember?” card, but your foot didn’t actually hurt. Not your ankle, at least. As you and Namjoon walked forever, though, the bottoms definitely started to ache.

“Do you think we’re safe now?” you asked after a while, glancing over your shoulder at the empty street and sidewalk.

“I won’t think we’re safe until we’re back at our embassy,” Namjoon said, not slowing down, “And even then, I might not let you leave your room until every last one of those men are dead or in prison.”

You huffed, too tired to laugh.

“I’m sure that’s completely reasonable and not at all overreacting.”

“That’s my compromise,” he said, smiling in a way you knew was just teasing, swinging your hand as he held it. “If I had my way, I’d take you somewhere far away, where nobody could find you, and you’d never leave my sight again.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you laughed, rolling your eyes and ignoring the flutter in your heart his words gave you.

The two of you were quiet for a moment, cutting down a side street through the labyrinthine old town Namjoon seemed to have memorized. Your footsteps echoed off the cobblestones, the imposing baroque buildings hanging over you like gargoyles in the night. This part of town had old-fashioned streetlamps, and you wondered if someone came around and lit them manually every evening.

“So who’s this friend of yours we’re going to?” you said after a moment.

“His name’s Jin. It’s a long story, but he owes me a big favor,” Namjoon explained. “He owns a hotel here, a real nice one, like you wanted to stay in.”

“He owns a hotel?”

“I know. He’s probably worth more than your mother is.” He looked up, seeing something down the street and nodding toward it. “There’s his hotel.”

You looked where Namjoon gestured, seeing a grand masterpiece of architecture towering above all the other historic buildings. It reminded you of the Plaza in New York and the Ritz in Paris, not that you’d ever stayed at either – the luxury that oozed from this place just made you think decadence, luxury, class, and expensive.

“You’re friends with the guy who owns this place?” you said, your eyes wide as you looked up at the grand entrance as the two of you approached. If you were friends with the owner of a place like this, you would’ve cashed in that favor years ago for a free year-long vacation here.

“Yeah. Jin’s like a brother to me,” he said, opening the door for you, and you almost gasped out loud at the sight before you.

The lobby was so opulent, you almost felt like your presence lowered the property value. Large crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling above, the grand entryway full of cream-colored furniture and vases taller than you. The walls all had what looked like antique wallpaper and intricate white crown moulding, the details lined with what you were sure was real gold.

“We can trust him,” Namjoon continued quietly, leading you through the empty lobby by the hand. “And like I said, he owes me a favor. He’ll help us. He always used to work the night shifts, so it’ll probably be him we speak to. Oh, there he is now, perfect.”

You looked to the grand check-in desk where Namjoon was gesturing, seeing a handsome Korean man sorting through some papers. He looked trustworthy, but more than that, he looked elegant and proud of his work. You wondered how a young Korean person came to own and run such an upscale hotel in Vienna, if it was family money and a passion for this city, or if he was raised here perhaps.

Who you assumed was Jin looked up, and you stopped in place when he suddenly gasped as he saw Namjoon.

“No,” Jin nearly yelled, pointing at Namjoon. “No way in hell. Whatever you want, no. Get out of my hotel.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, sounding like he was about to start bargaining.

“Do you know how much you cost me the last time you were here? I had to take out a loan to patch up all the bullet holes!”

“I had no idea,” Namjoon said, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. There was nobody else in the lobby and nobody out on the street, but you knew he was still being careful and wanted to not cause a scene, even if there was no audience. “If you’d told me, I would’ve helped.”

“I’ve seen how you ‘help,’ asshole,” Jin said. He looked like he was about three seconds away from calling the police.

“Were you in the mafia or something?” you laughed, looking up at Namjoon.

“No, and can you please both lower your voices?” Namjoon hissed, bringing you in closer to the desk. Jin took a step back, glaring at Namjoon.

“Get out of my hotel,” Jin said, thankfully quieter now.

“I just need a room for the night. That’s all,” Namjoon said. “I have about eight hundred euros worth of Polish money, and it’s all yours for that room, and for us to stay off the books. I can send you some more once we’re safe. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“Do I even want to know why you have that much Polish money, or why you’re being so shady?” Jin asked.

“He’s my bodyguard,” you cut in quickly, glancing up at Namjoon. His eyes went wide and he shook his head at you, but you continued. “My mother is an ambassador, and some bad men are after me. Namjoon’s just trying to keep me safe and hidden until the embassy can help us.”

Jin looked from you to Namjoon, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, and last time, Namjoon was a billionaire from Daegu, and look how that turned out for me,” Jin scoffed.

“Billionaire from Daegu?” you questioned, tilting your head.

“It was a cover,” Namjoon growled, glaring at Jin.

“Oh my god, were you a spy?” you whispered a little too loudly, thankful the lobby was empty.

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, stepping in even closer to Jin’s desk as he ignored your question. “You owe me a favor after what happened with Yoongi.”

Jin’s eyes widened, and you looked between the two men, trying to figure out their past together.

“You’re an asshole for bringing that up,” Jin said.

“And you’re an asshole for being so rude to a diplomat when she’s running for her life,” Namjoon growled back.

None of you spoke for a moment, the two men glaring at each other and you just standing there awkwardly. Outside, you heard church bells chiming, echoing through the city, announcing it was now four in the morning.

Finally, Jin let out a breath, almost laughing to himself. He shook his head, looking like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to help or punch Namjoon.

“Are you really a bodyguard now?” he said, crossing his arms. “After everything that happened, you just disappeared. Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“Almost four years now. I guarded other people before her, but I like having stable, long-term work.”

Jin was quiet for a moment, before eventually sighing, like he was being overdramatic just to show how much the two of you inconvenienced him.

“Fine. But only because it’s the off season and I have a lot of rooms.”

Namjoon started to take out his wallet, bur Jin raised one hand, stopping him.

“Keep your Polish money,” he said. “Just be gone by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll try,” Namjoon said. “But it will all depend. I’ll probably need a few days; I really don’t want to risk moving her until it’s safe. Her life is on the line, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah, somebody’s life is always on the line,” Jin said, rolling his eyes. He began rustling around behind the desk, looking for something. “Fine. Whatever. But after this favor, never come back to this country.”

“The whole country?” Namjoon laughed, shaking his head. “But I like Austria.”

“So do I. I like it even better when you’re not in it,” Jin said, setting an old-fashioned golden key on the desk in front of him. The tag said ‘613’ in rich calligraphy, and the key itself looked like it was from the turn of the 20th century.

“Thank you,” Namjoon started, reaching out for the key, but Jin pulled it back away from him, making Namjoon listen to him before handing it over.

“Stay in your room. I’ll have meals sent up. I have a feeling it will be better for my hotel if you’re seen as little as possible,” Jin said. “There’s a phone in your room if you need it. It’s a suite, so it’ll have a kitchenette too.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said, taken aback by his generosity.

“Nobody but me and the one staff I have bring up your meals will know you’re here. But please… stay in your damn room until you leave.”

“Can do,” Namjoon said, grabbing the key from Jin’s hand. “Can you also wipe the security footage of us coming into the lobby? And the one outside, if you have access to it? That’d be really helpful.”

“You’re an asshole,” Jin growled, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Namjoon wink back at Jin, which only seemed to annoy him more.

“Do you have a spare phone I can borrow?” Namjoon said, and you thought Jin might explode. “Maybe a tablet or something?”

“You really know how to wear out your welcome,” you teased, making Jin smile.

“It’s important,” Namjoon assured Jin, smiling smugly.

“I truly hate you,” Jin said, reaching under the desk and pulling out an old tablet in a clunky black case that had the hotel’s name and logo on the back. You wondered if it was supposed to only be used by hotel staff typically. “You know, this is starting to seem like more than one favor.”

“I guess I’ll owe you a favor after this,” Namjoon said, taking the tablet and tucking it under his arm.

“My favor will be you never coming back to Austria,” Jin said, writing something down on his check-in sheet. You leaned in and looked at what he’d written, seeing Room 613 – maintenance. “Maybe I’ll ask for all of Central Europe.”

“That’s a little much, don’t you think?” Namjoon laughed. “I’ll leave you this neighborhood in Vienna if you’re lucky.”

“You ever heard the phrase ‘biting the hand that feeds you,’ Joon?” you mumbled, elbowing him in the arm.

“I like her,” Jin said, genuinely smiling now.

Namjoon opened his mouth to reply, but Jin cut him off.

“Get out of my lobby, asshole. I don’t want to see you again until you’re leaving for good.”

***

Once you and Namjoon were safely in your suite, he moved a side table in front of the now locked and bolted door, checking the locks three times before determining the room was secure.

You slid off your backpack and set it down on the couch. The suite had a separate living space with a sitting area and kitchenette, and then what you assumed was a bedroom with a bathroom beyond that. The decor was elegant and looked expensive, royal, and refined, not unlike the lobby and the hotel’s owner himself.

“So,” you said, watching Namjoon putting the tablet down on the small dining table. “You said Jin’s like a brother to you?”

“Brothers bicker sometimes,” he said, though you saw the small smile he was trying to hide.

“The two of you seem to bicker a lot,” you said, throwing yourself down in one of the fancy armchairs in the sitting area. You slid off your sneakers, now dirty after walking around all day, before propping your feet up on the table that was probably built in the 1700’s. “Seems like there’s a lot of history between the two of you.”

“It’s a long story,” was all Namjoon said, coming over with the tablet and sitting down on the couch, the closest spot in the room to where you sat.

“Care to share that long story?” You tilted your head, giving him your infamous pout and puppy eyes.

He laughed dryly, shaking his head. He was focused on something on the tablet, maybe the live feed of that square in Prague he’d mentioned, and he didn’t seem to be planning on answering you any time soon.

“Were you a spy, Joon?” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No.” He sighed, looking up at you. “I was not a spy,” he said in a way that made you one hundred percent sure he was definitely a spy.

“Oh my god, you were,” you cackled.

“No, I wasn’t,” he said, “And if I was, I obviously wouldn’t be able to tell you, would I?”

“You totally were. You used to be a spy, and then something happened here at Jin’s hotel, a shootout maybe, with all those bullet holes he mentioned, and you decided to leave the spy life and become a bodyguard instead.”

“What makes you think I would’ve left after getting some bullet holes in Jin’s fancy hotel?” he said, not looking up at you from the tablet. “I think you overestimate how much I care about this building.”

“Something with Yoongi, then?” you said, and instantly regretted it.

Namjoon sighed, closing his eyes. He set his jaw and almost looked angry, tossing the tablet aside and leaning back on the couch as he took a deep breath, one hand taking off his hat and the other running through his hair. His large chest expanded as he breathed for a minute, his head tilted back and eyes closed. You knew he had to be exhausted physically from the day you’d just had, but he looked like you’d emotionally exhausted him in just four words.

You had no idea who Yoongi was or what he’d meant to Namjoon, but you knew something had to have happened, based on how Jin reacted earlier and Namjoon’s reaction now. Something happened to him, or with him, related to something Jin did, and Namjoon was still angry or upset about it all these years later. Potentially. You could tell by the context earlier that something bad had happened.

Maybe Yoongi had been Namjoon’s partner when he was a spy! Had something happened to this Yoongi person, and that was what made Namjoon leave the spy business? Was Yoongi dead? Maybe Yoongi and Jin had betrayed Namjoon, or Jin had done something that cost Yoongi his life?

You stopped yourself. Your sleep-deprived brain was thinking way too much into things. It wasn’t any of your business, and it was clearly a sore spot for Namjoon. You didn’t even know if he was even a spy for sure, and if he was, Yoongi could’ve been anyone. All you had to go off of was that something had happened that made Jin feel guilty, and Namjoon didn’t want to talk about it.

It didn’t matter. You wouldn’t ask Namjoon about it, or anything related to his maybe-spy life. It wasn’t your business. If he wanted to tell you, he’d tell you on his own.

Namjoon never answered you, instead just standing up and walking into the bedroom. You heard him rustling around, maybe checking the room out and making sure it was safe or something.

After a moment, he came back out into the main room. He closed all the blinds after checking that the windows were secure, examined the edges of the mirror and all the picture frames, ran his finger along the lampshades. You weren’t sure what he was up to, but figured it had something to do with his paranoia and keeping you safe. You wondered if he’d learned these tricks back during his top secret maybe-spy life you weren’t letting yourself speak about.

As you watched him, your exhaustion hit you like a train, your body sagging as you thought over how long today had been. This morning, you’d woken up at that cute bed and breakfast in that little town in Poland, Namjoon half naked beside you. Now, you were melting down into your chair in Vienna, your eyes half-closed as you watched him zipping around the room. He had dark circles under his eyes too, but you were sure he’d never let himself rest until he knew the room was safe.

“Are you going to shower tonight or in the morning?” he eventually said, standing in the doorway between this room and the bedroom.

“I feel gross, but I think I’d pass out if I tried to shower,” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall. Almost 4:30 in the morning, and it felt like it.

“Same,” he said, his voice soft. You looked up at him, seeing the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you sitting there. If he’d been mad or annoyed about you mentioning Yoongi, he didn’t show it now. He continued, his deep voice a gentle murmur, “Come on. Let’s go to bed. The Prague live stream has the option to go back up to twelve hours and play it at double speed, so I can catch up on Wenceslas Square when we wake up. We’re safe here.”

You stood, your bones feeling heavier than normal and eyes barely open as you dragged yourself over to the bedroom. Namjoon put his hand on your back as you passed him, and you were almost too sleepy to feel the butterflies in your stomach from just that.

“Close your eyes,” you mumbled. You didn’t want to sleep in dirty train clothes, but your only other option was dirty forest clothes, so you just took off your sweatshirt, your t-shirt, the bulletproof vest, and your pants, dropping them on the floor before pulling the t-shirt back on and clambering into into the bed. The bedroom was just as fancy as the rest of the hotel, the king bed so large it was nearly square, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care or even look around as you pulled the covers up to your chin.

Beside the door, Namjoon cleared his throat, glancing down at your clothes all over the ground. You were still in a t-shirt and underwear and you were now fully under the covers, and he’d slept shirtless and just in boxers last night, so you didn’t care if he felt prudish now. If he could sleep in just boxers, you could sleep in your undies.

You couldn’t even open your eyes now, but you heard Namjoon turning off the lights in both rooms and pulling off his own clothes. Something hard was set down on his side table, and you figured that was his gun. Straps coming apart followed. His gun holster. You sighed as you heard him undoing his belt, then clothes rustling and his pants falling to the soft carpet.

He climbed into bed behind you, and you wanted to look at him and see if he was shirtless, curiosity piqued in your sleepy brain, but you didn’t have the energy, and Namjoon turned off the lamp on his side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness.

You smiled lazily to yourself, imagining Namjoon shirtless as you let yourself drift off to sleep.

***

Namjoon hadn’t slept this soundly in what felt like years.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should force himself to wake up and be alert. You were still in danger. He should be watching the Prague live stream, or looking out the windows here in case anyone suspicious approached the hotel. He should eat and get protein so he could fight if someone burst into the room. There were a lot of things he should be doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You shifted, letting out a little moan in your sleep and nuzzling back into his arms, and Namjoon’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

He was spooning you. His arms were around you. Your bare legs were tangled with his. His face was buried in your hair, his nose right behind your ear. The two of you were so close, he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

This was wrong. He was violating you. He hadn’t meant to and would never do something like this on purpose, but his body had wrapped around yours in his sleep, and now he was very awake, his heart racing and eyes wide as he tried to will himself to calm down. He had a semi, not full morning wood, and he didn’t know how he wasn’t rock hard. He must’ve slept very deeply, because now that he was awake, his blood was on fire.

His hands were in respectable places too, at least. One rested on your stomach, over your t-shirt, and the other was beside you on the bed, your small hand resting in his. He felt your fingers move a little in your sleep, and he wondered if you were dreaming. You shifted again, your ass pressing against him harder, and his mind instantly went somewhere dirty as he closed his eyes and fought to suppress a groan.

He imagined himself with his hands on you, maybe lifting your leg up and sliding into you from behind. Like this, he could touch you everywhere, maybe kiss your neck or bite your shoulder, and he could whisper right in your ear all the things he wanted to do to you. He could fuck you like this and reach down and rub your clit, and you’d be so good for him, his sweet little angel he loved so much. He could worship your body like this, make you fall apart in his arms just so he could put you back together.

Namjoon felt his cock twitch, and he instantly shut those thoughts down. He needed to untangle himself and get far away from this bed, now.

He tried to pull himself away, but you let out a sad little moan, holding onto his hand and tangling your legs with his even further. Your free hand came down and held his over your stomach, and you settled in against him again, grinding your ass fully against his cock and making him close his eyes and bite his lip. You were still fully asleep, your light snoring coming back just a moment later, but you were not letting go of him.

Fuck.

This was so inappropriate. You’d wake up and be disgusted by him, especially if he couldn’t make his erection go away. He tilted his hips away from you, at least getting that away, even if you still had all of his limbs hostage.

He could feel you breathing in his arms and had to close his eyes again. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Y/N,” he said softly, right in your ear. His voice was deep and groggy from sleep and he resisted the urge to clear his throat. “I need to get up.”

You moaned back to him, sounding annoyed, and your hands tightened their grip on his. He hoped you wouldn’t wake up, because he didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. He just wanted to slip away and go take a nice cold shower.

“I’m going to get up now,” he murmured, and this time you let him pull away from you, thankfully.

Namjoon sighed as he got out of bed, shaking his head. He reached back and made sure you were all tucked in, not wanting you to get cold while he was gone. You looked so snuggly and warm, and a huge part of him just wanted to climb back into bed and hold you some more, but he knew it was inappropriate. He needed to be strong.

Namjoon picked up his clothes from yesterday and headed into the bathroom, grabbing the tablet on his way. He turned the shower on and pulled up the live stream, clicking back to where he’d left off the night before and setting the video at double speed. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen until he finally made himself pause it and shower.

It was only ten in the morning now, which meant he’d slept about six hours. No wonder you were still sound asleep. He didn’t feel tired, though, especially not after waking up with your soft, perfect body in his arms, your warmth seeping into his bones, your scent all over him.

He smiled to himself, letting the water run through his hair. He’d decided against a cold shower, instead letting the warmth of the water spread through him like your body heat had. He was still hard, and he sighed as he reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock, running his hand up and down it slowly and thinking about the way your perfect body had felt in his arms.

“Y/N,” he sighed, his hand moving faster now, biting his lip as he imagined you in his lap, bouncing on his cock as he kissed your perfect breasts. Maybe you’d throw your head back and moan his name, or whimper and beg him to fuck you harder. Your tits would fit perfectly in his hands, and he’d squeeze them, massage them, feel the weight of them as he thrust up into you.

His fantasy shifted and he imagined you on your knees in front of him, your lips wrapped around his cock and his hands in your hair. He’d fuck your mouth like he was mad at it, holding you by your hair and watching the way he slid between your lips. He’d have you stop with his cock buried in you to the hilt, your nose pressed against his pelvis and chin against his balls, and he’d stroke your hair and tell you how perfect you looked with his cock down your throat. Maybe you’d moan for him like that, just so he could feel it.

Namjoon groaned, throwing his head back as stroked his cock and thought about your lips. Your mouth was so fucking perfect, he just knew it’d be so soft and tight, and you’d swallow around him like a fucking angel, because you’d know just how to get him off. You’d be so fucking good for him, Namjoon’s whole body tensed at just the thought.

“Y/N…” he moaned, and then he climaxed, his body shivering and mouth falling open as his cum hit the tile wall in front of him. Breathing hard, he watched it slowly dripping with the condensation from the shower, letting out a deep groan as he imagined his cum on your face and chin instead. He’d rub the head of his cock on your lips, smearing it around and claiming you as his.

Namjoon finished his shower, his body humming pleasantly and muscles relaxed after what he’d just done. He thought about you, only you, as always, his mind overflowing with his fantasies, his memories of little innocent things you’d done over the years, the way you made him feel when you smiled up at him.

As he turned off the shower, he realized he was smiling to himself.

Once he got dressed again, Namjoon grabbed the tablet and started taking stock of the supplies the two of you had, closing the door to the bedroom so you could continue sleeping.

You both had phone chargers and no phones, but these chargers also worked on the tablet Jin had let him borrow. You had a few weeks worth of both your medications, and he had his first aid kit. You each had a bag of toiletries, and your passports you couldn’t use without putting yourselves on the map. You had no clean clothes, nothing to do, nothing to eat until Jin had food delivered, and no more euros, if Namjoon could even sneak away from the hotel to use them. He had his Polish money, around eight hundred euros worth. He had his gun and several mags full of bullets.

Namjoon found a small pad of paper, and wrote a short note to Jin. He’d pass along the note to whoever delivered breakfast.

We only have the clothes on our backs. I can give you money for more clothes if you want, but we really need some clothes, desperately. You’d have to exchange the Polish money for euros, but it’s still cash.

We’d also greatly appreciate some snacks if you’re feeling extra generous. Y/N loves chocolate and sweets, and I don’t hate them either.

-NJ

Namjoon had exaggerated a little – the two of you also had your change of clothes from the forest, so not just the clothes on your backs – but Jin didn’t need to know about that.

Namjoon wrote down his clothes size and yours, along with a few suggestions like pajamas, underwear, casual clothes, things that wouldn’t stand out if the two of you had to go in public. Just a few changes each, to last as long as you were stuck in this suite. Though Namjoon had a bad feeling that you’d need to keep moving sooner than he hoped.

He set the tablet down on the table, pressing play and sighing. In the other room, he could hear you gently snoring.

***

You definitely had not slept soundly.

The first time you woke up in the night, you felt Namjoon spooning you, and you wondered if you’d died and gone to heaven. His large, firm, strong arms around you, you’d never felt so safe and protected. You felt like you were his.

The second time you woke up, you heard Namjoon turning on the shower. You listened to him for a minute, wondering what time it was and if you should get up too. You still felt sleepy, but maybe after a day like yesterday, you’d feel tired for weeks.

After a few minutes, you started to doze back off, but your eyes snapped open when you swore you heard Namjoon moaning.

You tilted your head, listening hard, and gasped when you heard the sound of him definitely masturbating, very hard by the sound of it, due to the fact his hand moving was audible over the running water and through the wall separating the bedroom and bathroom.

Oh, god. You should plug your ears or go into the other room. He thought you were asleep! He would never do this if he thought you could hear him. This was so beyond inappropriate, and you were being inappropriate by listening to him. This was so wrong.

But you were a bad person, and so you just laid there and listened to him masturbating in the shower. You heard his moans crescendoing, and then your heart stopped when you heard him definitely, clearly, undoubtedly moaning your name.

You gasped as you heard him cum, your eyes wide as you froze and tensed up. Your panties were now completely drenched, your mind replaying what you’d just heard over and over as you heard him breathing hard and coming down from his high.

You heard him turn off the shower, your mind still racing and heart beating out of your chest.

There was no fucking way. You had to have heard him wrong. Maybe he knew someone else with your name! You had to be wrong. There was just no way Namjoon was masturbating and moaning your name. It was impossible, because that would mean he was attracted to you, and you knew he wasn’t because he was Namjoon, the perfect, sexy, unattainable bodyguard you’d spent the last few years head-over-heels in love with. He was so far out of your league it was laughable, and you knew he wasn’t interested in you. He just wasn’t.

But you knew what you’d heard, and you couldn’t stop your brain from replaying it over and over.

Namjoon opened the door, and you closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You heard him pick some things up and head into the separate living room, closing the door quietly behind him on his way out.

Your mind raced for a few minutes, but sleep eventually reclaimed you, your fatigue sinking back into you and knocking you out again.

The third time you woke up, hours later, you made yourself get out of bed, pulling on yesterday’s dirty pants and wondering if Namjoon could somehow ask Jin for more clothes. You refused to think about what you’d heard earlier, because you were pretty sure it was just an elaborate sex dream you’d had, and you hadn’t actually woken up and heard him. It was the only logical explanation.

You headed out into the main room, where you saw Namjoon sitting at the table, a piece of toast in his hand and the tablet on the table beside him.

“Hey,” he said, motioning toward a plate of food set out at the other seat, assumedly for you. He was acting completely normal, and you could smell the fancy hotel soap on him and wished you could just sit in his lap and smell him. “I was just coming to wake you up when I heard you walking around. Breakfast got here about five minutes ago.”

“Cool,” you mumbled, plopping down in the chair across from him.

Jin had sent up toast, scrambled eggs, assorted cut fruit, and thick cuts of bacon, despite the fact it wasn’t currently morning. Beside your plate were three little bowls with different kinds of jams and preserves, a glass of orange juice, and a steaming cup of coffee. In the middle of the table was a pot of hot water with a little tray of various bags of assorted tea, and a small bowl of honey and honeycomb.

“I saw our friends in Wenceslas Square,” Namjoon said, and you looked up at him, surprised by how casually he’d said that.

“What?” Your brain was still foggy from sleep and Namjoon maybe moaning your name, so him pulling you back to reality and talking about the men after you made you sit up straighter.

“Here, look,” he said, sliding the tablet across the table to you and taking another bite of toast, which he’s spread marmalade on. The stream was paused at 4:07 in the morning, and Namjoon pressed play.

You watched four men dressed in dark, casual, nondescript clothing walk across the empty square, right to the large yellow building with a “Grand Hotel Europa” sign. Two of them headed for the front doors, the others standing guard outside.

“See how they’re all wearing the same black boots?” Namjoon said, zooming in for a second. It was blurry and grainy, but they were definitely all in similar boots. You never would’ve noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out, given how popular combat-style boots were as fashion. “The shoes are always a giveaway. They’re tactical. Probably bought in bulk by the looks of it,” he joked.

Namjoon zoomed back out as two of the men went into the hotel. One of the others sat on a bench by the entrance, while the other walked out of view of the camera. He came back a few seconds later, and you realized he was pacing the square.

“They still haven’t left,” Namjoon said. He reached over and turned the speed setting up to play it twice as fast. The two men who’d gone inside never came out, and you wondered if they’d rented a room, or maybe were going door to door in the hotel or bribing the front desk. Namjoon skipped ahead a few hours, and the one on the bench outside still hadn’t moved, but now had a newspaper. The one pacing had sat down in the outdoor part of a café next door to the hotel, and was sipping coffee.

Namjoon skipped ahead again, now having it play live. It was one in the afternoon, and both men still sat right where they were hours before. Part of you wondered if they were cold, sitting outside in winter for that long, or if the one at the café was annoying the waiters by squatting so long.

“What does this mean for us?” you said, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“It means we can’t communicate with the embassy at all.” Namjoon finished off his toast before wiping his hands on the fancy cloth napkin and continuing. “Either we have a rat, or these guys are listening in on our security team. I’m not sure which is more likely.”

“What about my mother? If someone in our security is working with these men, she’ll be in danger.”

“I don’t know how we can warn her without immediately giving up our location to anyone listening in,” Namjoon said, sighing. “If we try to contact her or warn the rest of the security team, they’ll know where we are and come after you right away.”

“And if they don’t find us in Prague, won’t they look to the last place they knew where we were, the train station in Ostrava, and check the cameras and see us going to Vienna?”

“Exactly,” was all Namjoon said, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“So we should keep moving soon, then?” you suggested, wanting him to elaborate a bit more.

“I’m thinking tomorrow morning, maybe. If they hadn’t shown up in Prague, we could’ve stayed longer, but I’m sure they’re starting to suspect we aren’t there. Maybe they’ll think I lied, or maybe they’ll think we just went to a different hotel in Prague and wait for me to check in and tell them. We should always assume they know more than we think they do, though.”

“So we should assume they’re already on their way here to this hotel?” you said, and Namjoon cracked a smile.

“Maybe not that much. They’d have to have already seen us going to Vienna, then followed us through the whole city, since we walked and used so many side streets. That’s a lot of different business’ security cameras to hack, and there could be blind spots where they won’t know which way we went. It should buy us some time, but we shouldn’t stay here long, just in case.”

“Where do we go from here?” you said, and you watched him set his jaw, the gears in his brilliant mind spinning.

“I’m not sure. Have any ideas?”

You looked down at the plate in front of you, thinking.

“We can’t leave the Schengen area,” you said slowly, nodding to yourself as you spoke. “If we do, we’ll have to show our passports, and that will put us right on the map. Can’t travel by plane, and we should try to avoid places with lots of cameras, just to be safe.”

“Good,” Namjoon said, smiling just enough to show a peek of dimple, as if he were proud of you and the way you were thinking.

“If we go any farther West, things will start getting a lot more expensive,” you continued.

“I could borrow money from Jin,” Namjoon suggested, grinning when you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think he’d slap you if you tried to ask for money,” you said, before laughing and saying, “Unless you tell him you’ll take a bribe to never come back to Austria.”

“I could do that.” You saw a sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes and knew he’d definitely be lying if he told Jin that.

“Even if we get money from him, we should still be frugal. We won’t know how long we’ll have to make it last,” you said. “Should we go to Slovenia? Or maybe head into the Austrian countryside? Maybe we could get into Switzerland–”

“Switzerland is very expensive,” Namjoon commented, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Okay, not Switzerland.” You thought for a moment, before a lightbulb went off over your head. “I got it! What if, right before we leave Vienna, we call my mother to warn her about the security team leak, since we really should do that, and then we went back into the Czech Republic? It’s one of the cheapest countries in central Europe, and they wouldn’t expect us to backtrack like that. If we’re on the run, they’d expect us to try and get farther away, right?”

Namjoon seemed to consider it for a moment, tilting his head back and forth.

“We could call from somewhere where we know there are no cameras,” he said quietly, lost in thought. “If they don’t know which way we head, it could work. They’d most likely think we’d keep traveling in the same direction, and then we could settle in some small Czech town and stay hidden.”

You liked this plan and thought it was your best bet, but you wondered when you’d be able to stop running and go home. Spending time alone with Namjoon all day was amazing, but you didn’t want to be scared anymore and have the threat of being abducted looming over you. Namjoon was probably going to give himself a heart attack from stress with how rightfully paranoid he was, and it was only a matter of time before you’d run out of money or put yourself on the grid somehow. If your mother found out about the security team leak, and there really was a mole back home, would they be able to find out who it was? And how would you even know, if and when they did? You could call your mother, tell her what you know, and she could have everything sorted out in a few hours, and you would never know until you eventually contacted her again.

How long until all this was over, and you were safe again?

Namjoon seemed to notice your shift in mood, and he reached across the table, resting his hand on yours.

“We’ll be okay,” he said softly, his warm eyes searching yours.

You sighed, looking down at the table. You felt so utterly helpless and small. You wished there was a way you could feel less powerless, a way to be more prepared if these men ever found you. If you ever got separated from Namjoon or something happened to him, you’d be a sitting duck.

Another lightbulb moment struck you then.

“Joon?” you said, glancing up at him. When he raised an eyebrow at you, you continued, “Will you teach me how to use your gun?”

***

Namjoon stood behind you, his arms wrapped around you. The two of you held his handgun together, aiming by the window overlooking the street. You were on the sixth floor and the building across the street was only three stories, so you felt like aiming this way was safe enough, especially since you weren’t planning on firing it.

You were more than a little intimidated by the gun and even by Namjoon knowing so much about guns, but you knew it was important to know how to use it, just in case. This was important to you. Not feeling so helpless was important to you.

“When you’re holding a gun, always act like it’s loaded and could go off at any moment,” he said, showing you the proper way to hold it. “Even if you think it’s not loaded, even if you think the safety’s on. There are thousands of accidental deaths from guns every year. This is a deadly weapon, only for emergencies. Anything you point a gun at, you have to be willing to destroy it.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to think about that.

“Once you know the basics, it’s pretty straightforward. Aim and shoot. Make sure the safety’s off, like this,” he said right against your ear, showing you what he described. “Most people will do what you tell them if you’re holding a gun, so hopefully you’ll never have to fire it. But if you do, if those men find us and something happens to me, shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, nodding.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to do that though, if the time came. You’d always been someone who froze when you were scared. You didn’t want to think about a situation where you’d have Namjoon’s gun and he wasn’t there to help you. You were certain you’d be frozen, and probably inconsolable from whatever made him unable to use the gun himself.

“Here’s how you rack it,” he said, and you took in a breath, feeling his large hands moving yours. His body was pressed completely against you, your shoulders against his firm chest, your back against his stomach. When he spoke, the depth of his voice rumbled in your body and mind, making you have to fight to suppress a shiver.

“Will you show me how to reload it?” you said, your voice softer than you were expecting it to be.

“Sure.” He turned the gun sideways so you could see him work, pressing a button on the side. He brought your hand up, having you feel the button he’d just pressed. “Feel that?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, unsure of how to react to Namjoon’s fingers holding yours and having you feel something so small. Your heart was racing from how close he was, and from how exhilarating and scary it felt holding a real gun.

“That’s the magazine release. To take a mag out, press that, and then just slide the new one in.”

He showed you what he’d described, his hands moving with yours. You were breathless just from this, but you tried so hard to listen to his words. This was important, serious, and dangerous. Not the time for fantasizing.

“Make sure it’s in properly, like this, and then press the slide release here.”

He showed you, and then the gun was loaded and ready again. You held it up, aimed at the wall, and Namjoon’s hands closed around yours.

“Perfect,” he said right in your ear, and this time you actually did shiver before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon cleared his throat, stepping away from you suddenly. He didn’t make eye contact with you as you handed the gun over, and he turned the safety back on and put it away.

“You did well,” he said, his voice slightly deeper than normal. “I can show you again later, to make sure you remember.”

“Sure,” you said, unable to even look at him. Your face felt hot and you suspected you were blushing.

A knock on the door interrupted your awkward moment, and Namjoon rushed over, looking out the peephole before quickly opening the door to reveal Jin with a small meal cart with two plates covered by fancy metal cloches.

“Wow, this hotel is nice,” Namjoon teased, holding open the door for Jin. “The owner himself delivers room service.”

“Shut up, you,” Jin grumbled, the cart bumping over the doorframe as he entered. He stopped walking and pushed the cart lazily in the direction of the kitchenette, letting it drift until it bumped into the table.

“What a disrespectful waiter,” Namjoon joked as he closed and locked the door again. “This will be affecting your tip.”

“The tip for your lunch, or the tip for me going shopping and getting you both new clothes?” Jin said, throwing himself down on one of the armchairs. “The bags of clothes are on the bottom shelf of the cart, under the tablecloth,” he added, motioning in the vague direction of the cart.

“Thank you,” you said, figuring Jin deserved at least a little genuine gratitude instead of just Namjoon’s snark.

You walked over to the cart and pulled out the shopping bags of clothes, peeking in and seeing jeans, sweaters, and even undergarments. One bag had two folded winter coats, along with a couple beanies, scarves, and a large pair of black gloves and a smaller pair of red mittens.

“You’ll probably be happy to hear we’re planning on leaving early tomorrow morning.” Namjoon sat down across from Jin, crossing his arms. “We’ll get out of your hair, but we are concerned about funds. We have about eight hundred euros to live off of indefinitely.”

“I guess that means you’re asking me for money,” Jin said dryly. He let out a big, dramatic sigh, examining his fingernails like he was bored.

“I’d greatly appreciate a loan, so I can keep her safe and out of the cold,” Namjoon said, smiling politely.

“Fine. Whatever. But you’ll owe me another favor.”

“How many favors is that now? Three?” Namjoon laughed.

“Let’s round up to five small favors, or one really big one.”

“A big favor like him never coming back to Austria?” you said, cracking a smile.

“That’s one of the little favors,” Jin replied, winking at you.

You glanced toward Namjoon, noticing him setting his jaw. You wondered if he was grumpy because of Jin winking, or maybe from you joking around with him. You didn’t let yourself think about the possibility of Namjoon being jealous.

“So, where are you heading after Vienna?” Jin asked conversationally.

“Don’t answer,” Namjoon cut in when you opened your mouth to reply. “No offense to Jin, but I don’t want anyone besides us knowing, just in case.”

“Well, if that’s how this conversation is going to be, I’ll go,” Jin said, standing up. He brushed some invisible lint off his shoulders, straightening his vest and tie before heading for the door. “I can bring up some money with dinner, so you can slip away stealthily in the night without bothering me anymore. Any other requests, your highness?”

“Not unless you have a car we can borrow,” Namjoon said flatly, and your eyes bulged. He certainly knew how to ask the absolute most from his hosts.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Jin said, which surprised you even more than Namjoon’s absurd request. “I have two cars, but I don’t really leave the hotel, so what’s the point, you know? May as well let my least favorite friend borrow one for a little while.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” you said, not quite sure you were believing your ears. Well, owning a luxury hotel in an expensive European city most likely paid well, you figured. Jin probably had more money than you could ever dream of.

“Whatever gets Namjoon out of Vienna fastest,” he said, winking at you again as he turned to leave. “I’ll give you the less expensive one. Please don’t crash it like you did my Bentley.”

“That was Jin’s car you crashed when you got your license revoked?” you laughed.

“You know what, only she’s allowed to drive my car,” Jin said as he approached the door. “I don’t trust you, Joon, and I don’t want you breaking more laws on or in my property.”

“I’m a great driver,” Namjoon pouted, crossing his arms.

“And an unlicensed one, apparently,” Jin said. “Anyways, please eventually tell me where you leave my car. I really like that one and would like it back one day.”

“Keep up your attitude, and I’ll leave it in the poorest neighborhood in Europe with the windows down and key in the ignition,” Namjoon said.

“Not nice,” Jin tutted, making you giggle. You saw a flash of maybe-jealousy in Namjoon’s eyes again, and decided you kinda liked this side of Namjoon.

With that, Jin left, and you looked to Namjoon, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“If you don’t say thank you to him before we leave, I’m turning myself in to those men in Prague,” you said, laughing when Namjoon looked up at you with wide, horrified eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbled, pushing up off the chair and walking over to the food cart.

The lunch Jin had brought up for you two was some kind of grilled fish, along with mushroom soup, grilled asparagus, and warm, fresh rolls with what looked like whipped butter. Definitely what you’d expect from a hotel as upscale as this.

With the two plates of food were two glass goblets of water, two small bottles of sparkling water, and one singular plate covered with plastic wrap and a note scrawled in sloppy handwriting:

For Y/N only. No Namjoons allowed.

- Jin ;)

You unwrapped that plate carefully and discovered a slice of the most ridiculously decadent triple-layer chocolate cake you’d ever laid your eyes on, intricately decorated with dark chocolate frosting and ganache. Your mouth watered just looking at it, but you knew it would be best to save it for after real food.

Namjoon rolled his eyes when he saw Jin’s note, and you didn’t miss him crumbling the note in his hand and throwing it in the trash in the kitchenette, playing it off as him going over to the kitchenette to get silverware. You laughed a little to yourself, wondering how much of Namjoon wanting to leave this hotel had to do with getting you away from Jin.

After lunch, you looked through the clothes Jin had bought, sorting through what was for you and what was for Namjoon. You were half surprised Jin hadn’t bought Namjoon clothes in the wrong size, and even more surprised he’d bought clothes for Namjoon at all. They must truly be like brothers if they bickered this much but Jin still chose to help.

Jin had bought you both two pairs of jeans, two sets of pajamas, a pair of sweatpants, three sweaters, a pack of socks, and a pack of underwear, along with the winter clothes you’d looked at earlier. There was also one blouse for you and a flannel shirt for Namjoon, and you figured you’d both have to roll your clothes if you had any hope of getting all this to fit into your backpacks. You owed Jin a huge thanks, and you’d make Namjoon thank him too, even if you had to twist his arm.

Later in the afternoon, you turned on the television to some German soap opera, eating your chocolate cake and propping your feet up on the antique table. Namjoon was sitting by the window with the tablet, glancing outside at the street every few minutes.

“Joon?” you eventually called out to him.

“Mmm?” he hummed, not looking up from the tablet.

“Do you want the rest of my cake?” you mumbled, feeling sick from overeating and all the sugar.

Namjoon looked up at you, smiling softly to himself. He finally set the tablet aside, coming over to you and sitting down right beside you, his leg against yours.

“Getting full?” he said, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as he took the plate from you with his other hand. He set the plate in his lap, picking up your fork and taking a bite.

“A little too full,” you grumbled.

He hummed in response, his mouth full of cake.

You settled in against his side, enjoying the warmth of his arm around you. The heat in this hotel was nice, but the building was old, and it had started snowing again in the last few hours, the cold seeping in and making you wish you had a blanket to cuddle up with. Well, having a Namjoon to cuddle up with was even better, you figured. You wished you and Namjoon could go get back under the covers in the bedroom and just lay there for hours, spooning like you had this morning.

“I was looking for places we could call your mother from,” Namjoon said after a moment, swallowing a particularly large bite of ganache. “I don’t want to lead them directly to this hotel, because I’m worried they’ll see Jin and think he’s connected to me and try to interrogate him. We need to get away from this hotel without being seen, but then call from somewhere within the city.”

“A payphone somewhere without cameras?” you suggested weakly, figuring Jin would not be willing to part with a phone in addition to everything else he’d given the two of you.

“I found a subway stations in the Döbling area that I think will be perfect for us,” Namjoon explained, playing with the last few bites of cake with the fork as he spoke. “It’s surrounded by a residential neighborhood, so not a lot of street cameras. I think I can map out a way for us to get there without being on camera, and we can call your mother from there. What do you think?”

“I think that’s ingenious,” you said, thinking through his plan and trying to find any flaws.

“Döbling is in the northern part of the city, too, so it’ll be on our way out of town.”

“Perfect,” you said. “But if we leave in the middle of the night, I don’t know if my mother will answer the phone if I call her.”

“Does she know how to listen to voicemails?”

“Yeah, but can voicemails be tracked the way live calls are?”

“A payphone in Vienna will have an Austrian area code,” Namjoon said, and you felt silly for not thinking of that. “But if we call your mother directly and warn her, she may not tell anyone in the security team about our call anyway. She’ll know not to trust anyone.”

“So how do we let the terrorist guys know where we are, without letting them know we want them to know?” you said, pouting. “We wanted them to think we’re in Vienna.”

“I think I have an idea about that,” he said, and when you looked up at him, you could see mischief in his dark brown eyes.

***

Jin never ended up coming back to the room, and Namjoon was almost relieved. He hadn’t been looking forward to you making him be genuine and actually thank Jin, though he did greatly appreciate Jin’s generosity.

A hotel staff brought up a late dinner around eleven, along with a set of car keys and an envelope. The envelope had eight thousand euros in cash, which Namjoon could barely comprehend, along with a handwritten note.

Car’s parked on the employee level of the parking garage downstairs, row C, spot 17, right by the main elevator on sublevel 2. If you need more money… consider getting a job or asking someone else.

If you get bullet holes in my car, I’ll put bullet holes in you.

-Jin

PS: No need to get so jealous, Namjoon-ah! Y/N’s crush on you can be seen from space, by everyone but you, apparently. She’s only got eyes for a certain grumpy asshole bodyguard, for some unfathomable reason. The rest of us don’t stand a chance. Not even me, and that’s saying something. If she ever changes her mind and decides she actually likes rich, handsome, and charming men, please point her in my direction. Tell her I’ll be waiting with a $500 bottle of champagne at the world-renowned five star hotel I own.

Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat at the beginning of the PS line. He quickly ran over to his jacket hanging on the back of the chair and tucked the note into one of the pockets, before you could come out and see it. He figured Jin was just making fun of him; you having a crush on him or liking him was as absurd as the rest of Jin’s note.

You and Namjoon ate the ridiculous dinner Jin had sent up, both veal and roast beef with mashed potatoes, more asparagus, and zucchini, along with another slice of chocolate cake, this time in a to-go box and again with a “for Y/N only” note. You groaned when you saw the cake, and Namjoon smiled to himself, shaking his head.

After dinner, Namjoon convinced you to take a nap, but he wouldn’t let himself sleep. He paced around in the living room like a caged animal, looking out the window every few minutes before making himself sit down and plan out the route the two of you would take later to avoid cameras. He felt restless, like he needed to be doing something helpful, jittery from staying in one place for too long.

You woke up around midnight, and the two of you packed your backpacks, rolling your clothes to make it all fit. You’d decided to leave your heels, but other than that, you both managed to get everything. Well, almost everything. Namjoon carried the coats and all the other winter accessories Jin had found in the shopping bag they’d come in, since the two of you were just walking down to the car. Your hands had the to-go box with your slice of ridiculous chocolate cake.

Around 2:45, the two of you headed out, heading straight down to the parking garage and following Jin’s directions. Namjoon didn’t plan on letting you see Jin’s note, but thankfully you didn’t ask.

The car was beautiful, more expensive than anything Namjoon could ever afford, and you went straight for the driver’s seat, smirking at him as he handed over the keys. You both remembered Jin’s orders about only you driving, and Namjoon couldn’t say he minded. You looked so happy and excited, and he’d do anything to see you this joyful.

Namjoon had decided to “borrow” Jin’s tablet, though it didn’t have a data plan on it, so it would stop working once you left wifi. He took screenshots of the camera-free route he’d planned out to the subway station, and of a roadmap of Austria and the Czech Republic. The two of you didn’t really have a plan, but Namjoon had a general idea of where he wanted to end up.

The two of you left the hotel, just as the bells in the old town chimed out, announcing it was three in the morning.

The drive to Döbling only took about twenty minutes, even with all the detours Namjoon had you take to avoid security cameras. The subway station was empty and closed this late, but the payphones were outside, just as he’d seen on Google Maps. There was a security camera pointed at the payphones, but not anywhere else in the area. Anyone looking for the two of you would be able to know you were here, but not what car you were in or where you went from here.

The two of you parked and headed over to the payphones, Namjoon’s hand in yours. You didn’t need to pretend right now, but it felt right. He’d reached out for your hand subconsciously, and you’d taken it, lacing your fingers with his.

You called your mother first, your expression worried as it rang. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, the two of you looking at each other as you waited.

Your face fell when it went to voicemail, but you set your jaw, preparing yourself to leave a message.

“Hi, Mom,” you said, your voice sad. Namjoon wished he could hug you and take away all your pain and fears. “It’s Y/N. I’m safe. Namjoon’s with me. We think someone in your security team might be working with the men who attacked the embassy, because after Namjoon called from a burner phone, those men still knew what he’d said and showed up where he’d said we’d be. We’re okay though. Please be careful, Mom. I love you. Bye.”

Short and to the point. You hung up the phone, nodding once to Namjoon.

“That was perfect,” he said, bringing his hand up and rubbing your arm. He could tell you were disappointed about not getting to speak to your mother, but knew there was nothing he could do about that.

“Your turn,” you said, sighing.

He sighed too, picking up the phone and putting in a few more coins.

Namjoon dialed his number and waited.

“Hello? Kim, is that you?” the head of security at the embassy said when he answered a few moments later.

“Where are you?” Namjoon said, his voice low and demanding. He glanced to you, seeing you watching him curiously. He hadn’t told you what he was planning on saying, and he wondered what you’d think.

“Where am I? I’m at the embassy. Where the hell are you?” the head of security said.

“I meant where in the embassy? Who’s with you?”

The head of security listed two other guards. Namjoon had figured a few of them would all be on duty in the security office, and that there’d be more of them working than usual, considering the recent attack.

“Put me on speaker,” Namjoon said. He waited until the feedback sound changed, and he could tell he was on speakerphone now. “Is anyone else awake? Any other guards in the building patrolling?”

“Yeah, but–” the head of security started, but Namjoon cut him off.

“Dial them into this call.”

“What? Kim, what are you–”

“Now.” Namjoon set his jaw, hoping his firmness and insubordination wouldn’t get him fired if he was wrong about there being a mole.

“Okay,” the head of security said unsurely, and there was a brief pause as he looped a few other guards in, dialing them all one by one, the background static increasing each time a new person joined.

“Who’s here?” Namjoon said after a moment, and he listened to everyone identify themselves. He wanted as many guards as possible to hear this, so the real ones could figure out who the mole was as fast as possible.

“What’s going on, Kim?” one of them said, and Namjoon took a deep breath before beginning.

“One of you is a mole, maybe,” he explained, speaking carefully and slowly. “The men after us knew right where we’d be after I called and told you guys, even when I called from burner phones. Either someone is telling them everything, or our secure phones aren’t as secure as we thought they were, and they’re listening in on everything. Figure your shit out and keep the ambassador safe. I’ve got Y/N, and we’re staying off the grid until it’s all clear.”

Namjoon hung up then, letting out a deep breath as soon as it was done.

“That was smart,” you said, reaching out and taking his hand again. He hadn’t realized how intense that conversation would be, and now his hands were shaking slightly. As soon as he felt you touch him, though, they stopped, and he felt stronger.

“I figured they’d already know we’re onto them by the fact we’re not in Prague, so may as well tell everyone and let them start figuring things out on their end,” he said, the two of you heading back to the car hand-in-hand.

“And now my mother knows, or will know when she wakes up,” you said. “They can figure things out, and they’ll be okay. The real ones will sort out who the mole is.”

“Hopefully,” he said, sighing.

You got into the driver’s seat again, and Namjoon gave you directions for his camera-less route out of the city. Once you got on the road, though, there’d be some unavoidable traffic cameras. He’d tried to plan a route northward that avoided towns at least, but there was only so much he could do.

Namjoon’s camera-less, town-less route into the Czech Republic ended up being about twice as long as following normal roads. What should’ve only taken three hours took six, and when the sun started coming up, his eyes burning from being awake too long, he wondered if all this was enough to keep you safe. He didn’t know what else he could do, though, other than making you walk through the woods and just avoiding civilization altogether.

He just hoped what he was doing was enough.

You eventually ended up in the countryside surrounding the town of Český Krumlov, deep in the heart of southern Bohemia. Namjoon could see the town in the distance, with its large castle towering over the rest of the village, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to come back here with you some day. He could see the two of you walking through the scenic town holding hands, looking at the art and architecture together, being a real couple instead of just pretending.

You drove past the town, eventually coming to a sign advertising holiday cottage rentals in Czech, German, and English. The rental office was right by the road, and the two of you pulled in, carefully parking in the spot farthest from the door, in case whoever was inside looked out and saw the car.

“I’ll go alone,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“No,” Namjoon said, turning toward you. “No way. I’m coming.”

“Do you think there’s any possible way we’re in danger here?” You raised an eyebrow at him, and he sunk down in his seat.

“I don’t like it,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Too bad. The men looking for us are looking for both of us. One of us alone will attract less attention. I’ll just go in, ask for a week or so, depending on the price, and come right back out. Can I have some of the money, please?”

Namjoon handed over the envelope of cash, watching you take out a few hundred euros.

“Please be careful,” he said as you opened the door to go. You looked back at him, laughing a little and shaking your head.

“I will. I’ll be right back,” you said, and then you were gone, and Namjoon was sitting alone in Jin’s stupid expensive car, waiting on you and trying to will his heart to stop racing.

You strode into the rental office confidently, and he could almost see you through the window. He saw a short, middle-aged woman working there, smiling wide when she saw you.

You spoke to her for a few minutes, laughing politely, chatting, signing a piece of paper, and then you were handing over money, and the woman handed you a set of keys and a different piece of paper.

Namjoon didn’t like this. Whatever you’d signed, it could have your real signature on it, and that would be easily trackable. Had you given your real name? He didn’t think you were that stupid, but whatever you’d signed made him feel uneasy, combining with his exhaustion and worry to make him feel almost sick.

You came out of the rental office a few minutes later, smiling to yourself proudly. Namjoon let himself relax, seeing you happy.

“Got it!” you squealed when you hopped back in the car. You handed him the paper – a map of the cottages with the one you’d rented circled – as you buckled your seatbelt. “It was much less expensive to book it on a weekly rate, so I got one week, for now.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “What’d you sign in there?”

“Oh,” you said, looking down at your hands. “I told her that we got mugged so we didn’t have our passports or ID, so she just let me sign, like, on an honor system. Normally she needs IDs, but she said it was fine. I put fake names, though. I panicked and signed myself as ‘Ursula Guin,’ like that author you recommended to me a few years ago. Hope the rental lady’s not the literary type.”

Namjoon snorted, remembering the exact story he’d sent you back then.

“She wanted your name too, so I said you were my husband Hermann, to keep with the author theme.”

“Wow, thanks,” he laughed. “Do I look like a Hermann to you?” He wasn’t actually mad; he was actually kind of touched that you’d used that name, wondering if you’d chosen it because you remembered him saying Hermann Hesse was the author of his favorite book.

“Do I look like an Ursula?” you giggled back, driving the car back onto the main road and heading off for the cottage you’d rented.

The rental cottages were deep in the forest, each on their own several-acre plot. You’d found the driveway to yours – Cottage 7 – and were still carefully driving down it ten minutes later. The snow was only a few inches deep here, the bare tree branches in the forest all lined with it like powdered sugar, but this road hadn’t been touched in what looked like years, so you drove cautiously and very, very slowly.

Based on the property size alone, Namjoon had been expecting a mansion, but instead the two of you eventually rolled up to what looked like a little one-room fairytale cottage.

“I hope you didn’t pay a lot for this shack,” he said, smirking when you shot him a look.

Besides its size, the cottage was actually pretty cute, and he could see a chimney, indicating a fireplace, hopefully. It looked like it fell right out of a storybook, and it was definitely off the beaten path. It was settled in a little clearing in the forest, and besides the driveway, there was nothing else here indicative of civilization. Just a house in the middle of the woods, perfect for hiding away, just the two of you.

You headed inside, Namjoon carrying the bag with the winter clothes. The front of the cottage had a nice little deck, and if it weren’t so cold out, Namjoon could see himself sitting out here, maybe reading.

Inside, the building had only two rooms – the main room, and a small bathroom in the back corner. It had everything the two of you would need, including a fairly modern kitchen, a table with two chairs, a little loveseat next to an old free-standing cast iron fireplace, and a bed Namjoon wasn’t sure would be long enough for his legs, let alone wide enough for the two of you to sleep without touching. It was livable, but definitely cozy.

The room had no heat, and he was surprised when he turned on the light-switch and found the place actually had electricity. It was almost as cold as outside in here, though thankfully out of the snow and wind, at least.

You headed straight into the bathroom, and Namjoon decided to look through the kitchen. The cabinets had no food other than salt, pepper, a few assorted spices, and a mostly-empty bottle of olive oil. The two of you would have to grocery shopping as soon as you could, and then not leave the cottage again for a while.

The room had no closet, no dresser, nothing to put clothes in other than the two little bedside tables that each had one drawer. Well, Namjoon figured, the two of you didn’t have much clothes, anyway. One drawer was all either of you really needed.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were wearing one of your new sets of pajamas, along with a new pair of socks. You tossed your backpack onto the loveseat, yawning wide and heading straight for the bed.

“It’s so cold in here,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“I can start a fire,” Namjoon suggested, ignoring what he’d actually wanted to say. I’ll keep you warm.

You hummed, throwing back the quilt on the bed and then the covers. He watched you settle in, curling up in a little ball and pulling the covers up to your chin. You were so adorable, he couldn’t help feeling warmer just looking at you.

Namjoon got started setting up the fire, throwing in a couple logs from the large stack beside the fireplace, and found matches in the kitchen to start it. You were already asleep by the time he got it going; he’d looked back at you, grinning proudly, but saw you dozed off, your mouth hanging open as you quietly snored.

He got ready for bed, plugging in the tablet and changing his clothes. There was obviously no wifi here, but the tablet had quite a few ebooks downloaded to it, probably thanks to some bored employee back at Jin’s hotel, so at least the two of you would have one thing to do here.

Namjoon hadn’t felt this tired in years, his eyes aching from being open too long, his limbs sore and mind blank. It was eleven in the morning now, so he’d been awake a little over twenty-four hours, and he hadn’t slept very long the night before, either. He and you were going to have a hell of a time trying to fix your sleep schedules after all this.

When he climbed into bed, you immediately rolled over toward him, settling in with your head on his chest, arm across his stomach, and leg hooked over his thigh.

Namjoon froze.

He should push you off. He should turn away from you. You were asleep; you didn’t really mean this. You were just cold, and he was a warm body.

But Namjoon was so infinitely selfish. He was a selfish pervert, and he knew it. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and he felt you shiver, cuddling closer to get warm in your sleep. Your breasts pressed against his side, your hair right where he could breathe you in, your little hand resting over his heart.

He would let himself have just this. He knew he’d never get anything else, so he’d hold you and tell himself he was just helping you stay warm. He was, but to him, this was so much more. This was everything. He was holding the woman he loved, and he’d let himself pretend, only as he drifted off to sleep.

You were so precious, he could hardly stand it. So beautiful, so small in his arms, so wonderful and perfect and his. He felt you breathing gently, and he closed his eyes, smiling to himself as he fell asleep.

***

When Namjoon woke up, you were already awake, curled up on the loveseat with the tablet.

“Hey,” you murmured as he stood. He groaned in response, his brain not quite awake yet, making you giggle.

He walked over to you, stretching his arms and shoulders as he went. You were reading one of the downloaded ebooks, and as he approached, you scooted over, making room for him to join you.

“We need to go shopping for food,” he said as he sat down, wrapping his arm around the back of the loveseat behind you, to give you both more space. “I don’t think we have any food besides that chocolate cake Jin gave you.”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” You turned off the tablet and set it down. “It’s almost five, so we should go soon, in case the grocery stores here close early.”

And that meant the two of you would have to get dressed and leave the cottage, which Namjoon very much did not want to do. The two of you were in cozy pajamas, the fire in front of you crackling peacefully. Outside, he could see it had started snowing again, the sky already getting dark, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his lap and never let go of you, though he knew that particular fantasy was impossible and unwanted.

Instead, you stood up, heading over to your backpack and pulling out a sweater and pair of jeans. Namjoon sighed, letting himself have a few more minutes in front of the fireplace while you got dressed in the bathroom.

Had you woken up and realized you were laying on his chest? Maybe you’d rolled away from him while you’d slept, after the room warmed up from the fire. He wondered though, maybe you’d woken up in that position. Maybe you hadn’t hated it. Maybe it had been a choice you’d made, and not just something you did while asleep to get warmer. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but they were. Maybe you’d actually wanted to cuddle with him in your sleep, and it hadn’t been an accident or mistake.

Namjoon reached up, bringing his shirt up to his nose, the part right where your head had rested on his chest. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he smelled your shampoo and your scent.

Suddenly, you opened the door and came out of the bathroom, and Namjoon dropped his shirt, pretending like he’d just been scratching his chest instead of holding the fabric up and smelling it like a creep.

He got dressed quickly, used the bathroom, splashed some water on his face.

“Before we go, make sure to take your pills,” he said as he came back into the main room. He figured it was close to five now.

“Oh, shit, thanks,” you said, jumping up and rushing over to your backpack.

Namjoon smiled to himself. You were so adorable, and he loved feeling useful to you like this.

He pulled on his jacket, slipping on his shoes and watching you dig through your bag, finding your medication down at the very bottom. You bustled around the room, dry-swallowing your pills, grabbing your shoes, getting ready to leave.

Namjoon started to put his hands in his jacket pockets as he watched and waited on you, but froze when he felt something in both of his pockets.

Tilting his head, he pulled out what he felt, seeing in one hand, Jin’s note he’d hidden from you, and in the other, the two little packs of double chocolate chip cookies he’d bought in the train snack car, back before all this started. You’d sent him to go get something chocolate, and he’d been so excited to give it to you, but completely forgot, after everything that happened after.

Namjoon reread Jin’s note, frowning as his brain fixated on ‘if she ever changes her mind and decides she actually likes rich, handsome, and charming men, please point her in my direction.’

He scowled, quickly stepping over to the fireplace, throwing the note in the fire and watching it burn. He hated how stupid, insecure, and jealous he felt, how just Jin’s teasing could work him up like this. Namjoon wanted you to be his, for you to love him and be with him and know his heart belongs to you, but he wasn’t rich. He wasn’t charming or classically handsome like Jin. You deserved someone like that, someone who could take care of you financially and give you the whole world.

The only reason Namjoon was able to keep you safe and hidden so easily right now was because of Jin’s car and Jin’s money. Namjoon had only been able to get a little out of his work account when you went on the run, and without Jin, the two of you probably would’ve ended up sleeping in bus stations and stealing food to survive. You deserved so much better than that. Under normal circumstances, Namjoon wasn’t poor, but he was still working class. He couldn’t give you five-star hotels, fancy cars, or long-term stability. How could you ever want someone like him, when guys like Jin also showed an interest in you?

You’d never want Namjoon. He wasn’t rich, handsome, or charming. He was just your bodyguard. All he could ever give you was his protection, and his stupid heart.

“What do you have there?” You pulled him from his thoughts as you approached, stopping beside him and smiling when you saw the cookies still in his hand. “Did you get snacks somewhere and not tell me?” you teased, reaching out and pinching him on his side.

“They’re for you,” he immediately said, holding both packs out to you. “I got them for you on the train. The first train, the one we jumped off of. I forgot to give them to you, though. Got a little distracted.”

You smiled, reaching out and only taking one of them. You opened it right up and took a big bite, smiling to yourself and closing your eyes as you chewed. He knew how much you loved chocolate, and the grin on your face right now made him feel like he was floating.

“I know it’s not as good as fancy chocolate ganache cake, but still, I hope you like it,” he said, looking down at the other cookie in his hand. He didn’t know why, but he almost felt embarrassed.

“This is so much better,” you assured, your mouth still full of cookie. “That cake’s way too rich. I felt sick after just a few bites of the one yesterday. The new slice he gave us will probably go bad before we can even finish it.”

Namjoon hummed, setting the cookie in his hand down on the kitchen table. He planned on giving you this one too, even if you didn’t take it now. He noticed how you said ‘the slice he gave us’ and ‘before we can finish it,’ and wondered if you’d forgotten how Jin had given the cake to only you, not him too.

Once you finished your cookie, the two of you headed out for the grocery store, hoping to get in, get what you needed, and get out as fast as possible.

The place you found was a little locally-owned thing, and Namjoon didn’t see any cameras, thankfully. He still felt nervous being out in the open like this, but this seemed safe enough. He had his gun in his holster under his jacket regardless.

The two of you walked around together, Namjoon pushing the cart and following wherever you decided to go. You got eggs, bread, a whole array of fruits and vegetables, a few packs of raw chicken breasts, boxes and boxes of dried pasta, rice, instant coffee, hot cocoa mix of course, milk, and some canned foods he didn’t even bother looking at as you loaded them into the cart. He trusted your judgment and would eat whatever you picked out. In the small freezer section, you found a pint of chocolate ice cream, which made Namjoon smile to himself. You and your chocolate.

There was a small home goods section, and Namjoon grabbed a big fleece blanket, tucking it under his arm as he pushed the cart toward the checkout. The cottage was cold, and he thought you’d like something like this to cuddle up with in front of the fire. You also grabbed a pack of candles and a deck of cards, and he figured those were both smart purchases.

The last thing Namjoon grabbed was a cheap, prepaid burner phone by the checkout, just in case he needed to call someone in an emergency. He didn’t like the idea of being out at that cottage and having no way of calling for help if you needed it.

Once the two of you got home and put away the groceries, you made spaghetti with tomato sauce, and Namjoon helped stir the pasta while you worked on more important things. The two of you stood side by side at the little gas stove, working quietly as the water boiled and sauce bubbled. His arm skimmed against yours every once in a while, and he tried to ignore the way just that made his stomach flip.

“It smells so good,” he said, watching you stir in some dried basil you’d found in the cabinet.

“I wish I’d thought to buy butter,” you mumbled, stirring the sauce. “I could’ve made garlic bread to go with this.”

“I’m sure this will be good,” he tried to reassure you.

“Maybe if we’re here long enough, we can go to the grocery store again and get some.” You glanced over his way, looking hopeful, and he couldn’t help but smile.

The two of you ate together in comfortable silence, the little kitchen table so small, your plates were touching. You complained about your feet being cold despite wearing socks, so you tucked your feet under his, and Namjoon’s heart began racing. This was almost like playing footsie under the table, but he tried to tell himself you were just cold. This was just like you cuddling up to him as you slept; it didn’t mean anything. You didn’t see him that way.

After your dinner-that-was-technically-breakfast, the two of you sat on the loveseat together, cuddled up under the fleece blanket he’d bought. You had your legs resting across his lap under the blanket, and the two of you were playing Go Fish, joking around and talking about nothing.

Namjoon could really see himself getting used to this, to a life like this. He could probably afford a cottage like this one, maybe closer to where your mother lived. He couldn’t afford big things like fancy cars and luxury hotels, but he could give you a life like this and make you happy. You looked so beautiful right now; carefree, relaxed, cozy, content, happy. He felt like he was home when he looked at you, like you were his home and his life and his whole world. He wanted more than anything to make you happy and be your home, too.

When it was your turn to play and you didn’t notice, he tickled your foot under the blanket, and you shrieked, giggling and squirming. You never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment.

After the card game, you picked up the tablet, pulling up a different ebook than the one you’d been reading earlier.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Please?” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

And he was so wrapped around your finger, he took the tablet from you with a big dumb smile on his face and immediately did as you asked, because he would walk across continents and swim across oceans to be the one to read to you.

The two of you sat like that for hours, Namjoon reading and you just looking at him. You sat on the loveseat sideways, your head tilted so you leaned against the back of the seat, your arms crossed as you listened to him. He wished he could pull you over into his lap and cuddle with you as he read, but this moment as-is was already such a gift, and he didn’t want to ruin it for you.

Every time he glanced up at you, he saw you watching him with an expression he didn’t understand. The look on your face stirred something within him and gave him hope, and that was dangerous. You were looking at him like you loved him, and he knew he was just projecting his feelings onto you and setting himself up to get his heart broken. He needed to be realistic, so he didn’t let himself glance up at you anymore. He just read and read and read until his throat was raw from speaking.

Around midnight, you both tried to go to bed, hoping to sleep a few hours and then stay up tomorrow, so you could try fixing your awful sleep schedules. You both changed back into pajamas, Namjoon throwing an extra log in the fire so it could hopefully last through the night.

When the two of you climbed into bed, you turned toward him and cuddled up against him, just as you had the night before. This time, though, you were definitely fully awake.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, looking up at him with big innocent eyes as you rested your head on his chest and hand on his heart.

“Of course,” he said, and he took your hand, holding it there where you could feel his heart beating. He wished he could tell you how much he loved you right now. He wished he could kiss your forehead and say, Do you feel that? Do you feel my heart? It belongs to you. I belong to you.

But he kept quiet, and you snuggled in against him, closing your eyes and sighing. Namjoon wrapped his other arm around you tight, holding you close and keeping you warm. This was all he could really give you. You deserved so much more, but he could protect you and keep you warm. He didn’t let himself consider the possibility that you’d be happy with just that… with just him.

***

When you woke up in the morning, Namjoon was still holding you.

You’d both slept like that all the way through the night. The fire was down to just glowing cinders, the room chilly but not freezing. Namjoon was a human heater, though, and the two of you were completely intertwined, like real lovers keeping each other warm in the cold winter.

You could feel his chest gently rising and falling as he breathed, and you closed your eyes, just listening and feeling him for a moment. This was everything to you. You could hear the steady thump of his heart. You could feel the warmth of his body. You could pretend like he was yours and you were his. The moment was so still and perfect, and Namjoon was so warm and smelled so good. Everything about right now was perfect to you.

Part of you couldn’t believe he’d let you snuggle up to him last night. You’d expected him to push you away, thinking you were going too far or being annoying, even though he’d never treated you like that before. You’d just thought you were maybe going too far this time, and had expected him to reject you.

But he’d held you and you’d melted in his arms, and you’d never slept better in your life. You hadn’t even been that tired, but now your sleep schedule was fixed, and you were relaxing in the early morning calm, feeling contented, in love, and so, so happy.

You never wanted to leave this cottage. You wanted to stay here with Namjoon forever, sleep in his arms every night, not leave for anything other than groceries. You didn’t even need a television or computer; you and Namjoon could find other things to do, like reading and games. You could buy some yarn and learn how to knit, and made Namjoon some socks or a sweater. You could find a cookbook not in Czech somewhere and learn how to properly cook, together. Maybe you could buy this cottage and have a big garden out back and make this your home. The two of you could do anything you wanted here, and you wanted to do everything with him.

You smiled to yourself, imagining living here with Namjoon. You imagined him cutting down a tree for firewood, chopping logs with a big ax while shirtless. Your head was resting on his big firm chest, so your imagination was vivid. He’d chop wood in the yard and then come in all sweaty and tired, and the two of you could take a shower together and you’d help him get clean. You’d run your hands and mouth all over his muscles, massaging him and worshipping him, and he’d be yours.

You wondered, then, if you should tell Namjoon about your feelings for him. You’d known for a long time now that you were attracted to and in love with him, but telling him could mean making him uncomfortable when he was essentially trapped here with you.

You thought back over the last few days; Namjoon had been very affectionate toward you, holding your hand when he didn’t have to, putting his arm around you, letting you snuggle up to him for warmth, being so sweet to you. Could it be possible that he had feelings for you too?

You remembered the other morning, when he’d showered and you’d heard him moaning your name. At the time, you’d thought… well, you weren’t sure what you’d thought. He was just horny? You’d misheard him? But you knew what you’d heard, and you knew you moaned his name every time you masturbated because you thought of only him, your heart and body belonged to him, every cell in your body was his.

If someone else were in your position, you would say, of course he has feelings for you!  Are you stupid? But you were terrified. What if you told him you were in love with him and wanted to be with him, and he was disgusted? What if you ruined your friendship with him and made him uncomfortable? What if you made his job unbearable? What if he left you here alone?

You frowned. The good mood you’d woken up in was gone, in its place your fears and insecurity.

As if sensing your mood shift, Namjoon’s arm around you tightened, pulling you against him. He’d moved you so that your head was right over his heart, and then he was back to snoring, completely sound asleep.

You let your mind clear as you just listened to his heart, the steady, slow beat a comfort to you. He was so relaxed and cozy and warm, and you wanted to live in this moment forever. You wanted to wake up in his arms every morning. You wanted him to be yours, because you were already his, even if he didn’t know it. You’d never love anyone else like this. Your heart would always belong to him, even if he one day quit or left and he never knew how you felt.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of bed and away from him. You put another log in the fire before heading over to the bathroom for a shower. You hoped this place had hot water, and when you turned on the shower and felt it slowly heating up, you sighed in relief.

As you bathed, you thought over everything again. Maybe you should tell Namjoon about your feelings for him. You could present it like, hey, this is how I feel. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted you to know. Love you forever, okay bye.

You sighed, the noise echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water.

You bathed and then quickly turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a fluffy towel around your body and a smaller towel around your hair. Part of you had been worried the hot water would run out, and you wanted Namjoon to have enough if he decided to shower too.

As you got dressed, you decided you’d tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, so you’d have time to plan out what exactly you’d say. You wanted it to be as comfortable of an experience as possible for him, so he could reject you painlessly and without extra awkwardness. You’d tell him and he’d say he didn’t feel the same way, and things could continue as normal. It’d be fine.

You felt like you might throw up from nerves, but it’d be okay. You needed to do this.

Once you got dressed, you went back out into the main room and saw Namjoon making two cups of instant coffee in the kitchen, now dressed and out of his pajamas too. He turned when he heard you, smiling and motioning toward the two mugs in front of him as he spoke excitedly.

“I just had a great idea. What if I put a little hot cocoa mix in these? What do you think?”

“That sounds great,” you said, and his eyes lit up as he grinned proudly. He was too cute for words, you thought, smiling at him as he executed his brilliant idea.

While he finished mixing those up, you went to the stove, turning it on and getting ready to cook some eggs for breakfast for the two of you. You’d always loved cooking, and getting to live in a cute little fairytale cottage with Namjoon and do nothing but cook for and with him sounded like your version of paradise.

“Here you go,” he said, holding out one mug of the caffé mocha proudly. You took it from him and sipped, smiling up at him as you tasted it.

“It’s good,” you said, licking your lips. You heart skipped a beat when you saw him glance down at your mouth, and you’d almost call the look in his eyes wanting.

Maybe you were right to tell him about your feelings. Maybe the chance of Namjoon feeling the same way wasn’t as small as you’d thought. You almost couldn’t consider the possibility, but you watched him pick up his mug and take a drink, his eyes not leaving you the whole time.

You shook your head, setting down the mug and getting back to cooking eggs.

The two of you ate your breakfast at the table, and then you cuddled up on the loveseat in front of the fire, like yesterday. This time, you read to him, and he kept looking at you the entire time with that same look, longing and love and wanting in his eyes.

You were sure you were imagining things. Namjoon couldn’t actually feel like this about you. Had he always been this obvious, or were days of not sleeping well and being stressed and on the run finally getting to you?

After you read for a while, he reached under the blanket and started massaging one of your feet over the thick wool socks you wore. You thought he was going to tickle you, but when you looked up at him, he murmured, “Keep reading,” in the deepest, warmest voice, and so you did. His hands worked on one foot and then the other, and there was nothing playful or even sexual about it. He just massaged you and looked at you while you read. He wanted you to relax and feel good, and you did.

You loved him. You loved him so much your heart couldn’t stand it. You wanted to grab him and kiss him and say it over and over, to go outside and scream it so people all the way in Vienna and Prague and Poland could hear you. You loved Namjoon, and there was a little sliver of a chance he felt the same way, and you wanted to do nothing but love him and only him forever, to kiss him all over his face, to sleep in his arms and be loved by him. He looked at you like he loved you, and he treated you with love and respect and care, so maybe he loved you too. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

You just kept reading, and Namjoon just looked at you, his hands now running along your lower legs, like he was getting ready to massage your calves. You couldn’t even look at him, because then you’d blurt out your feelings and ruin this perfect moment. His touch made you feel wound up and relaxed at the same time, like he was massaging you just to tease you. You were so wet for him, and when one of his hands moved up enough for his fingertips to skim against the back of your knee, you bit your lip, sucking in a sharp breath.

Eventually you finished the ebook from last night, the one Namjoon had started reading to you. You were horny and desperate, and you needed to get away from this loveseat and this man before you did something really stupid, like confess your feelings or climb into his lap and beg him to keep touching you.

You decided to make lunch, and when you got up, Namjoon followed, his hand resting on your shoulder when you got to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” he said, and you were touched by his sweetness but also kind of wanted to scream from how badly you wanted him. Had he known what he was doing when he’d massaged you and looked at you like that? Or was he just being his usual sweet self, and you were just projecting your feelings onto him?

“I’m not sure what to make,” you said, forcing yourself to focus. “Maybe something with some of the chicken we bought?”

“That sounds good.” He moved his hand on your shoulder as if he were comforting you, and you fought the urge to arch your back and close your eyes.

You got chicken out of the refrigerator and started looking through the vegetables you’d bought, and Namjoon came up behind you, his hand on your lower back now.

“We could boil the potatoes we got and have that with the chicken,” he said, and you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

The two of you cooked side-by-side, Namjoon standing guard over the boiling water and you grilling chicken in a cast iron skillet with some of the olive oil you’d found in the cabinet. You seasoned it as best you could, but the next time you went to the grocery store, you’d have to try to find some more spices and sauces.

Namjoon was humming to himself as he stirred the potatoes, an off-key, silly tune that made you giggle. He glanced your way, cracking a smile, and you’d never wanted to kiss him more than that moment. He was trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

His humming shifted to loud singing, and you laughed as he turned toward you and started serenading you.

“I’ve heard you sing before, and you are not this bad,” you giggled, shaking your head. “Sing seriously!”

“How dare you?” he said, pretending to be hurt but unable to hide his grin. “I have a lovely singing voice. I’m trying my best right now.” He sang another line, this time closing his eyes as he attempted to hit a high falsetto note but purposely sang very off-key.

“Are you trying to break the windows?” you teased, and then you shrieked as he reached over and pinched your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

You gasped as you squirmed and giggled, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he didn’t let up. He tickled your stomach and sides, smiling and holding you against him so you couldn’t get away.

When he stopped, you were both breathless, and he still held you there against him, the two of you just breathing hard and looking at each other as you calmed down. Your cheeks hurt from grinning, but he was looking at you with that look again, the look that made you feel like maybe he wanted you too, and you parted your lips, holding your breath all of a sudden because he was looking at you like he wanted you to be his. He made you feel flushed, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

Your mouth was only a few inches from his. He was so close you could feel his warmth, you could see his little moles and freckles and the slight stubble on his chin, you could feel his breath on your lips. You looked down at his mouth, his beautiful plush lips you’d dreamed about so many times, and you watched him swallow hard, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes not leaving your lips.

And then the two of you were kissing, so suddenly and overwhelmingly it stole the air from your lungs.

One moment you were both staring at each other’s mouths, the next he was wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body fully against him as his soft, plush lips claimed you. He growled, a deep rumble in his chest, and you responded to him with a moan that he used to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it with yours so wonderfully it made your toes curl and sparks spread under your skin.

There were no thoughts in your empty head, no fears, no worries about what this meant. You just kissed him, giving yourself to him completely. He tasted like the deep, velvety cocoa he’d put in your coffee this morning, dark chocolate mocha and a flavor that was just him, and you never wanted anything else. Just Namjoon, forever.

One of his hands came up to your cheek, holding your face sweetly as he tilted his head to kiss you deeper. Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. Namjoon was kissing you. He wanted to kiss you. He kissed you like you were all he needed and you were about to be ripped from his arms, so you held onto him, knotting one hand in his hair, letting him know without words that you weren’t going anywhere.

One of his arms was tight around your waist, holding you close against his body. His tongue was down your throat, his soft lips moving yours and controlling the kiss, and you melted in his arms, letting him do anything he wanted. He was so good at kissing, you wanted to do nothing but this forever. You wanted to taste him and feel his wet tongue and soft lips and be held by him and not worry about anything else ever again.

The two of you parted for air, gasping against each other’s mouths. When you stroked his hair, he growled, pulling your body tighter against him.

“I’ve wanted you so bad, for so long… Y/N…” he gasped, his forehead pressed to yours. He was still holding your face with one hand, and his thumb on your cheek moved a little, stroking your skin like he was cherishing you.

“I want you, too,” you breathed, your eyes closed as you felt him so close to you. “Touch me, please, Joon. I need you.”

He groaned, running the tip of his nose beside yours. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, the firmness and strength of his body, the way his touch made you gasp and become even wetter for him. You were throbbing for him already, and he had you wound up so tight, you were sure you could come just from him kissing you so intensely again.

“If you let me put my hands on you, baby… fuck, I won’t ever stop touching you. I want you so fucking bad. Always have,” he murmured, the depth of his golden caramel voice making you moan. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself from bending you over a table or burying my face between your legs.”

“Yeah?” was all you could say, your voice broken and higher than normal. You whimpered when you felt him nodding, your mind not strong enough to think about the possibility of what he was saying. You remembered, with a shiver, him moaning your name when you’d overheard him the other day, and almost moaned out loud at just the memory.

You’d been more than right about him having feelings for you. You felt foolish for doubting yourself so much about it.

“I think about you constantly. About us,” he said, against your cheek now. “I dream about being with you every night. I want you so fucking bad, angel. I’d be so good to you, if you let me.”

“I know you would be,” you said, closing your eyes as he breathed across your neck.

You tilted your head for him, granting him access as he ran his lips over your pulse. His arm was wrapped so tightly around you, that hand rested on your opposite side. You could feel how hard he was, his length pressing against your lower stomach, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at just the thought of him being hard for you.

“I think about you too, Joon,” you sighed. “All the time. I know you’d be so good to me.”

“I’d worship you,” he murmured, his hand on your side squeezing gently. “I’d treat you like a princess. A goddess. I’d make sure you know you’re mine.” He moved his other hand on your cheek back, his fingers tangling in your hair and making you gasp.

You whimpered, your head falling back as he pressed his lips to your skin, kissing over your pulse, right behind your ear. His kiss turned into a playful bite, and then he was sucking on your skin there, leaving hickeys on you like a teenager, and you loved it – you wanted to be covered in his marks, claimed by him completely and totally. You wanted him to make you his.

“Joon,” you moaned, feeling his mouth fall lower, kissing and licking at your jugular now. Your hands held onto his shoulders, grasping at his sweater, and you gasped when you felt your back hit the wall behind you, his leg between your thighs. You hadn’t even realized he’d backed you up like that until you were there.

“Mine,” he growled against your skin before sucking on another spot on your neck, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your throbbing clit and making you gasp. You felt his tongue swirling between his plush lips, the warmth of his body, his hair tickling your cheek.

“Want you, Joon,” you whined, squeezing your hands on his shoulders.

He growled, not taking his mouth off of you, but he moved his hips forward, letting you feel him. You moaned just from how big and hard he felt, how needy and dominant he was, how badly you wanted him to lose control and ravage you. He didn’t stop what he was doing, though. He sucked on your neck harder, before kissing a few inches away and sucking on another spot, closer to your shoulder now.

“Please,” you moaned, digging your fingers into his shoulders. “Make love to me.”

He stilled, and you opened your eyes. Had you done something wrong? Was that the wrong thing to say?

Namjoon pulled his head back, looking down at you. His lips were swollen from kisses, wet from what he’d been doing to your neck, and you couldn’t read his expression or guess what he was thinking. In the background, you could hear the boiling water with the potatoes bubbling and the cast iron skillet with the chicken sizzling, and you reached over and turned both sides of the stove off before focusing back on Namjoon.

He bought his hand back to your cheek, cupping it gently.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes falling to your lips.

His thumb ran along your lower lip, tracing it slowly, his eyes lost in wonder. You watched him for a moment, the look in his eyes as he stared at his thumb moving on your lip. He looked like he wanted to rip his heart out and give it to you.

You wanted to say something stupid, like the fact you were in love with him, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. He was looking at you like you were the most incredible thing in the world, touching you so gently, and you never wanted him to stop.

“We can’t go any further unless I tell you something,” he said quietly after a moment. He sighed, closing his eyes before continuing. “We can’t do this unless you know how I feel. I’d feel like I was lying to you if we had sex without you knowing that I’m in love with you.”

“You… you’re in love with me?” You blinked, unsure you’d heard him right.

“Yeah,” he said, stroking his thumb on your cheek again.

You saw the look in his eyes, the sadness, the worry, the pure adoration. He was scared you’d reject him, you realized; terrified of his own feelings and what you’d say, and it broke your heart, because you felt the exact same way. You’d been terrified that he didn’t feel the same way about you, when you’d had nothing to fear this whole time. You were always his, and he’d felt the same way all along, and it made you sigh in relief and catharsis.

Before you could speak, though, Namjoon continued, “I’m so fucking in love with you, it makes my heart ache sometimes. I know you deserve so much better than me, but I love you, Y/N, so fucking much, so I think just having sex and fucking around but then going back to normal… it’s just not something I think I’m capable of. I think it’d actually kill me, for it to not mean anything to you when it means everything to me. So I want to stop now, because I don’t want to get my heart broken, but I–”

“I love you too, Joon,” you blurted out before he could go any further.

His eyes went wide, like now he was sure he’d misheard you. You watched his kiss-swollen lips part as he processed those words, his hand on your cheek still as his brilliant mind raced.

“I love you so much, my heart aches from it, too,” you said, and he let out a broken breath, his hopeful eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to just fuck around and go back to normal. I want to be yours, I want this every day, I want you, Joon. I’ve been yours for months now, maybe even years. I love you–”

Namjoon surged forward, pressing his mouth to yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth before you’d even finished the “you” in “I love you.” He devoured you, pressing you against the wall and picking you up, your legs wrapping around his hips as you moaned into his mouth. He poured his love into you, claiming your mouth and kissing you so hard, your whole body shuddered from your need for him.

Namjoon loved you. Despite how impossible it seemed, how perfect he was, he loved you, and he held you in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, because you were, you realized. He moved his mouth with yours and swirled his tongue with yours, his hand in your hair and body pressed to you completely.

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, grinding into you and holding you against him, his large body so warm and firm.

“Mine,” you replied right back, after making him smile by sucking on his tongue when he tried to kiss you again.

You loved Namjoon, and he loved you. You were his, and he was yours.

He carried you toward the bed, his mouth not leaving yours as he stumbled through the tiny room. His hands both fell to your ass, squeezing firmly as he held you. You pulled your mouth away from him just enough to kiss him all over his cheek, and you felt him grinning, his cheeks rounding and dimples showing as you covered him in kisses. You kissed his cheek, his forehead, his eyebrows, his nose, his dimple, every inch of him you could reach.

He laid you back on the bed like you were made of glass, his hand coming back up to your cheek as he settled in on top of you. He kissed you gently, pressing his lips to yours and just holding himself there for a moment.

Your hand rested on his chest, right over his heart, and you could feel how fast his pulse was, how his heart raced from being here with you like this. The moment was still and gentle. He was almost being chaste, but you could feel him throbbing against your lower stomach, his neediness making him grind down into you.

“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Joon,” you murmured back between his kisses. “Love you so much.”

He sighed happily, kissing you again. You wrapped your legs around him and felt him grinding down into you, his body perfectly fitting against yours. You were made to fit with him, to love him, to be loved by him.

He kissed down your body, pulling your sweater off and tossing it to the floor. You shivered when the cold air hit your skin, goosebumps spreading and your nipples pebbling as he covered you in kisses. You hadn’t been wearing a bra or anything else under your sweater, and Namjoon’s eyes lit up when he saw you, already half-bare before him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he sighed right over your heart, one hand coming up to squeeze your breast in firm pulses, your nipple hard against his palm as he licked and kissed his way over to the other.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt him lavishing you. You brought one hand up to the back of his head, stroking his silky hair as he worked.

His kisses trailed lower, down your stomach and around your navel before you realized you were shirtless and he was still fully dressed, and that was just completely unfair. You reached down and pulled at his sweater, your hands grabby and clumsy as you tried to pull it off of him at the awkward angle.

He realized what you were doing and sat up between your legs, pulling his sweater off and tossing it on the ground toward yours, and the sight of his body took your breath away.

His chest was large and defined and looked so firm. He had abs, because of course he did, and his stomach was taut and muscular. His pants hung dangerously low on his hips, showing off the wide V-lines leading down below his belt. You could see a slight hint of hair above his thick bulge, and you sucked in a harsh breath when you realized you were staring at him and he was just watching you with a sly smile on his face.

“You’re sexy,” you giggled, biting your lip.

“Yeah?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you. He bent back over, kissing down your stomach again and bringing his hands up to slowly pull down your jeans and panties together. “I think you’re sexy,” he said as he kissed your hipbones, your thighs, all the way down to your knees.

And then you were naked before him, your legs spread, your jeans and panties on the floor behind Namjoon. He looked down at you like you were a work of art, his lips parting and eyes glazing over as he stared directly at your pussy, and you almost felt shy, wanting to close your legs and hide your face.

You didn’t, though; you just breathed and looked at him, letting yourself feel sexy and exposed in the best way. The way he looked at you made you feel confident and beautiful, like he’d never seen anything so wonderful, and you bit your lip, arching your back slightly and spreading your legs even further, like you were presenting yourself to him.

He groaned loudly, immediately bending over and settling between your legs. Your lips parted, looking down at him as he kissed and licked your thighs, nuzzling his face against your skin before kissing you there more. His lips were swollen and puffy and wet, and you wondered if that would make what he was about to do to you feel even better.

“Joon,” you sighed, letting your head fall back.

Nobody had ever gone down on you before, but you’d imagined him doing this to you so many times. Now, he was here, or at least about to be, still lavishing your inner thighs, and you had a feeling he was going to make it amazing for you. He was so protective, thoughtful, and intense. You knew he would take care of you.

Namjoon pressed his face against your crotch then, breathing in deeply. You widened your eyes and looked down at him, surprised, but he just buried his face in harder, inhaling you in long, deep breaths. You almost wanted to feel embarrassed; he was just smelling you, like he was trying to get high off your scent. You hadn’t been expecting this, but it made your heart flutter and made you feel even wetter for him. He was so sexy and depraved; you wondered what else he’d do to surprise you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nuzzling in against your slit and breathing harder. He breathed like he was trying to smell you as much as possible; deep, slow inhales and then fast exhales, so he could breathe you in again sooner. His large hands held onto you, his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for him as he just inhaled your scent.

“Do you have an oral fixation or something?” you laughed lightly, but you sobered when you looked down at him and saw the expression on his face, the intensity in his dark eyes, the possession in his features. He was pure sex, and he looked like he wanted to eat you alive. He looked at you like he wanted to consume you, like you belonged to him, and you wondered how much he’d thought about this before.

“You have no idea,” Namjoon growled, and before you could respond, he opened his mouth and licked slowly from your opening to your clit and then back down, his tongue plunging so deep inside you, you gasped and instinctively grabbed his hair with both hands. Your whole body jerked at his movement, moaning as he moved his mouth and ate you up.

He slurped loudly, pressing his face in hard as he moved his lips and tongue so expertly, you couldn’t help throwing your head back and moaning, the movement completely involuntary to you. His head moved around as he devoured you like a starving animal, moaning to himself as he worked, his tongue fucking in and out of you so fast before coming back up to your clit and sucking hard.

You’d never felt pleasure like this before; he was so much better, so much more intense, so much more than you’d ever imagined, and you’d always thought he’d be incredible. Your eyes closed and you bit your lip, feeling the way his tongue swirled around your opening and licked up your wetness like he was savoring you.

“Look at me,” he demanded, squeezing his hands on your thighs almost painfully, his voice a deep growl in his throat. You obeyed him without thought, looking down at what he was doing to you, and he rewarded you by sucking your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue over it while suctioning it as hard as he could, not breaking eye contact with you the entire time.

“J-Joon…” you gasped, nearly pulling his hair out of his head. You wanted to close your eyes and melt into the bed so badly, but his eyes held you there, making you watch him as he pleasured you. His intense, dark brown eyes almost seemed to scowl, his brow furrowing as he concentrated on fucking you with his tongue, his upper lip rubbing against your clit as he worked, firm and demanding and gentle and loving all at once.

“Mine,” he moaned against your pussy again, not taking his mouth off of you so you could feel the vibrations of his voice. He was worshipping your cunt, devouring you like he was starving for you, growling whenever you pulled his hair too hard or moaned for him in a way he liked. Your back arched and you let yourself close your eyes, unable to stop yourself as your loud moans turned into gibberish, raising in pitch as he brought you right up to the edge.

Your sudden orgasm overwhelmed you, your eyes closing and mouth opening wide in a silent scream as Namjoon pushed you through it, his mouth not easing up even as you shook, unable to breathe, nothing in your head but the electric pleasure he pumped into you.

“Joon, please, fuck,” you gasped, moaning loudly with each harsh exhale, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down as your body began writhing and twitching in intense overstimulation. He just held your thighs apart, his mouth still connected to your pussy and tongue still moving inside you and lip on your clitoris as you cried out and held onto his hair.

You’d never understood before, how people could scream during sex. Whenever you’d read about it in the past, you’d always thought it was some kind of silly exaggeration, or figured it was just something you didn’t do. However, now, feeling what Namjoon was doing to you, you understood. He was torturing you and giving you the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt, and you screamed his name as you came on his tongue again, your hips rolling as you gave in to the pleasure completely and tried to ride his mouth through your orgasm. Your body moved on its own accord, seeking out pleasure and grinding against his face as he fucked you with his tongue. He held his tongue in place and let you fuck his face, his intense eyes never leaving yours as you lost control.

Your vision went white, your body numb except for the all-consuming pleasure you felt in your core, your limbs shaking and back arching again as Namjoon moved up and sucked on your clit. You stopped breathing as stars exploded behind your eyelids, your throat hoarse from moaning and screaming, Namjoon’s hands squeezing your thighs comfortingly as you started to come down again and he still didn’t take his mouth off you.

“Joon,” you gasped, pulling his hair, and you moaned when you felt him growl, his mouth still on you. You could feel his warm, slick tongue circling your clit slowly as he watched you, and you groaned, unable to form any words other than his name.

He was breathing hard through his nose, inhaling you again. His tongue moved slowly, his dark eyes animalistic and possessive, and you whimpered and closed your eyes, unable to do anything else. Your body was jelly. You were fairly certain you wouldn’t be able to move if you tried, though your legs twitched a little in overstimulation when Namjoon moved back down and gently licked your folds, still not taking his mouth off you.

“Please,” you breathed, stroking his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

You weren’t sure what you were asking for, but his eyes softened and he pulled away, only a few inches, a strand of your wetness still connecting his mouth to your cunt. You could see how his lips were still swollen and the whole bottom half of his face was dripping wet, but despite it, you couldn’t help thinking he looked like such a sweetheart in that moment. He was your sweetheart, your Joonie, and you loved him more than your heart could bear.

“Joon, come here,” you moaned, reaching out for him.

He came back to you immediately, settling in on top of you and kissing you all over your face as he held himself carefully off of you. You giggled softly, closing your eyes as you felt him leaving wet kisses on you, but you didn’t care. You loved how messy and intense he was.

“You were so good for me, princess. You taste so good, better than I ever imagined,” he murmured, and then he kissed your lips, slow and gentle and loving. You moaned for him, wrapping your shaky arms and legs around his body as he deepened the kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he stroked your hair back from your face.

“Love you,” you breathed against his lips, feeling him smile.

“Love you too, my angel,” he said, kissing you again. “I still can’t believe this is happening. I’ve wanted you for so long, and now it’s real, and I…” He trailed off, his eyes lost in wonder as he looked at you.

“I know what you mean,” you said, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. He was so beautiful like this above you, his mouth still wet, his hair wild from you pulling on it, his pupils blown with desire.

He leaned in and kissed you again, and you sighed happily into his mouth, feeling like you were his.

Looking back now, you didn’t know how you could’ve ever thought he didn’t love you too. His devotion, his protection, his friendship with you were all cast in a different light now, and you could see his love in all of his actions. The way he always remembered the things you love and made you happy. How he reminded you to take your pills, because he knew how you were forgetful and hated missing them. How he joked with you and tickled you and teased you. The way he protected you the last few days and promised he’d always keep you safe.

He was your protector, your guardian, your love, your Namjoon. Yours.

“Make love to me, Joon,” you sighed, and he groaned against your mouth. He pulled back just enough to look at you, stroking your hair back from your face as he searched your eyes.

“Are you sure, baby? We don’t have to, after what we just did,” he said, and he cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. He looked scared, like he actually thought you’d turn him down now.

“Yes,” you said, maybe a little too eagerly, which made you both smile. You continued, “I want you so bad. I need you. You know I’m on birth control, and I trust you. Please make love to me, Namjoon. We’ve waited long enough.”

Namjoon nodded as you spoke, his eyes lost in wonder as he looked like he was almost tearing up at your words. He surged forward and kissed you, taking your breath away and making your back arch in ecstasy, just from this.

You worked together to push his pants and boxers down his legs, his mouth not leaving yours as he kicked them off. You wanted to look at him and see his body, his big muscular thighs, his cock you’d felt so hard against you, but you couldn’t; he just kissed and kissed and kissed you, your lips numb and heart full of his love.

You could look at him later, you told yourself. You could lay him back and spend hours exploring his body later today or tomorrow. Right now, you were both too worked up to stop.

You felt him reach down and pull your leg up higher around his hip, and then he was lining himself up at your entrance, circling the head of his cock around your clit and making you gasp into his mouth.

“You like that?” he teased, his smug smile making you want to flip him over and ride him and give him something to smirk about. Instead, he rubbed himself against your clit again, catching on it and making you both gasp against each other’s mouth.

“Please,” you begged, and he bit his lip, his teasing smirk melting away and adoration filling his eyes.

“Yes, baby,” he said, as if he was answering your unspoken question. He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in carefully and making you close your eyes and throw your head back, instantly grabbing at his shoulders as you moaned.

He was so big. You should’ve known, really, with how big and perfect he was in all other areas, but the feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders. You felt him bottom out and press his hips to yours, and you bit your lip, your eyes squeezed closed as you tried not to moan at just the feeling of him deep inside you. He wasn’t even moving yet, giving you time to adjust, but just this had you nearly delirious.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, his face pressed in against your neck. He was breathing hard, and you wondered for a moment if he was smelling and inhaling you again, like what he’d done when he’d eaten you out.

The memory of that made you unconsciously squeeze him, and Namjoon moaned, his hand moving to your hip and squeezing hard.

“Stay still,” he growled, nearly seething.

“You okay?” you giggled, and your slight movement from that made him bite his lip and grind down into you so hard you gasped.

“Trying to calm down,” he said, his voice deep and rough and so sexy, you almost subconsciously squeezed him again. “Don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

“You that worked up?” you teased, watching the way he set his jaw and breathed hard as he tried to get used to the feeling of being inside you.

You were both breathless, desperate, barely hanging on by a thread, but you wanted to live in this moment with him just a little longer. Namjoon was inside you. He was about to make love to you. He was yours.

“You have no idea,” he said, stroking your hair back from your face. He seemed to like doing that, and it made you want to wear your hair down as much as possible from now on. “I could probably come just from eating your pussy.”

“How romantic,” you giggled, and he quirked an eyebrow at you, smiling as you grinned up at him.

“I like to think so,” he said, and he moved his hips a little, only slightly, but enough to make your lips part and a small whimper escape you.

“Namjoon,” you sighed, watching the way his eyes softened further, hearing you say his name like this.

“Y/N,” he said right back, his voice gentle and loving.

He held your cheek, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as he rocked his hips carefully, watching your reaction. He felt so good, you wanted to close your eyes, but couldn’t, not with him watching you like this. You made intense, unbroken eye contact, connected to him in every way possible.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathed, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead. You wondered it was from exertion or the heat the two of you were creating in this cozy little cottage, or if it was from him holding himself back. “So tight and wet for me.”

You’d imagined your first time with Namjoon so many times over the years. Your fantasies were graphic and usually based on sexual frustration, so you typically imagined him bending you over something or pushing you up against a wall, something hard and fast and deliciously rough. You’d wanted him to fuck you so badly, even before you’d fallen in love with him.

Now, though, was the opposite of what you’d always thought of. He held your face and looked at you like he treasured you. He was slow, your bodies moving together like the two of you were made for this, for loving each other, breathing in each other’s pleasure, and when you moaned, he kissed the corner of your mouth, his body rocking with yours as you tightened your legs around him and threaded one hand through his thick black hair.

“Love you,” he breathed against your lips, and you started to respond but were cut short when he hit a spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head. He bit his lip, angling himself so he could hit it again, sliding in and out of you so slowly, you swore you could almost feel the shape of his cock, the thick veins on it, the ridge on its head. When you whimpered and looked up at him with pleading eyes, he said, “You like that, princess?”

“Yes,” you gasped, groaning when he kept hitting that spot so slowly, so steadily, so wonderfully, you wondered how you’ve lived this long without knowing you could feel this kind of pleasure. It made you hike your legs up around him higher, hold onto his shoulders tighter, pleading him with your eyes and your moans because your words were failing you.

He brought the arm he was supporting himself with down just long enough to grab one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours above your head. His other hand still held your cheek, and you moaned from how romantic and sweet he was, how close to him you felt, how much you loved him. You felt like your soul was becoming unwound and bound to his.

“Feels so good,” he sighed against your mouth, your lips moving with his as he spoke. He was sweating and you wanted to lick his skin, but he was moving a little faster now, the sound of his hips meeting yours now audible.

“Joon,” was all you could say, your mouth falling open as you felt him pounding into you. He was losing control, his brow furrowed and hand squeezing yours as he moaned against your mouth.

“Love you so much,” he gasped, and then he kissed you, sloppy and breathy and just as desperate as you felt. “Love you, love you, I love you…” He trailed off, repeating it with every harsh exhale as he poured his love into you.

You forced yourself to speak, despite how overwhelmed with pleasure you felt, because you knew you’d always regret it if you didn’t tell him as much as possible during your first time together.

“I love you,” you gasped, holding onto his hair with your hand he wasn’t still holding, and he pulled back just enough to look down at you as he kept rolling his hips desperately, his knees on the bed spreading as he kept bucking into you.

“Say it again,” he said, his dark eyes wild, his hand on your cheek moving so he could rub his thumb against your lip again. “Please, baby, say it more. I need to hear it.”

“I love you, Joon,” you nearly screamed, because you needed him to hear it too, and because his pelvic bone was now hitting your clit with every hard thrust and you were so close you could already see stars. “I love you, I love you, I…”

You groaned and closed your eyes as you came, squeezing his hand and arching your back as your orgasm hit you like a crack of lightning: sudden, electric, overwhelming, reverberating. He watched your expression closely as you came, still caressing your face, and you didn’t even care that he was looking at you like this. It was overwhelmingly intimate, but you just felt closer to him.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, rolling his hips slower now, and you wondered how he was still holding onto his composure. You could see a vein in his forehead throbbing, the way his jaw set, how he groaned when your pussy fluttered around him. He was close, and you wanted to watch him come. You wanted to see him experience the pleasure he’d given you again and again.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, unable to move. “Come inside me, Joon. Please.”

He didn’t even respond.

Namjoon suddenly let go of you, sitting up on his knees and pulling your hips up with him, your head and upper body still on the mattress, your legs bent and back arched. You’d never had sex like this before, never even imagined it, but it was incredible; you felt so exposed, your whole body bare before him as he truly fucked you.

His eyes were glued to where the two of you were joined, watching the way his cock slid in and out of you, how you took every inch of him, how wet you were for him. You felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, and you moaned and let yourself relax, let yourself watch him take his pleasure.

“Mine,” he growled under his breath, his eyes not leaving your pussy.

“Yours,” you whimpered, and he looked up at your face, his eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that, like it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard.

His mouth fell open as he came, a choking noise escaping him from deep in his throat, his eyes open and not leaving yours. You felt how his hips stuttered, the way he squeezed your hips so hard, how the warmth of his seed filled you up and spread within you. He looked so beautiful, like a painting of an angel or a marble statue, his muscular body taut and sweaty before he gasped and let himself relax, breathing hard as he came down from his high.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, careful to keep his weight off of you but throwing one arm across your body. You turned on your side toward him as he pulled you against him, his body warm, flushed, and slick from sweat.

“I love you so much,” he said, his voice twice as deep as normal. He huffed as he turned on his side toward you, clearly exhausted and spent from how thoroughly he’d fucked you. You’d have to give him a massage later, and maybe that could lead to more fun.

“I love you too,” you said, giggling as he wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you tight against his chest.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect for me,” he said against your lips, and you giggled when he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love you, Joon,” you repeated, more serious now. “I didn’t say that enough. I was too busy having my brains fucked out, but I love you. I’m going to say it a hundred times a day from now on.”

Namjoon snorted, but you didn’t miss the blush on his cheeks and ears.

“I love you too,” he said quietly, his eyes falling to your kiss-swollen lips. “You’re my everything. My whole world. I’ve loved you for years now, since maybe the first month I started working for your mother.”

“This whole time?” you said, and your heart fluttered when he nodded.

“I can’t give you things like fancy cars and hotels or a big house,” he said, and your brow furrowed, confused where he was going with this. He continued, bringing one hand up to hold you cheek, “I’m not rich like Jin, and I know I don’t have a lot going for me, but I have some savings. After this is all over, I want to try to give you the whole world, or as much as I can. I used to write poems, and I want to write some for you. I want to build you a house, maybe. Something small, like this place. I want to give you everything I can, and I know it’s not a lot, but–”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you said, and you reached out and held his face with both hands, making sure he was focused. “I don’t need anything like money or cars or a big house, or even a small house. You definitely don’t have to build me a house yourself. I just want you. I don’t care about anything else, as long as we’re together.”

“But you deserve–”

“I deserve you and your love,” you cut him off. “We deserve each other. We deserve to be safe and happy and in love. We deserve to go home after all this, and to be together for as long as you still want me.”

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you as you still held his face with both hands. His cheeks were squished together slightly, and he looked like a cute little chipmunk.

“I’ll want you forever,” he eventually said, and you smiled, seeing the teasing look in his eyes and the little smirk on his perfect lips. “It’s you wanting me that’s the problem. You’re stuck with me until you realize what a loser I am and kick me to the curb.”

“Not gonna happen,” you giggled, and he turned his head just enough to kiss your palm.

“Then I guess we’re stuck with each other,” he said, and you gasped when you felt him tickle your side, just a little before pulling you tighter against him. “And I’m going to tell you I love you a hundred times a day, too.”

“That’s all I need,” you said, beaming. “Though I might take you up on that small house offer you made, since we’ll need to live somewhere, and I think I’m ready to get away from embassy life after all this. We can just buy one instead of building it ourselves, and we’re going halfsies on it. I definitely want some of those love poems you mentioned, though.”

“Deal,” he said, and he leaned in and kissed you, sighing happily against your mouth.

You tried not to smile so wide as he kissed you, but you couldn’t help it. His presence, his love, his kisses all made you grin like a fool in love, because that’s totally what you were.

***

When Namjoon woke up a few hours later, he realized he was spooning you.

Your legs were tangled together, and both of you were still very naked, laying on top of the covers. You had each other’s body heat though, and the fire across the room was still crackling in the cast iron fireplace. He had a feeling the two of you had messed up your sleep schedules again, right after fixing them, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

He smiled to himself, feeling your gentle breathing and leaning in just enough to press a kiss to your shoulder. He didn’t remember when or how the two of you had fallen asleep, but he’d definitely needed the nap after everything the two of you had done.

He almost couldn’t believe it. Other than his most lovesick fantasies, he’d never dared to imagine a version of his life where you loved him as much as he loved you. He never thought he’d be able to tell you, or that he’d be allowed to touch you and make love to you like he wanted. He remembered back to Poland, how he’d briefly considered resigning from this job and telling you about his feelings. All that felt like eons ago, not a few days.

Now, Namjoon was the luckiest man alive. He was sure of it.

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling back against him, and he tightened his arms around you protectively. He leaned his head up just enough to see you were still sleeping peacefully, and he reached up and stroked your hair back from your face, where a strand had fallen across your forehead. He was addicted to touching you and caring for you, and he knew he was only going to get more doting, more protective, more in love.

You were an angel. Your body had felt like heaven, and you’d tasted sweeter than honey, better than he’d ever imagined. He hadn’t been able to hold himself back from breathing you in like that when he’d eaten you out, and you’d almost seemed to like it, he thought with a smirk.

He had big plans about spending an hour or two between your legs at some point in the next few days, worshipping you and driving you crazy, and he wasn’t sure yet if he was going to make you come over and over until you couldn’t take anymore, or if he was going to not let you come until the very end. Both sounded so wonderful, and as he looked at you in his arms, sleeping peacefully and cuddling so close to him, he decided he’d just have to do both, one tomorrow and one a few days later, maybe, just to see which approach you liked more.

His dick twitched at the thought, hardening slightly against your ass. He closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about it. He wanted to hold you and let you sleep until you woke up on your own, and to not seem like such a sex-obsessed pervert.

You sighed in your sleep, though, wiggling back against him and grinding against him unknowingly. He groaned, biting his lip and attempting to hold you still, but you made a beautiful little noise and arched your back slightly, and he realized then that you were now awake.

“Joon,” you sighed, rubbing up against him in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head. You took both his hands, which had been resting innocently at your stomach, and brought one up to your breast, pushing the other down between your legs.

“Baby,” he groaned back, immediately seeking out your clit. You were still wet for him, your pussy like silk beneath his fingertips, and he leaned in and sucked your earlobe between his teeth, his chest rumbling in satisfaction and frustration alike as you moved against his erection.

“I was dreaming about you,” you said, your voice a siren’s call pulling him in. “We were back in that bed and breakfast in Poland, and we were in the shower together. You remember that outdated little bathroom in our honeymoon suite?”

“Mmm,” Namjoon hummed, circling your clit in lazy strokes. “What was I doing to you?”

“Touching me like this,” you breathed, gasping when he brought his fingers down to your entrance, dipping two of them into your tight wet heat. You’d been so tight for him earlier, he’d nearly lost his mind when he’d finally sunk into you. Now, feeling that again, his heart raced as he felt you squeezing his fingers, his mind going blank when he felt you squirming in his arms.

You brought your leg up, hooking it back over his legs, and he pushed one leg between your thighs, letting you grind back against him. You rode his fingers, grinding your clit against his palm, and all Namjoon could do was bite his lip and let you fuck yourself on his hand. He was so hard, his cock throbbing against your ass, but this was about you. He wanted to pleasure you.

His plans for keeping this all about you died, though, when you whimpered, “Joon, fuck me, please,” as you reached down and squeezed his wrist.

Namjoon immediately rolled you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and lining himself up as he mounted you. You were so wet you were dripping for him, so he knew you were ready. He couldn’t wait a second longer, not with you begging him like this. He wanted to ravage you. He wanted to claim you.

He pushed in until his hips were flush against your ass, his cock buried inside you to the hilt. You moaned loudly, arching your back and pressing your ass up against him, and he grabbed your hip, keeping the angle perfect as he started rolling his hips.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, wrapping his other arm around your stomach. He was pressed against you fully, all but laying on top of you as he fucked you like this. You were making the most beautiful noises, moving with him as he rolled his hips again and again and again, the sound of his pelvis hitting your ass filling the room in wet slaps.

He kissed your shoulder, nipping and licking your skin as he moved his arm around you up so he could squeeze one of your breasts. You were so small under him, he was worried he’d crush you, but you were breathing and moaning loudly and begging him for more.

“Harder, Joon, please…” you cried out, your small hands grasping at the sheets.

And he could never not grant your every wish.

He moved his hips hard and fast. He held you tight against his chest, his face buried in against your neck as he moaned with every harsh exhale. Both his arms were now wrapped around you, squeezing you to him as he fucked you as hard as he could, pouring his energy and love into you. You were crying out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name, and he turned his head and licked your neck. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to taste your sweat. He wanted to feel your skin, to claim you, to taste you as he fucked you stupid and made you his.

He brought one of his hands down to your clit, and you screamed and thrashed, writhing in his arms and fucking yourself back against him. He rubbed your clit hard, not relenting with his hips, and he felt you gushing as you groaned loudly. He could feel you milking his cock as you came, your orgasm messy and long, and his hand was now much, much wetter. Holy fuck, had he just made you squirt? His eyes rolled back in his head as he came too, the idea of him giving you that much pleasure way too much for him to handle.

He came inside you again, like earlier, and it fulfilled a primal part of his mind, his caveman side that wanted to fuck you hard and fast and never stop. This part of him wanted to cover you in his cum, to choke you on his cock, to dominate you and make you his. He normally pushed this part of his mind away, telling himself you were your own person and that women didn’t like over-possessive cavemen, but right now he couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to know you belonged to him. He let his possession and caveman instincts take over.

Still in the height of his pleasure, he leaned in and bit your shoulder. You moaned so loud it was almost a shout, writhing as he squeezed you in his arms, holding you still as he filled your pussy with his cum. His cock was still inside you, and he felt you throbbing as his bite made you climax one more time, a gentle orgasm that made you shudder.

“Mine,” he growled against your ear, and you whimpered, nodding.

“Yours,” you said, and he felt your pussy fluttering.

“This pussy belongs to me,” he said, pressing his face against the side of your head and breathing hard. He felt like a feral animal, staking its claim and marking its territory.

You moaned loudly in response, nodding. Your cunt was throbbing around his softening cock now, and he wondered if you wanted more now. Maybe he could eat your pussy until he got hard again, or finger you and watch your face as he made you come.

“You’re such a good girl,” he said, and he moved his fingers where they were still buried in your pussy. He flicked his finger over your clit and you gasped, your legs twitching in overstimulation, and he felt your movements where he was still connected to you, still buried deep inside despite the fact he was overstimulated, too. “You want more, beloved?”

“Not yet,” you whimpered, and that made Namjoon go still.

He immediately pulled out and rolled off of you, moving onto his side beside you. He put one hand on your back, rubbing gently. Fuck, had he gone too far? Why hadn’t you told him to stop before now? Shit. His stupid caveman shit had been too much, too intense. Why had he let himself get carried away like that?

“Was that too much?” he quickly said, stroking your hair back from your face as you rolled onto your side, facing him.

“No,” you said, smiling at him lazily. “That was amazing. I just want a little break before more, though.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, but he was still worried you were just being nice.

“I think we need to change the sheets,” you said, glancing down at the large wet spot now beneath you. “I’ve never… done that before. I didn’t even know I could.”

So he had gotten you to squirt, Namjoon thought with a smug grin. You giggled when you saw his expression, reaching out and pinching his arm. He was still worried he’d gone too far, but he let your easy-going mood calm him down.

“That was the best sex of my life,” you said after a moment, still breathing steadily, as if you’d just finished a huge workout. “You’re incredible, Joon.”

“Your shoulder’s okay?” he said, grimacing and bracing himself as he glanced toward your bite mark. He hadn’t broken skin, but the mark was red and bruising.

“My shoulder’s fine. Everything was perfect,” you sighed happily. You looked love-dazed, smiling at him lazily. You moved forward, snuggling in against his chest and hooking one leg over his hip. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, putting one leg between your thighs.

He let himself feel relieved. He wanted to have a talk with you later about boundaries and what exactly you wanted from sex, but for now, the two of you could cuddle and enjoy your afterglow. He never wanted to feel like this again, to worry he’d gone too far. You seemed happy and satisfied, but he needed to make sure he was being good to you. He wanted you to feel safe with him, for you to feel cherished and protected and loved.

“I love you, baby,” he said, and he meant it with his whole heart. Your cute little smile up at him made him melt. He was so far gone, and he knew it.

“I love you too,” you said.

He watched your expression shift from loving to happy to what he thought might be hungry, your eyes glancing over toward the kitchen. You were always such an open book, and he loved how he could look at you and tell what you were thinking. Well, apparently not, he thought, since you’d had feelings for him and he’d never suspected.

“The chicken’s probably bad by now, sitting out this long,” you said, your kiss-swollen lips pouting.

“That’s okay,” he said softly. He stroked your back, running his fingertips along your skin. “We can have something else.”

You made a silly face at him and he snorted.

You got up, and Namjoon had to stop himself from grabbing you and pulling you back into bed. He watched you pad over and pick up the sweater he’d been wearing earlier, pulling it on and apparently being satisfied wearing just that. It was big on you, falling down past the swell of your ass, and Namjoon pushed down the spike of possession he felt, seeing you prancing around in his clothes and with your legs and thighs on display.

He sat up, reaching out and snagging the boxers he’d been wearing earlier. If you were happy half-naked then so was he, and he stood, stretching in place.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the way you were staring at his body, openly ogling him.

He smirked. You hadn’t noticed him looking at you yet, still staring at his stomach, or more likely his crotch. You sure were a horny little thing.

“My eyes are up here,” he said, smiling when your eyes went wide and face turned red.

The two of you salvaged the potatoes you’d boiled earlier, Namjoon mashing them up in a bowl while you threw out the chicken. It had only been halfway cooked and then had sat out for over four hours, so neither of you wanted to risk it. You had a few more packs in the refrigerator anyway, so it wasn’t like you’d starve.

You cooked another pack of chicken breast in the skillet, finishing off the olive oil and a few of the spices. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, playing footsie under the table for real this time. Namjoon had never been one for cutesy couple antics like this, but now, he loved it. He loved it because it was with you.

After a late lunch that Namjoon was pretty sure actually qualified as early dinner, he sat back in his chair, full and satisfied and watching you with a lazy smile.

Without a word, you got up and came over to him, sitting in his lap and tucking your head under his chin. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you and hoping you wouldn’t get up for at least a few hours.

He almost frowned in disappointment when you pulled back, but he looked at you, biting his lip as you resettled in his lap. You were sitting so that you could look at him, sideways across his thighs, one of your hands on his bare chest. He’d imagined you sitting in his lap hundreds of times over the years, and now you were here, cozy and warm and smelling like sex and firewood.

“Where do you think we’re going after this?” you said. Namjoon’s heart beamed as you reached up and stroked his hair. He held you tighter, loving feeling you close.

“We don’t have to leave for a while, since we’re safe here. We can stay as long as we can afford to, if you want. Don’t even have to leave the cottage.” He didn’t want you to worry. He figured this was much safer than some city, and he wanted to keep you here with him. Forever, ideally, here in this perfect little cottage barely big enough for the two of you.

“We’ll need more food soon,” you said, giggling when he crinkled his nose at you. “I’ll also eventually have to go to a doctor, or at least a pharmacy. Maybe I could go under a fake name or something. I have three weeks left of birth control, and maybe a month left of Ritalin before I need refills. I don’t think I’d be able to quit them both, especially around the same time.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, rubbing your back. “I’m sure we can get ahold of them somehow.” Namjoon knew how much it upset you to go off of your prescriptions, how exact you liked to be in taking them, how much they both affected your mental health. He didn’t care if he had to rob a pharmacy, he’d get you your meds.

His plans to commit felonies melted away as you turned in his lap and leaned your head on his shoulder, nuzzling in against him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll always keep you safe, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, closing his eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you said, and he held you closer, kissing your forehead over and over and over.

***

You and Namjoon had had a very late night, taking turns teasing each other and trying out a few of your fantasies until neither of you could keep your eyes open any longer.

Your favorite had been riding him and telling him he wasn’t allowed to touch you, and watching him squirm and beg and squeeze his hands into tight fists, having to hold himself back from reaching down and grabbing your hips.

Namjoon had said his favorite of last night’s activities was going down on you, which did not surprise you at all. Your legs were still shaky from that, how he’d eaten your pussy for well over an hour, giving you so many orgasms you’d lost count and passed out at the end from an especially intense orgasm. Like, full-out unconscious, waking up to Namjoon shaking your shoulder and calling your name, his eyes wide and fearful. Up until that point had been incredible, though, and you fully believed him about his oral fixation now.

Now, it was morning, the two of you had eaten breakfast and taken a shower together, and now you were getting dressed and preparing to run to the grocery store again. You wanted to buy more meat and more supplies to last here longer, so that you wouldn’t have to leave the cottage for anything for a few weeks. You were considering buying a puzzle or two, and maybe you could run to a bookstore in town and see if they had an English section.

As you finished pulling on your socks, Namjoon was humming to himself as he washed the dishes in the kitchen sink. You didn’t know why, but seeing a man willing to do housework was a huge turn on for you. He just seemed so domestic, like someone you could see yourself living with forever and growing old with. He was perfect, like your fantasy of your ideal man come to life, except better and here and real.

“I’m almost done,” he said when he looked over and saw you were now fully dressed. “I just didn’t want to leave the sink full.”

You strode over to him and hugged him from behind, squeezing him tightly. You felt him grunt, and you kissed his shoulder.

“What was that for?” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. You could see the gentleness and curiosity in his eyes, one of his eyebrows raised.

“Just wanted to love on you a little,” you said, kissing his shoulder again. The soft fabric of his sweater tickled your nose, and you nuzzled in, still hugging him.

You felt him laugh a little, and then he got back to doing the dishes, the water splashing in the sink. You just held onto him the whole time, loving feeling your perfect man.

After a few minutes, he was done, and the two of you pulled on your jackets and boots and got ready to go. You didn’t want to bring all of your cash with you, so you dug out about two thousand Czech koruna and tucked it into your pocket.

While you got the money, Namjoon put on his gun holster and tucked a few rounds into his pockets. You didn’t really think it was necessary, but you knew he liked playing it safe. Plus, seeing him holding a dangerous firearm and knowing he could use it was kinda sexy, you had to admit. You weren’t a gun person by any means, but he was so badass and sexy and masculine. You bit your lip as you watched him tuck his gun away, your eyes zeroing in on his big hands and long fingers.

Outside, it wasn’t snowing anymore, but there were still a few inches on the ground and trees, and the car’s windows would need scraped. Your breath fogged in the chill morning air as Namjoon locked up the cottage, and you looked out at the forest, sighing happily to yourself.

It was so still and peaceful out here. There were no sounds from the trees, no birds, no animals or passing cars. The only people for miles were you and Namjoon, most likely. You didn’t know how close the other cottages were, but you loved the idea of being out here alone with Namjoon. It was like your own little world.

“I want to drive,” he said once the cottage was locked up, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. You’d both opted not to wear your mittens, figuring it was such a short walk to the car, you didn’t really need them. The two of you walked hand-in-hand down the porch stairs, both of your shoes crunching in the snow.

“You can drive if you clear the windows,” you said, pointing at the snow-covered car.

“Deal,” he said, squeezing your hand.

As the two of you approached the car, Namjoon suddenly stopped.

You looked up at him, furrowing your brow. You opened your mouth to question him, but he squeezed your hand again, this time much more firmly.

He was searching along the tree line, his eyes flitting around as he stood there frozen. You couldn’t see or hear anything, but it was like something had set him off, a small noise you hadn’t caught, or maybe a flash of something you hadn’t seen. He looked like he was even holding his breath, his eyes squinting as he looked for something you couldn’t detect.

“Joon?” you asked quietly, unease spreading in your stomach. He was scaring you, and you wanted to pull him back inside the cottage and hide away.

His eyes suddenly went wide as he inhaled sharply.

Namjoon grabbed you, throwing you both onto the ground, nearly tackling you. He put himself fully on top of you, his arms up around your head, and despite how careful he’d tried to be, the wind was knocked out of you from his sudden movement.

Behind you, the ground exploded as a gunshot rang out. A missed shot, you realized. Someone had shot at you and hit the small hill behind the car instead.

“Joon, what’s happening?” you gasped, your eyes going wide as you looked up at him. He growled, pulling you beside the car and moving to his knees. He had you positioned so that you were sitting beside the wheel, completely blocked from the gunman on the other side of the car.

Namjoon pulled his gun out and fired off a few shots, staying hidden behind the car as well as he could.

“There’s so many of them,” Namjoon growled, and your heart nearly stopped. Many? You’d only heard one gunshot, but now you could hear a lot of people running through the trees, at least ten, maybe more.

You were frozen. Was it the terrorist group? It had to be. How had they found you? You and Namjoon had been so careful! You’d stayed hidden and off the grid. What had you done wrong? Was it traffic cameras? The woman at the cottage rental building? The grocery store? Jin’s tablet being hacked? What had you done wrong?

Namjoon was shooting his gun, using the car for cover, and he stopped to reload.

“Take him out and grab her!” you heard one of the men yell.

You turned where you sat, peeking out over the hood of the car.

You could see eight of the men, but heard more as gunshots rang out and hit the car and the hill behind you. They were all dressed in black tactical gear, like a SWAT team in a movie, and they all had assault rifles, earpieces, helmets, and bulletproof vests. Namjoon had his handgun, but you hadn’t even thought to wear your vest.

Namjoon stood then, firing off several shots in quick succession. You saw one of the men go down, but a few more of them fired back, bullets hitting the car and the hill behind you. Snow and dirt exploded where the bullets struck the ground, the gunshots ringing in your ears all at once as you covered your head and tried to shrink in on yourself.

You looked up at Namjoon, watching him close one eye as he used the top of the car to steady his shot. He was trying to pick the men off one by one, but there were so many of them, and he was so outgunned, he couldn’t keep up. One more of the men fell, but the others continued slowly pressing forward, using the trees for cover.

Your heart stopped as Namjoon was hit in his right shoulder, the force of it making him take a step back in surprise as he grunted.

He was still holding the gun in his right hand, and he tried to raise that hand again to keep shooting, but couldn’t.

“Joon,” you gasped, your eyes wide and focused only on the way blood now soaked his jacket there, the dark red spreading out further every second.

You couldn’t breathe. He was shot. Your Namjoon was shot.

You started to stand up and help him, but another shot rang out, this time hitting him in his stomach, glass shattering as the bullet went through the car’s windows and into him. Namjoon looked down, almost in confusion, and this time he dropped down to one knee, hiding behind the car with you. He dropped the gun in the snow, holding his stomach with both hands.

“Namjoon,” you cried, pressing your hands on his shoulder wound.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, biting his lip as he pressed on his stomach hard, blood seeping out around his fingers. “I’m fine. We’ll be fine. It’s okay, baby.”

“No it’s not! You were shot! What are we gonna do?”

“It’s okay.”

He reached up and cupped your cheek, his hand covered in his own blood, and he had you look up at him, his eyes searching yours. You were breathing too fast, your heart beating out of your chest, your mind racing through every horrifying way this situation could end. You could feel how wet his hand was from his blood, and you didn’t even care about him touching your face with that hand. The only thoughts in your head were your fears for him.

Namjoon was shot. He was bleeding. These men could take you from him, leaving him here to die alone.

Tears were streaming down your face, and you hadn’t even realized. Your hands on his shoulder were shaking, your face horrified as you looked up at him. He was calm, though, almost smiling as he looked at you and held your face.

Only a second or two passed, but time was frozen for you. Namjoon looked at you like you were his whole world, his eyes lost in wonder and love as gunshots rang out and hit the car.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he said quietly. He took a deep breath, wincing in pain, but tried to not show it.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice small and broken.

Namjoon bit his lip and looked down at his stomach, his shoulders becoming tense. He was in more pain, maybe as the adrenaline started wearing off, and his breathing became rougher and more strained. He took his hand from your cheek and held his stomach again, blood seeping out and covering his sweater and jacket.

You set your jaw as you looked at him.

These men made Namjoon feel pain. They were trying to take you from him. They hurt the man you love.

They hurt Namjoon.

Your hands stopped shaking. Your vision went red.

Namjoon called out your name as you picked up his gun and stood. You aimed at one of the men, the closest one, and shot, watching him fall and clutch his chest, right above the bulletproof vest he wore. You shot another, then another, not stopping or blinking as you hit them in the head, the chest, even one in the neck.

Gunshot. That one was for making you jump off a train and twist your ankle. Gunshot. That one was for following you to that little town in Poland, and making you have to steal a car from that poor family. Gunshot. That one was for interrupting your lovefest with Namjoon in this perfect little cottage you’d never wanted to leave, but was now ruined for you.

You shot two more men, the gunshots so fast they echoed together like thunder.

“Reload,” you said, letting the empty bullet-holder-thing drop out. Namjoon handed you another round, his blood-soaked fingers skimming against yours, and you reloaded the gun exactly how he’d shown you back in Vienna as you let pure, cold rage coarse through you.

You’d never fired a gun before today, but your aim was shockingly good, and you didn’t care enough to think about it. Your hands were steady. You weren’t frozen and in shock, how you normally reacted when you were scared. You felt nothing, thought nothing, didn’t see anything other than the men who’d hurt Namjoon. You were going to make every last one of them pay.

There’d been a dozen men total, but now only three were left standing, the others on the ground either holding their wounds or not moving at all. You aimed and hit another right in the face, snarling and breathing steadily as you watched him fall.

“Y/N…” Namjoon started, but you ignored him.

“Two more,” you muttered, seething now, watching the men reload and hide behind trees. One of these men could’ve been the one who shot Namjoon. You felt pure bloodlust, and you didn’t plan on stopping until all of them were dead.

“Baby,” Namjoon said, pulling you from your thoughts and taking your hand. His voice sounded strained, but like he was trying to power through it. “Be careful. Take cover more, or they could hit you.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. You ducked down slightly, using the top of the car to steady the gun like Namjoon had. You wondered if the men weren’t hitting you because they wanted to take you alive.

You shot another man in the throat right as he peeked out from behind a tree. Only one left now.

The last one was hiding, but could see his leg sticking out. You shot at it, the ground exploding around him as he tried to pull his leg in and hide fully, but you fired again and got him right in the knee, and heard him yell out in pain.

You immediately walked for him, ignoring Namjoon calling out for you to stop.

You walked straight for the man on a war path, passing by the bodies laying all over, blood splatter all over the fresh snow. You heard one of the men groaning and saw him trying to pick up his gun, but you shot him again, not even looking his way.

When you reached the man behind the tree, you kicked his gun away, pointing your own in his face.

“You shot Namjoon,” you growled. You didn’t care if he was actually the one who shot Namjoon or not; you felt like you could rip all these men apart with your bare hands for just being involved in hurting Namjoon. “Who are you people? Why are you after us?”

“I’m sorry,” the guy yelled, his hands up, palms toward you. “Please don’t hurt me!”

You rolled your eyes. You had a feeling this guy wouldn’t have cared if your positions were swapped, if you were the one begging him not to hurt you. These men would’ve come and killed Namjoon without remorse and taken you somewhere, not caring about your feelings or Joon’s life.

“Who are you?” you said, and you moved the gun, now pointing at the man’s crotch.

“No! Please,” he cried, now even more panicked. “We were just trying to get the ransom money. My boss said the ambassador would pay big money to get you back. We were never going to hurt you or anything!”

So it was just a kidnapping job for ransom. You wanted to roll your eyes, but felt nothing but rage. All this, just for money. Of fucking course. What else motivated people to hurt strangers like this?

Back by the car, you saw Namjoon standing up, leaning on the back of the car for support. He looked over at you and gave you a thumbs up, telling you he was okay. You let yourself sigh in relief, but focused on the man again.

“If you were just after me for ransom, why did you attack the embassy too?”

“We thought we might be able to get some of her secretaries, maybe an aide or something, so we could increase the ransom,” he said, shaking now. “We hacked into their comms and watched for a couple days after the attack, but we never had a good opportunity. You were always our main target, though. We knew she’d pay the most for you.”

We hacked into their comms. There was no mole in the embassy’s security team like Namjoon had thought. The embassy’s security was just not as secure as they’d always believed.

“This couldn’t have been worth it,” you said, looking around at all the dead bodies. “How much money did you spend, traveling all over trying to find me? All these guns and supplies couldn’t have been cheap, either, plus hacking the embassy and tracking us? My mother’s not worth this much. Ambassadors aren’t paid as well as you think they are.”

“Your mother is worth nearly a billion US dollars. We were going to ransom you for five hundred million,” the guy said, and you almost wanted to laugh. “More if we got anyone else from the embassy.”

“You have the wrong person, I think,” you said, taking a step back, gun still pointed at his crotch. Your mother made about $300k a year, which was more than enough to live comfortably and pay back all your student loans, but not enough to afford a huge multi-million dollar ransom like that. She definitely wasn’t worth almost almost a billion dollars.

You glanced toward Namjoon again; he was holding his stomach, but he was upright, glancing around at all the other men. He was watching to see if anyone suddenly jumped up and came toward you. Your heart swelled; Namjoon was keeping you safe, even now.

“No,” the man said, shaking his head. “She’s a huge trader. She invests in everything. Drones, pharmaceutical companies, stocks, everything. That’s how she bribed her way in and bought her ambassadorship. Now she operates on a much bigger scale, and we’ve been following her work for years. We thought we’d just grab you, get our ransom, and bring you back unharmed.”

You didn’t have the mental energy for this. Your mother secretly being much richer than you thought explained why these men came after you so hard, but you had no way of knowing for sure right now. If this man was telling the truth, your mother had some major explaining to do, but it didn’t justify them hurting Namjoon. Nothing would ever justify that. They were evil, and they’d hurt Namjoon. You would make them pay.

You raised the gun to the man’s head, and he started panicking, backing away from you and crawling across the ground.

“Y/N,” Namjoon called out.

You looked at him, and he shook his head.

“He was going to hurt you,” you said, furrowing your brow. You wanted to punish this man for hurting Namjoon. You wanted to punish all of them.

“You already shot him the leg,” Namjoon said. “Let him face justice instead of ending his life. Besides, he seems like a rat, doesn’t he? He’ll probably rat out the rest of this operation in exchange for a shorter jail sentence. You want the rest of them to face justice too, right?”

Namjoon was right. You definitely wanted all of them to face justice and be punished, not just the ones here. They wouldn’t have sent the whole team to a raid like this. There were probably more hidden away elsewhere, and a guy like this would sell them all out.

“Fine,” you huffed, and the man let out a huge sigh of relief. You kind of wanted to shoot him in his other leg too, but decided against it.

You made the man take off his vest and jacket and empty his pockets, to prove he wasn’t still armed. Once you searched him and were satisfied, you stepped around the tree and started heading back to Namjoon, stopping only to take the man’s gun. You’d kicked it away from him before, but you wanted it in your hands, not on the ground a few meters from him while you walked away.

“That was really hot, you shooting all those guys,” Namjoon said as you approached, smirking down at you. He was still glancing back toward the man every few seconds, but once you were back by his side, he wrapped an arm around you.

You snorted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, and you shifted so that his arm was over your shoulder, resting part of his weight on you. You helped him walk over to the house, where you’d call an ambulance and the embassy. You were concerned there were more gunmen secretly hiding somewhere, but Namjoon needed medical attention. It was time to get authorities involved.

You eased him down on the steps of the porch, giving him a gun before running inside and calling for help on the burner phone he’d bought at the store the other day. Namjoon seemed fine and stable, completely alert and not out of his mind from pain, so that was something, at least.

When you came back outside after calling, you sat down beside him, letting out a big sigh.

“You okay?” he said quietly, lightly bumping his elbow against yours.

“I’m fine,” you laughed. “You’re the one who was shot. Twice! I should be the one asking how you’re feeling. Are you in pain? Can I get anything for you?”

“I’m okay,” he said. He still had his hand over the wound on his stomach, while the one on his shoulder seemed to have stopped bleeding. “I mean, it hurts, but I feel like if it hit an organ, I’d be unconscious by now, not able to walk around.”

You hummed, hoping he was right. You looked at him, biting your lip in worry. He was pale but not deathly pale, probably from blood loss. He grimaced in pain whenever he moved too much, but he was holding still now, sitting here with you, upright and alert. You wanted to baby him and kiss him all over his face and take away all his pain, but were scared you’d make it worse or bump into one of his wounds.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said when he saw you looking over him.

“Good,” was all you could manage to say, but Namjoon didn’t appear to be done with you.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, his tone fake-serious as he leaned in toward you, “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, laughing dryly and looking out at the yard. None of the men were moving anymore besides the one you’d shot in the knee, who was currently sitting where you’d left him, holding his knee and crying. “I feel like it’ll hit me later, the guilt and everything. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess.”

“And I’ll be there to help you cross it,” Namjoon said simply.

You sighed. He was truly the perfect man. You wanted to hug him and never let go, but didn’t want to risk hurting him, so you settled with holding his blood-soaked hand and lacing your fingers with his. His fingers were red and wet and slimy, and you didn’t care. You’d always be willing to hold his hand.

“Thank you, Joonie,” you mumbled. You snorted, thinking of something else then. “My mother is apparently some evil almost-billionaire, by the way. I had no idea. Maybe I’ll ransom myself and give all her money away.”

“I could help you with that,” Namjoon teased, squeezing your hand gently. “I think I mentioned the other day how I wanted to take you somewhere far away, where nobody could find us. I can pretend to be the bad guy coming after you, maybe even tie you up, if you want.”

“Let’s wait until you’re healed before we experiment with that,” you giggled, watching him smirk. “I am totally down to scam my mother, though.”

“As long as I don’t end up in jail for kidnapping, me too,” he said, laughing softly. You could hear the sirens of the ambulance and police cars approaching in the far distance, echoing through the snowy valley.

“I think the possibility of jail might come sooner than we expect, at least for me,” you said, your shoulders sagging. In the moment, you’d wanted all these men to pay for hurting Namjoon, but now you realized you’d technically kinda murdered a bunch of people, and that usually had legal consequences. You were probably fucked up for being more concerned about that than the whole murder thing, but whatever.

“It was self-defense,” he quickly said, letting go of your hand so he could wrap his arm around your shoulder. You heard him grunt in pain at the movement, but he ignored it, focusing on comforting you. “Anyone can see there was obviously a huge gunfight here. A dozen men in tactical gear stormed our house and tried to kidnap you and kill me. We defended ourselves. Plus, if your mother’s actually rich, she won’t let you go to prison. She’ll bribe somebody, and you’ll be fine.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned. Your mother lying to you about apparently having a side job making hundreds of millions of dollars by investing in things like drones and Big Pharma was something you did not want to think about, ever, unless you were stopping it. Your home country had so much wealth inequality, and she was one of the people making it worse.

The ambulance and police cars pulled up, the medics rushing to you and Namjoon as the police began going around and checking the pulses of the men laying in the snow.

You and Namjoon went together in the ambulance. Only the man you’d shot in the leg was still alive, and he was stable and in police custody, waiting on a second ambulance to show up. You tried not to think about how many people were dead. Guilt would come later, and so would lots and lots of therapy… if you weren’t in prison for murder.

The medics gave Namjoon something for his pain, setting him up on an IV as they cut his sweater away. The bullet wound on his shoulder had missed bone, only skimming the top of his shoulder muscle, but the medics began treating the more serious wound on his abdomen. There was no exit wound, so one medic said he may need surgery to have the bullet removed.

Namjoon didn’t seem to notice the medics rushing around the moving ambulance, instead just holding your hand and smiling at you lazily.

“Love you,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. His voice was deep, contented, maybe from the painkillers kicking in.

“I love you too,” you said, shaking your head and smiling. Even now, he looked at you with so much love, like you were the moon and all the stars in the sky.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, squeezing your hand weakly. You believed him.

***

– Epilogue, One Year Later –

Namjoon held the door for you as the two of you stepped into your favorite hotel in Vienna. As you passed him, he reached down and took your hand, playing with the engagement ring on your finger as the two of you strode through the opulent lobby.

The two of you had arrived very early in Vienna this morning, just so you could check in with your favorite hotel’s owner, who, for some reason, chose to only work night shifts. You had a feeling he’d be happy to see you, at least. Maybe not Namjoon, but too late now.

Your little vacation had begun in that Polish bed and breakfast near the train tracks, and you and Namjoon hadn’t left the honeymoon suite much, though you did made sure to come down for breakfast a few times. From there, you’d taken a detour to a little town in Poland, where you’d slid a check for five million złoty under a certain family’s front door, along with a note saying just “Sorry about borrowing your car last year” in sloppy Google-translated Polish. Now, you were back in Namjoon’s favorite city in Europe, with big plans to actually see the city this time.

At the check-in desk, Jin looked up, huffing and rolling his eyes when he saw the two of you approaching.

“Hey, hyung,” Namjoon said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the keys to Jin’s car, which now sat outside and still had many, many bullet holes in the side. Namjoon tossed the keys to Jin, who flinched and almost but not quite managed to catch them.

“I thought I told you not to come back to Austria, asshole,” he grumbled, but you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“Just returning your car,” Namjoon said innocently, “And taking my fiancée on vacation.”

“Congratulations, unless this is just an act like last time,” Jin said. “Should I hand over my wallet to help you hide from mysterious villains now or later?”

“Not necessary,” you said, smiling up at him. “But we do greatly appreciate how much you helped us last time we were here. You saved our lives.”

“Not much worth saving in his case, but you’re welcome,” Jin said, glancing towards Namjoon, though you saw the way Jin seemed to stand a little taller after your compliment.

You elbowed Namjoon in the side, looking up at him expectantly.

“Thank you so much for helping us last time,” Namjoon said flatly, as if he were reading off a cue card, or being held at gunpoint.

“Of course,” Jin said smugly. “That’s what good friends do. I, after all, am the best friend you or anyone has.”

“Wait ’til he sees his car,” Namjoon muttered, wrapping his arm around your waist. “He’ll go right back to trying to kick me out of the country.”

“Anyways,” you said loudly, hoping Jin hadn’t heard him. “We’d like a room, please. We’ll pay this time, and I think Namjoon mentioned owing you for last time, too.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Jin said, typing away on his computer at the desk. “You’re back again during the off-season, and I’d never make my friends pay to stay here.”

“Again, when he sees his car…” Namjoon started, but you elbowed him in the side again,  cutting him off.

“How’s the executive suite sound?” Jin said, thankfully not hearing him.

“That sounds perfect,” Namjoon said, moving to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“I’m surprised you’re not putting Joon in a broom closet,” you laughed.

“Only because you two seem to be a package deal,” Jin replied, winking at you. You expected to feel Namjoon growl at him in jealousy, but he didn’t.

Jin personally showed you up to your room, saying he’d have a bottle of champagne sent up later in the day. You were on the top floor, in a room nearly twice as big as the room you’d stayed in last time. A separate sitting room, a full kitchen, two walk-in closets, an extravagant master bedroom, and a bathroom the size of a normal hotel room were all part of Jin’s over-the-top gift to you and Namjoon.

The two of you had a private museum tour scheduled later at what Namjoon insisted was the best art museum in Europe, and maybe for dinner, you could order some fancy room service, or convince Jin to dine out with the two of you if he was awake then. Your mind reeled with possibilities, happy you weren’t confined to the hotel room like the last time you were in this city. You had money, you had the nicest hotel room you could imagine, and you had your Namjoon. You could do anything.

Over the last few months, you’d been essentially blackmailing your mother, though you wouldn’t exactly phrase it that bluntly. Last year, you’d gone home and pretended to settle back into your life, Namjoon recovering by your side, and then you’d gone into your mother’s office a few nights in a row, emailed yourself copies of all her shady practices and the things she’d been investing in, printed everything out and hid away copies, and then threatened to turn her in for tax evasion and expose her for funding things she’d publicly lobbied against as a politician. She cared a lot about her reputation, and tax evasion carried a minimum three year prison sentence in your country – and it only went up, depending on how rich someone was – so she took your threats very seriously. You had backups on backups and had gotten your friends in on it too, so your mother knew if something happened to you, she would get exposed no matter what.

In exchange for your silence, she would have to stop investing in all her evil shit, and you would have access to her bank account indefinitely. You were now slowly giving most of it away, one massive donation at a time, and had taken some out and put it in your own account, just in case she decided to suddenly cut you off at some point. You didn’t turn her in or expose her, and she got to look like a huge philanthropist in the media through your many large donations. She continued investing in some things, but not stuff like drones or oil or Big Pharma. Win-win for everyone.

You and Namjoon had both quit your jobs at the embassy and bought a small cottage in the countryside, with a big garden out back and a huge bed the two of you loved to lay in together for days. You both worked full time on philanthropy, researching charities and fulfilling random GoFundMe’s, and you both felt like you were truly helping people and changing lives. You were happier than you’d ever been. Helping others and spending every day with your Namjoon; you were living your dream life. You’d even adopted a dog together, a fluffy white thing the shelter had named Monie, who Namjoon spoiled rotten and treated like his big baby.

Monie was currently staying with Yoongi, Namjoon’s very alive friend and former partner in a business Namjoon still refused to tell you anything about. He’d given you some big hints over the last few months, though, and simply winked at you whenever you asked if he really was a spy back in the day. He’d eventually said that he’d tell you everything once the two of you were married, which had led into him proposing and the two of you not getting out of bed for three days.

Now, in the opulent master bedroom in the hotel, Namjoon plopped down on the bed, laying back and spreading his arms out. You had a few hours until your museum tour, and you had an idea of what the two of you could do between now and then. You watched him tuck his hands behind his head, the bottom of his shirt rising up enough to show you the scar from when he’d been shot and stitched up last year.

Seeing Namjoon’s scars used to make you go still, a brief stab of sadness filling you. He always insisted he’d been fine and it was just a minor injury, but you knew it’d been more serious than that. And, it reminded you of that day, when he’d almost been taken from you.

You remembered Namjoon joking about it in the hospital, saying most people thought scars were sexy and asking if you thought he was even sexier now, and at the time you’d just rolled your eyes and shook your head.

You’d been in therapy ever since that day, half for your new paranoia over Namjoon being killed, and half over your guilt from what you’d done, killing all those men. You’d looked into each of their lives and found three of them had had children, and you’d anonymously donated a few million dollars to each kid, knowing nothing could replace their parent, but at least they could go to college or do whatever they wanted to do with their life. It didn’t help your guilt, but Namjoon always told you the fact you felt guilty was good. If you felt bad about killing people, even evil ones who meant you harm, it meant you were a good person. It meant you were human.

You hadn’t faced any legal repercussions for that day, with most of the police you’d spoken to about it calling it self-defense and you protecting yourself and Namjoon from a group of highly-armed terrorists. Your attempted abduction hadn’t been their first job, and that actually did help your guilt. Other people had been abducted by them in the past, and you’d ended the cycle. Nobody else had to feel afraid because of them. The whole operation came down with the man you’d let live ratting them all out, just as Namjoon had predicted.

You sighed, pushing those thoughts from your head. You wanted to enjoy your vacation with Namjoon, not think about the past.

You turned around and saw him watching you, biting his lip. He’d been staring at your legs, and when he saw you looking, he raised an eyebrow, smirking to himself. Despite the snow outside, you’d worn a dress today, and you knew Namjoon was very appreciative.

“Like what you see?” you teased, giggling.

“You fucking know it,” he growled.

He was still laying back on the bed, his hands behind his head as he lounged lazily, and he looked so sexy to you right now, you couldn’t stand him. He knew exactly how hot you found him, too, and was probably laying like that just because he knew what it did to you.

He continued, his eyes slowly moving down your body as he spoke, “Keep looking at me like that and we won’t leave this hotel room today.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to see the museum anyway,” you said, sauntering over to him. “Maybe I’d rather sit on your face than walk around a boring museum for hours.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, and don’t insult my museums,” he said. He brought his hands down, reaching for you as you approached him. “And I know you like art museums as much as I do. You’re just trying to rile me up, aren’t you?”

“Depends,” you said, climbing onto the bed and settling on his lap, his hands both falling to your hips. “Is it working?”

He suddenly pinched your ass, making you jump and squeak.

“I am suddenly feeling very thirsty, so maybe,” he said, biting his lip. He pulled on your hips, encouraging you to move forward. You now straddled his stomach, but you played dumb, pretending to not know where he wanted you to end up. You kept your weight off of him though, not wanting to rest on where his wound had been. He was fully healed, but still. You couldn’t.

“Thirsty for what? I can get you a glass of water, or some wine from the mini bar,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him innocently. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling his hard muscles there.

“I want something else,” he purred, pulling on your thighs and trying to bring you up to his face. You knew exactly what he wanted, but you wanted to tease him more. He had you straddling his chest now, and you could feel him breathing steadily.

“Something else? I could call Jin and ask him to send up something, like that champagne he mentioned. Maybe he could hang out with us, too,” you said, and you gasped when Namjoon reached up and grabbed your ass with both hands, squeezing hard.

“Jin is not invited,” he said, pushing your dress up around your waist. He growled when he saw your little black panties, and he reached down to pull them aside, but you stopped him, holding both his hands in yours.

“Joonie,” you hummed, smiling down at him. He quirked an eyebrow at you, looking far sexier than he had any right to look.

You moved back enough so you could lean over and kiss him. You felt him sigh into your mouth, kissing you back as he wrapped his arms around you. You were always happiest like this, making out with Namjoon in bed. Your fears and guilt and all your feelings about the outside world didn’t matter here.

“You know what?” Namjoon murmured against your lips. You could feel him smiling, and you swore his smirk felt mischievous. You could always tell with him, the slight quirk of the corners of his mouth, the way his dimples were deeper than his other smiles. He was up to something.

“What?” you said, kissing him again.

“Let’s go to the museum tomorrow. I have an idea for something I want to do to you for an hour or two, and you’ll be pretty worn out afterwards,” he said, winking up at you.

“Is that so?” you said, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You knew just how well he kept his promises, but he was such a flirt. He knew how his flirting and winks always made you giggle, and he loved to tease you.

“Yeah. I want to show my beautiful fiancée just how much she means to me, and it’s been too long since one of our special days in bed.”

Your and Namjoon’s ‘special days in bed,’ as the two of you called them, were when you let him eat you out for hours. His oral fixation had only gotten stronger over the past year, and he seemed to have a personal goal of making you either pass out, squirt, or tap out at least once a week. Not that you were complaining, by any means.

“Too long? It’s only been three days, you shameless man,” you snorted.

“That’s what I said; too long.” He squeezed your ass with both hands, biting his lip as he smiled up at you.

You looked at him then, really looked at him and studied his face. His little moles, his dimples, the shape of his full lips, the playful sparkle in his dark brown eyes. Namjoon was the most beautiful thing in the world to you, perfection personified, your soulmate and fiancé and lover and best friend. Your future husband. The love of your life.

“I love you, Joon,” you felt compelled to say then, despite the fact the two of you had just been joking around and flirting.

“I love you too, angel,” he said, and he reached up, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear.

He was looking at you like you were his whole world, and you knew that you were. He told you constantly, always held you close, regularly wrote you love poems about how much you meant to him. You knew the look in his eyes right now. He was looking at you like he wanted to worship you and prove his love to you.

“Let’s spend all day in bed together,” you said, now wholeheartedly into his idea to skip the museum and all your plans and reservations. “Let’s have one of our special days in bed, and then let’s take a bubble bath together in that ridiculous bathroom. You into that?”

Namjoon grinned, a deep dimple appearing on his left cheek.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[fuwushiguro]

One Minute, It's a Beautiful Scene

part ten | masterlist | part twelve

Yuuji Itadori x f!reader x Megumi Fushiguro

Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: University AU, all characters aged up. I think Megumi is finally starting to warm up to our dear sweet reader! Even if it's only a little bit 🥰 Warnings: 18+, PG chapter tbh! Words: 4.5k

Synopsis: You’ve been dating Yuuji Itadori for nine months. He’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, he cares for you deeply and he’s amazing in the sack. When new boy Megumi moves to town and joins your art course, you are shocked to discover he isn’t the quiet introvert you suspected him to be.

You observe Megumi as he fills in the last few areas of the bear page. He laughs when he puts his pen down. It’s ridiculous, but he likes it. Yours on the other hand doesn’t compare to the purple dolphin you had done previously. Megumi definitely has you beat this round in terms of colouring. He takes your book again, flipping through the pages for another page to colour in.

“The red elephant definitely wasn’t your finest work, O’Keeffe.” he tuts, focusing on which page he’d like to colour the most.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” you tell him, pouting like a petulant child at the nickname he gave you the day you met. It is so loaded and filled with hate. But then again, so is the man who keeps using it against you. He huffs, annoyed, just because you’re telling him you don’t like it won’t change a thing. You’re O’Keeffe, to him. Megumi likes it. So Megumi won’t stop.

“Here, you do this one.” he tells you, pointing at a page filled with different types of flowers. It’s cute, and the big sunflower in the centre is calling your name.

It’ll pass the final hour to colour in again at the very least.

You couldn’t help but smile each time you looked over at Megumi. The song ‘Pretend We’re Dead’ by L7 was playing full blast through his headphones whilst he was poking his tongue out in concentration whilst colouring in an adorable little unicorn. So angsty and still so cute. He scoffed when he noticed you staring, insisting that you shut up.

“I didn’t say anything!” you giggle.

“Alright, O’Keeffe, focus on your flowers.”

You sigh, looking down at the page. The way your stomach twists and spasms is all too familiar to how you’ve felt ever since you first met Megumi. Looking at the flowers now, despite them not being your own creations, is causing you nothing but pain and heartbreak. Flowers were your muse. They always made you smile, feel loved, feel happy. But now all you feel is disdain. Suffering and sorrow.

His eyebrow quirks and he looks subtly over his shoulder as he watches you close your book without finishing your colouring. He pretends he isn’t interested in what you’re doing as you pack your book back inside of your tote bag and fold the tray table back to where it belongs. You place your felt tips onto his table, manoeuvring your body so you’re facing the window and looking at the sea in the distance.

You’re close.

It’s difficult forgetting who you’re dealing with. Megumi Fushiguro is like no one you’ve ever met. Although there is a familial resemblance to Naoya, both arrogant and nasty, he is so cold and uncaring. Most normal people tend to ask what is wrong when you begin acting how you are right now. Yuuji would be begging you to share your woes with him. But Megumi Fushiguro is not Yuuji. He’ll never ask, although you want him to so badly. You want to scream at him, make him realise what he’s done to you. How he’s ruined something as beautiful and ordinary as flowers for you. And he still won’t stop calling you O’Keeffe! He won’t ask, your only choice is to tell him. But you know it won’t do any good.

He just doesn’t care. And you can’t make him.

“I need some fresh air and a smoke. Why are we even going to this hick town?” Megumi grunts, finishing colouring the unicorns horn in a pretty pastel blue. You scoff, and laugh, earning another infuriated grunt from him. “What?”

“It’s not a hick town, idiot. It’s a coastal town!” you inform him.

“Same thing. Nothing to do but look at the beach and morons walking their mutts.” he huffs.

“You’re always on, aren’t you?” you laugh. “You can turn the angsty teen act off once in a while. It’s okay to like things. You might even like the place, the sea breeze is good for you.” you explain. He shakes his head, resuming his colouring. “I didn’t know you smoke…” you sigh, repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him.

“Nosy.” he says. Maybe he has a point. But you never thought you’d be comfortable enough with your bully to sit and talk with him like this. You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to appear as if you don’t care, but the look in his eye tells you that you aren’t a good enough actress to pull it off. “You’ve seen me with coke on my nose and you’re surprised I smoke?” he states. Your eyes widen in horror as you remember seeing his dusted nose in the bathroom that day.

“Oh, I—”

“Everything in moderation. I don’t smoke or do drugs often. Every now and then to remind me I’m alive. Or when I’m stressed, I guess.” he hums as he explains. “You ever do drugs?” he asks.

“Nosy.” you tease back. A smile creeps onto his face, shaking his head with a pout as he considers you. “There was this one time when I got spiked…”

“Alright, shut up.”

“Are you ever going to apologise for how you’ve treated me, Megumi? Do you know what you’ve done to me?” you wonder.

It’s hard to talk to him. He’s so fucking unusual and mystifying you can’t help but lose yourself in conversation with him and want to know every inch of his aching soul. That’s your inner empath talking. But there’s a frightened voice within you that can’t let you forget what he’s done to you. Every single thing he’s done and you keep throwing it up in the form of words each time you remember. He asked you a question, and you couldn’t help yourself but remind him of what he is. He’s a bastard. A bully. A monster.

He covers his ears with his headphones for the umpteenth time, disregarding your words and your existence entirely.

Something is telling you that you won’t be hearing from him for the rest of the journey.

Somehow you managed to drift off whilst riding out the final hour of the ride. Megumi was happy with his unicorn colouring and admired it for a while as the vehicle slowed down so that it could park. The other students began to stand up and pick up their belongings so they could get outside sooner. Everyone seemed to be desperate for some fresh air.

The girls of your worst nightmares sauntered by you both. But the blonde couldn’t help but stop and look at the two of you. She sniggered, pulling the attention of the redhead to stare at you as well.

“Looking very cosy, Megumi.” she spat, a loathsome tone in her voice.

Megumi looked to his side, seeing you comfortably resting on his shoulder as you continued to nap. He hadn’t wanted to wake you. But for some reason he let the girl’s comments get under his skin. He shrugged his shoulder, hoping it would be enough to wake you. You stirred, but he noted you had no intention of opening your eyes.

“Get up.” he demanded, using the full force of his hand to shove you away from him. The back of your head thumped against the window and your eyes shot open. Your heart was racing at your unfamiliar surroundings, evidently forgetting where you were whilst you had been sleeping. “We’re here.”

“You didn’t have to shove me.” you tell him.

“I’m not your fucking pillow, O’Keeffe. I know princess is used to everyone doing whatever she wants, though, so I’ll let you off this once.” he tells you as he gathers his things. Before you can get out of your seat, he’s shoving his three coloured pages in your face and demanding you put them in your bag. He is a princess. A childish little bratty princess.

“Don’t you want to keep them?” you ask him waving them in your hand wondering if he’ll change his mind.

“No, put them in your book. They’re yours.”

He stands in the middle of the walkway, blocking everyone from getting ahead of him as he waits for you to get your things together and get off the bus. It makes you nervous, you can hear people complaining in the aisle about being held back and it’s your fault. Why won’t he just let them by? He looks unbothered, as always. His expression is telling you not to worry. But how could you not? He towers above you when you finally stand up and guides you out.

The salty air hits you like a brick through a window. You’ve never felt so alive. And you can tell by Megumi’s face he’s enjoying it too. He’s disgruntled when he hears your lecturer inform you that you’re five minutes away from an art gallery you’ll be spending some time at. He wanted some time to stretch his legs and breathe in the air; it is a crushing blow to realise he’ll be trapped in a stuffy gallery immediately after getting off the coach. You all walk together in the direction of the art gallery nonetheless. But when you get outside, Megumi pulls you backwards and drags you away from the group so that you can hide around the corner.

“What are you—?”

He’s lighting his cigarette and leaning against the wall. His face instantly turns from tense to pure ecstasy. He snickers each time you look around, tense about being caught with him and not inside with your class. As if you aren’t adults. It’s like you’re scared about being caught smoking. You are.

“Why are you so antsy? Here,” he speaks as he holds his cigarette out to you. Though you politely decline, he continues puffing away and tarring his lungs. “We aren’t teenagers y’know. We won’t get in trouble.”

“We’re meant to be with the group! You didn’t even tell anyone about—”

“Shut up.” he hisses, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with the bottom of his shoe. “C’mon then, princess, let’s get you inside before you blow a fucking fuse.” he moans as he storms ahead of you. Your legs work over time doing your best to keep up with his massive strides, still trailing behind him.

It turns out you were worried for nothing as you seamlessly re-join with the class. The two of you lingering in the back as your teacher explains what is going on. Apparently you have an hour to wander around and admire the work, and after that time you need to meet back up in the main room to listen to a speech from one of the curators here. Megumi rolls his eyes at that, immediately skulking off to the nearest elevator to hide on the top floor.

As much as you want to explore and admire all of the art, you know you’re easy pickings by yourself. The girls are eyeing you up like vultures the further away Megumi gets from you. You look between him and them a few times before rushing over to the elevator. He shakes his head in annoyance as he swallows liquid from an energy drink can he pulled out of his backpack.

“Little bloodsucker.” he mutters.

You ignore him, though, knowing it’s easier to listen to his insults than be involved with the girls downstairs. There isn’t much to look at when you step outside and onto the top floor. A few paintings and nothing more. Although there is a comfortable looking bench that Megumi soon makes himself at home on. You sit beside him twiddling your thumbs, unable to help feeling like you’re missing out on things.

“I’m not keeping you here, go look at the art.” he tells you.

“N-No…” you stutter, pulling your laptop out of your bag and searching the gallery up on the internet. “I’ll use my phones hotspot and… it’s fine. See, most of the paintings are on their website so—”

“It’s different in the flesh. You want to make some notes for your dissertation, right? Go look around.” he instructs.

“I don’t want to go. Those girls terrify me, honestly. They only leave me alone when you’re with me.”

“Well I’m here now. And there’s some paintings here, too. So go look at those.”

You suppose he has a point. There’s no one here but you and him. You tuck your laptop back inside of your bag and decide to look around. He doesn’t take his eyes off you while you look at each painting and make page after page of in-depth notes. You’re smarter than he’s given you credit for. He hasn’t even thought about writing his dissertation. He feels a strange sensation in his chest each time you lean forwards and tuck your pen behind your ear as you study each individual brushstroke on the canvases. He’s getting warmer. And he can’t stop smiling. He tries to shake it away and drink more of his energy drink. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. About you. Why is he thinking about the time you kissed at your parents manor house?

Fuck.

He gets up, abandoning you as he strides towards the elevator again. It’s hard for you to put your things away and catch up with him, but you do. Standing side by side as the elevator descends to the floor below.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

He sticks close to you as you wander from painting to painting. He even shields you from the girls when he spots them getting a little close, not that you noticed. Too captivated by the paintings. They’re all so homely and sweet. The type of painting you’d see in a grandparent’s home. Mostly beachscapes and sea life. You turn a corner, and Megumi whistles as he studies the painting in front of you both.

“Wow…” you huff.

“It’s... big.” he follows.

“And so detailed.” you add.

It’s another beachscape, but with a ton of attractions included in the image. Amusement parks, restaurants, you name it. You’re scribbling down notes furiously as you take in every inch of the beautiful painting. Megumi, meanwhile, is more interested in the floor to ceiling window overlooking the town and bathing the painting in natural light. He notices something in the distance that makes him squint in concentration. His vision begins to alternate between the painting and the window. He takes your breath away as he drags you towards the window so you can see what he’s looking at. You begin to copy him as you look between the painting and the window, seeing what he’s seeing.

“An aquarium!” you smile, excited by the prospect of going.

“Shall we go?” he asks. You shake your head.

“We can’t,” you tell him as you hoist your bag over your shoulder and begin to walk towards the elevator for the final time. “we have that speech thing in ten minutes.” you remind him. When the doors open and you blend in with the group, your lecturer stands proudly in front of everyone.

“Feel free to look around for another ten minutes before the wonderful curator tells us about the history of the town and how it influenced the art on display.” he announces.

You turn to see Megumi standing with raised eyebrows. Do you really want to stick around and listen to that? Both his facial expression and your internal monologue ask you. When there’s an aquarium down the road? Absolutely fucking not. He tilts his head in the direction of the exit, and you both casually walk towards it hoping to not get caught. Once outside, you begin to sprint together down the streets.

“You’re a bad influence.” you tell Megumi as you slow down now that you’re safe enough to walk.

“You feelin’ alright princess? Didn’t think you had this in you.” he taunts.

“Let’s just go,” you demand as you overtake him in your speed walking, “I wanna see some fish!”

Megumi covers the cost of the admission free, telling you that you have to pay for food. You remind him that you can’t be any later than 5pm or you’ll miss the coach home. He side eyes you as your phone lights up with a text. You reply with a cheesy smile on your face. Why does he feel so fucking angry about it? He feels even worse as you giggle with your reply.

“Who’s that? Yuuji?” he asks. Instantly cringing at his questioning. He shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t care. Does he? Why did he ask?

“I haven’t heard anything from Yuuji since he left.” you sigh, wondering why he hasn’t made the effort to answer any of your messages yet. You hold your eyes shut as you try and dispel the negative thoughts from your mind. Smiling when your eyes open and excited to tell Megumi the truth. “It was your dad, actually.” you chuckle.

“Oh, yeah? You text with my dad?” he queries.

“Not really, he was asking how we’re doing and if you’re giving me any shit.” you explain.

“Gonna rat on me again?”

“No! I—”

“Ugh, you’re sick. You want to fuck each other so bad. It’s obvious.” Megumi pouts, walking away from you as he steps into the first room.

“I do not! I can’t speak for Toji and I wouldn’t blame him because, well, look at me.” you joke as you flaunt your body and your face sarcastically. “But I’m with Yuuji and I love him and I’m happy.” you speak a little louder than intended. He nods, but doesn’t speak. You think he’s more interested in the fish, which is fair.

You spend time in each room. Sometimes you stand together, and other times you stand apart. The rooms all link together, so you take your time exploring them all. From Amazonian fish to cold water ones. By the time you reach the warmer waters room you hear Megumi’s stomach begin to growl.

“There’s a café upstairs.” you tell him as you lead the way.

You point at the window while you wait for your orders to be brought to your table. It’s raining. His face scrunches in disbelief. It has been perfect sunshine all day. Barely a cloud in the sky and now it’s pouring down rain.

“I told you.” you remind him.

“Yeah, you did.”

You note the time on your phone, telling him that you should probably go back to your class soon. But he disagrees. You’ve got over an hour before the bus leaves and you still have a few rooms left to look at. You’re satisfied with your small plate of food but it’s clear that it has barely touched the sides for Megumi. Though he declines your offer to get him something else, he’s more intrigued by the prospect of looking at the sharks.

“Maybe we’ll see a purple dolphin.” he jokes. He starts to think of all of the colouring you did together on the coach. And the flowers. Why didn’t you finish the flowers? They’re your thing. He calls you O’Keeffe for a reason! He picked that page specifically for you. Were you just too tired? “How’s your sketchbook doing? I bet you’ve got a garden growing by now.” he asks, distracting himself from annoying, niggling thoughts. You puff out air, unsatisfied with the question and your current predicament.

Flowers. Fucking flowers.

“I’ve fallen out of love with flowers, honestly.” you admit, earning a surprised expression from Megumi.

“Shame. What’s the reason?” he questions, oblivious.

“… You. Because of you, Megumi.”

He clears his throat, awkwardly. It’s not that he feels bad, he doesn’t, but it’s like a real look in the mirror. You aren’t joking with him like you had on the bus. You aren’t trying to get him in trouble with Toji. It’s earnest, it’s real. You’ve stopped loving something that meant so much to you, because of him. Painting flowers meant so much to you. It calmed you. Brought you joy, happiness, strength. And each time he harassed you, called you names, harmed you, destroyed that. It was like he personally ripped an individual petal from every single flower to exist. You’ve lost love. The world has lost its bloom.

He gets up, walking away from the table without a word. You’re never going to get a word out of him. You’ll never get an apology or an acknowledgement of what he’s done to you. What you’ve become because of him. That’s just something you need to come to terms with. You step out into the tropical waters display, a huge underwater tunnel showing you the sharks swimming over your head. The unpleasant conversation seems to melt away from you as you watch the sharks movements and rippling water above you.

The bright blue water illuminates both of you. Though you don’t pay attention to Megumi, he can’t stop staring at you. After torturing you for so long, he doesn’t think he’s seen you truly happy until today. You look like a totally different person to him with an earnest smile on your face.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you query as you make eye contact with Megumi. He does nought but nod, looking above him at the sea life once again.

“Yeah.” he mutters, so quietly you can’t hear him. He watches you for a while as you take more pictures on your phone.

“Smile!” you tease, pointing your phone at him and catching him off guard. You manage to get one nice one, the rest you take are him covering his face. “Will you take one of me?” you wonder. He hesitates, but nods.

He takes a few as a shark swims behind you, handing your phone back to you to see if you’re satisfied.

“I think you’ve got a new muse.” Megumi informs you. You look deeply into the water, considering his words. Maybe he’s right. It can’t hurt to take some more pictures just in case.

“Come here.” you command him. He gets closer, but begins to retreat as you flip your camera to selfie mode. “Just one, stay still!”

He cracks a smile as you take a photo of yourselves together with the blinding blue water highlighting you both. You consider putting it on your story, but your stomach sinks at the prospect of Yuuji stumbling upon it. He watches you save the image and close out of it, keeping it for your own personal memories.

“Shall we get another coffee and then go?” you ask.

“There’s a gift shop over there.” he points. Your eyes widen. There is nothing more exciting than a gift shop. Regardless of how overpriced they can be.

“Okay. Coffee. Gift shop. Bus.”

“Sure.”

“How cute is this shark!” you smile as you practically shove the shark plush in Megumi’s face. “I want it but—”

“Sure. Hurry up and decide while I go piss.” he sighs as he leaves you alone in the gift shop.

You become incredibly tense after you put down the shark. It was as soft as a cloud, but as the time draws nearer to 5pm, your nerves get the better of you. Where the hell is he? You linger outside the bathrooms for a little while, despite the fact it’s making you feel like a criminal, but he doesn’t appear.

The time hits 5:29 and you can’t help but wonder if he is back to his old tricks. Did he go to the bus alone and leave you stranded here? You look out of a nearby window, and spot him standing across the road. A cigarette between his fingers on one hand and his phone to his ear in the other. Even from this distance you can practically see a vein bulging in his forehead. He’s yelling, furiously. He tosses his cigarette aside and continues talking as he walks back into the aquarium.

At that moment, your heart sinks.

Right as he walks inside, you see your class’ coach drive behind him and out of town. Fuck. You run faster than you ever have before, sprinting down the stairs and out of the building. You didn’t see Megumi, but you pick your phone up and begin to dial your lecturer again and again.

No answer.

You run back inside; searching each and every room to find Megumi again. In hindsight, it would have been a great idea to finally ask for his number while you were on the coach. He’s nowhere in sight, and you worry you’ll never find him at this rate. Should you wait outside for him? Stay in one room and hope that he finds you?

You rush outside into the torrential rain, tears streaming from your face. You aren’t sad, you’re stressed. You’re scared. Where is he? What the hell are you going to do? You’ve been left here and you’re stuck! How could they do this? How could your school just leave you here and not even try to get in touch?

“What are you doing out here?” Megumi asks, yet another cigarette latched between his teeth.

“Did you do this on purpose?” you accuse him, a dangerous scowl on your face telling him you aren’t playing around.

“I was just—” you cut him off as he raises a bag he’s holding in his hand.

“You knew we had to be back at the pick up site for 5pm. Look at the time! It’s gone, we’re stranded! What the fuck are we going to do?” you rant and rave as he continues to smoke casually.

“I don’t want to be stuck here in this weather with you. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Who were you on the phone to?”

“What?”

“I saw you from the window. Arguing. Was it Toji? Were you telling him your latest plan to make my life hell? No one can save me while we’re here. Haven’t you fucked my life up enough?” you begin to cry harder as the stress sets your mind into overdrive. Why did this have to happen to you? Why is he doing this?

“It wasn’t Toji. It’s none of your fucking business who I talk to on the phone.”

“But—”

“Shut up. Stop crying. Let’s go inside and figure out what we’re going to do.”

You suppose he has a point. Crying won’t solve anything, and maybe you were a little rash in accusing him. Not everything is about you. That’s what you’re sure he’s telling himself in his mind. That you’re a spoilt princess and making something about you which in reality didn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just an unfortunate circumstance that you missed the bus home. You need to figure out how to fix this.

You need to find a way home.

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[bontensucker]

Under your spell - Part IV

Minors don’t interact

Summary : The great inquisition. In a small village during medieval old time, a  young crusader has been ordained priest. A rumor of a witch cursing the  place with plague has rapidly spread around. To find the witch and put  her at the stake, the holy knight has instilled fear and mistrust but he finds resistance in you. Starting to have dirty thoughts about you, he gets you jailed, so sure you’re the sinner he’s chasing after. But are you really the one you pretend not to be ?

WC :8,3k

Content  : Historical au, angst, names (whore, prostitute), mention of blood and death, death threat, blasphemy, corruption, smut, masturbation, breath play (m!receiving), manhandle, dirty talk, spanking (f!receiving), rough sex, brief mention of anal, breeding.

Pairing : Crusader!Taiju Shiba x Fem!Reader.

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Time has passed since he left. 

You had so much trouble healing, it took you years. But even if you will never have your skin back to normal, at least you don’t suffer anymore. You just hide your past under bandages.

Your caretaker was a life savior. She came the day after he left and found a broken girl trapped in a broken body. She was the old apothecary’s wife from another village near yours, a chubby woman with a bright smile. Taiju told her what she needed to know and nothing more, but when she saw you with your churned up body, she took pity on you and treated you like you were her own daughter, healing you patiently with kindness and no judgement. She never asked questions, never tried to speak about the priest, she just helped you recover and learn back how to walk. She even asked her cousin, the blacksmith, to make you a cane, so you can walk by yourself in the first times. And she did more than that. 

She taught you how to heal. What plant to cultivate to recover for every known ailment. 

You even occasionally came to help her and her husband at the shop. But the stares and whispers on you were heavy, so you decided to leave.

You said your farewells after almost 3 years with them, and they gave you what Taiju had left for you. 

It was more than you thought. More than you ever had. You could buy a house, even a horse. And you still had money to buy pretty gowns, even those with fur  you only saw on ladies, and still live at least for the next years without any worries. You didn’t even know he was wealthy. 

You didn’t know much about him anyway. He was never a talkative person. The only thing you knew for sure was that he had changed your life forever, with utmost good and utterly bad. 

You travelled south until you reached a city near the ocean. You bought a little farm outside the city, some chickens and ducks, a cow for fresh milk, a horse to ease your moves when you had to buy things in the city, and you built up a garden to cultivate your vegetables and medicinal plants. 

From time to time, people from the city and passing sailors were coming for your help. The rumor spread around, you knew how to heal from the lightest flu to the worst injury. You helped them without asking for anything. It’s not like you needed money. You had enough for yourself.

Late at night, you would limp to the beach and watch the ships coming and leaving overseas. 

Late at night, you would limp to the beach and watch the ships coming and leaving overseas. 

You never opened the book neither. You stopped crying. You stopped suffering. Likewise, you were a little older. A little wiser. 

Where was he, was he still alive, still a priest, still a soldier, you didn’t know. He did what he said, he never came back. 

And even if your heart was heavy from time to time, you would forget about him somehow. His face will start vanishing in your memory and in the end, it will remain like it was just a dream. 

Eventually. 

Today you are making a soup in your chimney when you hear a carriage stops in front of your door and right after someone is banging at it loudly. 

When you open, a very beautiful woman in a large black gown sewn with golden threads and a cross made out of pearls and gold is looking at you. 

« Milady ? » You never saw her face before, but you know she must be from the upper class. What is she doing here ? Those people ask their servants to fetch the doctor when needed. They never leave their lands and castles. 

« Are you Y/n the healer ? » 

« I am, your grace. » 

She looks so exhausted. « I need you ! Now ! Come with me and be sure you will get rewarded. » 

Her desperate look makes you move without a second thought. « Let me take my cape. » 

Once you are ready, she practically pulls you out of your house and in the carriage.

Inside, another man, younger, is waiting, looking even more worried. « Is she ? » 

« She is, my lord. » 

He doesn’t even try to force a smile and once you are seated, he shouts to his coachman to hurry. 

« Do you know the castle near the dark forest? » He asks. 

« I do, my lord. But it is almost two hours of horse riding from the city. » 

« It is. And I am the lord of this land. Now, pay attention, healer. My brother went back from the holy lands and is severely injured. Our physicians could not do anything. If you succeed at saving him by all the saints, I swear you will get rewarded with whatever you ask for. » 

The holy lands.

Your heart starts pounding hard in your chest. The holy lands ! An old anguish comes back to life inside your heart. 

Taiju left for the holy lands.

« What… what happened, my lord ? »

« From what his commander told us, his head got smashed by a catapult mortar. » 

The lady put her hand on his and held back her tears the best she can. « They say the fights have been dreadful there. We lost so much of our holy crusaders. » 

« What ? » You can’t think properly. Your mind refuses to. 

« You have to save him ! I beg you… save our brother ! » 

« I’m afraid I cannot do anything. I can heal a wound, but this is… » 

« You have to try ! As the oldest, he is the rightful heir of our house. He must not die ! » 

Your hand tighten on your cape when you think of Taiju wounded on the battlefield and when his golden pleading eyes meet yours, you nod. 

« Once we arrive to the castle, pray to ask for mandragora sprout and belladonna leafs, I will also need hot water, citrus and linseed. » 

The lord and his sister share a look of hope and nod in a same movement. « Anything you need will be yours. » 

When you arrive to the castle, a servant opens the carriage door. 

« Carry her to my brother’s room! Hurry ! » The lord says before helping his sister out. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to walk all the stairs of the castle. It would have taken you hours with your leg. 

The lady runs to the kitchens, while her brother sticks with you. When you are placed in the bedroom, you see a man with no face on the bed. Half of his jaw is missing and his full head his bandaged. 

You lean on his chest and try to hear his heartbeats. 

But there’s none. « I cannot hear his heart. Take off his clothes, please. » You ask a servant. 

The lady enters the room with her maid and everything you asked for.

« We are here, brother. » The lord says, holding the crusader’s cold hand on the bed. 

You wet your hands and place it on his heart, but you cannot feel anything. It’s too late. 

« I’m afraid, the crusader is already gone, your graces. » 

The lady falls to the ground and cry out in pain, and you don’t know why, but this sounds so familiar. 

You let them cry their dead and take your leave without asking for anything. There’s nothing you could have done for this man. 

You ask for your cape before walking home. When the servant comes back with the cloak, he put it on your shoulders gently. 

« This is strange. » The man says looking at you. 

« I beg your pardon ? » 

He shrugs and look at your cape. « Is it not too oversized for you ? » 

Your eyes slowly look at the cape that has been his, once.

« And it is a knight coat if I remember correctly ? Is your husband a crusader too ? » 

He smiles at you, you can see he is interested. You hide your right side without noticing and turn around. « No. I know no crusaders...and I paid the highest price for this one. Farewell. » 

« Is that so ? It looks just like his...amusing. You also have the same coat of arms, oh and the emblem of the regiment is also the same as our now gone master. »

You lift your head and turn around. « What did you just say ? »

« Your emblem is the same as our master’s regiment. »

« Coat of arms. You said it was the same as your master ? » 

You grab him by the arms and feel your heart beats fast.

« Not of this house. It is- it is…the commander’s coat of arms. The one who came back with the gone lord. He had the same bearings on his cape. » 

« Was his name Taiju Shiba ? Was he a priest ? I mean, a crusader ? I mean, a man of God ? » 

Your body starts shaking uncontrollably while your nails dig in the poor man’s arms. 

He looks at you stunned. « I do not know, miss. He barely stayed. He just went to give the lord and the lady their brother back. » 

« Tall, really tall, build up, long hair with golden eyes and a very angered look. Was it him ? » 

« Yes ! Would you let go of me, miss ? It hurts. » 

« Where is he now ? Still in the castle ? WHERE ? » You shake him, not knowing what you are doing. You just need to know. If Taiju is back, you need to know. 

« Please miss ! » He pushes you off him and starts to fix his clothes. He sights and says « He is not. His ship left two days ago for the holy lands. I do know that, milady ordered me to provide supplies for their trip. He just stayed a night with some other soldiers, and they left early in the morning. This is all I know. »

« He… he left ? Did he say where in the holy lands ? Did he say anything ? » Your eyes start watering from the overwhelming news and the servant look at you uncomfortably. 

« Beg your pardon, as a lord commander he was the guest of our master. I am not allowed to talk to them directly. But I guess he went back to the battlefield with his troops. »

You turn around and make a hurry out of the castle.  « I thought you knew no Crusaders ?! » 

But you don’t hear him. Your mind is far gone. He is alive. Taiju is alive ! 

You walk for a long time until home. And the only thing you have in mind is to find him. You thought you were resigned to forget about him. But something started to resonate in your body when you heard about him. Something you didn’t felt for a long time. 

Hope. 

And now the urge to see his face again, to hear his voice, to feel his skin is unbearable. And you can't think about anything else. No why, where, when. Just him. His image is becoming clearer again, flash of him is bugging your mind and turns to obsession. His rough stare, his warm voice, his dry lips opening to let out a sight before the worst comes out of his mouth. And his palm, his fingers, his whole body merging with yours, flesh...to...flesh. 

Once you get to your farm, it’s already late at night. 

But you don’t mind. You grab a bag and put some clothes and some of the gold you kept hidden under your wooden floor. You are so tired. Walking has become difficult on a long distance because of your limping. But you need to move. You have too.

You take your horse and ride as fast as you can. When you reach the dock, you ask every sailor who crosses your path until you find a boat departing for the holy lands. 

« Sorry, miss, we don’t sail with women on board. » The captain says. 

« I will pay you ! I have money. »

He laughs at you. « And what a woman like you is going to do over there anyway ? You do know it is a very dangerous place ? The nuns might come to heal the soldiers, they’re assured to be treated fairly and protected by the crusaders. But a young woman like you… and alone… » His hand touches your hip, and you push him away. 

« Do not touch me ! » You take the purse with all the gold you carry from your belt and throw it at his chest. « A hundred, for you. And you will bring me to the holy lands. Take it or leave it, but if you dare to touch me once again, I will show you what a young woman can do. » 

He looks at the gold for a moment and sight. « We weigh anchor tomorrow before the dawn. Be there or we are leaving without you. » 

It took you five more days to finally reach the land. 

When you arrive, you’re stunned to see a city really different from what you know. A lot of people with different cultures, habits, languages live here peacefully it seems, and you wouldn’t think somewhere not far away, armies of infidels are fighting the holy crusade. 

You ask here and there, where the Crusaders camp is located, and you start walking.

Nothing could stop you. You will cross a continent if you have to. 

You walk straight during a day, not feeling the exhaustion arrassing you, until you finally reach the camp. And it’s not what you expected. There’s so much tents, men and war engines everywhere. 

You can hear suffering growls and cries coming from different places. Blood mixed with steel is in the air, and you have to cover your nose, lifting your dress a bit because of the dirt and mud. 

You walk past a few soldiers looking at you in confusion. 

« Good day, soldiers, I am looking for the commander’s tent. » 

They look at each others, not understanding. « Which one ? Some are dead, some are still on the battlefield, some are preparing for the next battle. Who are you looking for ?»

« Huh I-» 

« What a female is doing on the camp ? » 

You turn around at the rough voice behind you, and he grabs you by your arm. The soldiers instantly get up to attention. 

« Sorry, captain, this woman is looking for a commander. » 

« Did you not hear the orders ? No prostitute allowed on the camp! This is a holy war, and you are fighting in the name of our saint mother the Church. Come with me woman, I will deal with you later, soldiers ! » 

He grabs your bandaged forearm and drags you with him. You gasp at the touch and try to free yourself.

« Why are you here ? Lurking for some officer's pay ? We do not want a prostitute to corrupt our army. Are you  not ashamed of you ? » 

You try to stop him, but the captain is so angry, he tightens his grasp on you. 

« Let me go ! I am not a prostitute ! I am here to see the commander Taiju Shiba ! » 

The man stops immediately and  looks at you stunned. « Pardon me ? Did you say the Commander-»

« Taiju Shiba yes ! I am here to see him. »

He stares at you from head to toe with a skeptical look.

« I am his aide and he never told me he was waiting for someone. Who are you to him ? »

You lower your eyes. Oh. Who are you to him? 

You don’t even know… you never knew.

« I am a… » Friend ? Lover ? One-night stand ? Acquaintance ? « ...relative. » You say after a moment of hesitation. 

The captain let go of you and frown. « A relative, huh ? ». He doesn’t believe you, you can tell. « Follow me. » 

You try your best to keep up as he walks fast in the huge camp, but you’re slower now your leg is burned. 

As you walk to a central and bigger tent, your heart starts to pound rapidly. It has been years since you last saw him. Is he still the same ? Will he recognize you ? How will he react ? 

Your heart his making so much noise when he tells you to wait, you think you’re going to do a cardiac arrest. 

He comes back just a moment later with another man, much older than him, wearing red clothes behind his armor. 

This is indeed a cardinal. You bow in front of the prince of the church. « Your grace. »

He put his hand with a huge ring on top of your head. « May God bless you, my child. Pray to tell me who you are and what you are doing here ? »

You take a deep breath. You didn’t go to church since you’ve been excommunicated. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him you’re not one of his lambs anymore because of the man you are here to see.

« I humbly came to see the Commander of the Holy Crusade, Taiju Shiba, your grace. » 

« And you are ? »

Can you really lie to a prince of the church ? 

« I-I… my name is Y/n your Grace. I am a… relative. » 

The cardinal and the captain glance at each other with furrowed browns.

The old man uncomfortably clear his throat and crosses his fingers on the precious cross he bears around his neck « This, is uncommon, my child. Battlefield is not a place for a woman, even when it is one of our holy knight’s… dearest…sister ? I presume ? »

You lower your gaze again, but don’t deny. 

« I know, I do know your grace, and God forgives me for indulging myself here. But I made a long way to see the commander, it is important.» 

The Cardinal looks at Taiju's aide. « Where is the knight, captain ?”

“He his leading the troops on the battlefield, your Holiness.”

“Fetch your lord commander and bring him to the war council. » 

« At your service. » Says the aide before turning heels. 

« Come with me, my child. » 

You follow the old man in the tent and freeze. Five men are seated around what seems to be a map of the land, where they are moving flags and miniatures. They are all dressed with their armors. Some even still have blood and dirt on them.

You stay at the entrance, bowing. « My lords. » 

« Come, my child. Do not fear. These are your brother’s comrades, the lord commanders of our great army. » He sits in his chair, at the end of the table, and you realize he must be the holy army’s leader. « We are still waiting for our three last commanders to come back from the battlefield if the Lord does not call them back to his side. Take a seat. This one is your brother’s. » He says, pointing at an empty spot between two men where Taiju is gathering before the battle. 

You sit, and the Cardinal do a sign to a servant for him to give you water. « Are you coming from the old land ? You must be tired after this long travel. »

« Worry not about me, your grace, I do not deserve such attention. »

« What happened to your arm, milady ? » Asks a commander looking at your bandaged right arm. 

You hide it under the table and try to avoid their gaze. If they knew, most of them would pull out their sword on you. 

« Now, now, pray not to afraid our guest lord commander. »

The crusader immediately asks for the Cardinal’s forgiveness. Not yours. 

After a moment, a man enters the tent, gives his long bloodied sword to a servant running to his way, and go directly to wash his face in a bassinet without looking at the others. His heavy armor is covered in blood, but you recognize his cape before him. 

« I pray your Holiness to forgive me for my late appearance. My aide told me you required my presence, but the maneuver was still on going in the bat- »

He stops to talk when he turns around, and you straighten up in his sit. 

His piercing gaze on you makes your heart flutter, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him anymore. 

He opens his mouth and close it again. He looks at you and the cardinal back and forth. His jaw clench, and you can see he’s trying so hard to keep is composure.

« Who did you say you were, my dear ? I think the sister ? Yes, your sister is here. It is indeed unexpected, and I would not allow a woman in the camp otherwise, but she told us she had an important matter to discuss with you. » 

« I do not know this woman. » His tone his firm, he avoids your eyes to focus only on the Cardinal. 

« Is that so ? » The man in red says calmly. « All of you, out. » The war council is immediately dismissed, and you stay alone with the cardinal and the crusader. 

« Your Holiness I- »

« Silence ! » The old man’s sympathetic behavior change to a much colder one. « I warn you commander, one more lie and I have her arrested and pray to believe, she will never see the daylight again ! Now, we both know she has nothing to do with lady Yuzuha, so I presume she is the one you confessed about years ago ? » 

He lowers his gaze in what seems to be shame. « Answer me holy knight ! »

« She is, your Holiness. »

« How dare you bring your excommunicated whore in my camp, on the very sacred land of our holy army and lying to my face on top of it ? I should have you both hang up right away in front of everyone for your blasphemy ! »

« I deserve no mercy. This is my fault. This woman has nothing to do with this, I am the only sinner here and my life is yours to take as your Holiness will command. » 

« Bend the knee when you confess, crusader ! » 

Taiju immediately put a knee down, his arm rest on the other, but you can see his fist is tightly shut as he tries to control himself, looking at the ground. 

« Forgive me your Holiness for I have sinned. » 

« And what did you do ? »

« Nothing. » Your voice is heard for the first time since he came in and the cardinal looks at you, but Taiju keeps his head down despite the anger painted on his face. « He did nothing wrong. I chose to come here. I wanted to see him. The knight did not even know I was coming. This was my will, my decision, not his. » 

« Is it the truth, lord commander ? » 

You know he’s having a hard time by the way his teeth grit. He could have you in trouble if he tells the truth, but he would sin to his confessor and a prince of the holy Church if he doesn’t. 

« No, it is not. I summoned her in my dreams. The angels must have mistaken my thoughts for wishes and put them in her mind. I am the one to blame, and I am ready to receive my punishment for my impure dreams, your Holiness. »

Your heart tightens up when you hear his confession. He still thinks of you. But when you understand what he is ready to do to protect you, you can’t stay quiet. 

« NO ! » You stand up from the chair, but the cardinal looks at you with a cold stare you have already seen before. 

« Sit down woman, and do not interfere in this confession anymore, or it will cost you, you have my word. » 

« But -» your breath is taken away when you see the exact same vein of anger on the cardinal ‘s forehead, and the resemblance is now striking. 

His focus is back on the crusader, and he frowns. « What else did you do ? » 

Even if Taiju doesn’t look at you, you can feel him becoming embarrassed in front of you. 

« I touched myself, thinking of her body. » 

« Dear Lord… » The Cardinal’s face shows only restrained anger. You can tell he is really upset when you are all giddy by his confession. « When ? » 

The crusader takes a moment to answer. It seems so hard for him to take the words out of his dry mouth. « Several times. » 

« BALONEY ! » The cardinal explode and hit the table with his fist so hard it makes you jump on your seat. « You are one of the great lord commanders of our holy army, a priest I personally ordained and a servant of God. You are forbidden from any pleasure except worshiping the Lord’s name, do you hear me ?! » 

He stands up and comes to take the crusader’s jaw in his hand, harshly. « You told me what you did when this war started and to prevent you to go to hell if you were to find death on the battlefield, I absolved you. And yet you dare to sin in your thoughts and actions when you should thank me and the Almighty ? If you were not my nephew, I would have you whipped until there is no flesh left on your back for your felony ! » 

He goes back to his seat furious and turn around « I SHOULD SUBJECT YOU TO A TRIAL BY ORDEAL ! » 

Taiju slowly lift his head and looks at you and only you. « My life is yours to take. » 

You watch him with your heart missing a beat, and this is the first time you can clearly see his face in years. It has changed too. More than yours. He got a scar made by a blade which depart from the left corner of his mouth and ends up on his neck. It must have been painful, you think. He also has another scar on his face, a deep cut right above his right brow, and another one show on the side of his neck and disappear behind his armor, on his chest.

His hair is a bit shorter, he must have cut it sometimes ago, and it started to grow back.

But he looks handsome to you. He is still the same tall, severe, built up man you once held tight against your body.

You just want to touch him, to take him away from all of this, to tell him it’s going to be okay now. You will take care of him and him of you. But this is not him, and you know by the way he looks at you this will never be. 

« Leave us alone. I need to speak to the lord commander in private. » 

You can’t do anything but obey, and you look at the crusader one last time before going out of the tent.

The cardinal frowns and shake his head. « You do know I expect to be the next pope when our dear holy father will be called back to our Lord side and I plan on giving you the cardinal’s bar as my heir ? »

« I do, your Holiness. » 

« If the Church comes to learn my own nephew is a sinner, everything that our family had worked so hard for will be pointless ! I want you to be the man we decided you would be the day my sister birthed you. Your siblings are now fairly married and doing their duties. You must do your share for the sake of our lineage. »

Taiju lower his gaze and do not answer. The cardinal looks at his nephew, speaking his next words in a calm yet cold tone.

« This is not going to happen if you do not put an end to whatever is going on with this woman. Even after all these years, she clearly has you still wrapped around her finger, but do not be tempted to put a ring on it. You know you cannot do such thing. You have to get rid of her, or I will be taking care of this situation myself. » 

« You cannot- »

« Oh I will, if I have to. Indeed, no harm will be done if you do what you have to. But if you persist, I will finish what you started. »

Taiju closes his eyes, remembering your cries when the fire burned you. It was the most horrific sound he ever heard in his life. 

« I need time. Pray to give me a week to safeguard a way out of the holy lands for her, your Holiness. » 

« You have three days. » 

The crusader stands up and bow. He knows this is the cardinal’s final word. 

Before he leaves the tent, the man in red adds « Taiju. I would have let you marry… if you were not part of greater plans, I would have, believe me. But not to her. She is no lady, and I would have not allowed you to corrupt our bloodline with a lower cast. You are in no way made for each other. Now, do what you shall and come back where you belong.»

« Your Holiness. » He bows his head respectfully before leaving the tent. 

He lifts you from the ground the moment he sees you, not saying anything, and carry you bridal style to the camp. 

You don’t try to fight back and let him do what he wants, but you are not touching him. It’s more like he’s carrying an injured damsel. 

The soldiers on the camp make way and stand up straight when he walks past them.

When he arrives at an alley with bigger tents than the others on the camp, you understand this is probably the officer’s quarters. 

He bends over to go through the entrance of his tent and put you down. You look around to find a table with a chair where he works on, a bed on the floor with furs and various cushions and in the center of the tent, a large carpet made from a black bear’s fur. 

When you look at him, you’re prepared for his rage, you already know he is mad at you and probably is about to tell you that you should have never come here. 

« I know what you are going to say. » 

« No, you do not. » He replies immediately with a harsh voice. 

You lower your head, feeling like a kid being scolded. His tone is so cold. You knew he wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to see you here after what he told you when he left, but deep down, you were hoping he would at least be fine with it.

« Damn it, you have no idea ! » He says, gritting his teeth while running a nervous hand in his hair.

This is the first time you hear him swear, and you don’t know what to do. Should you leave ? Should you stay and try to talk about what you heard ? Maybe you should have just remained silent and away from what really matters to him. Now you are not so sure, it was a good idea to come anymore.

You feel your eyes watering, and you don’t want to show him how it affects you. You’ve never been one to cry in front of the others. You start to limp to the exit before you can’t keep it anymore, but he grabs your wrist and makes you turn around. 

He puts his hands on your cheeks and crashes his lips on yours, deepening the kiss immediately. You moan in his mouth when you find back the sensation of his scent, and you close the gap between you two, putting your arms around his waist. He is so eager, you can barely breathe, but it feels so right, you find back that feeling only him was able to make you feel, and it was worth every pain, every effort you have put up since you started to move.

His armor his dirty and cold, it stinks with terror and death of gone enemies, it spreads on your dress, but you are so happy to feel him again. So happy he still wants you after all these years.

He breaks the kiss just a moment later, not letting you the time to really enjoy it, and takes a step away.

Back is the cold and distant knight you met the first time. You know he couldn’t control himself at the moment, but his head his still full of remorse and fear of God. 

« Taiju… » You call for him gently, but he avoids your eyes like he can't stand to hear his name in your mouth. 

« Wait here. » He leaves the tent, not letting you the time to say anything else, practically running out of the place, and you. 

He leaves for an hour, you sat on the chair, tired. You’ve barely slept this past days and your right leg hurt like hell, now you're finally still. 

When he comes back, he has changed. He doesn’t wear his regular chain mail armor but a more light and discreet black leathered one and a long black coat on his left shoulder. 

« We need to leave. » 

You look at him in confusion when you see him packing his sword and some of his belongings. 

« Where are we going ? » 

« To the city. You cannot stay here. » 

He barely looks at you. You know he’s probably uncomfortable because you are the cause of his sins, but you don’t want to back up.

You follow him outside just to find his aide waiting next to his black stallion.

He rides his horse and held you his hand for you to take. You are a bit confused, as always he barely spoke, and you don’t even know what are his plans. But you trust him.

You trust him with your life. So you take his hand and let him drag you up to sit sidesaddle just before him.

Far away you can spot the cardinal looking at you too and Taiju bows his head before leaving the camp in a hurry. 

The horse runs fast while you put your head on his chest, and you close your eyes to the regular sound of his heartbeats. 

You are so tired, so overwhelmed. You can’t bring yourself to speak or to do anything, you just let the rhythm of the horse’s hooves rock you, and you close your eyes just for a bit.

You feel him held you closer, and you know you can delay the talk you two need to have just a bit more.

When you open your eyes, you can see the lights of the city in front of you. The horse reaches it some minutes later, and Taiju makes him walk until you stops in front of an ancient roman house with high walls and heavy doors. 

“Where are we ?”

He makes you slide carefully off the stallion before he does. “It’s one of the crusaders' residence.”

He bangs at the doors and a nun comes to open, bowing once she sees the holy knight. 

“Lord Commander ?” 

“Prepare two bedrooms for my guest and I, sister. We are staying the night.”

He gives her a parchment with his family’s coat of arms, and she looks at you in confusion. But Taiju doesn’t let her think too much as he puts his palm on the door and push it open.

When you come in you can’t do anything but lift your head looking at the magnificent architecture well-preserved. You are in a square yard. Some servants are walking on the opened corridor in second floor and another nun is already coming your way. 

“Pray to take care of our guest, sisters. Take her to her room, give her new clothes and food, bath her, put her to bed and lend me a servant. I need to send a missive before tomorrow. »

He obviously doesn’t want to stay with you, and you look at him disappointed, not daring to speak in front of the nuns. They bow at him respectfully, and you are taken to the kitchens, looking at the soldier of God above your shoulder. He doesn't stay focused on you and make his way to the opposite with a man carrying the cape and sword Taiju gives him.

The nuns let you eat a warm bowl of boiled meat, bread and vegetables, welcomed by your empty stomach. When you are full, they take you to your bedroom, decorated with a mythological fresco and a wooden bed with white sheers. A bath is already filled with hot water in the middle of the room by a servant, and they help you out of your clothes and bandages before washing you as the commander ordered. 

They don’t talk. Not a single word is spoken, but you can see them exchange several glances when they put the sponge on your burned body parts. 

Once it’s done, the help comes with a long white and almost transparent nightgown, and put you to bed. 

One of the nun put new bandages for you to put on tomorrow morning then blows out the candle, and they leave you on a comfortable yet cold bed alone in the dark. 

This is not what you wanted. You miss his warmth. You miss his voice and stern look. Furthermore, you know he will not dare to come here. It’s not a church, but it stays a sacred house blessed by God. Nuns are obviously running and taking care of this place for the crusaders. 

But...

You try as much as you can to fight the urge to see him, and you turn in the bed without finding sleep nor peace. 

You decide to stand up, and light the candle before sneaking out of your bedroom. You know this is not a smart idea, you know you’ll piss him off even more, but you are determined to finally have this talk you need to have with him. 

Everything his dark outside. It’s already late, and they are all sleeping by now. But not you. You walk randomly from a door to another with the hope to find the room you are looking for, but when you finally do, he's not inside. You can see his belongings, his armor and his sword, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

You decide to go downstairs, and you spot a light under a door that you past open quietly. 

Inside it’s a huge room with column and light steam coming from a roman bath in the center. Your cheeks burn out when you realize you have no right to be there. 

He’s here, his body partially emerged in the hot water, sat in a stone bench with his arms spread open to make him comfortable. His eyes are closed, and you think he could be sleeping. 

But he’s not. When you put a foot on the first step, the water starts to move calmly, and he open his eyes to meet yours. 

He doesn’t say anything, just looking at you, but it’s enough for you to understand he’s not pleased to see you here. 

You put the candle on the ground and enter the bath, the waters comes to your belly and wet your nightgown, making you almost naked before him.

He closes his eyes, refusing to look at your body and let his head go back on his muscular shoulders. He knows, no matter what he'd say, you are not going to listen. You never did, why would it be otherwise this time ?

But your thought are far away from his. He’s so beautiful to you, with all the scars on his body and face, his hard shaped muscles and his calm yet tense posture. 

When you are in front of him, you take the hem of your nightgown and lift it enough for you to sit on him.

You can already feel his manhood touching your sweet lips, and his fists curl at the feeling.

You put your hand on his cheek, and he opens his eyes to look at you. But still, he doesn't speak. It didn’t have changed much since the last time you met. 

You missed him. So much. If he has the control not to touch you, it’s not the same for you. You need to feel him. You need to touch him, to kiss him. 

You try to but his head turns to the side, not allowing you, and you end up kissing his neck. Your hips start to grind on him, you can feel your pussy quivering above him, feeling his dick getting hard without his consent, and you let your hips roll back and forth and slide his length carefully between your lips.

He let out a long breath, closing his eyes again, and you chuckle in his neck.

God, you missed him so much. Now you crave his touch. You want him to look at your body, to put his fingers deep inside your already slick hole, aching to be filled with his thick cock. You take off your clothe, put your hand in the water, coming to caress his hard shaft, throbbing obscenely the moment you touch him.

He growl lightly, his brows furrowing when you put your thumb on the slit of his cock head and your four other fingers press hard around his girth. 

How greedy you are now. You never had another man, no one touched you but him, and he knows it. You hope so. “Only you.” You whisper in his ear, and you see one of his hand moving to your body before he decides against it and put it back where it was. 

Your cunt is still rubbing against his dick with the help of your hand wrapped around him, leading him between your legs to your hole and tampering your folds with the tip.

It must be torture to him, but since he decided to play hard to get you’re not going to spare him. 

You heard his confession. You know he masturbated thinking of you. 

“When was the last time you did it ?”

He tries his best to regulate his breath, but the pressure you put on him is almost unbearable. You may not be a witch, but your spell on him is real, and he knows that. 

“A week ago.” He whispers in a grown when he feels you rubbing his cock head against your clit.

You smile and put his tip at your entrance. “I thought crusaders were forbidden to lie ?”

His head lay back on the concrete while his hips are rising to bury himself inside you more. But you don’t allow him.

“Two days ago.” He finally admits in a deep breath. 

You close the gap between your bodies and let your breast flush against his torso. The moment you do, you feel him pulse in your hand, and you smile. 

With your other hand, you come to find his throat and squeeze it lightly. 

“What were you thinking when you touched yourself, Lord commander ?”

He frowns, not answering, and you squeeze harder, still sliding his fat cock head up and down your folds. 

You bend to his ear and whisper, “Do you want to feel how wet I am because of you ? How you could ruin my tight little cunt with that hard throbbing cock of yours ?” 

He tries his best not to answer, but his head nods slightly and yours start to spin around. “Then answer me. What were you thinking when you touched yourself ?”

You apply more pressure between your legs closing them to deny access, and you choke him with all your strength, sending electric waves in both your bodies. 

His eyes shot open when he starts to miss air and his hands grabs your hips roughly. He's not playing anymore. 

“Do you want me to show you ?”

He unwraps your legs from his heavy waist and don’t let you the time to process. You find yourself pushed against the bench he was sitting on, and he’s behind you. 

Your mouth opens when he grabs both your wrists in his palm and slap your ass with the other. 

Your face hit up when you feel him push inside you in one thrust, splitting you open on his dick. He doesn’t let you time to adjust and starts to pound hard inside you. 

The wet sound of your body is echoing inside the bathroom, with the statues of ancient deities looking at you. 

You moan loudly when he tightens his grasp on your wrists in your back, and he fucks you hard, withdrawing his dick from your cunt before slamming back inside roughly. “This is what you wanted, huh ?” 

You shake your head, moaning at every thrust, and he slaps your ass cheek harder. “Now, who is lying ?” 

You tighten in purpose around him, and he growls loudly, going even harder inside your drenched cunt. Even in your intercourse, you two are fighting.

“You little whore... are you trying to make me come fast ?” You get another slap on your ass, and he has to slow down not to come when you squeeze him hard between your warm walls. 

He lower his gaze to see a white ring of your arousal around his cock, and he breathes hard, yanking your hair from behind and tightens his grasp on your wrists so much, you are sure there will be bruises in the morning here and the print of his hand on your ass. 

He leans on you and whispers, “You can moan all you want, the walls are thick, woman.”

So you let it go. You know he likes to hear you moan for him, and if you have to sin here, you’re going to do it right. 

“Taiju... harder... oh yes...more ! ” This is what years of pent-up frustration has done to both of you, and you can’t do anything but to want him to shape your insides with his cock. Your perverted moans make him wants to fill you to the brim, and he can’t stop his hips to slam against your ass. 

A shiver run down his spine when he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. He let go of your wrists and hair and grabs your hips, merging his fingers with it while he bully your sweet spot and cervix again and again, making you mistake pain and pleasure until there is none to define at each thrust. 

You let your cheek rest on the stone and put your hand between your legs, but he forbids you immediately. “You wanted me to fuck you like a whore ? Then you are going to come like one.” 

He slides one of his fingers inside your ass, while stretching you to the point you think you’re going to break and rub his other thumb on your clit at the same time, thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. 

It’s the same feeling you find back inside you. It has been years since you had sex with him, but it didn’t change. Eveytime he touches you, you think you’re going to die in a pure bliss. 

He makes you come hard on his dick before you feel his pace resuming as he pours his hot seed directly deep in your womb without any warnings.

He let his body falls on yours, his forehead on your back, and you have so much trouble to take your breath back to normal. 

He stays inside you a bit and when he pulls out, his cum slowly oozes out and along your thigh. “I beg your pardon Y/n... I lost my mind at the sight of your charms.” He says after a moment. 

He sits down in the water and make you sit on him to bathe you in a smooth aftercare.

“No, I enjoyed it too… God, I missed you.” You say, embarrassed, nudging your face in the crook of his neck. 

He chuckles and hold you tight in his arms while he kisses your forehead. 

“I thought of you on the battlefield.” He lower his gaze, his voice becoming barely a whisper. « It kept me alive. »

Your smile lights your face up when you hear him, and you carefully raise your head to kiss him gently as you draw your untold three secret words against his sacred lips. 

Taglist : @p-antomime @bubble4u @haitaniapologist @aasouthteranoswife @ucancallmeelena @kaleeuh @spaceemeeatt2

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[homoose]

A Timely Reminder

Summary: Prof!Spencer has been thinking about having sex in his office for a while now. Reader helps him make it happen. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18+ (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: established relationship, exhibitionism, light sub!spencer (but really just whipped!spencer), oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, insecure!reader, jealous!reader, loud af!spencer, v light hand over mouth action

Word count: 4k

a/n: Because this Tuesday has been hot garbage... have a treat. An anon asked me if reader was a switch... here’s your answer. Also because we already got to see Spencer be jealous af, we deserved to have jealous reader, too. ♥️

a/n 2: This is a companion to the latest chapter of my series, but it can mostly stand alone! All you need to know is it’s an established relationship and she’s been invited to visit him at the university. 

Series Masterlist 

———

Y/N watched from her seat outside his office as a student slipped out through Spencer’s half-open door— looking positively dreamy. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the next girl stepped in the office. 

It took another twenty minutes for the final two students to finish their visits. When the last coed made her way out the door and down the hall, Y/N stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She crossed the hallway and peered into his office, knocking on the door frame.

Spencer raised his head with a panicked look, his face softening into relief when he saw it was her. “Hey. Close the door,” he begged.

Y/N stepped into his office and closed the door quietly behind her. She finally took a look around the space— fairly small but tastefully decorated. The wall across from her was one enormous bookcase, filled to capacity, of course. Light filtered in from a single window, and his mahogany desk sat on the far wall, accompanied by a wingback leather office chair. Behind his desk was a low shelf lined with a globe, some other trinkets, and a plethora of picture frames. 

“Sorry that took so long.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know why my office hours are always so busy.”

She hummed, crossing to the gigantic bookshelf. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed exasperatedly. “No one else has that many students at their office hours. I asked.”

She laughed a little. “You asked?”

“Well, yeah.” He drew his brows together. “I don’t know if my syllabus is confusing, or if I’m— not clear enough in my lectures, maybe?” He ran both hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. “But there are always so many questions, and I mean— there are no stupid questions, but…” He sighed. “Sometimes the questions are stupid.”

She did laugh at that, full and loud. “Well, if my professors looked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I imagine I’d come up with a litany of questions, too. Stupid or otherwise.”

He was quiet, and she ran her finger along the book she was studying rather intently. She felt him moving toward her more than heard it, felt his eyes on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead pretending to peruse the titles in front of her. 

“Are you— are you jealous?” he asked incredulously. 

“No,” she defended, a little too quickly and voice a little too high.

“It’s okay if you are. Jealousy is— it’s a very normal human emotion.” He cleared his throat. “It’s, um— it’s kind of hot, actually.”

She rolled her eyes, but truthfully, his confession made her feel a little bit better. He put a hand on her waist to turn her to face him, and she could feel her cheeks burning— hoped he couldn’t see it. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall behind his head. 

“But you know you have no reason to be, right?” He cupped a gentle hand under her chin, finally brought her eyes to his. “Why would I be interested in girls when I already have a woman?”

He leaned in to press his mouth to hers, soft and sweet. Then his hand was back on her waist and pulling her flush against him, drawing a small gasp from her mouth that had him deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue. His mouth was hot and hungry, moving over hers with a quiet desperation. He slid his free hand to the nape of her neck, fisted it in her hair and tugged. 

She sucked in a breath and bit a little harshly on his bottom lip, moving a hand up to grasp at his forearm. He pulled out of the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, chest already heaving. His voice was raspy when he warned, “The door doesn’t lock.”

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“But I’ve kind of… been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, dragging the tip of his nose along her cheek.

She swallowed. “Mm, what— what’ve you been thinking about?”

“You, always.” His breath was hot on her ear, and now he had both hands on her hips. He used them to push her gently back into the bookshelf. “But specifically, I’ve been thinking about fucking you in here.”

“Oh,” she breathed, tangling her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah.” He ghosted his mouth over her neck, dragged his teeth a little to make her shiver. “Would that be okay?”

She tilted her head back to bare more of her neck to him, and he closed his mouth over her pulse point, sucking wetly. He slid his leg between hers, lifted his thigh to press against her, and she could feel her underwear sticking to the wetness already gathering there. Her breath caught in her throat as she ground down on his leg. He sucked hard on her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot and lifting his head to look at her. 

“Do you wanna do that?” he asked again.

“God, I— yeah,” she nodded.

He brought his hand up to stroke this thumb along her cheek. “You’re sure?”

The knowledge that he’d been thinking about being with her in this space was more than a little overwhelming. His gaze was earnest and lustful, and she knew he was telling the truth— that she had no reason to be jealous, that he was always thinking of her. His declaration didn’t quite douse the fire of her insecurity, but at least it wasn’t burning quite so hot. And the idea that she could bring this fantasy to life, make sure his head was full of her whenever he sat at his desk or pulled a book off this shelf— that was almost too much. “Yes. Very sure.”

His mouth was on hers almost before she got the words out, his tongue sliding against hers. He brought both hands to the hem of her dress, hiking it up and slipping his hands underneath to grab at her ass, pulling her closer. He turned and walked her backwards toward his desk, bringing their entwined bodies around the corner of it, pushing her back, and half-hoisting her to sit on top. 

His warm hands trailed along her inner thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress and forcing her legs apart. He stepped in between them and attached his mouth to her neck once more, sucking and licking and nipping a path along where her dress cut low in between her breasts. 

“What did you think about?” she breathed, winding her fingers into his hair. “What’s your fantasy, professor?” He bit down a little harshly where his mouth had been sucking. “You want me on my knees for you?”

He lifted his head and stepped even closer, bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her ass to the edge of the desk. “No. I want to be the one on my knees.”

With that, he dropped down in front of her, eye level with her pussy. He looked up at her from his place on the floor, laying his hands flat along the tops of her thighs and pushing her dress up to her waist. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down.

She watched as he brought them up to his nose, briefly inhaling and then folding them up into a neat square. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and placed them inside, closing the drawer and then looking up at her from under his lashes. She could barely breathe. 

He started at her ankles, taking one gently in his hands and kissing a warm path up to her knee, and then crossing over to the other side and back down.

“So soft,” he murmured, dragging his open mouth along her shin. He ghosted his fingers over her legs, pulling them up over his shoulders and settling in between her thighs.

He pressed featherlight kisses along her inner thighs, and she sucked in a breath as he inched closer to where she really wanted him. “Don’t tease, Spence.” 

She could feel his smile against her skin, and she brought her hand up to wrap his curls around her fingers, tugging a little harder than she normally would. “I’m not asking.”

He let out a moan that vibrated across her skin, and she tightened her grip on his hair. She pulled him against her, and finally he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking gently. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a soft whine. “Mmhmm, there you go.”

He wrapped his hands over the tops of her thighs, using his grip to hold her even more firmly against his mouth as he sucked and swirled his tongue around her clit. He brought his tongue to a point and flicked it rapidly against her, and she had to bring her other hand to his hair as well, holding tight. “Shit, baby, just like that.”

She used her hands in his hair to hold him still as she rolled her hips against his face, and his quiet groans had her heart flipping in her chest. “Fuck,” she breathed out. “Never met another man who loves eating pussy this much.” 

He nodded as best he could between the press of her thighs. “Use your fingers, professor,” she demanded. She smiled when he immediately complied, bringing one hand off where he was holding her against his face and trailing it between her legs. He shifted his mouth back to her clit, circling it with his tongue as he began to press his middle finger into her. 

She tightened her grip on his hair and held back a moan. “I said fingers, Spencer. I know you love to drag it out, but we don’t have time.”

He whined but added his index finger, slipping them into her and curling them up immediately. She had to clamp her mouth shut to stifle the moan that threatened to echo off the walls of the office as he began to fuck into her, dragging his fingers against that spot inside her on every out-stroke. 

He hummed around her clit as he thrust his fingers inside and then sucked as he dragged them out, over and over and over again, his plush lips covered in her arousal and working magic over her cunt. The sound of how wet she was had them both groaning a little too loud for their current venue, and then she was coming with his name on her tongue. 

He didn’t let up after she was finished, still lapping at her entrance and pressing kisses to every inch of her pussy, whining and moaning against her like a man starved. “How are you so good at that, hm?” she gasped. “Had a lot of practice?”

She opened her eyes, slightly unfocused as he worked her to another orgasm, much less intense but still just as good. And then her gaze fell on the shelf behind him, and for the first time she noticed that the picture frames were filled with… her. 

She finally tugged him off by his hair when his mouth became too much, and as he pressed gentle kisses to her thighs, she counted eight different framed pictures of the two of them. There were also pictures of him and the team, his mom, and the boys. But the vast majority of them were of her. 

There was one of her sipping coffee at Soho— from their first official date there. Another of her smiling against the backdrop of the arboretum. One where she was tucked under his arm with his lips pressed to her cheek. Another still where he was hugging her tight in front of the Smithsonian. 

She let out a long breath and then looked down to see him watching her, and her breath caught in her throat. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she knew that she really, really had nothing to worry about. “C’mere.”

Spencer scrambled up off his knees, crowding in close and pressing a sloppy kiss to her mouth. Their tongues slid together, and she tasted herself as he brought his clean hand up to her face. Her hands made their way to his ass, pulling him flush against her, and his hips jolted forward and she could feel his erection clear as day. He groaned and rolled his hips against her, and she smiled against his mouth. 

“So hard, baby,” she praised, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “You love being on your knees, huh?”

He hummed in confirmation, and she trailed a line of kisses down his jaw, then his neck. When she reached the collar of his shirt, she brought her hands up to loosen his tie. “You were so good for me.” She got the tie undone and dropped it on the desk. Then she popped the first two buttons on his shirt, dragging her mouth along the column of his throat. “You wanna fuck me now?”

“Yes, yes, please.” 

She dragged her hands down his chest and began to work on his belt. When that was undone and hanging loose, she popped the button on his trousers and lowered his zipper, then palmed him through his underwear. 

“You’re such a pretty boy, Spence,” she breathed. “You know that’s why they come to your office hours, right? Because you’re so pretty.” She squeezed a little where he was so hard and leaking from the tip. “They’re hoping maybe you’ll fuck them over this desk.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide. “Y/N, I would never—”

“I know, baby. I know,” she assured, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You probably never even thought about it.” 

“I don’t.” His voice was a little bit desperate, like he was afraid she didn’t believe him. “I only think a-about you. I— I’m always thinking about you, even when I probably shouldn’t be.”

“Mm, I’d say ‘sorry,’ but... I’m really, really not.” She brought her hands to his hips, forcing his trousers and underwear down over his ass to let his cock spring free. “Is that why you’re keeping my panties? To help you out when you’re thinking about me in here?” 

“Y-yes.” He watched as she dragged her palm over her slick entrance, and then brought her wet hand to circle around his dick. “Oh my god,” he whispered. 

“How do you wanna fuck me? Wanna bend me over your desk?” His fingers dug into her hips as she pumped his cock, and he shook his head. “No? You want me to blow you?” His hips jerked forward into the tight circle of her hand, but he shook his head again. “Then tell me what you want, Spence.”

His flush had traveled all the way down his chest, pretty and red and sweaty. His gaze was settled on her fingers wrapped around his cock. “Can you, um— can you ride me?”

She smiled and then gave him one last stroke and dropped herself off the edge of the desk. She hummed and stepped closer to him, grasping his chin and pulling him down into a hot, possessive kiss. “Should have known you’d want me on top,” she teased.

She leaned down to his desk drawer. “Do you have condoms in here, too?” She opened it and retrieved her panties, wiping off her hand on them and then folding them back up and replacing them in the drawer. 

He whimpered at the sight and then fumbled in the pocket of his suit coat, slung over the back of the chair. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have one in there?”

“No,” he defended, ripping open the wrapper and rolling it on. “Only when I know you’re gonna be around.”

He moved to sit on the desk, shoving the student essays and extra papers haphazardly out of the way to make room for her. She stepped in between his knees and laughed a little at the way he reached for her. She kissed him quickly before climbing up onto the desk, shifting around him and cursing under her breath. “You’ve picked possibly the most awkward position for this fantasy.”

“We— we can do it another way or— or not at all if—”

“Just—” she put a finger up to his lips “—shut up and make sure I don’t fall off the desk?”

He smiled a little sheepishly and grasped her hips, and she clung to his shoulders as she got situated over top of his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her and leaned in to press their mouths together. “Thank you for making this work,” he mumbled. 

She kissed him again and then rolled her hips down over his cock, pulling a whine from the back of his throat. She did it again just to tease him, and then reached between their bodies to line him up. 

His grip tightened around her waist as she began to sink down on him, and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. The stretch from this angle was always more intense, and it had her gasping out his name as he bottomed out. He rubbed his hands soothingly over her lower back as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder and keeping as still as possible. 

She finally let out a breath and circled her hips, and Spencer sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “You feel so good, so fucking thick.”

She got into her rhythm quickly, mindful of the fact that she was riding her boyfriend in his office in the middle of the day with an entire university just on the other side of a flimsy door. She worked her hips over his cock, bouncing on him and ignoring the burn in her thighs. She dropped down and he held her hips in place, grinding himself deep. She buried her face in his neck and tried to hold back the obscene moan that threatened to escape. 

Spencer didn’t bother to do the same, letting out a groan that reverberated in her eardrums and throughout the small space. She clapped her hand over his mouth and lifted her hips slightly, pulling back to whisper, “Jesus, shh— you’re so loud, Spence. Gonna get us caught.”

His eyes slammed shut and he fucked up into her, whining underneath her hand. Her eyes widened a little as he continued moaning into her palm. She rolled her hips down hard, forcing him deep, and he cried out again. 

“You want that?” she asked. “You want somebody to hear us? Want them to know you’re fucking me in here?”

He didn’t answer, just gripped her hips a little tighter and used what little leverage he had to thrust his hips roughly into her. She kept her hand over his mouth and leaned forward, partially to bring her lips closer to his ear and partially to find that perfect angle. “You want them to know I belong to you?”

He whined pathetically against her hand, and she circled her hips and kept him deep, moaning quietly into his ear. “Or is this about who you belong to?”

She felt his dick twitch where it was buried inside her, and he nodded frantically. She began to rock her hips forward and back, her breath hitching. “Is that why you have all these pictures of me?” she asked, and she saw his eyes shift to the shelf behind her. 

“You don’t think about fucking them, but they think about you.” She punctuated the thought with a slow roll of her hips. “You want them to know that you’re mine?” 

He brought his eyes back to hers, and there was a softness there that made her chest ache. She removed her hand to cover his mouth in a kiss, and he brought his hands up to cup her face, licking into her mouth and trying desperately to prove his loyalty. 

She broke out of the kiss and rolled her hips again. He kept one hand on her face and moved the other to wrap around her dress and keep her seated. She threw her head back as he rocked his hips to have his cock bumping against that spot inside her. He repeated the motion, bringing her closer to orgasm with every shift of his hips. 

She came with another gasp of his name, riding out her high and clenching around him. He pressed his mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin. She continued the movement of her hips, working her sensitive cunt over his cock. “I don’t think they’re taking the hint, professor. Did you want to give them another reminder?”

He nodded, surging up to kiss her and then planting his feet to help drive himself up into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned forward into him as his hips began to falter. He grasped her ass and gave one final rough thrust, whining high and long into her mouth as he came. 

She began to press soft kisses to his nose, his cheek, his jaw. He wrapped his arms back around her waist and then hugged her close, panting into her neck as he came down. She rubbed one hand over his back and smoothed the other over his curls, gently twirling the hair at the back of his neck. He gave her one more squeeze before loosening his arms and lifting his head, his eyes dazed and practically sparkling. 

“Wow,” he breathed. 

She laughed. “I can tell you that this is not where I thought I’d end up today.” She lifted off of him and clutched a little at his arms as she navigated off the desk. She sucked in a breath as her feet made it to the floor, her knees and thighs already screaming. “I bet your fan club wouldn’t be this sore,” she joked. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him, bringing his free hand up to brush her hair back. “There’s nothing to bet on, because that’s never going to happen.” He cradled her face in both hands. “You know that, right?” 

She covered his hands with her own, rubbing her thumbs over the soft skin. “I know.”

“Good.” He leaned forward to press their mouths together, unbelievably soft and sweet in comparison to the way it had been just a few minutes ago. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree,” she whispered. She pressed one more kiss to his lips and then stepped out of his embrace. “Now, put that thing away before we actually do get caught.”

He gaped at her, fighting a grin as he tied off the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. She retrieved his tie from where she had discarded it earlier and dragged it from her knee all the way up to her inner thigh under her dress, cleaning herself up as much as she could.

She lifted her head to see him staring at her, his mouth hanging open. “You don’t mind, do you? I figured it was an even trade since you’re keeping my underwear.” She dropped the messy tie into her bag and draped the strap over her shoulder, tilting her head innocently. 

He lunged forward to crash their mouths together, and she clutched at his waist. “You are so fucking hot,” he mumbled, nipping at her bottom lip. 

“Mmhm, and don’t you forget it.”

“I’m literally incapable of forgetting it.” He kissed her again. “Thank fuck.” 

She laughed and used a light hand to push him off her, taking a second to take stock of his appearance. She fixed the tuck of his shirt and smoothed a few rogue curls back into place. He looked decidedly fucked out, sweaty and flushed all the way down his chest, his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons still undone… and she couldn’t bring herself to be bothered. 

He held his hand out to her and smiled radiantly when she accepted it and laced their fingers together. “I was thinking we could get a late lunch?” he offered. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

He grabbed his suit coat and his bag, and they crossed to the door together. He opened it and allowed her to step out into the hallway, following close behind. She swung their hands a little as they made their way down the hall. “That was so fun. Thanks for letting me come.”

Spencer choked on air, looking surreptitiously around the hallway. She laughed brightly and squeezed his hand. “Funny how you’re so modest all of a sudden. Thanks for letting me come visit, professor.”

They walked out together into the quad, hand in hand, and with more than one pair of eyes on them.

———

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[uncouth-the-fifth]

so glad you got a tumblr couth 🥰 ik you said something about wanting to take ask requests on here, so do you have any smut damian hcs?? :D

I'm guessing you just mean general hcs, so here are the ones I think about most when I write:

at first, Damian has no experience, doesn't want experience, and overall imagines sex as a form of manipulation or conquest. his thoughts on sex are initially unhealthy, but with enough time around good examples like his s/o, those thoughts start to change.

there's bragging. lots of bragging. before Damian even has sex he fucking brags about being good at it, bc he's stupid like that. but to his credit, Damian does know human anatomy so well that he can nerve strike ppl... which means... he definitely doesn't get lost yk 😳 I don't think he brags to ppl he's not comfortable with. He's definitely more of the type to be like, "Of course I'm proficient—pleasuring a woman is mind-numbingly simple."

(if he can think of 980 ways to kill someone w his bare hands then he's has to know at least 20 ways to pleasure them. right?)

when Damian does find the right person to begin with, I think of it two ways:

1. if they're more experienced than him, he'll complain a lot, but he desperately wants to perform well and ends up listening to all (most) of their commands. he talks himself up a lot, but underneath all that he's nothing but soft and nervous. there's not much that Damian isn't skilled in, so he's extra aware of where his failings are. he lets you touch him first. but even if you know more than him, he makes a point to remind you that he's a very, very quick learner. your experience is quickly matched. all he needs is a moment to muster himself, then it'll be your turn on the bottom ;)

2. if his partner has the same amount of practice as Damian does, he will take initiative. he will treat it like a science experiment in the most literal sense, documenting your reactions to his every touch, trying to measure what you like the most. maybe he'll ask to undress you, just so he can marvel at you up close. Damian is a total control freak, too. he wants to be on top, wants to control the pace. every social part is new to him, more so than it would be for a normal person, which leaves him feeling unprepared and nervous. it's when you're pressed close together that those feelings start to loosen. not even he can be truly prepared for the first time, and since his life is so ruled by preparation and the future, that sense of timelessness is really pleasant. he doesn't have to be good the first time, because it's not a test.

(but... he is good. very good. he's not too gentle, but still sweet, giving you time to breathe and kissing your nose ridge when you hiss at his stretch. Damian has never been this close to someone before - he secretly adores it).

i don't see him thinking much about himself until after the first time - his happiness almost comes as a sort of side effect of sex, not a deliberate product. Damian is the grave opposite of selfish (he's not at all kind to himself), so he thinks of himself more as a tool in the process to pleasure you. his mouth is for you, his hands are for you, and his dick is definitely for you too.

after further practice, his s/o kind of trains him to want it for himself. Damian does want to fuck you (desperately), his brain is just programmed to shut away any good feeling. every time he lusted after you, admired you in a sexual way, or thought about you dirtily, his mind just didn't take it.

but when he experiences sex for the first time, it shocks him how intimate and romantic it can be. this whole time, he figured it was more of a mechanical process that ppl pretended was good to make themselves feel better. but Damian's first time is fucking awesome.

it's very healing for him. once Damian realizes that it's a good thing, he fixates on it. he reads articles and books about sex, he makes sure you have it around two times a week (his research suggests that this is the best for a couple of your standard), he mixes it up each time so you don't get bored of each other. it's the total opposite of killing, so Damian pledges a piece of his soul to it.

on accident, he becomes a sex god.

in some versions of canon he's been genetically modified from birth to be "perfect" (in the human-made sense), so his endurance is insane. for this reason I hc him as being very big, which only makes him more of an asshole when it comes to bragging. now, he can actually back it up.

his favorite place is the shower, because of the easy access, the cleanup, and the blatant romantics of it. your hair is slicked to the back of your necks and water runs down your faces as you kiss, like you're dancing in the rain at the end of a romance film. he gets to undress you. he gets to run his fingers through your hair. his shower faces the mirror, so he can make love to you against the glass with a great view. and the soap - fuck, the soap. if he's lucky, you'll let him do the cleaning, so Damian can caress and stroke the white, foamy bubbles down your chest and belly... if you're not joining him in the shower, it's definitely something he thinks about. in detail. with his cock in hand.

alternatively, the couch (because any sitting sex position drives him wild), counters, desks, poolside or in nature. you've never survived a picnic with him.

in general, Damian seems like a cranky partner, but it only takes him a few minutes to start moaning like he means it. he would rather be romantic and slow, giving you his cock inch by inch, than fuck you rough. but he's not opposed to a little bruising.

he's definitely not opposed to oral. in fact, it's his speciality. Damian opens and closes the session with his tongue inside you, and often uses it as a destressor. He's very "hard working."

it takes him a while to work up to a blowjob, but admittedly, he loves the dark feelings he gets from it. Damian loves to see you on your knees. when you hold him in your mouth, the temptation to choke his dick further into your throat is killer. he loves how you gasp for breath once he releases you, chest heaving, his cum drooling from your lips. he loves when you blink up at him all dizzy, when you call him pretty names.

I hc he has a very subtle mommy kink, doesn't mind a little bondage or knife play, loves lingerie or you in his clothes, and would probably die happy if you choked him with your thighs.

he'll fuck you for genuine hours, all he wants in return is some cleanliness. you lay down a towel, you keep a bowl of hot water nearby, and he'll go crazy on you.

[writemekpop]

Bad Romance (Part 1) | Lee Taeyong

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Taeyong wants to fuck you, but you're not ready...

Genre: Angst, Smut, College AU 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Sexual Content, Toxic relationship 

Part 1 ⭐️| Part 2

Taeyong’s breaths were deafening in your ear. Couldn’t he try to control himself? For discretion, at least. You imagined every ear in your university dorm pricking up. Snickering. “I wonder what they’re up to.” 

Taeyong kissed you again, his hot lips colliding with yours.

His hand, ever so slightly rough, pushed up your shirt, sending goosebumps up your ribs. A moan sounded, deep in your throat, and Taeyong groaned in satisfaction. 

You felt instantly guilty. You’d told yourself your ancestors wouldn’t mind if you did this for him. But you’d promised not to enjoy it. 

Taeyong knotted one hand in your hair. You felt the other one slide up to your back to unclasp your bra. His hand dwarfed your back, sending sparks rippling up your shoulder blades. 

“Are you okay with this?” he murmured, voice husky. You nodded. It was a lie.

The truth was, you’d never had sex before. You’d barely even kissed a boy. 

When all your college friends were in the basement snogging boys, you would hover by the doorway, holding their drinks. When they began to tease you, you just pretended you couldn’t hear them. 

Even when everyone started saying you ‘batted for the other team’, it just felt like a relief. Maybe they’d finally leave you alone. 

You were a feminist. You fully believed that women weren’t shiny, unwrapped presents that had to be protected for marriage. But you were also a fake. 

Because the idea of sleeping with a stranger still made you feel sick inside. 

Well, Taeyong wasn’t a stranger; he was your boyfriend. So, you would just have to grit your teeth and get on with it. 

Taeyong’s hand slid down between you. You squeezed your eyes shut. It would be over in a minute; that’s what your friends were always joking about, right? 

Then, you heard the unmistakeable clink of his belt buckle. Suddenly, that was the most terrifying sound you’d ever heard.  

“W-wait,” you croaked. 

You clung onto Taeyong’s firm wrist. 

He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding under his papery-thin skin. You were sat on his lap – so you could feel how ready he was, and it frightened you. 

He would hate you for what you were about to say, you knew that. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

You rolled away from him, pulling your knees up and hugging them. Burying your wet eyes in your knees, you waited for Taeyong to leave. 

But you didn’t feel him get off the bed. 

Instead, there was absolute silence. A shiver ran down your spine. 

Then, his muscled arms were wrapping around you. Taeyong eased you till you were lying on the bed – fear closed in your throat – but he wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Instead, he helped you pull your T-shirt back on, and guided you so your head was resting on his chest.

You felt his thundering heartbeat slow to a steady, comforting pulse.

Taeyong pressed a kiss on your temple. For a second, your stomach curled; it was so fatherly. You mentally scolded yourself. Taeyong wasn’t like other guys. He was caring, and sensitive, and you should be grateful.  

“If you wanna go slow, let’s go slow. You’ll always be my girl,” Taeyong whispered.

So, you pushed down the niggling feeling that ‘always’ had an expiry date. It was time you learnt to trust someone, and Taeyong was the perfect person to let in.

---

Over the next few months, you tried your best to forget about that night. And it was easy enough – Taeyong was electrifying. 

You’d never met a man who could tell a Basquiat from a Banksy and didn’t even show off about it. 

Each night, after lectures, you’d sneak off to some gallery late opening, and take photos of each other for Instagram. 

Or, you’d just snuggle up in his dorm room and listen to him telling you all about his Art History course, or his dreams of starting his own gallery. 

You rarely spoke. You preferred to soak in his world, like a cat curled in the sun. And let’s face it – who wanted to talk about Maths, anyway? 

Taeyong was like a shooting star: totally uncontrollable, impossible to understand, yet hopelessly fascinating. You couldn’t believe why someone like him seemed to find you interesting. Or at least, worth spending every day with.  

---

The second time Taeyong scared you was a Saturday.

You were sitting in his lap, poring over one of his Art History books. Other than toying with a curl of your hair, or pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Taeyong was totally still.  

Sighing with pleasure, you flicked through the glossy pages – for the hundredth time. No wonder Taeyong would always say: If I wasn’t rubbish at Maths, we should’ve swapped courses.

Just then, you prised open a page you hadn’t seen before. You frowned. 

It was a scan of an old Japanese painting. In it, a wealthy couple were captured in a furious argument with a young woman, carrying a baby. It was entitled ‘Outside Wife’. 

You turned to Taeyong, finger on the title. “What’s that?” 

Taeyong lifted the book from your hands, then grinned. “It’s when a noble couple are forced to get married, but the man has another wife to, you know, satisfy his needs.” Taeyong chuckled dryly. “Unfortunately, that system isn’t available anymore.” 

You began to chuckle too… then your smile melted from your face. “What do you mean, unfortunately?” Goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

“Ah… it was just a joke. You know, we’re not exactly getting any.” Taeyong’s body still felt relaxed under you, but your muscles were tensing. 

“I thought you said you wanted to go slow…” you mumbled. 

Of course. You should’ve seen this coming. 

There was only so long a person could go without their needs fulfilled. And here you were, dragging your boyfriend down while he could sleep with any normal girl whenever he wanted. 

“I’m not ready yet, Taeyong.” You picked at the frayed wool of your jumper. 

Your throat closed as you prepared for what you would say next. “If you… need to sleep with someone else, I won’t blame you,” you whispered. Stupid, babyish tears were filling your eyes already. 

“Babe – it was just a joke! No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Taeyong laughed, and kissed your neck. 

When you still didn’t make a sound a moment later, Taeyong turned you around on his lap so you were facing him. Tears streaked freely down your cheeks – you couldn’t hide them. 

“Oh, baby….” Soft as a whisper, Taeyong placed his palm on your cheek and smoothed away the tears with his thumb. “I don’t care about your… problem. You’re my girlfriend, and what’s good enough for you’s good enough for me.” 

A small part of you hurt at the way he said problem, but you pushed that part away. You allowed him a small smile. 

Laughing, Taeyong pulled you into a bear hug. You’d never gripped his shoulder so tight. You were so lucky to have him. 

----

A few weeks later, Taeyong finally convinced you to accompany him to a house party. You knew what this meant. You’d been dating for four months – this was the ‘meeting his friends’ moment. 

All the time you were getting ready, your stomach had transformed into a pit of snakes. Excitement, anxiety, fear – they all wriggled and knotted about inside you. 

You chose a midnight-blue playsuit, in a glimmering velvet. When Taeyong pointed it out to you in the shop, you knew this what you’d be wearing. 

To be honest, you hated Taeyong’s friends. You were pretty sure Taeil had tried to sneak vodka into your coke, and Mark did nothing but yap on endlessly about his girlfriend in Canada. You were almost 100% sure she didn’t exist. 

But as soon as Taeyong’s mahogany eyes met yours across in the heaving living room, all your worries melted away like snow. All he had to do was raise one deep eyebrow, or pull his plump lips into a silly face, and you’d burst out laughing. 

Except, as the hours drew by, you realised you hadn’t seen Taeyong in a while. You were perched on the stairs, shivering next to everyone who was too zoned out to take part. 

“Taeyong?” 

Tip-toeing, you climbed up the stairs, calling his name. You pushed open each of the doors in the hallway, peeking through your fingers just in case anything funny was going on. 

But they were all empty. 

Just as you turned around to go back downstairs, you heard voices coming from the attic. Gingerly, you sneaked up. They grew louder, more defined. 

Pushing open the door just a crack, you heard:

“Really? My god.” 

Your heart jumped. You knew that rich, resounding tone better than your own voice. It was Taeyong. 

You considered climbing up to join them. But then, you heard something that stopped you in your tracks. 

“And the worst thing is, Irene thinks she’s some kind of sex goddess, but actually she’s awful. She just lies there like a limp doll, expecting me to do everything.” It was Doyoung speaking. 

There was a pause as they all laughed. 

Your heart was already twisting. Something about his tone felt… wrong. Like his girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate what he was saying. 

Then, you heard Taeyong say, “Mate, at least your girlfriend’s fucking you, even if she is awful at it. I haven’t got any for months!” 

Everyone in the group exclaimed in disbelief. You forgot how to breathe. 

“Yeah – I know. Y/n thinks she’s some kind of saint for “waiting for the perfect moment”. I mean, a guy’s got needs!” Taeyong’s voice was low, but to you he could have been screaming. 

Black spots were engulfing your vision. Gulping, you staggered backwards, out of the door. You didn’t want to hear what you heard next. You really didn’t want to.  

But you couldn’t help it. Not when Taeyong said, “You know, I don’t even feel bad about fucking Joy. I mean, I had no choice. If Y/n wasn’t so frigid, I wouldn’t need to. It’s her fault really.” 

That was it. 

You sprinted away. Pushing through the line of partygoers waiting to use the bathroom, you locked yourself inside.

Then, you curled up on the toilet seat and sobbed. 

It had finally happened. 

Your gorgeous boyfriend had finally realised that he was miles out of your league. He didn’t deserve the defect. He didn’t deserve the fake feminist who was too ashamed to admit how sexist she really was. 

Then, a thought entered your mind that make you perk up. 

Maybe you could pretend you’d never overheard Taeyong. Maybe you could go back to how you were before… Or maybe you could sleep with him and make him forget about all other girls. 

After all, you’d do anything to keep him. 

Anything.  

Read Part 2 here.

---

MASTERLIST

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part Two)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Butterflies getting caught in throats with no words to help explain. Time standing still with a heart breaking. Determination and a willingness to see it through float away in sleep.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw injury (nothing major, just a wrist injury)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 6644

Shoutout to @damianodavide​, who was a superb help on this chapter and the real life nurse behind this one ;) 😘

***

Damiano’s head was spinning. As soon as he closed his eyes, Y/n’s face appeared in front of him, eyes hooded, lips plumps from just having kissed him, and an expression that promised a need for more. It left him bothered in a way that he knew would not let him sleep until he took care of it. Trying to pretend it was her feminine hand instead of his own rather undignified touch, he reached into the waistband of his underwear immediately letting out a hiss at the contact. 

He was desperate for her, but if he couldn’t have her, his imagination would have to do. Pictures flashed through his mind as he moved his hand. Her on her knees, looking up at him through long lashes. He had already gotten a taste of the way she reacted when he complimented her, watching her eyes go wide as he called her a good girl. Her being good for him. Her on her back, ready to be devoured by him in any way he pleased. Feeling his hands go into her hair pulling her face up to look at him. Her bent over whatever furniture he could find, willing to let him have his way with her. Deeply, madly, irrefutably, he wanted it all. She was truly making him lose his mind. Her body and the way she moved were infatuating. Her laugh when someone did something dumb. The look in her eyes when she teased him back. He could still feel the kiss she left on his lips. He never wanted that feeling to end. Brava ragazza mia.

He came with an embarrassingly loud groan, unable to hold back or keep quiet. For a moment, in the silence, he wondered if anyone had heard. He was well aware that his room was surrounded by those of bandmates and crew, but he couldn’t remember who it was exactly anyway, and it didn’t bother him for long, his hazy mind drifting around once again. 

***

“Where is your mind at?” Y/n looked up as Victoria pulled her out of her thoughts unexpectedly. Y/n had stopped in Victoria's room after breakfast, trying to keep tabs on what everyone’s plans were on their day off. She had meant to get some work done as Victoria was busying herself getting ready, but it had ended up with her staring into the distance, laptop almost forgotten on her lap.

“Oh, sorry. I’m here, what were you saying?” 

“I asked where your mind is at.” Victoria fell forward laying on the bed. Y/n knew that the blonde was starting to learn to read her like a book and she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Yeah, um, listen. What would you say to someone that may have absolutely decimated her career, by maybe accidentally kissing her boss while they were all high?” She didn’t dare look at the bassist, bracing herself for whatever negative reaction would potentially come from this.

Victoria sat up in surprise, eyes wide and the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “I’m going to need a lot more information than that.” Without giving in to Y/n’s slight protest, she removed the laptop from the assistant’s legs, closing it shut and putting it away. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, there wasn’t much to it really. We sat on the couch, you know that. And I said something stupid about how his eyes looked like chocolates, or maybe gemstones? I don’t quite remember. Anyway, then he pulled my hair out of the hair-tie. I went to kiss his cheek, but he turned his face. Fuck, it was bad. Not the kiss! He is very good at that! But I shouldn’t have done that. And then he just went ‘it's cool, it happens’. What does that even mean?!” She was talking much too quickly, getting it all out before the rational part of her brain would make her shut up. Make her remember she was talking to someone she’d only just started getting to know a week ago, who she was working for. “Then Thomas crashed and you know how that ended. Now I might be avoiding him. Just a bit.” She looked at Vic with a slight panic in her eyes, unsure if she had said too much.

Victoria, on the other hand, seemed delighted to no end, if a little shocked. “Wait, as if you kissed with all of us there and no one noticed!” She exclaimed, briefly pausing, contemplating, but shaking it off to get back to the conversation. “So… Good kiss, huh? Did you enjoy it then? Wanna do it again?” Her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Victoria! That is not what I am worried about here! I could lose my job. I- I could never show my face out there again if people found out. And I really enjoy this job, you know!” Her face scrunched a little bit, calming down with a sigh. “...But also, yes, he was a gentleman, and if he wanted to … kiss me again, I probably wouldn’t say no. But I also wouldn’t say yes. I work for you. This is not the time to be thinking about how much I enjoyed kissing Damiano!”

Her eyes went wide as her voice dropped to a whisper, looking down at her hands. “Ah fuck, I said that out loud.” 

“Okay, let’s look at it from a rational standpoint then.” Victoria turned slightly more serious at seeing her panic. “There is no way you’ll be losing your job over this. Maybe I wouldn’t advise hopping into bed with the whole band and crew, but we always got a tight-knit relationship with people we work with anyway, you know that. None of us would rat you out to management or anything. Plus, if you liked and Damiano liked it… wouldn’t it be a shame to worry about anything else instead of going for it?”

“I don’t know if he liked it. I was busy trying not to pass out, to be honest. I avoided him this morning by going straight to your room. I actually kind of avoided everyone, I’m scared the words of what happened will just come out to anyone who asks… Kind of like they just did with you.” She let out another deep sigh, switching between looking at her nails, picking at them, and out the window. “If he ...you know ... Then maybe. I honestly don’t even know what I would do with that information. On the off chance that he did like it though. And wanted to go for it then I’d consider it.” She tried to remain as put together as possible and, well aware that she was failing miserably. 

“Well, in that case, we have to find out what Damiano wants!” Victoria’s enthusiasm was back with a vengeance. “You should talk to him! Or should I talk to him? Maybe I should lock you in a room like those romcoms and threaten to not let you out again until you kiss.”

“Or you don’t do that because that is entrapment. I think I would be cool with you talking to him. But I still have to do my job. That comes first. Because as far as I am concerned,” Y/n got up and grabbed her laptop again, “it is business as usual. And last night was a fluke. Not to crush your rom-com dreams, love, but if I spoke to him I’d put my foot in my mouth faster than you can play bass.”

The smirk on Vic’s face didn’t promise anything good. “We’ll see about that, we’ll see,” she ominously muttered, before jumping up from the bed. “Now stop trying to pretend you got work to do, we’re going vintage clothes shopping.”

*** 

The thrift store turned out to be a small hole-in-the-wall kind of place, just off a side street - perfect for shopping in peace without getting much attention at all. Y/n hadn’t been all that keen on keeping the band company for this little adventure, but Victoria had insisted, claiming she needed a female perspective in case the boys were being stupid again. It had only taken a serious case of the puppy dog eyes to win her over, and Victoria found herself making a mental note to remember it.

The store was stuffed full of clothes, a kind of chaos that seemed to have an order that only the owner really understood. But it looked like heaven, and within seconds everyone had vanished into some corner or other, dying to find their newest favourite piece. For a moment, Victoria contemplated who she wanted to follow first, feeling the need to talk to at least two different people but also never wanting to miss out on a chance to go crazy with Thomas. Ended up deciding on Damiano. It seemed the more pressing issue. She hadn’t failed to notice how he would try to pretend that everything was normal, yet continuously evading Y/n’s eyes. She had kept her distance all the same. This wasn’t acceptable. She had to do something, Victoria decided.

She found the singer shuffling through some blouses, although much more half-heartedly than he tended to be when it came to vintage clothes. Looking out from the racks Victoria saw Y/n doing the same. She briefly considered how to go on about this - admit that Y/n had told her what had happened? Pretend she had actually seen the kiss last night? - but figured that Damiano would start talking on his own accord sooner or later. Especially if this was affecting him the way it was Y/n, and she was almost hoping it was.

“Okay, spill, what’s up with you today?”

Damiano shrugged, pulling a shirt out from the rack, and holding it against his body, waiting for Victoria's opinion. She raised a brow and put it back wordlessly.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he responded rather vaguely.

“Damia, you’ve barely spoken at all today. Normally you can’t shut up. And you know, I’d be thankful for some peace and quiet from you, but you’re actually worrying me. So what’s going on with you?” 

Damiano had a panicked look on his face as he scanned over the racks of clothes, his eyes flickering back and forth, obviously noticing Y/n shuffling through some things and slowly getting closer. Taking Vic by surprise, he dragged her into the dressing rooms. 

“Okay, that’s…. Weirdly intimate, but go on,” Vic mumbled to herself as he closed the curtain behind them, still nervously looking around the small space.

“Rather talk to you in here, than her hear me out there. I may have fucked up, royally.” He crossed his arms over his chest and Victoria was sure he would be burning a hole into the wall with his vision if he possessed that power. He was avoiding looking at her and she knew it.

“Explain,” she simply demanded, sitting down on the tiny stool in the corner and looking up at Damiano. She wanted to hear it from him, hear what had happened in his version of the story, hear what was bothering him so much.

“So we were at that bar, right? Y/n was sitting next to me. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you were there. Anyway. We were talking. I don’t know if it was the smoking or whatever else, but I looked at her and - I don’t know why I did this but I did. I pulled her hair out of her hair tie.” He leaned on the wall, his head hitting the brick behind him. He groaned but Vic assumed it didn’t have anything to do with the pain. “And… and she was so beautiful. Her hair just all around her. So soft. And at that moment, she was laughing and it sounded heavenly. And I went to look at her again and suddenly my lips were on hers…” His voice softened at the end, losing his train of thought and drifting. She had never quite seen him like this. “Then she was freaking out, and I told her some fucking stupid line like ‘it happens’. I just wanted her to calm down but… Now she must think I’d just...” He groaned, slumping a little and finally looking over at Vic. “Then she ran off to help Thomas.” 

“So, what you’re saying then is that you did enjoy it? Potentially wanna do it again?” She felt transported back to the conversation she’d had with Y/n just hours earlier, posing almost the exact same question. She had never been this involved with any of her friends’ relationships to this extent, but something told her that her help was desperately needed in this case.

He raised a brow at her. “Did you not hear the part where after we kissed she then proceeded to freak out? I doubt that she even wants to see my face right now.” A heavy sigh left him and Victoria found herself laying a hand on his arm. “And of course I want to kiss her again, Vic. I close my eyes and she is there. Hell, she wakes me up every morning! I can’t escape. She is everywhere I go! I turn a corner and she is there. She's the one we go to when wanting to eat, she arranges the cars, she helps us with concerts, she’s doing everything all the time. I don’t know how much more I can take!” 

*** 

Y/n stood in the shoe aisle holding a pair of heels in her hand, contemplating for a second, before putting them on. Turning towards Ethan, who was walking towards her now, she realised it had eliminated all height differences between them. Definitely too high, she thought to herself. Holding onto his shoulders, she clumsily took them back off.

“Hey Ethan, find anything good?” The smile on her face felt forced but she was praying he wouldn’t see it.

He proudly holds up a black, studded belt with an intricate design on it, as well as a pink suede jacket. “How about you? I think I saw some nice trousers over there that might suit you. Wanna check it out?”

Y/n scoffed. She didn’t want to let her mood out on Ethan, trying her hardest to stay diplomatic. “Love the idea, but I doubt any of the clothes in here would go over my thigh. They’d fit you guys just great though. The jacket looks good, by the way.” She tried to distract herself from - well, everything - by putting the shoes away, mindlessly letting her fingers wander over the other pairs standing there.

Ethan looked at her in contemplation for a moment, but seemed to decide against following his train of thought. “At least try on some more shoes. Here, what about these?” He excitedly grabbed a pair of high-heeled boots, very much in the style she could see any of them wearing on stage - much less the one she usually went for when working.

A little intimidated, she took the shoes, if only to humour him. Ethan was nothing but a sweetheart, this was the least she could do. She put them on only with some slight struggle. She once again reached his height, almost amused by the feeling of seeing eye-to-eye with him, but the shoes felt strange. Very far removed from the usual flats, sneakers, boots, or whatever other pair that would allow her to keep running around all day without regretting it in the evening.

“Do I look silly?” 

“You look gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.” His voice had the most earnest tone to it and it was only supported by the way he studied her, looking her up and down. “Maybe walk a few steps to see if you can get used to it.”

She laughed as she proceeded to strut and partially dance some steps down the aisle to the song playing in the store. “I haven’t worn heels in so long, still got it though!”.” Her small smile grew into a grin, rather proud of herself for still being able to keep up. Going to the mirror near Ethan she looked at the shoes, then at herself in the shoes, then back at Ethan. Still, the insecurity took over for a moment. Her voice seemed small when she asked, “You think so?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you like that,” he replied, putting a hand over his heart for emphasis. “Want to go and see what the others think? I saw Thomas over there, and Vic and Dami disappeared into that corner a while ago.”

“Right, good idea.” She walked over to the dressing room looking for Damiano and Victoria, figuring they had gone to try on some things. Well, she was mainly looking for Victoria, still uncomfortable at the thought of facing the singer. She was in the middle of calling out for them when Damiano’s voice seeped through the curtain instead. She didn’t mean to listen, only to wait for him to stop so she could interrupt, but the second she realised what he was saying she wished she had never come over.

“Hell, she wakes me up every morning! I can’t escape. She is everywhere I go! I turn a corner and she is there. She's the one we go to when wanting to eat, she arranges the cars, she helps us with concerts, she’s doing everything all the time. I don’t know how much more I can take!”

She stepped back. Frozen in place. Her heart was beating out of her chest, hurting, aching, breaking just that little bit. Processing what he had said seemed to happen not at all and then suddenly all at once. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air. Anything but this suffocation. She needed to leave.

“I need some air.”

The words came out of her mouth much louder than anticipated, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that people were looking at her now. She didn’t care that was still wearing a pair of shoes that she had definitely not paid for yet. She just needed out, out, out, and away from all this. From him.

She didn’t realise she was walking on cobblestone until she wasn’t anymore, her ankle giving way, arms desperately trying to keep her from falling as she stumbled.

***

Damiano and Victoria stopped in their tracks as they heard someone approach from outside of the dressing room. Both heads turned towards the sound, when Y/n’s voice came through, telling maybe no one in particular that she needed some air. Her voice sounded strange. Damiano was convinced he had never heard that particular tone in it. As he threw back the curtain, he saw her stumble outside, clearly hectic, and he could feel a surge of panic run through him. Something wasn't right here. He forgot all about the conversation he was having, all about Victoria, and made his way outside. Not quite running, but the worry had him out of the door quickly. His heart sank when he saw her, lying on the floor just outside of the shop, holding her arm awkwardly, some scratches already beginning to bleed a little. As she looked up at him, he could see tears pricking at her eyes.

"Fuck, are you okay? What happened? I just saw-" The look on her face - or rather, the way she turned away from him - shut him up instantly. This wasn't the time to bombard her with questions. It didn't matter anyway. Instead of bothering her further, he quickly knelt down beside her, helping her sit up in return. He was acutely aware of the way she pulled away the second he touched her skin. Like she had been burned. ´

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Sorry to ruin the shopping trip, you can go back in if you want to," she mumbled, trying to wipe some tears away but instead spreading some dirt and drying blood onto her cheek instead. Damiano wanted to touch her, clean her up, dry her tears, but the way she had pulled away a minute ago made him not want to try. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm her more. He watched as she pulled out her wallet, handing it to him. "Go pay for the shoes please. And stop looking at me like that, I said I’m fine."

Yet, as soon as she moved, she winced in pain, taking a deep breath before getting herself up to a standing position. He found himself holding her arm in support, but she only accepted it for as long as necessary. As he let go, she let out a small cry of pain, obviously holding her hurt wrist the wrong way.

“You’re obviously not fine,” Damiano sighed. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, but she was already in tears, turning away, and it simply didn’t seem like a sensible option. He looked around at the others as they gathered around Y/n. Only Thomas was missing, probably still blissfully unaware inside the shop and browsing for clothes. He tossed the wallet to Ethan. “Would you mind paying for her shoes real quick?” Ethan nodded, walking back into the store. Y/n was still standing between them, holding her arm close to her body in a protective gesture. Almost a similar expression to the one she had had on her face on the plane all those days ago. He wondered if something was scaring her the way the turbulence did back then. 

“I am and will be fine, Damiano.” Her voice was stern. “I cry at a lot of things, this is no different. I wrap it up, put ice on it for a while and I’m golden.” 

He watched as Victoria put a tentative hand on Y/n’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away from her touch, he noticed. “Y/n, that really doesn’t look like nothing. Look, it’s starting to swell up already.” 

"What do you want me to do then?" She almost sounded resigned now as she looked back and forth between Damiano and Victoria. "We are in Amsterdam. I don't exactly have a GP on speed dial here. Now, where is Ethan with my wallet?"

She started walking towards the door of the shop, but Damiano defiantly held out his arm to stop her. "We are taking you to A&E."

Her face seemed to drain of all colour, and this time it was not because of the pain. "You are not taking me to a hospital."

Damiano looked at her, determination in his eyes, trying to make her understand that this was non-negotiable. Just for now,  he would forget about the way she was brushing him off, the way she was evading his touch, the way she did not even want to look at him. Because right now she needed him and he would be there for her, if she wanted him to be or not.

"Yes, I am. Final decision. You would do the same for us if we got hurt. But we're responsible for you too, you're part of our crew, and right now, being responsible means getting this checked out. Besides, you're not getting your wallet back until you agree."

As soon as Ethan stepped outside again, this time with a slightly confused-looking Thomas in tow, Damiano snatched the wallet from his hands only to put it in his own jeans pocket. She was mad, obviously turning whatever was bothering her into anger, but Damiano was having none of it and he hoped the look in his eyes told her so.

"Fine! Take me to the hospital. But know that I am not happy about this."

"I don't need you to be. I just need you to come with me."

***

A quick refresher of her rudimentary Dutch verified that she was indeed looking for "spoedeisende hulp", another search on the internet confirmed that there was a hospital nearby, and before she knew it, she had been whisked into a taxi with Damiano. The others had decided to make their way back to the hotel, no point in clogging up the waiting room. Damiano promised to call with any news immediately.

Y/n wouldn't tell him, certainly not right then and there but she was happy that Damiano seemed to take the lead for once. She wouldn't have had any problems had any of the others needed medical help - but having people fuss about her? Making her the center of attention in a way she did not intend to be and having to accept help from others?... It was a completely different story. Still she appreciated the way he handled the situation, making sure she got registered with the administration straight away, listening attentively for further instructions, and leading her into the waiting area. She was also glad that it seemed to be quiet, not only because it would result in less of a wait, but also because the bustling would have made her all the more nervous.

This was out of her comfort zone. She had managed to avoid hospitals for the majority of her life, and yet here she was, because she panicked and couldn't handle her shoes. Looking down at them, she wanted to curse them. Curse the fact that they made her walk over to Damiano and Victoria in the first place, curse the fact that she had heard Damiano speak about her that way, curse the fact that they carried her out the door but not much further. She didn't even know where her actual shoes were. Hopefully, Ethan had kept his head and collected them on the way out after paying.

A few seats down, someone coughed loudly, reminding her exactly of where she was. It wasn't the worst hospital she had ever been in, that much was true, but she would rather not see one from the inside at all. She was dying for some comfort, some soothing words, a gentle touch, but as soon as Damiano made any attempt at reaching out to her she pulled back. His words were still heavily playing on her mind, the swelling of her wrist and the heat that seemed to seep from it a painful reminder. There was no way she was going to let herself fall, be reassured and consoled by him when he was so obviously sick of her presence. She wouldn't do that to either of them. Victoria with all her good intentions be damned. At least right now. 

“Why are they not calling you in, it doesn’t even look like they’re doing anything,” Damiano grumbled next to her, eyes on the nurse’s station where a few of them were sitting. A few eyes were on them, something that looked like an excited discussion.

“Stop it, I’m sure they’re busy at work. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean they aren’t”, she bit back, slightly harsher than intended. He shot her a look, eyebrows raised, but she turned away, not looking to have a deeper conversation.

It left Damiano sitting in silence. Leaving both of them in the same situation, again. Y/n and him alone. Well, alone enough. Alone enough to not have anyone distract her from the uncomfortable feeling that settled over them. No Thomas being silly, no Victoria making a dumb comment, no calming presence of Ethan. Through this whole process, Y/n had basically crawled back into herself. She wished she could disappear.

She didn't know how much time had passed when they were finally called, too preoccupied with her own thoughts and the pain in her wrist. The nurse that beckoned them over had the warmest smile on her face, albeit tired eyes and it surprised Y/n how much comfort she found in the soft expression of the woman. White slacks, rolled up sleeves, pockets so full it looked like they were bursting at the seams, dark hair up in a bun. She found herself looking over at Damiano, wondering if he was aware of how gorgeous this woman was, how kind and calming her aura was, but his eyes were trained solely on her. She didn't allow herself to get lost in his gaze, quickly dropping hers and following the nurse into an examination room.

“Hi, I’m Ana, I’m going to be your nurse for today. You only speak English, am I correct?” She asked, gesturing for both of them to sit down, Y/n on the examination table and Damiano on a chair next to it. There was a slight twinge of an accent in her speech, but it was clear that she was fluent, which was a relief. Y/n didn’t even want to think about trying to get this done with the few words she knew in Dutch. She nodded, gratefully. “We’re going to go over what happened, and then I’ll do a physical examination, and the doctor will see you after as well.”

Y/n watched as the nurse fumbled with the computer, seemingly already typing things before Y/n had even said anything. “So, what exactly happened?”

“I, uh, tried on some heels and tripped on the cobblestone outside,” Y/n explained, taking a moment to glare at the offending shoes still on her feet. “Fell forwards, tried to soften the blow with my hands and now my wrist looks like this.” She held up the offending arm, gathering that the sight would speak for itself. The dried blood of the little scrapes on the palms of her hand did its best to make it look more dramatic than it felt.

“Oh, yeah that looks quite painful,” the nurse winced. “I see you’ve scraped your knee as well.”

Y/n looked down, slightly confused, only to realise her jeans had torn, revealing a beat-up knee underneath. Crap, she hadn’t even noticed, too occupied with… well, everything else. This felt like it was getting worse by the second, she never wanted to get back to a hotel room this badly. She felt like crying, but letting Damiano see her composure waver was the last thing she would allow.

“It’s nothing,” she sighed, moving her legs as if it gave her a chance of hiding her bruises.

“It’s not nothing, Y/n,” Damiano sighed next to her, before turning towards the nurse. “I think it’s more serious than she’s letting on.” In the same determined tone from before. 

The nurse looked back and forth between the two of them. “It’s probably the shock of it.”

Oh yeah, the shock. Mainly that of finding out that Damiano didn’t want her around, apparently.

The nurse asked a few more questions, time of the accident, previous medical history, medication she was taking regularly, but they barely reached her. She found herself answering curtly, with Damiano filling in where he could. She wouldn’t tell him she was thankful for it. Even though the idea of him taking care of her made her emotional. 

“Right, let’s get that wrist looked at then.” Y/n had feared it would be painful but as soon as the nurse started handling her? She knew it was her job to feel the joints, test her range of motion, move her arm. But unwelcome tears emerged in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to push Damiano’s hand away, as she almost reveled in the comforting touch on her back. The small talk didn’t even begin to make for a distraction. Yet, something was nagging at the back of Y/n’s head as she watched the nurse interact with Damiano. There was a familiarity in her eyes… Did she know who he was? Surely not.

“This will need an X-Ray to make sure it’s not broken,” the nurse concluded, finally letting go of her wrist. Damiano whispered a quiet ‘You okay?’ over to her, but she couldn’t do anything but nod. “I will bandage the scrapes a bit while we wait for a doctor. So, what brings you to Amsterdam today?”

“Work,” Y/n answered, trying to keep some degree of privacy, but Damiano didn’t seem to mind butting in immediately.

“I’m in a band, we’re on tour. She’s our assistant and overall angel.” She wanted to shoot him a look, both at the unnecessary honesty and the over-the-top way he was describing her, but a touch to her banged-up knee distracted her.

A doctor popped into the room quickly verified everything the nurse had told him And before she knew it she was being led down a hallway to get an X-Ray. Damiano stayed behind in the room.

“Cute couple, the two of you,” the nurse piped up next to her.

“Um, yeah, no. Not a couple. Just a working relationship.”

“You sure about that?”

Y/n almost wanted to stop dead in her tracks, ask the nurse what on earth had given her that idea, but she also knew she was here to get examined and the last thing she wanted to do was annoy the person responsible.

“Very. He doesn’t like me like that, he’s made that crystal clear.”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t look like you in a way that suggests he doesn’t like you. If anything, I would have guessed he was head-over-heels for you.”

Y/n was stumped for a reply. Was this woman making fun of her? She didn’t look like someone who would. So why would she say these things? With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, Y/n decided she would have to talk to Damiano at some point. Have him either stand by his statement and back off, or explain what the hell he was doing. Because she was starting to lack comprehension about any of it.

She was glad the rest of the appointment seemed to fly by in a hurry, or maybe Y/n’s brain had simply gone into power-saving mode, not really taking it what as happening around her anymore. Her exhaustion was tangible. The X-Ray was done quickly enough, someone sent her back to the  examination room, and before she knew it, the doctor had announced that it was, in fact, not broken. A quick wrap around her wrist, some instructions on how to care for it (that Damiano seemed to listen to more closely than she did), and she was almost out the door. She was sure she would have fallen asleep on the examination table.  It was only the nurse quickly saying her goodbye and adding another comment that almost threw her off balance again.

“Bye, guys. And by the way, nice show yesterday. I promise I wasn’t the one who threw the bra.”

***

It was dark out by the time Y/n and Damiano made it back to the hotel. He had made sure to text the others, telling them to go for dinner without them, they’d be fine, and he figured she would need some rest. The hotel restaurant was quiet enough and he motioned towards it, but Y/n shook her head.

“I’ve got a few snacks in my room, but honestly, I’m not hungry at all. I just want to go to bed.”

Yet, tired as she was, it only took one pointed look for her to shut him up, so he simply nodded and led her towards the elevators.

“At least let me bring you to your room and see if you need any more help. And I can give you your wallet back.”

He could tell in the way she stiffened next to him, the way she barely reacted to his words, that she wasn’t keen on the idea, but he wouldn’t let her get away with it. He was desperate to find out what was bothering her and why she was so distant, but he couldn’t figure it out. Was the kiss still playing on her mind? Was she uncomfortable with him? It was the last thing he wanted. He needed to show her he was willing to be there for her.

Closing the door of her room behind him, a shout rang through the room.

“These fucking things, I hate them!” She was loud and angry while trying to get her shoes off, but her voice was wavering and if he watched her in just the right light he was convinced he was seeing the beginning of tears forming in her eyes.

“Shh, shh, it’s fine,” he tried to soothe, unsure if he was going about it the wrong way, but quickly bending in front of where she was sitting on the bed. She kicked her heels once more in frustration, obviously unable to get them off with her wrist still compromised.

“Don’t shush me when it’s all your fault,” she whispered and he almost stopped dead in his tracks, but he figured she hadn’t meant for him to hear. He stayed quiet, against everything in his heart telling him to find out what she was talking about. Instead, he focused on removing her shoes, gentle touches against her bare skin. Looking up at her, he realised that she was studying him, watching his every move, and he concentrated even harder on being the perfect gentleman. Yet, when he pulled the second shoe off her, he couldn’t help letting his hand rest on her calf a little longer than necessary.

“Come on, let’s get you into some pyjamas,” he decided, getting up and putting some distance between them. Too afraid of getting ahead of himself, of letting his hands wander more than appropriate places, of saying something he shouldn’t. He threw what he gathered to be her sleepwear in her general directions. “If you need any help changing because of your wrist, let me know.”

He hoped his smile was as sincere as he meant it. Either way, she didn’t give him much of a reaction, grabbing the clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. A few sharp hisses reached him through the door, but he knew better than to offer his help again.

He wasn’t sure what the acceptable place for him to sit was, but since the room didn’t offer anything but a worn-out armchair and the bed, he decided that choosing the far side of the mattress wasn’t too bad. He didn’t even realise she had left the en-suite until her voice reached him.

“We really need to talk, Damiano.” She sounded resigned and tired and he wished he could wrap her in his arms and tell her everything was alright, but it didn’t seem like the right time. As soon as she reached the side of the bed opposite him, she all but collapsed on it. She sleepily grabbed one of the many unnecessary hotel pillows they placed on the bed and nuzzled her face into it. 

“There will be more than enough time for that tomorrow,” he replied, grabbing the blanket and making sure she was fully covered by it. “It’s been a long day, try to get some rest.” 

She didn’t even manage to argue anymore, eyes already fluttering closed, breathing slowly becoming more steady. She was gorgeous like this. A soft calm overtaking the scene. No wall up that kept everyone else from her inner thoughts. No front that she put up in desperate attempts to remain professional. Just a softness etched into her features that highlighted her natural divine beauty.

He wanted to take her worries away. He hoped that whenever they did get to talk tomorrow, it would yield some clarity. The last thing he wanted was for her to ever feel this way. He had grown so attached to her, so obsessed with the idea of having her around, that he already feared the end of the tour. If she would give him any option to stay in her life, he would take it, whatever way it was.

Damiano barely noticed the way he was slipping down on the mattress, his fingers softly patting her head, eyelids getting heavy. The last thing on his mind was Y/n, sleeping soundly next to him and wishing for nothing but to make her happy.

***

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[songbirdstyles]

tinsel

summary: you have a very ... special gift for harry this year

warnings: this is actually just smut. female receiving oral, doggy style, choking, spanking, some fluff

word count: 4.7k

a/n: can you tell i ran out of inspo for the title :// anyway here’s my very belated holiday smut that is completely unedited and took me, like, two days to write! enjoy!

The door from the front of the house creaks open and slams shut just as you’ve finished wrapping the strip of gold tinsel around your neck, tied in a loose knot down the valley of your bare chest and ending just above your lower stomach. He’s earlier than expected - not by much, only a couple of moments, but it still sends a jolt up your spine as you hear him moving in the kitchen just below you. And Harry stomps around downstairs like a fucking madman - cabinets open and shut and sneaker clad feet clomp vigorously on the hardwood, loud even from the floor above him. It makes you wonder, for a moment, if he’d had a bad day at work - a few messed up scenes, or perhaps he’d forgotten his lines and flubbed in front of everyone. If that’s true or even if it isn’t you know he’ll be searching for you any moment, ducking his head into every room and door to see where you may be hiding from him.

He’ll find you eventually, surely, and you’ll be here - you give yourself one more look in the mirror before pushing open the bathroom door, and you pad lightly across the floor, making sure your footsteps are light enough that your boyfriend won’t hear the floor creak. You push yourself onto the bed, then, shifting onto your back with your shoulders pressed to the pillows, spine pressed to the wooden headboard lining the top of your bed. Pillows sink into your bare skin, covers wrinkling beneath your weight, and you reach over to Harry’s nightstand to pick up his worn copy of Pulp by Charles Bukowski, fingertips roaming over the soft, touch worn edges of the paper where he’s spent hours poring over the words. You flip it open to where he has a page dog-eared in the middle of the book from when he’d nearly fallen asleep reading it last night - just as you hear footsteps beginning to ascend up the staircase down the hallway through your cracked open bedroom door, you bite on your bottom lip to suppress your smile and settle on a focused pretense, as though Pulp is the only thing you can think about.

In fact, it’s possibly the least important thing on your mind, especially as Harry’s steps begin to grow louder and closer on the hardwood hallway. He’s humming beneath his breath - the melody of some song you can’t quite hear well enough to identify - and you can already feel a smile beginning to tug your lips upward as you flip a page. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see (and hear, for that matter) Harry push your bedroom door open, the doorknob knocking into the wall beside it lightly with the force of it. The cool air from the hallway floats into the room, biting at your exposed skin that isn’t covered by the piece of tinsel around your neck, and you can feel goosebumps cropping up on your flesh. He takes a step in -

He stops, and you can’t quite stop yourself from beginning to smile.

“Hey, Har,” you greet, voice light and as nonchalant as you can make it - it’s a difficult task, more than you’d like it to be, but you keep the quiver of excitement out of your voice as best as you can manage. “How was work?”

It’s then that you allow yourself to look at him, resting the back of your scalp against the headboard as your eyes meet his - he isn’t looking at your eyes, though, orbs roaming up and down your bare body. They focus on your chest, nipples peaked in the cold air of your bedroom, before trailing down the piece of tinsel draped down your stomach and the swell of your hip, trailing off at the side of your torso onto the comforter, impeccably made except for the indent your body has made. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy and his skin is still slightly stained with the makeup from set - looking at him makes your stomach flip, and your grip on his book tightens ever so slightly.

“You okay, there?” you inquire, faux innocence seeping into your voice as though you’ve no clue as to why he would possibly be flustered - it isn’t every day he walks into your bedroom to see you lying completely naked except for the piece of tinsel around your neck. “You look a bit flustered.”

Flustered is more of an understatement than calling his gaze turned on and you watch the light red blush creep up the sides of his face to his ears as he takes a step closer to the bed, steps scuffling on the plush carpet on the floor. “What’re you doin’?”

“What am I doing?”

“Teasin’ me.”

You raise your eyebrow, then, and reach beside you to rest the book face down on the bed, largely abandoned. It was an afterthought of a prop, anyway - he likes watching you with his things - says it makes him feel all warm and domestic. It’s sweet and intimate unlike how Harry’s looking at you now, gaze darkening with every slow roll up and down your body, almost predatory. “I’m not teasing,” you finally respond, pushing yourself to sit up onto your knees and, fuck, you can see the way he exhales so sharply when you move makes your stomach jolt. “How am I teasing?”

Harry takes another step towards the bed as you crawl to the edge - his palm, warm and heavy, moves to cup your jaw, thumb stroking circles into your skin that are so soft and gentle compared to the words he says next - “Sittin’ here, naked an’ waiting for me. Tinsel - like a gift.”

His free hand drops to the tinsel tied around your neck, taking hold of the decoration and tugging lightly just to watch the way it pulls your head forward, pressing against the column of your throat as your breath is harshly cut off. “More comfortable to be naked,” you tell him, unable to stop the teasing lilt from working into your every syllable. Your skin heats under his touch as his fingers toy with the end of the tinsel bow you’ve created, hands entirely too far away from where you’re beginning to truly need him - it’s hard to resist the desire to jut your chest forward for him to caress but you swallow the urge. “Don’t you think? I was reading your book - Pulp, the one you’ve been reading - it’s quite good.”

“Is it?”

It’s not a question and he clearly couldn’t give less of a shit about what you’d been reading but you respect him for at least attempting to seem interested, even if one measly glance downwards towards the tent in his trousers tells you exactly what he’s desiring from this encounter - but, fuck. You like having fun with it.

“Extremely interesting -”

“What’s it about?”

You can’t quite think of an answer to that one, truthfully, mouth opening and closing a few times before you finally glance up at him, eyes wide and searching for any pretense of innocence you can muster but you can tell simply from the look on his face that he isn’t buying a damn second of it. You hadn’t processed a word of the book and you know it and he knows it, and he tuts lightly beneath his breath.

“You’re a tease,” he says again, words ringing poignant and truthful in the air, and you shrug simply. “You wanted t’get me all flustered - sit here an’ pretend y’don’t know what you’re doing - teasing me.”

You bring your palms up to Harry’s chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his silk shirt as you begin to undo the two halves of the fabric - before you can make it even halfway down his torso he’s moved the hand on your jawline to grab your wrists, halting your movements in their tracks. “I’m not teasing,” you tell him, pushing yourself up onto your knees so your face is nearly aligned with his - you tilt your head up, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips, and he returns it, grip tightening on your wrists and tugging further on the tinsel to hold your face to his. “Consider it an early Christmas gift,” you finish, muffled against his lips, sliding your hands up to wrap your arms around his neck.

It seems whatever fight Harry had had has disappeared with your lips on his - his hands return to your face before sliding down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they trace your skin. Thumbs slide over your hardened nipples before making their way to the curve of your waist, squeezing your skin just to hear the way you yelp into his mouth - with a smile against your lips Harry’s hands move further down. Warm palms grope at the globes of your ass and your back arches with the touch, grip around his neck tightening as a soft whine escapes your lips.

“Still a tease,” Harry decides, then, pulling apart from you, lips kiss swollen and red. “An’ - normally I think I’d punish you.”

Your stomach flips and you can feel moisture dampening your inner thighs - you squeeze them tighter together at the thought.

“But - it’s Christmas,” he continues, though the holiday truly arrives in a mere couple of days. “I’ll let y’off the hook.”

“Good,” you affirm, fingernails scratching lightly at the nape of Harry’s neck - you can feel a shiver roll through his spine at the sensation, and it brings another smile to your lips as you lean your head up further to kiss him once more. Your lips part for him and his tongue slips in your mouth with no resistance, hands sliding up and down the slope of your lower back to hold your body to him. “Not that - you know - I’d be opposed to being punished.”

Your boyfriend hums at that and his palms slide down to the backs of your thighs, nails scratching at the skin, and you hum into his mouth. “I’ll think about it,” Harry murmurs - it’s the last thing he says before he grips the backs of your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh, and flips you onto your back with an embarrassingly low amount of effort. You yelp, feeling the comforter, soft and gentle against your back, and your legs instinctively part for Harry to slot his body between them. His arms bracket your head between them, palms pressed to the bed as he leans over you, and you push your head up to crash your lips to Harry’s - he meets you halfway, teeth gnashing and tongues fighting, and you raise your hands to rake through his hair, tugging at the curls between your fingers.

Your ankles hook around Harry’s back, pulling his lower body closer to yours until the bulge in his pants brushes against your bare, dripping folds - he hisses at even the slightest bit of simulation, hips rutting against yours. Your craning neck to reach his lips is lessened when Harry drops onto his forearms, face pushing closer to yours until the back of your scalp hits the soft bed, and you’re more than content to simply lie there snogging him but you are, in fact, running out of air.

As though Harry senses your need to breathe he pulls his lips from yours, inhaling a soft breath as the two of you suck in air. Just as you push your head forward to kiss him once more he’s sliding down your body - lips land and suckle on your collarbone, tongue tracing a thin trail down the top of your chest until they can focus on your nipples. He doesn’t spend too long there (at least, less than you’d been expecting) but his lips close around your right peaked nipple, tongue flicking up against the bud and your chest arches up into his mouth with a breathy groan, leg muscles tensing where they’re still draped around his torso. His other hand moves to the side of your chest he isn’t sucking at, pinching your nipple between his two fingers, and you drop your head back against the mattress with a pathetic whimper.

“Look at me,” Harry says, then, voice muffled and riddled with lust. When you don’t oblige immediately his hand moves off your tits, grabbing at the piece of tinsel tied around your neck, and he tugs harshly - you jerk your head up, grip tightening in his curls, and he moans against your chest. “Fuck, baby - fuck -”

He’s moving further down your body before you have time to process it, leaving one last lingering smack to your nipples that has your chest jutting upward, fingernails digging into the back of his scalp. Traveling further down your body your legs drop from being around his waist - he pointedly grabs at your chins, tugging them over his shoulders, and there’s no formalities or warnings when he buries his head between your thighs like he’s fucking starving for it.

A torn moan rips through your body at the sensation as Harry’s tongue flicks over your clit, his palms pressing to your inner thighs to keep them spread just enough for his head to fit between. His curls tickle your skin as his tongue slides between your folds, nose nudging against your clit with every lap of your cunt and you cry out involuntarily - it’s like an instinct for you to reach down, fingers carding through his hair before hooking in the strands, tugging at his hair. He grunts into your pussy and the noise reverberates through your body like a lightning bolt of pleasure that rolls through you like a wave. Your muscles quake and your legs shiver and Harry doesn’t let up.

“Jesus - fuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as your head drops against the bed. The taut muscles in your legs are already beginning to ache as Harry pushes them apart, ankles crossed at the nape of his neck, and his tongue slips into your dripping hole, flexed and thrusting in and out in rapid pace. “Fuck, Harry!”

He mumbles something incoherent - you can’t make out any of the words except for the way they feel against your cunt, lips brushing against your clit as he speaks - but you gather the meaning when he reaches up, letting one of your thighs drop of their own accord, and his hand hooks around the piece of tinsel and pulls. You snap your head up involuntarily, tinsel pulling tight against your throat until you can hardly get a breath out and your eyes focus on his head between your legs. 

Your stomach turns in your abdomen when your eyes meet his, his gaze focused on you like the room only exists within you - like you’re the only thing worthy of laying his eyes on and perhaps that’s true in the moment, and you wholeheartedly return the sentiment. No matter how many times he does this you don’t reckon you’ll ever get over it, the sight and feeling and the moans he releases against your soaked folds as he sucks your clit into his mouth, wet sounds mixing with his own soft sounds of pleasure. He loves this like you do and, fuck, isn’t that just the most attractive thing in the world?

You’re beginning to feel pressure build inside your lower stomach, threatening to topple you over the edge, when your boyfriend pulls away. He leaves one last smacking kiss to your pulsing clit before pushing himself to stand, your legs falling from around his shoulders onto the bed, and his hand still holds a tight grasp onto the lowly piece of tinsel, the decoration beginning to fray with the force of him pulling it.

“Harry -” you whine, pushing yourself to sit up on your elbows as your legs quiver pathetically. Your face is hot and the warmth is beginning to spread to every crevice of your body as your building orgasm gradually dissipates until there’s nothing left for you to grasp onto except for the empty feeling of your pussy. “Come on, Har, was so close -”

“Said you liked t’be punished, hmm?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as Harry begins tugging open the zipper of his pants, and even when you aren’t looking at him you can practically see the smug smile decorating his features. When you open your eyes and focus your gaze back on him you’re proven more than correct, cocky grin overtaking his face as his pants are shoved halfway down his thighs. “Thought you were gonna spank me.” “I can do tha’ too -”

Your response dies in your throat as Harry reaches down, hand on either side of your waist as he flips you over onto your stomach, knees and elbows digging into the soft comforter and ass in the air. Embarrassment floods your neck, creeping up to your face but you hardly have time to even feel the humiliation burning inside of you - you’re too preoccupied with your soaked arousal dripping down your thighs mingled with the way Harry pushes his hips forward, boxer covered bulge grinding against your cunt.

There’s a hand on the front of your throat before it slides down to the piece of tinsel, tugging it around until the knot is at the back of your neck, and he pulls on the makeshift tie experimentally. The motion pulls your head up as though he’d tugged on your hair and you hear him hiss in enjoyment at the sight. You’ve just begun to turn your head to the side to see what the hell is taking him so long to finally fuck you but just as you catch sight of him in your peripheral vision you feel the bulbous tip of his cock sliding up and down your folds -

You push your hips back against his and without a second to spare a hand slaps down on your ass, the crack reverberating throughout the room like a whip, and you drop your face into the mattress with a shocked yelp. Harry’s gentle, though, smoothing his palm over the skin of your ass that’s already beginning to feel sore with the smack, humming softly beneath his breath as though you’re doing just about anything else than this.

“Don’t be greedy,” he tells you, fingernails scratching lightly against your skin before both hands land on your ass - he holds your hips steady, your legs trembling with your desire. Within just another moment he’s pushed his hips against yours, cock burying inside of you in one fell swoop, leaving hardly enough time to even catch your bearings before you’re being filled to the fucking brim.

Your mouth opens and closes in a pathetic cry into the mattress, squeezing at the comforter in your tight grasp as Harry’s hips press against your ass, his hands digging bruises into the sides of your hips. His choked grunt and hiss of ‘shit’ goes virtually unheard as you clench tight around his dick, feeling your cunt flutter pathetically in its need. Harry gives you but a moment to adjust, unmoving against your backside, before he pulls out, tip lingering between your folds before he pushes back in. And, normally, perhaps there would be a longer grace period for you to adjust to his size but you don’t want that grace period and you know he doesn’t want to give it to you, not now, not when you’re both so needy for it it’s all you can think of.

His pace is unforgiving from the jump, hips slamming against yours so hard that the smacking sound fills the room, skin slapping skin and making your vision go fuzzy and your ears fucking ring with the noise of it. Whatever discomfort had lingered from the first thrust melts away within moments to wave after wave of pleasure, crashing over your body with a nearly malevolent nature, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath before there’s another - and another - and another - and you hold onto the comforter like it’s your lifeline.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, the words mixed with a moan and hardly even audible against the cacophony of various noises that fills the room - the sounds of your wetness mixing together and his hips slapping into yours and his deep grunts is like music to your ears and you hardly want to say anything for fear of disrupting it, but you can’t hold in your moans any longer. They tear out of your throat into the air of your bedroom, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy as Harry lands another smack to the globes of your ass, one right after the other, until you can already feel your orgasm building back inside of you where it had been disrupted before.

“Fuck,” and you wish you could see Harry’s face right now. How he’s probably gritting his teeth, skin read and shiny with sweat as he pounds into you, and his curls are likely pressed to his forehead, veins bulging and breathing heavy. “Fuck! Feels so - so fuckin’ tight, baby -”

You can’t say much else except for a variety of drawn out moaning curses mixed with his name on your lips like a mantra, pressing your cheek into the mattress, vision blurred and mouth open in a permanent silent scream. There’s a tug at the tinsel tied tight around your neck and you moan out at the breath leaving your throat, turning your head to the side and there, in the corner of your vision, you can see Harry, gripping the tinsel like a vise.

Your pussy clenches around him, body rocking back and forth as his cock slams into you, pushing you closer to the edge with every full thrust, tinsel snapping against your neck and momentarily cutting off your breathing again and again in a way that only makes your impending orgasm seem more imminent.

At one point - whether it’s been five minutes or twenty, you can’t be sure - Harry leans forward, sweaty chest pressed to your back and you can feel the billowing fabric of his shirt where you hadn’t finished taking it off completely. The hand not holding onto the piece of tinsel reaches around your body, palm pressed over your lower stomach, and he’s hardly pressed two fingers to your clit when you’re coming over the edge. The ball of pleasure unfurls in your stomach humiliatingly fast, only furthered when he pinches the sensitive nub between his fingers, holding out your orgasm as it rolls through you.

“Fuck!”

Your legs tremble and then drop - it’s only his arm, wrapped around your body, that keeps you up. It rages through you, eyes squeezing shut and cunt fluttering and your vision rings. It’s white hot pleasure rolling across your desperate body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and every muscle in your body tenses with the resistance of trying not to fall apart beneath him, elbows giving out beneath you until your chest is pressed against the comforter. You lie there - rather uselessly, truthfully - and Harry keeps going, cock pounding into your cunt even when your mouth opens in a cry, when your eyes roll back in your head, and his fingers work on your clit in absolute tandem with his pace.

“M’so close,” Harry grunts though he needn’t have. You can feel it, all the signs that he’s so close you’re sure he can fucking taste it at this point, waiting for the inevitable release he’ll bury into your cunt. “So close, baby, gonna fuckin’ cum in you, hmm?” You nod, the movement a mere weak jerk of your head, but it satiates Harry anyway. You can already feel another one building in your stomach with every asynchronous rubbing of his fingers on your clit, overstimulated and already worn out but, fuck, you want to cum again and you want him to cum and if this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, you’re not sure what is.

“Want me t’cum in you?” You’re not sure how he can even speak because you find it difficult to even think but he’s always been into dirty talk, hissing in your ear while he’s balls deep even if he knows you can’t reply. “Tell me.”

You moan weakly, pushing your hips back against his and he lets go of the tinsel to deliver another smack to your ass, one that makes you sob out, the pain morphing into pleasure that shoots directly into your clit. It’s a second of relief on your throat before he grabs the tinsel again, and you’re more than thankful for the pressure returning to your neck, cutting off your breathing just enough to have you heaving. 

A harsh tug, and your resulting moan is practically a shout. “Tell me!” “Please!” The word is strangled and he lightens his grip on the tinsel, giving you just enough air to moan out. “Please, Har - please -”

You push your head forward, tightening the tinsel against your throat, and Harry picks up exactly what you put down - returns to his previous grip on the decoration, and you let out a choked groan at the pressure.

“Cum for me,” he tells you, then, pressing his fingers down harder on your clit, and your legs tighten at the sensation. “Cum with me, now, cum -”

Perhaps you’d been yearning internally for his permission - not that you’d needed it before - but there’s something entirely erotic about hearing him order you to cum and it’s all you can do to oblige. The second one is larger than the first, legs giving out when Harry pulls his arm back from being wrapped around your body and you collapse onto the bed. He goes down with you, chest pressed fully to your back, hips pistoning in and out of your worn pussy until they stutter and then stop, pressed taut to yours, and it’s your cunt weakly fluttering around him that has him coming over the edge with you.

His groans are like music to your ears, mouthed pressed just below your ear, forearms pressed on either side of your head as he releases the tinsel, letting it flutter against the bed beside you. Ribbons of cum shoot inside of you, warmth only prolonging your own release and after a moment the only noise that fills the air is the pair of you panting for breath.

Harry lifts his head, then, where it had dropped against your shoulder, and you have a moment of cool air against your upper back before he’s leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. A lazy smile spreads across your face as he tracks kisses down and across your shoulder blades and your neck, curls brushing your skin. Eventually he rolls off of you, softened cock slipping out of your folds and you preen at the sudden emptiness - your legs are sore and your throat is sore, but you roll onto your back anyway, chest heaving.

It takes a couple of minutes for the two of you to arrange yourselves - Harry, leaning against the headboard, and you, cheek pressed to his chest as his fingers trace through your air - and, for a moment, you say nothing. It’s more comfortable than expected and you wonder, perhaps, if Harry fell asleep.

To test your theory, you hum softly, fingers tip-tapping against his sweaty chest, foot stroking up and down his calf. “Merry Christmas, Har.”

“Think we have a few more days ‘till that.”

You grin, drumming your fingernails against his skin, and you tilt your head up to look at him, eyebrow arched. “Hope you have a gift half as good as the one I gave.”

“Well, m’gift has nothing t’do with being naked - maybe y’won’t like it.”

You roll your eyes, smacking his chest lightly, and your boyfriend barks out a laugh. “‘Course I will! And, for the record, I did get you something else that has nothing to do with me being naked.”

Harry ducks his head down, lips pressing to the crown of your head and you can’t keep up your faux annoyed facade for much longer, smile spreading across his face. “I’m sure I’ll prefer this,” Harry says, and - well - he may be right.

[jarofstyles]

Crush

A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut. FILTH. 

word count: 9.7k

Harry felt a bit creepy. 

It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty. 

Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.

Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous. 

Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that  he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line. 

Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying. 

“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.

Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit. 

“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.” 

Great. Already rambling. 

Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm. 

“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.

“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.

She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised. 

“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”

“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name. 

This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.

“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”

“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.

English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it. 

“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.

“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.

“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.

“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit. 

He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited. 

“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.

“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little  📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?

“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.

-----

Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as. 

‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’

Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down. 

‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’

‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’ 

She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to. 

‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’

That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.

——

Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more. 

He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.

If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note. 

‘I like your cardigan :)’

It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.

He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her. 

‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’ 

He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!

‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’ 

She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends. 

Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.

Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.

Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting. 

Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.

‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’

She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.

——

When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful. 

“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.

“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to. 

Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—

Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.

“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.

“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.

“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.

“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.

“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.

Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out. 

“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.  

“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault. 

“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it? 

“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.

They were meant to be studying. 

That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story. 

The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy. 

Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery. 

This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?

Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.

“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.

Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek. 

“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”

Harry blanked. 

Oh. fuck.

He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit. 

“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this. 

“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”

“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.

“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”

“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”

Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck. 

“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.

“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.

“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”

“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal. 

Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.

“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”

Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.

“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.

“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.

Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing. 

“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.

“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”

He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion. 

“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”

“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”

Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up. 

“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”

Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.

“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.

“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this. 

At least, that was until the doorbell rang. 

“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”

-------------------------------------------------

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[dazz-linglight]

Hi, I hope your having a good day!!

Can I request enemies to lovers smut with Enhypen Jay? :)

(delivered! And thank you for requesting ❤️)

A match made in heaven

"I want you to see how good you look when you cum." He explains turning you around to look at the full body mirror in front of the bed.

"So pretty, all for me to touch." You let his hands wander, his fingers wrapping under your chin, pressing slightly for you to look at him. You stare back, bottom lip pulled between your teeth and he press his thumb on it to make you release it, just gazing over your face for a second then ducks his head down and presses his lips against yours, suddenly moving his fingers to brush over your panties. You let out a whine against his lips, squeezing his biceps and growing needier until he moves his fingers to get inside your panties and feel your wetness directly, circling the bundle of nerves with precision as the other hand find your breast, squeezing it gently.

"Jay.." You squirm getting closer to finish after a few minutes in his arms, provoking a pleasing friction on his clothed cock and he groans on your ear and inserts two of his fingers and moving them rapidly.

"Will you cum for me, baby?"

"Yes, yes please make me cum.." You plead shamelessly and he smirks looking at your body at full display in the mirror, your legs getting weaker and finally feel it just over the edge until..

You wake up with a jolt on your bed with the buzzing of your phone, feeling sweaty and panting from the very convincing dream.

"Oh my god.. I must be crazy." You sit up and drop your head into your hands. After a minute to recover you get out of bed to get ready for school. Your older brother had set a strict rule for you to stay away from his friends and he would stay away from yours. You tried to be strong on following it, even if it meant not giving in to one specifically handsome friend of his, Jay. So the best way you found to do it was to hate him, or at least pretend to while attending the same school and classes as him.

At the school, Jay arrived a little earlier than normal, walking close to the lockers and stopped when one thing got his attention. It was a blue sticker note on your locker, his curiosity screamed louder and he decided to read it.

Want to go to prom with me? Send a text if yes. Hyucka - xx-xxxx-xxxx.

He couldn't let this happen. Jay wouldn't let a random boy take you to prom when he could do take you. He took the piece of paper and smashed it, leaning over your locker as if nothing happened and waited for you to arrive. Not long after you approached to get a book for the first class, confused as to why Jay Park was on your locker when his was at the opposite side.

"What are you doing?" You asked trying to shoo him out of the way and he took a step to the side.

"Go to prom with me."

"Why would I go with you?"

"I don't see anyone else asking you."

"I might as well not go." You pick the book you were looking for and try walking past him but he holds onto your wrist.

"Don't be stubborn. What's so bad about going with me?"

"You're annoying."

"You could be cuter but I'm not complaining, am I?"

"Then leave me alone."

"Not happening."

"Are you a masochist?"

"Do you really want to know?" He raises and eyebrow and you slap his chest, feeling the firmness of it for a brief moment.

"Yah!"

"What?"

"If I say yes will you stop bothering me?"

"Say it and I'll think about it."

"Aish.."

"Watch your tongue." He interrupted before you could finish the word.

"Or what?"

"I'll bite it." You glare at him as he take your belongings and go in direction of the first class and you follow.

"Pick me up at 7p.m tomorrow, don't be late."

"I'll be there by 6:55."

••

He did justice to his words, arrived five minutes early all elegant in his black suit and brought flowers for both you and your mother and she arranged them in the living room, thanking him for the gesture. You wore a fancy red dress and gave permission for Jay to place a white corsage on your wrist and you placed the matching boutonniere on his lapel. Your father held the camera, taking a hundred of pictures of the two of you and gave instructions for you to come back before midnight.

Jay drove you to the school, the building was all decorated inside with fairy lights and balloons, many couples walking in, taking pictures and smiles from all the sides. The night went great, everybody enjoyed the party and danced to the songs, ate sweets, had drinks and you were surprised to know that you and Jay got nominated for Queen and King, even more after winning. Jay kissed your cheek on stage and some girls got jealous for the crown and your head and the boy by your side. He brought you back home a little past midnight and apologized to your parents for the delay, which they understood.

Saturday and Sunday went by and you and Jay kept messaging and soon you found yourself breaking the rule you had with your brother. But he already knew you went to prom with Jay, so it was useless to care about it now.

Jay: You're lucky to have found such an excellent boyfriend. I'm handsome and I can cook, what else you could ask for?

You: Who said you're my boyfriend? You're in the phase of tests."

Jay: For how long?

You: Hm.. Until the end of the next week!

Jay: Then prepare your heart for the most heart fluttering days of your life.

You: You're so annoying 😂

Jay: And you like me 😄

You: You forgot to say you're humble.

Jay: Right?

The next days you always found Jay at the same spot by your locker, waiting for you to walk together to class, hugging you whenever you both had free time and no other guy approached you. He took you on dates after school, cooked for you, you shared kisses and cuddles.

A week later, on Saturday you wake up to the feeling of a warm chest against your back and a pair of arms tightening on your hips, soon kisses being littered across your cheek. You sit up still in a daze and turn around to see Jay freshly awake in your bed. He looks handsome as always, his eyes sparkled with the baby blue that was beginning to light up the sky at dawn through the window of your room.

"How did you get in?"

"You left your window open." He sits up beside you, hands searching for warmth until finally finding it in your cheeks, holding your face in his large hands. "The week is over, you know."

"You're so bold, Park Jongseong."

"That's right. Are we official now?"

"You're already here, how can I say no.."

"You definitely can't."

"Then it's a yes." You sleepy gave him a sleepy smile and he got closer for a peck that you prolonged for a little longer.

[helenazbmrskai]

Mr Dream Writer 9

★   Pairing (Seokjin x Reader) ★   Genre (Best Friend’s Brother AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Writer AU, Slow Burn, Coming Off Age, Romance, Roommates To Lovers) ★   Summary (Jin is the sun and you’re the moon.) ★   Warnings (drinking in a bar, sad jin but nothing else for this one) ★   Word Count (638 words)

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*daily updates sorry I update when I can!

”That sucks man but at least now you’re on speaking terms again.” Seokjin sighs. He half-heartedly agrees because he did move back into your shared apartment but it’s far from how it used to be. You’re distant. No more cooking together you don’t even watch shows together on the couch after your late night writing sessions.

You said you’re working on your book and he knows it’s the truth because your blog is deleted by the time he tries to check it out.

You meant it when you said you want to forget about the last couple of weeks and while you pretend it never happened – it’s clear that it still bothers you. You’re avoiding him. Even in friend outings you’re barely speaking to him and choose the seat farthest away from him. Everyone noticed the shift in your dynamics but no one dares to comment on it. Namjoon advised him to give you time, you’re probably just feeling embarrassed and he couldn’t blame you when he reacted that way. The things he said – he wishes he could just turn back time and take a deep breath instead.

Ever since he played with the thought of you and him in the same sentence it become clearer that he could actually picture it happening. Too bad he’s weeks late and now it seems like you will never open up to him again.

”Barely. She’s still avoiding me Joon.” Namjoon finds his older friend’s pout comical.

”Clearly since you’re out drinking again. You know that if you get drunk it doesn’t mean the situation will solve itself.” Of course, he knows it. Jin annoyingly sighs again and Namjoon has to bite his lip to not tell him to stop whining and instead do something about it.

”I’m just so lost about what to do.” Jin swirls his drink looking intently at the bottom of his whiskey in case the key to his problems will be somehow buried under the fifth cup of alcohol.

”Well – did you try to apologise?” Jin snorts. Namjoon could barely hear his answer murmured under his nose. ”Of course, I apologised that was the first thing that I did.”

”Did you explain to her why you reacted that way? That you gave it a thought and you would like to try something if she’s still interested? Did you tell her that?”

It’s the following silence that has Namjoon shake his head in disbelief. For the first time since he arrived Jin looks up from his drink and looks kinda panicked.

”S- She didn’t let me explain.” Even he knows it’s a poor excuse. The truth is he chickened out. He was confused for the longest time if what he started feeling after you ignored him is genuine or if he was just missing the normality you two always had.

He’s still not a hundred percent sure but he probably never will be – all he could do is try and see what happens. That’s life. There’s no guide on how to live your life just like there’s no guide to tell him if things would work between you two. He just needs to take a leap of fate and hope for the best. It’s also easier said than done.

”You need to try until she listens. She deserves an explanation Jin. As I see it she probably avoids you so you couldn’t reject her again. She doesn’t know that you’re not trying to do that – she only goes with the assumptions your little outburst created in her head. The only way you can fix your relationship with her is, to be honest. Tell her how you feel. She’s not a mind reader you have to spell it out for her to understand.”

Jin knows Namjoon is right. The question is what he’s going to do about it.

[emmyhem]

good stupid (l.r.h)

a/n: hi again! this is a short and sweet luke x student fem!reader imagine, and my first time posting smut,, i’m planning on posting some angsty stuff pretty soon sooo i wanted to have something pretty fluffy up but as i wrote it became clear to me that smut would fit well. so with all that being said, i hope you enjoy - emmy <33 (p.s, requests are still open but i am working on quite a few already and they take me slightly longer to write than my own pieces because i want to be sure i’m doing them justice. but all requests are extremely appreciated as well as any feedback on my writing. and i’m always up to chat, if you ever have something on your mind, no matter how random :)) 

pairing: luke hemmings x student fem!reader 

summary: an innocent but important secret sparks a competitiveness between you and your boyfriend, but it may end in both of your favor. 

warnings: smut, oral sex (female receiving), cursing, but mainly just fluffy romantic sex 

word count: 2.2k

Luke’s head was in your lap as you read from your textbook intently. Your eyebrows were tugged together and your lips pouted in concentration. 

“You’re pretty.” he hummed, a sweet grin on his face. 

You glanced down, scrunching your nose in fondness. 

“You too.” you responded, poking his cheek.

“Stop, I’m blushing.” he joked, hiding his face behind his hands.

You laughed before turning your attention back to your studies, but Luke’s eyes remained glued to you only breaking contact occasionally to blink. You could feel his eyes on you, making it extremely hard to focus.

“Luke.” you scolded. 

“What?” he whined. 

“You gotta stop staring. I'm trying to study bub.”

“No can do, lovie. M’studying too.” he protested. 

“And what are you studying?” you questioned. 

“You.” he said matter of factly. “Happens to be my favorite subject.” 

You pressed your lips together tightly to avoid smiling like an idiot. The two months you’d spent with Luke had been the best of your life, for the first time you felt like things were just right. It was as if you had been made for him and you kept finding yourself having to actively avoid blurting out the big L word. It was like it was always at the tip of your tongue threatening release, any time he would compliment you, or hug you tighter than normal, and it was especially hard when he kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. 

So caught up in your lovestruck haze, you hadn’t noticed that you had sat your book down next to you on the couch and were staring off into space.

Luke sat up and pulled you to his chest.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he poked, pressing a swift kiss to the top of your hairline. 

“Just thinking.” you mumbled into his shoulder. 

“Bout what? You gotta tell me I’m trying for an A in y/n studies.” 

You laughed while shaking your head. 

“I’m thinking about saying something stupid.” you said timidly, pulling out of Luke’s embrace to look him in the eyes. 

“Good stupid or bad stupid?” 

“M’not quite sure.” you answered, moving back into Luke’s arms. 

His eyes flashed with mischief as he leaned away from you.

“I’ll give you a kiss if ya tell me.” 

“I can get one of those whenever I want.” you replied, chasing his lips with your own. 

“Nah, I think I’ll hold out for a while, can’t have you keeping secrets.” 

You laughed, knowing how needy your boyfriend could get, “We’ll see how long that lasts.” 

“Heyyy,” he drawled out. “No laughing, baby I’m serious. You won’t be getting any action till you spill.” 

You just pretended to zip your lips shut and throw away the key in response before continuing your work.  He would give in within the hour, you were sure of it. 

This has been the longest 3 days of your life. You had no idea when kissing Luke had become such a big part of your everyday routine but it was becoming abundantly clear to you that it was. 

Like this morning, when your alarm woke you up for class and you rolled over to kiss him without even thinking about it. You were centimeters away from making contact before a smile broke on Luke’s face and he rolled over to mumble, 

“No kisses for you.” before closing his eyes once again. 

Or when you dropped off lunch for the guys at the studio, you had been expecting at least a peck to express his gratitude for your favor, but all you got was a quick kiss on the back of your hand and a sly, 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Tonight you were determined, and  there was no way in hell you would be the one to give in. You were cooking when he got home, freshly showered and wearing only one of  his favorite shirts. Luke heard you before he saw you, humming to ABBA from the kitchen, he chuckled to himself  before turning the corner. 

“Hi baby.” you greeted, spinning on your heel while you sucked a bit of pasta sauce off your finger. 

Luke groaned at the sight of you before sauntering over and wrapping his arms around your waist as you stirred your cooking pasta. 

“You are making this extremely hard for me.” he hissed in your ear. Emphasis on the hard as he pressed himself against your back. 

You squeezed your thighs together at the feeling but held your composure as you spun to face him. 

“I dunno what you're talking about, Lu.” 

“Tell me your secret and we can go upstairs.” he whined, tugging you away from the stove.

“And let my dinner get cold?” you teased, waving a disapproving  finger. 

As you finished cooking Luke sat at the table, his eyes following your every move. 

“Food’s ready.” you announced as you pulled two plates from the cabinet. 

When no response came you looked in his direction. He nodded and beckoned you forward with the curl of two fingers. You took a seat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“What’s a matter, baby? Aren’t you hungry?” you cooed in his ear. 

Luke clenched his jaw and ran a finger along your thigh, “I’m begging you to fess up. You’re looking way too pretty not to kiss and I don’t like to give in.” 

“Me neither” you countered, your forehead pressed against his. 

“Baby,” he whined. 

“You really wanna know?” you said, your feet carrying you back to the counter as you got an unexpected surge of confidence. 

“You have no idea.” he sighed from behind you. “Please put us both out of our misery, hm?” 

“I love you.” you admitted, holding your breath as you stared at the marble countertop in front of you. 

You could hear Luke stand up and felt his breath on the back of your neck within a second. 

“That’s my secret.” you continued.

His hands ran down your sides before settling firmly on your hips, which he used as leverage to spin you in his direction. You kept your eyes to the floor once facing him but he was quick to change that, using his thumb and pointer to tilt your chin up. You looked up through your lashes to meet his eyes. 

“And I love you more.” he returned. And there he went again with that look, as if you were his favorite thing in the entire universe. 

You let out a sigh of relief, one that was cut short by Luke’s lips moving urgently against your own. You both seemed to melt into each other as his tongue worked its way into your mouth. He was quick to pick you up and set you on the counter, this way he wouldn’t strain his neck to kiss you. The kiss was breathy, needy, and exactly what your body had been craving for the past three torturous days. 

“We are never ever doing that again.” he spoke into your mouth between kisses. 

“Mhm.” you agreed as his hands groped at your thighs, pushing his shirt that you had on up in the process. 

“Wrap your legs around me.” he instructed as you pulled away to breath. 

“Lu, dinner.” you protested. 

“I know, lovie. Later, I promise but right now m’hungry for something else and I can’t wait any longer.” 

“Okay,” you agreed breathlessly, wrapping your legs around him tightly as he carried you into the bedroom. 

Once in the bedroom he laid you out on the bed muttering out broken praises as he kissed down your neck. 

“Hardest three days of my life.” he admitted as his hands slid under your shirt. 

His palms were warm and rough on your skin and the only response you could muster was a soft whimper.  

Once he found his way to your nipples you were a moaning mess beneath him. 

“Off” you sighed, sitting up a bit so he could remove the shirt, leaving you completely bare. 

He ran a finger down your stomach as he spoke, “So pretty for me, angel.” 

You shuddered at his words feeling more needy by the second. 

“Lu, please.” 

“Feeling eager, baby? Me too. But I just wanna enjoy the girl I love for a bit.” he continued, as he settled between your legs. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the word love, and you couldn’t help the dopey smile that appeared on your face. 

He began peppering light kisses on your thighs each one slightly closer to where you needed him most. You started to squirm impatiently causing him to pull away and hover over your face, 

“I love you.” he declared. 

“I love you too.” you affirmed, straining your neck leaning to kiss him. Once you pulled away he grinned before returning to his previous position. 

He wasted no more time before attaching his lips to your clit, working it furiously under his tongue. 

Your head immediately threw back in pleasure, and if it weren’t for Luke’s hands holding you down you were sure your hips would’ve bucked up. 

You were whimpering relentlessly as he hummed in content against you. 

“Taste’s so good, baby. Missed this so much.” 

You only mewled in response, feeling your first orgasm begin to creep up on you already. 

“Lu,” you moaned, your hands finding his hair and tugging lightly causing him to grunt. “M’close.” 

“Yea? Doing so good, wanna come for me, love?” he questioned, adding a finger as he continued the assault on your clit. 

“Y-yes” you stuttered out, your breath catching in your throat as you reached your climax. You shook under Luke’s hold as he worked you through your orgasm. 

As you recovered he nipped at your neck and left a trail of kisses up your jaw before finally reaching your lips. You kissed him sloppily still feeling hazy from the pleasure. 

“Gonna let me take you?” he cooed, continuing to pepper kisses all over your face. 

“Please.” you nodded. 

“Okay, baby. Lemme grab something.” he said before carrying himself over to his nightstand to retrieve a condom. 

Once he rolled the condom on and made his way back to you he rubbed his thumb on your hip as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

“Ready?” 

“Yea, Lu. Need you” you mewled. 

He began to press into you slowly, letting your body adjust to the stretch as he inched in. Once he was completely in, you clenched in pleasure at the sensation of being so completely full. This caused Luke to grunt loudly, 

“Fuck, so good for me, angel” he praised. “Lemme know when I can move. Okay, baby?”

You nodded quickly as you took your bottom lip in between your teeth. 

“Move, please.” you begged, desperate for friction. 

He started with slow thrusts, they were passionate and so filling you felt like you might actually burst. His thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow circles as he continued. 

“F-faster,” you stumbled over your words, the pleasure overwhelming you. “I need faster.” 

Luke was happy to comply, picking up the pace with each thrust. As he pounded into you harder he pressed further, his head nudging at your g-spot causing you to squeal, your fingers gripping at the sheets. 

“Is that the spot?” he questioned hitting it repeatedly, causing your brain to essentially go numb. The only active thought being, Luke. 

You physically couldn’t gather the strength or power to speak so instead you just nodded, your entire body falling slack as your second orgasm approached. 

“Gonna come for me again, baby? Show me how good I’m making you feel?” 

As if you weren’t already feeling enough, Luke chose this moment to attach his lips to your neck again sucking harshly at the spot he knew made you weak. 

“Fuck, baby.” he groaned, breaking away. “Can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me y/n, I know you can do it. C’mon gimme one more, wanna come with you.” 

You came undone around him as he hit your most sensitive spot over and over again. He followed immediately after, your name falling from his lips repeatedly during his release. 

So completely fucked out, you didn’t even notice when he pulled out, and tied off the condom before throwing it away and flopping down next to you on the bed. 

“How are you doing, my love.” he asked sweetly while pulling you to his chest.

You nodded into him and mumbled, “m’good, really good.” 

“I love you so much.” he spoke into your forehead before pressing a wet kiss on it. “How ‘bout I get ya all cleaned up and then warm us up some dinner to eat in bed?” he questioned, eyes studying your face. 

“Will you shower with me?” you asked timidly. 

“Well, I wasn’t planning on doing it alone.” he teased, lifting you up. 

As he sat on the edge of the tub, you on his lap, letting the shower run over his hand to ensure the water temperature was just right for you, you buried your face into his neck. 

“M’so glad I told you my secret.” 

“Me too.” he laughed. “Though, that whole no kissing thing was stupid.” 

“Good stupid.” you countered.