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archived-daydreams · 2 years ago

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— Move your body, darling.

Summary: You’ve started working out, and your boyfriend encourages you.

Characters: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Tags: fluff, slight crack, suggestive (allusions at doing the deed in Kaeya’s but nothing ex.plicit), soft and supportive boyfriends.

Author’s note: A little something for my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 I hope you like it, love !

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

SCARAMOUCHE

Pretends he doesn’t care, letting slip some comments about how “foolish humans are to believe they can get stronger like that”.

In reality, he’s probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of this bunch.

Need anything afterwards? He’ll bring it to you, no matter how much he grumbles. And no, don’t try to stop him, because “you are clearly not in the right conditions to do it yourself”. His words not mine, by the way.

Did you drink enough water? Or fruit juice? Or something cold after your work out? You better, he “threatens”, but honestly, he’s happy to prepare it for you (even if he pouts like a grumpy cat).

The afternoon sun is scorching as you keep count of the times you’ve folded and unfolded your legs.

Up, and down, up and down, and up, and down again. Pause. Repeat.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the idea of getting into shape and strengthening your body crossed your mind a few days ago.

Was it to be able to beat your boyfriend for once in sparring?

That would be unrealistic, thinking on it, considering how he went to godhood and back, and was reborn from his own fall from grace.

Pehaps it was to actually prove to him, that no, not all humans are so ephemeral and frail as he deems them to be.

Yes, that definitely makes more sense.

And maybe, somewhere inside of you, you just want to be a little stronger, because as attractive as Scaramouche looks obliterating enemies, you know how heavy your hypothetic hurt and loss hang over him.

So, with that thought spurring you on, you get back to your workout, some of the energy you’re expending slightly recovered with this re-discovered motivation.

Unaware to you, a pair of vibrant violet eyes have been watching you for a while. The smile painted on his porcelain-like features speaking the words his eyes conceal behind the curtain of dusk that is his hair.

Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed over his chest, the wanderer decides he can indulge for a little longer in the sight of you.

That is, until a familiar child-like voice interrupts him.

“Oh, so they are the one you cherish!”

His cheeks dye in the color of Zaytun peaches at that statement, his figure leaning off the wall in a flurry.

“Shhh, Lesser Lord Kusanali, please not now!” He whisper-shouts.

Nahida gives him a closed eyed smile, as if she hadn’t completely gotten through his practiced haughty facade.

Then, her inquisitive viridian eyes flit to you and to the ex-harbinger again.

“You know, it’s okay to show them your support. They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure!” She encourages him. “It’s the same as when you cultivate flowers.” She gestures with her small hands. “No colorful petal can truly bloom without love, in the same way no fruit will ripen without sun or water.”

And Scaramouche isn’t sure if it’s because of his mentor’s wise words, or because you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration; but next thing he knows, he’s walking towards you with a bottle of Harra fruit juice in hand.

“When will you learn to take care?” Your wanderer scolds, at the same time his cheeks mirror the warm rays of the low sun in the horizon.

ALBEDO

Oh, he’s smooth. Like, he doesn’t even have to try to make you flustered.

And the best thing is, sometimes (when he wants to, that is) he looks innocent while at it, because he truly cares and means well.

Rest assured, once you either tell him you want to exercise or he finds out, the chief alchemist is getting his hands on every fitness book he can find.

Albedo will come up with a full training program tailored to your needs and goals in a matter of a few hours.

He’s very supportive and reassuring but please, don’t let him get ideas for his experiments, unless you want to receive (affectionate or not so affectionate) complaints from a certain blond traveler, namely, his frequent test subject.

“Fascinating,” Your lover muses, a huge manual on physiology of the human body held in between his hands. “According to this study, Dragonspine reunites all the ideal conditions to make your training more demanding, which will result in it being all the more effective…”

You can’t help but let out a giggle at how immersed into this Albedo seems to be. Sure, you did mention to him you’d like to do some physical conditioning to perform more efficiently in combat, but you didn’t intend to be subjected to a rigorous training program.

“Bedo, dear.” You begin, sitting across from him. “You don’t need to plan such a complicated schedule.” Your hand finds his over the table.

His skin is cold to the touch, yet it is not an unpleasant sensation. It always reminded you of the morning dew over the Cecilias at Snarsnatch Cliff.

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand you continue. “I just want to exercise a little bit more than what my usual commissions require, nothing too harsh.” You finish, softly, a tender smile etched on those lips that have warmed Albedo’s cold nights many a time.

“I know that, dearest.” He says, his fingers slotting in between yours. They always fitted perfectly, as if your hands entwined were the last two puzzles pieces containing the mysteries of this world the Chalk Prince yearns to solve.

“But, the cold climate and altitude here will make your daily commissions feel like a walk in the park.” He continues, his free hand dangerously traveling to your waist and down, and down, until it stops at the small of your back. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?” Albedo questions, that devious smirk you can’t resist appearing on his face like fresh pink strokes of watercolor.

“Oh?” You return his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, playing with the tips of his icy blond hair. “Is that really it?” You tease, your fingertips grazing the star shaped mark on his neck. “Or is my prince eager to spend more time with me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” The alchemist answers, those cerulean eyes of his gleaming mischievously, akin to late stars in the dawn, before leaning in to close the distance between your lips.

You guess this might as well count as a workout session, with how wildly your heart is beating.

XIAO

Sweet baby Xiao, who is probably going to need more reassurance than you.

Why are you suddenly putting your body through such efforts? Are you going to leave him? Is he no longer useful enough to protect you?

Please, please, let him know it has nothing to do with it. Xiao’s gone through so much both physical and emotional pain, he doesn’t understand why you would willingly exhaust yourself like this.

You’ll probably have to sit him down and patiently explain how some moderate exercise can help you feel more energized and less tired on your day to day activities.

Once he understands, however, he’s very, very supportive!

Will always keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t overexert or stay out too late practicing; carries you back to Wangshuu Inn if you overdid it and is always nearby keeping any monsters at bay.

“Working out?” The adeptus repeats, a frown creasing his forehead, his lips forming an all too adorable pout. “Are you in danger? Is anyone after you?” Xiao asks, his golden orbs widening, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“No, Xiao, it’s nothing like that, my love.” You reassure him, one of your hands reaching out to cup his cheek. “I just want to get stronger, you know? So that I can be better in battle and feel more energized.

Battle. As much as Xiao knows you can hold your own in a fight and trusts your skill, the yaksha doesn’t like the sound of that word, even less coming from your lips.

You shouldn’t have to worry about battles or fights, he vowed to protect you; he deems himself no more than a tool to keep you safe, the weapon that slays any unfortunate who dares harm you.

Do you not need him anymore? Is the question that lingers on his mind and that he can’t bring himself to ask.

Used to your yaksha’s mannerisms, however, you can sense his discomfort.

For someone who claims to deal in bloodbath and death, you’ve come to learn Xiao is about one of the most sensitive and gentle people you could meet.

“Xiao? Does this idea upset you?” You try, taking one of his hands in both of yours, removing his glove to reveal scarred yet tender skin, and sharp claws that hold you with the softness of qingxin and glaze lily petals.

“Maybe…” the conqueror of demons nods, his gaze cast downwards. “Do you…” he hesitates, the prospect of you confirming his deepest fears more painful than the karma he shoulders. “Do you… not need my protection anymore?” He finally manages to ask.

“Oh, Xiao…” With care, you hold his face in both your palms, guiding his sunlit honey eyes back to yours. “Of course I need you. I love you, Xiao.” You whisper, your tone delicate, as if any disturbance or too loud syllable could pop and shatter the little bubble encasing the both of you. “Me exercising and practicing more will not mean I’ll ever stop loving and needing you, baby.” You plant the most tender kiss he’s ever felt on the diamond shaped mark on his temple.

And even though still concerned for your safety and wellbeing, the vigilant yaksha’s heart has been soothed by the floral breeze of your affections tonight.

From that day onwards, it wasn’t rare to see a certain adeptus scanning Guili Plains more exhaustively than usual, especially when a dedicated fighter found themselves mastering the art of their weapon.

CHILDE

Flirty and competitive little shit (affectionate) but he’s actually helpful.

Will take any chance he can get to one up on you. Don’t hold it against him, though, he’s just childish (pun intended), and loves your pouty expressions a little too much.

Finds it so attractive when your breath is labored, yet you still keep going. That sight alone, truly ignites something in him, his usually dull ocean eyes reflecting a myriad of iridescent lights in all the shades that compose you; he feels the need to kiss you and become the cause you’re breathless and… (I’ll stop here before we enter spicy territory, but you get it).

Very caring. Ajax is not new to taking care of people, he has a big family, after all. And as much as he is quite the reckless adrenaline junkie, he doesn’t want you doing anything extreme or pushing yourself to your limits (he pushes you to the limit enough as it is, in all aspects ;).

You think Ajax’s insanity is starting to rub on you.

Sure, you’d like to get more fit and strong, but did you really have to grab your boyfriend’s bow for your first practice?

You sigh, your shoulders already sore from drawing the big bow again and again.

But as they say, no pain, no gain.

At least you are grateful for Polar Star’s soft and supple handle, it keeps your hands (mostly) free from blistering.

You ready yourself, a look of pure concentration on your eyes, set on the target. You aim for the bull’s eye, drawing your elbow backwards, in a way that you hope resembles how Childe does it in battle.

You can picture the arrow’s trajectory, its tip infused in the vibrant hue of your vision, a perfect arch cutting through the skies above in a parable of elemental energy set for a single pinpoint destination.

You take a deep breath.

In, and out.

Then…

An all too familiar (and quite obnoxious, right now) chuckle makes your focus dissipate, akin to ocean waves lapping at the shore, dragging sandy architecture and paintings into lightless depths.

“And just what,” You begin, turning around, deep frown creasing your eyebrows. “Do you find so funny, Tartaglia?” You point the index finger not holding his bow at his chest. “Care to tell me?” You spat, wisps of venomous smoke stoked by your fiery annoyance tainting the edges of your voice.

Childe stands there, looking at you like the idiot in love he is, dumb dopey smile plastered on his unfairly kissable lips.

“Sorry, you’re so cute, sweetheart.” He manages in between chuckles.

You want to smack him over the head with his own bow, but you contain yourself: you really don’t want his weapon to get damaged, after all.

Instead, you settle for punching him on the arm, with less malice than your pout suggests.

“Do you want to see how cute I’ll look after i shoot an arrow through that empty head of yours, Childe?” You retort, arms crossed over your chest.

“Heh, I’d like to see you try, darling. Don’t you think I can’t dodge.”

At his answer, you throw your hands into the air, exasperated.

And, even though Ajax loves teasing you and sparring with you, he doesn’t really like making you angry, especially when you’re trying hard.

“But instead of that,” the harbinger starts, taking the bow from your hands. “How about I help you? You know, weapons are really personal things, what works for me, might not work well for you or another person.”

He likes how your eyes sparkle at his suggestion, your undivided attention prompting the ginger to continue.

“It’s true we can master any kind of weapon, but you need the right one for you, no matter which type you choose.”

The warrior’s calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“So, how about finding the right bow for you? Sound good?”

“Fine…” You breathe, completely lost in the way the last rays of sunshine catch in the deep lakes of his gaze. It is not a sight you get to witness often, and you treasure it immensely.

“Alright!” Your boyfriend nods, picking you up, bridal style, relishing in your squeals and giggles as you both walk into the sunset.

KAEYA

Flirty little shit number 2, except instead of being helpful, he ends up distracting you more than anything.

He makes up for it in support, though. Granted, he teases you a lot, but he’s also your number one cheerleader.

Very touchy and affectionate, will not pass up any chance to leave a kiss here and there, or hold onto your waist.

Loves joining you in your workout sessions and matching outfits with you.

Very vocal, Kaeya compliments you a lot and always has words of encouragement to offer, no matter how completely exhausted or weak you feel.

You swear this is unfair.

He is being unfair.

He knows all too well what he’s doing and he must have had this planned from the moment he offered to help you with your sit-ups session.

“How about I hold your legs in place, my darling?” The cavalry captain suggested in an all too enticing and sultry tone. “Won’t that way be easier for you?”

And of course, you had to go and agree.

Like the fool for him that you are.

So now, you have to have his tempting lips practically shoved in your face every single time you do a sit-up.

You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, you chide yourself internally.

But oh, he’s so not helping at all. Pouting like that every time he keeps count, icy eyes half lidded, the frozen galaxies in them beckoning you closer to his presence.

“And fifty!” Kaeya finally exclaims, when you do the last one of the planned exercises for today. “You did great, my sweet.” The cavalry captain smiles, innocently, as if he wasn’t the main reason your face feels like it’s on fire right now.

“Why, thanks.” You reply, rather bluntly, uncapping the water bottle he just handed to you. At least you are grateful he had the decency to cool it with his vision beforehand. Throwing your head back, you take a long sip. Then:

“You volunteered to help and yet, you’re aware you didn’t make this easy in the slightest, aren’t you?” You accuse.

“My, whatever could you mean, hm?” Your boyfriend taunts, two slender fingers holding your chin in between them. “Or is my precious partner in need of some affection?”

“Oh you…” You whisper, the warmth in your heart overpowering how unnerved your knight makes you feel sometimes.

“Yes, my love?” That look of feigned innocence again.

You huff, defeated. But the smile tugging at the corner of your lips makes it quite obvious you are, indeed, very much needy for his touches and kisses.

Let’s just say, from the instant Kaeya’s hands found your hips up until the moment you’d find yourself laying down in his idyllic embrace, you got an extra work out session.

ARATAKI ITTO

Very supportive, but for the love of the archons, don’t ever let him join you.

Seriously, Itto is all heart and good intentions, but sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.

What to him feels like just some stretches, it might be for you the equivalent of running a marathon with a 10 kilogram heavy backpack on.

Practically worships you and the ground you walk on, though. He’s your biggest hype-man.

The trembling on your arms intensifies as you reach the end of your training session.

You hope Katheryne doesn’t have any too difficult commissions for you in store tomorrow: right now, you doubt you’ll be able to hold your weapon steadily.

You are proud of yourself for reaching your goal today, a gentle, albeit tired, smile making it to your sweaty features as you finish with some meditation and stretches.

The inazuman coast is so serene at this time of day, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, beams of purple and crimson striping the dusk sky.

A sigh escapes your lips, for this peace is always short lived. You wouldn’t have it any other way, however, you love your loud and boisterous oni too much for that.

A few more instants of tranquility pass, the late sunshine fading into luminous constellations riding in the faraway horizon, the crescent moon smiling down at two figures approaching your location.

“Boss! Please! Be quieter, now! It’s late and you can’t disturb the citizens at this hour.”

A knowing smile mimics that of the milky crescent lighting up the indigo infinity above you. You really admire your friend Shinobu’s patience.

“But Shinobu! [Y/n] will be so proud of me when I tell them about how the One and Oni Itto was proclaimed supreme king of the Great All-around Arataki Onikabuto and TCG Championship!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose, having had enough of her boss’s antics.

As soon as he spots you, Itto starts waving his big hands energetically, calling your name repeatedly, to Shinobu’s chagrin.

“Itto!” You run to his side, weakly hugging his broad torso. “Why don’t you tell me about today as we walk back home?” You propose, talking in a low voice.

His eyes sparkle excitedly. Sometimes, he reminds you of an adorable puppy; for someone over six feet tall, your oni boyfriend really is sweet.

“But… can I ask you to carry me, please?” You look away, slightly flustered. “Push ups are still a little hard for me.”

That night, the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang had a relaxed night, as she watched the retreating figures of an oni and his lover animatedly recounting the day’s many events.

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clubdionysus · 9 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #32] Question...?

warnings: i love this pair so much it's disgusting, freckle kissing, oral (m), praise, head pusher jeon jungkook!, fingering, interrupted </333, the starlovers are randy all the time apparently!! discussions of a chicken shop shag, to the love motel they go!!, acc v cute, the lil games they play, kissing :D, v needy, unprotected sex, missionary, titty sucking, kissing through it :(, creampie, yearning for some 1 right in front of u!!, off-screen second shag that's even heavier sigh, a desperate attempt at communication that falls short </3, silly fools!

a/n: for those of u who never knew me on wattpad, the first line is a reference to another story of mine hehe

wc: 16.7k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

JK: you up?

The message lights up the screen of your phone with such vibrancy you want to claw your own eyes out. It's resting on your pillow thanks to the alarm that had gone off half an hour ago - of which you'd subsequently pressed 'end' on faster than the speed of light.

The rumble of a sleepy Jeongguk stretching out echoes through the walls. Paper-thin, secrets are hard to keep in houses like these. It's the only reason Jeongguk didn't even attempt to get you in his room last night.

Perhaps that's a lie. Perhaps it has less to do with his parents' perception of your friendship, and more to do with Jeongguk's own confusion over it all. Perhaps .

You ignore the message. Groan a little. Had gotten home - or should that be gotten to Jeongguk's home - far later than you had been expecting. Definitely will need coffee at some point in the near future. Sooner rather than later.

A little dehydrated, you're thankful you're not hungover. Had managed to sober up enough before coming home. Sea air helps. So does kissing boys you shouldn't.

And then you're thinking about it .

Thinking about his hands, and how his muscles just know how to hold you perfectly. Thinking about his lips, and how they feel when they press down on yours. The smile on them. The short, sharp breath from his nose against your cheek. How silky his hair is, and how your fingers manage to get knotted in it regardless.

Whining as you press your face into the pillow, you know that you shouldn't be thinking this way. Know it's a recipe for disaster. Know that Jeongguk has a history of blurring lines with his best friends.

His lips in your head are replaced with a ruby red pair; scathing as they hiss out a reminder you never needed:

I just know Jeongguk. I know what happens to the girls he becomes 'besties' with. I wasn't the first 'best friend' he had, and I doubt I'll be the last. Doubt you will be, either.

If there's one thing for certain about Hayun, it's that she leaves a mark. Scarlet. A handprint across your face. A stab wound in your back. Hickies on throats.

Yet as the door of Jeongmin's room crashes open, and a bleary-eyed Jeongguk traipses in without even uttering more than a grunt in lieu of 'hello', you're pleased to see the hickies on his throat.

Yours. All yours.

The hickies, not the man.

Although as Jeongguk chooses to simply pile on top of you, it could be debated that maybe you hold a few more cards than you realise.

Hayun plays a good bluff, but what use is it when you've got a royal flush?

"Oww," you grumble, as Jeongguk quite literally rolls over the top of you.

Jeongmin's bed is a single. There's not enough room for two. If Jeongguk's shoulders were as slim as Danbi's, then maybe - but he's built like an upside-down Dorito. You suppose delicious probably wouldn't be a bad way to describe Jeongguk. In fact, now you come to think of it, it's perfectly apt.

He squeezes into the spot between you and the wall - because he's always on your left whenever you're together in bed - and doesn't bother to get beneath the duvet.

"Morning," he eventually mumbles, shuffling onto his side. Lips pouty, cheeky swollen, nose dewy, he's well rested. Hooks his arm over your duvet-covered body. Doesn't hug you, just keeps you enclosed.

"Mhmm," you mumble right back. "What time is it?"

Jeongguk is slow as he responds, just as sleepy as you. "Just gone 10."

"Fuck."

"Mhmm," he hums in agreement with your curse. "Gonna waste the day away, B."

Part of you doesn't think spending a day in bed with Jeongguk could be considered a 'waste'. In fact, it'd be a day well spent.

"Breakfast?" you suggest regardless, knowing that Jeongguk will never turn down food.

The grumble he lets out this time is primal. "Ugh. Yes."

"Watcha want?

"Don't think I'm allowed what I want."

"Pussy isn't breakfast."

"You're telling me you've never had pussy for breakfast?" He snorts, knowing you'll be full of shit if you say no.

"That's none of your business," you remind him - and he's kind of grateful for it. Doesn't wanna hear about your previous hookups. Hearing about other guys doesn't really bother him so much. Knows he can compete. Knows he can win.

Girls, though? Fuck . He knows how much he likes women. Knows he could never compete against a good pair of tits and a nice cunt.

Issue is, the thought's in his head, now.

They say that jealousy is a disease, and Jeongguk's suffering seems to be chronic. The symptoms simmer down for a while, but they always flare back up eventually. It's a miracle he's been able to keep a lid on things for long.

Except he definitely hasn't. You remember exactly how pouty he was when Seojoon came and introduced himself. His jealousy is always subtle. Subdued. Far more internal than it is external. Not always easy to decipher.

But Jeongguk's thinking about you now; thinking about the fact other people have had you like this. Warm. Cosy. Content. Someone else has likely held your waist like this; made you feel the exact same way he's making you feel.

And he wants to make you feel better .

Wants to be the best .

If there's one thing Jeongguk knows he's good at, it's giving head. Too much of a perfectionist not to be. Discards all traces of dignity when his head is between a pair of legs.

"Let me go down on you," he implores, dignity already slipping. His voice is sleepy, a little croaky. Dehydrated. You'd be doing him a favour. "Slow pace. Nothing fancy. Don't need anything back. Just wanna taste you."

You smile into the sheets. Shuffle a little. Stretch. Get your body even more accustomed to the loose embrace he's got you in.

"You sound like a vampire," you smile, finding his sleepy desperation all rather sweet.

Jeongguk's brain hasn't fully woken up yet. Doesn't fully understand what you mean. Reaches a dreadfully incorrect conclusion.

He asks, "Oh, are you, like, yanno... on ?"

The poor puppy dog of a man doesn't say it explicitly. Isn't really sure how to refer to the menstrual cycle, or periods, or anything like that. Never wants to be ignorant of shit women go through, but also has never really had to educate himself on it all. Hayun would never speak about it, and he'd not really been with Jiyeong for long enough for it ever to be mentioned.

If he were a woman, he'd know all this shit. Would know what to say, what to do. Life would be easier for you. Another shortcoming of the fact he was born with a cock. Makes him a little insecure. Your life could be easier. You could choose an easier path.

Fails to factor in that maybe you'd be willing to climb mountains for sunset skylines. You'll weather a treacherous road if the destination is worth it, and he's an idiot to not realise this.

Still, he is an idiot, and unfortunately they don't have a ' seducing girls while mistakenly thinking they're on their period for dummies' guidebook. Instead, he regurgitates some of Jimin's bullshit. After all, Jimin is a top shagger. Would never leave a girl wanting more. Couldn't be him.

"I hear fucking helps," Jeongguk assures you, quickly when you don't respond immediately. He's panicking. Worries he's put his foot in it. Also does wanna fuck you but that's neither here nor there. He's just woken up. Is just horny. That's all. "Cramp and stuff. Fucking helps that. Apparently."

"I'm not on," you laugh a little. He's not totally wrong about his claims, but still. "Idiot. Although... would you?"

"Would I what?" He asks, throwing questions back on you to deflect from his missteps. "Fuck you on your period? Or fuck you now?"

If your eyes were open, you'd be rolling them. "Not now. I mean if I was on. Would you?"

Jeongguk shrugs, shoulders sinking even deeper in the duvet. "Don't see why not."

"Have you done it before?"

"Few times," he says nonchalantly.

It's normally accidental, and dark rooms are often to blame, but he's done it intentionally before. Towel down, duvet kicked to the floor, sheets in the wash and an immediate shower afterwards. There's little Jeongguk won't do when he wants to cum. Little he won't do to make the girls he likes cum.

"I quite like it," you admit. "The mess? I could do without it. But the feeling? Yeah, it's pretty good."

"We'll do it," Jeongguk sleepily says without much care for the consequence. "Whenever you're next on. Just say the word. Now can you stop being difficult and just sit on my face?"

The heartiness of your laugh lets Jeongguk know that you absolutely will not be sitting on his face any time soon.

It's not that you don't want it. Quite the opposite in fact. You want it almost too much - but also know your head was feeling all sorts of fucked up the night before. If holding his hand for a little too long can have you reevaluating the friendship, then who knows what sitting on his face would do.

There's a vulnerability that comes with the position. A vulnerability that scares you - and the way you were up for hours upon hours thinking about the night before scares you enough as it is.

"Such a randy bastard," you say fondly, pushing the duvet off your body and across to him. He doesn't object. Pouts to himself a little bit as he feels your body weight leave the mattress. Keeps his eyes closed, and snuggles in the duvet. Smells like you.

"Your fault," he mumbles.

Doesn't realise you're not in the room anymore.

Not until he cracks an eye open because of your silence. Panics. Knows exactly where you'll be. Darts off the bed and stumbles out of Jeongmin's room, swinging himself around the doorframe into his own room.

"You little-"

"These are so cute," you giggle, pointing to the little origami hearts beside his posters of Girls' Generation. Why he didn't take them down, he'll never know.

"Stop," he whines, pulling on your waist to drag you away. Turns you to face him. "I was, like, a child."

"Your mum said you moved out when you were nineteen," you remind him of her comment from the night before at dinner. It had been mid-conversation, just another snippet of Jeongguk's life before he knew you.

"I did," he confirms, looking down at you with those big brown Bambi eyes of his. Dewy-skinned, his hair is a mess, a small tuft sticking out awkwardly at the front of his face. It's cute. Give him a boy-next-door charm that he really doesn't need.

"So? Even if you made them as a kid, you still had them up at nineteen," you laugh, pushing away from him to go and look at the rest of his nicknacks.

He can't even counter your argument. Just growls a pouty "shut up."

"Soooo cute."

The walls are lined with relics of his youth; pictures with friends, wristbands from festivals, and notes scrawled on the lined paper of classroom workbooks.

"How'd you meet?" you ask, nodding to a picture of him and Jimin. Far younger than they are now, they're all smiles in a photo booth. There's no QR code on the bottom, because it was taken before they really became a thing. The picture itself is the only memory of such a time. Jeongguk is wearing a lobster hat, and Jimin a fish. Their cheeks are puffy, and their eyes look wired on sugar and a lack of sleep that only teenagers can get away with.

"Parents are friends," he explains, sitting now on the edge of his bed. "Have just known each other since, like, forever."

It's for this reason that Jimin gets an exclusive window into Jeongguk's head. He trusts him. Has never given him a reason not to. Thick as thieves, they grew up together. If anyone ever gave Jeongguk a hard time in school, they'd always have the threat of Jimin pulling them into line. He was older. Cooler. Not really smarter, but they both had their individual strengths.

You notice how frequently Jimin appears in the pictures on Jeongguk's walls, and part of you feels bad. They've a friendship that spans decades. Has seen the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Has seen lovers come and go (or in Jimin's case, just go). Has seen the test of time and passed with flying colours.

There's a very real version of events that could have ruined everything. If Jimin was a little more possessive, a little more jealous like Jeongguk is, then you could have ruined everything.

While you don't regret it, you know that if you had the chance to relive your life, you would never sleep with Jimin.

Part of it bothers Jeongguk, you think. He can pretend it doesn't all he likes, but he does have a jealous streak. It's never malicious and rarely does it ever impact you, but it is there. Is noticeable in the way his jaw sometimes tenses, and how his pout prevails when competition shows up.

"S'what I mean when I told you he's more like family," Jeongguk adds as you continue to take in the museum of him. "You're my best friend, though," he says quietly. Sincerely. Wholeheartedly. "You know that right? Best friend in the whole world."

You narrow your eyes. Furrow your brows together. "What do you want?"

He rolls his eyes. Laughs quietly. "Nothing. Always such a sceptic, aren't you?"

"It's not my fault you're always up to no good," you banter back. "I've learned to keep my defences up."

"Shut up," he says fondly. "You know you can trust me. You know I'm not lying about shit like this."

And it's true. You believe him without hesitation. Believe in his words as if he's reciting bible oaths, and as if you even fuckin' believe in a higher power. All you really believe is that there's a serenity that comes with being around Jeongguk.

Had never really considered the possibility of a twin flame before, but enjoy the way he doesn't burn you out.

Can spend hours in his company, and not need to recharge. Get lost in the endings of you and the beginnings of him. It's all so effortless. Kinetic sand collapsing in on itself; the colours merge. You'll never be able to pick it all apart. Forever intertwined, yet still separate enough to be distinguishable.

That's the thing about Jeongguk; it doesn't matter how often you get lost - in him, in your own head, in the big scary world around you - he always finds you. Never lets you stay lost. Will dapple your skin in glitter to make sure you shine throughout the darkest of nights. Will never lose you in a crowd. Will never eclipse you, like others have done in the past.

And so you simply shrug your shoulders. Smile. "Don't need to say it. I already know."

"Was just making sure," he mumbles.

"Do you worry?" You ask, thinking about his history, and how badly losing a girl he considered his best friend bothered him. "Do you worry that what happened with Hayun will happen with us?"

He's quiet for a moment. A million words screaming in the silence.

Jeongguk will never lie about the sincerity of his feelings, but he will hide the true nature of them. It's self-preservation 101. Can't get his heart broken if he's the one holding onto it. Made that mistake before.

And so he smiles.

"I literally just friend-zoned you, B," he teases. Doesn't want the focus on him, and his emotions, so deflects. Puts the spotlight back on you. "Plus, you've got a boy hitting up your DM's don't you? Who would I be to stand in the way of true love?"

"One date does not equate to true love," you remind him. "I barely know him."

"Might not equate to it, but could very easily start with just one date," he counters. "And so? That's what dating is all about. Testing the waters. Seeing if you work together."

You're quiet for a moment, until eventually, you whisper, "it scares me."

"Why?"

You shrug.

The question you had asked him about Hayun? Projection .

You're scared of repeating mistakes you made with Seokjin. Scared of giving your all, only for the best of you to be left in tatters; scared, because love has only ever frightened you. It goes boo in the night - although 'boo' is far less scary than the alert tone of a dating app you don't recognise, coming from the phone of the man who used to sleep beside you.

It's been spoken about enough, you think. Fears and insecurities are important, yes, but Jeongguk has had to listen to you whine so much about your own. You must sound like a broken record by this point. You're sure of it.

You're the one who has to change the record. You know he'll just let it play out, otherwise.

Reaching over to the back of his desk chair, you smile. Pick up the striped baseball shirt that matches the myriad of shirts in his brother's room.

"Giants fan, too?"

Jeongguk notices your change in topic, but chooses to let it slide. Will never force you to talk about things. Built a friendship off of mutual respect for one another's boundaries. Ain't gonna push them now.

Instead, he smiles. "Busan born and raised. 'Course I am."

"01," you sound out loud, tracing the number on the back with your index finger. "For your birthday, right?"

"Right," he nods, nibbling down on his bottom lip. Feels nervous, for some obscure reason.

This? Right here? You exploring his childhood bedroom? This is intimacy, to him.

It's why 'take a girl home' was on one of his birds.

The way he's feeling right now has no logical fucking explanation. Can't make sense of it. Doesn't understand it. Just understands that anything you do now will only deepen the complexities of how he's feeling.

And so when you turn, and give him a look he knows all too well, he knows he's done for.

"Don't give me those eyes," he warns. Has missed them.

"What eyes?" you flirt, totally unaware of the fact Jeongguk thinks he might die if you do keep giving him 'those' eyes.

He laughs. "Your bedroom disco ball eyes."

There's not that much glitter on you now. It's scattered all over your cheeks, remnants of the previous night's glitter still staining you. It doesn't matter even if you don't deliberately wear glitter - you're always covered in it regardless. Just another thing for him to obsess over when he's alone at night and thinking about you.

"Close your eyes, then," you tease.

He's in no position to let himself get carried away.

So he does.

Sits prettily, posture perfect, hands in his lap. Still just in his sweats, there's something about Jeongguk like this that makes you wanna make bad decisions.

When he hears the crumple of your shirt hitting his bedroom floor, he closes his eyes even tighter.

"Fuck you," he grins.

"What?"

"Fuckin' undressing in front of me when I'm trying to be good. It's like you want me to have a raging boner."

Laughing, you tell him that he can open his eyes. "I'm covered."

He doesn't believe you. Turns his head slightly. Cracks just a single eye half open. Whines.

"What?!" you feign innocence, knowing exactly what you've done. It's written all over the smug smile etched into your cheeks.

Raking the sight of you in, Jeongguk only groans more. Flops down onto his bed. Buries his head into his pillow, and groans even louder.

"What?" you repeat this time with a giggle, as you finish buttoning up the front of his baseball shirt. It finishes midway down your thighs, a little shorter than most of his shirts. Slightly more fitted. Is a little tight across your chest.

"You would have been less hot if you were naked ," he whimpers rather pathetically. Sits back up. Looks at you as if you've just put one of his Girls Generation posters through a paper shredder. A little bit of anguish. Betrayal, almost. "Fuckin' Lions girl in a Giants shirt ."

Saying it out loud is too much. He groans again and flops, once more, back down into his sheets. Pretends to cry.

"You're torturing me. This is torture . Look it up in a dictionary. Torture. Will just be a picture of you right now. Tortuuuuuure. Won't let me fuck you, but will go and do shit that you know will give me a hard-on." He pouts. Pulls his head up a bit to look over at you. "This is very unfriendly, B."

"What?" you tease. "Me wearing your shirt? Or you having a boner because of it?"

He frowns. Huffs. "Both."

"You need to learn self-control," you deadpan. "Consider this training."

"Consider this the end of our friendship."

Laughing, you don't take his petulant little remark seriously.

You really should do.

Not because your friendship is going to end, but because Jeongguk doesn't think your friendship can ever be the same. Not now.

And that in itself is a terrifying prospect.

The fact you don't even seem to realise?

It's the kinda shit that's gonna keep him up at night.

"C'mon," you call, satisfied with your teasing, unaware of the limbo he's in. "Breakfast."

You're already out of the room and walking down the hallways by the time Jeongguk gets himself together. Shaking his head, he rubs a hand over his face, pushing it back into his hair.

Just like you're fearful of making the same mistakes again, so is Jeongguk. He can already feel it happening, and he hates himself for it. Wrecked his friendship with Hayun 'cause he couldn't control his feelings. Is terrified the same will happen with you.

He's gotta rein it in. He has to rein it in. There's no other option.

After Busan, he tells himself. I'll sort myself out when I get back to the city. Will get my head straight. Stop myself from ruining things.

But for now?

He'll let himself indulge in his romanticisation of you. Will express his desire without care for the consequences. Will show you, once and for all, that intimacy can be fleeting without it being harmful.

Eventually, Jeongguk comes to stand beside you as you wash your hands in the kitchen. Washes his too. Says nothing. Just smiles. Flicks you with the water instead of drying them off.

"Asshole," you smile, not fussed in the slightest, but wary to fight back. You weren't born yesterday. You know how shit like this goes - so you don't wet him. You dry your hands off normally, much to his disappointment. "What are we having?"

He shrugs. "Not fussed. Could just cook some ramyeon?"

"Fine with me," you nod. Aren't really much of a breakfast person, so you'll just have whatever he wants. "What kind?"

Jeongguk walks over to a tall cupboard beside the stove, opening it up to reveal supermarket-level organisation. Years of living with two teenage boys meant his mother had created a robust storage system. She had to, given the amount the pair of them ate.

Standing behind him, there's a cautiousness to your hands as they gently hold onto his waist. Your nails scratch ever so slightly, in that same way that always makes Jeongguk melt into your touch.

"Hey," he says quietly.

"Hi," you smile, as he continues to peruse the cupboard. He's already spotted the ramyeon he wants. Doesn't wanna lose your touch, though. Will pretend to look for a little while longer.

Jeongguk's toned back is all you can see; the valley of his spine so deep you think it'd be a great place to get lost in. Warm skin, hard muscles, he's a myriad of complexities that not enough people appreciate. Deserves to be adored.

"You have so many teeny tiny freckles," you observe fondly. Have always liked it about him. Think that if they really are kisses from angels, then it only makes sense Jeongguk has so many.

"You think?"

"Mhmm. Loads."

"Where?"

It's a silly question. He knows it is. Just wants to keep you exactly where you are.

"Right..." You raise to your tippy toes. Hold his waist a little tighter to keep you balanced. Let your lips softly against his shoulder blade. "...Here."

One of his hands rests against yours. "That's only one. You said there were more."

You let his fingers lace with yours. Smile against his back. Sink down from your tippy toes. "There are."

He's so quiet, so sincere, as he says, "Show me."

Your lips trail down his back. Press against the small dark fleck a little lower, slightly closer to his spine. "There."

The way he inhales as your lips apply a little pressure lets you know he's trying to control himself. His urges. Wants. Needs. Desires.

"Where else, B?" he whispers.

Your lips trail even further down. Move to the other side of his back. Plant a pretty kiss on his skin, and yet it's his heart that blooms.

For all Jeongguk knows, you could be lying. Never really looks at his back other than when he's checking his form in the gym. Doesn't pay attention to the freckles dappled on his skin.

"Any more?" he asks, not wanting you to ever stop.

There's no objection from him as you turn his body around. His sweats are tenting, the loose fabric now strained - and yet you ignore it. Make no mention of it. Don't even let your eyes drop.

And so he doesn't mention it either. Just watches you. What you do. The way your lashes splay on the top of your glitter-stained cheeks as you press a kiss into the freckle on his ribcage.

On your tiptoes again, your lips find the freckle beneath his collarbone. In the dip of his muscles by his shoulder, there's something about this one that you especially love. You're not sure why. Maybe it's because you know very few people will know where to find it. Maybe it's because you like his chest just as much as he likes yours.

You reach for his hands as you do so. He doesn't object. You aren't holding them. Just holding onto them. Wonders when the fuck you would have noticed the freckles that he knows must be coming next.

Sure enough, you pull away. Don't look up at him. Just look at his hands as you raise them to your eye level. Check them over. Find what you're looking for. Just below the knuckle of his pinky is yet another freckle. Oh, he's covered . Adorned in so many tiny little blessings. His cheeks, by his eyes, down his chest, on his thighs; mapped out like constellations, they're endless. His very own glitter.

You're not certain if it's intentional, but Jeongguk's head tilts. Exposes his throat a little for you. Gets his neck freckle in prime position.

You ignore it. Save it for later. Keep his hands elevated. Kiss his palm; the pad beneath his thumb.

"How do you even notice them?" Jeongguk says fondly as he looks down at you with ever-adoring eyes. "You're so obsessed with me."

Shaking your head, you lower his hands. "Just observant."

Using his hips to balance yourself, you lower yourself, now. Jeongguk's breathing is a little irregular, lungs beating all out of sync. Just makes that freckle on his ribcage even more precious, now.

"Oh yeah?" he encourages. Brings that freckle-adorned hand of his down to stroke your cheek. "What else have you observed?"

Your hands slide from his hips to his thighs as you crouch. Eyes parallel to his crotch, you're sure he doesn't really want the current answer. Thick and firm, his cock is a sight to behold even when it's hidden beneath his grey sweats.

"Let me see your skin," you say instead. Glance up at him. Don't even realise you're wetting your lips. Are too consumed with anticipation - and so is he, judging by the way he fucking twitches.

Jeongguk could push his sweats down. Could give you total access.

But he knows you. Knows you're a fucking tease, and that the only way he's gonna get what he wants is if he plays you at your own game.

Hand still on your cheek, he uses the other to palm himself. "Don't think I've got any freckles here," he lies.

You're impatient. Forget that you're the one taking your time. "You should let me check."

He purses his lips together, as if to feign uncertainty. Is a little insolent in his tone. Deliberately bratty, 'cause he wants you to beg for it. "But I'm hard , B. You don't want my big hard cock in your face."

Oh, on the contrary.

"A sacrifice I'm willing to make," you assure him, as if you aren't salivating at the thought of it.

His tattooed thumb strokes your cheek. Brushes against your lip. There's no freckle there, but you press a kiss to it regardless. Part your lips. Let him sink his thumb onto your wet tongue. Eyes wide and focused up on him, the air around you both seems to get thinner.

Neither of you breathe properly.

Shallow breaths keep you alive, but only just.

Lips closing down around his thumb, giving him the kind of visual that'll finish him off in ten seconds flat if he's not careful, Jeongguk shakes his head. "Sounds like you don't want it."

It's in times like these that you hate Jeon Jeongguk. He knows how much you want him. Knows you wouldn't be in a position like this if you didn't. Knows that he's asking you to swallow pride.

Sliding his thumb from between your lips, oh-so-satisfied with the way it feels, Jeongguk shrugs. "Tell me what you want, B. Big girl words."

The urge to roll your eyes is resisted. Fine. You'll be pliant. Be good for him. Get him all stuttery and whiney, then you'll remind him who's really in control.

But for now you pout. Get a little closer. Study his outline. Press a kiss midway up his shaft where you know a freckle hides.

"There," you whisper, looking back up at him as he releases the claw clip from your hair. Wants it loose. Wants his fingers in it. "I'm pretty sure your freckle is there. Just let me check. Please, Jeongguk."

He takes a moment. Wants to make you beg more - but fuck. He's so fucking hard. A full day since he initiated this little stalemate, and he's regretted it ever since.

And so he nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, baby." His hand pushes into his sweats. Wraps around his firm length. Keeps it hidden. Strokes once. Twice. Rasps, "show me how good your memory is. Smart girl, aren't you? Smart, pretty baby."

You nod. Feel so pathetic, and needy, but it's been so long since you've been this desperate, and he's saying all the right things. You love it when he gets a little derogatory, granted - but when he compliments? Oh, you really will be smart for him. Would do fucking equations, if he asked.

"Tell me," he husks before he reveals himself to you. "Tell me how smart you are."

He likes it when you're kind to yourself. Always makes your eyes glow a little differently.

You shake your head. Say, "don't wanna tell you. Wanna show you."

And who is he to refuse?

One of his hands stretches his waistband a little, as the other pulls his cock free from its cotton restraints - and you fucking whine . Oh, it's perfect . Your disco ball eyes fucking glimmer. Shine.

As soon as he lets go of his cock, your hand replaces his. Grips around his base. Strokes a little. Thick and engorged, he's so pleased to see you. His slightly flared tip is so pretty and pink, his small slit dewy and wet from the excitement of the build-up.

"Just checking," you whisper as you slowly begin to wank his shaft. One of his hands is already in your hair. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he watches you, catching on his lip ring.

He nods. Encourages you to keep 'checking'. Can't even remember what the fuck you were checking for, now.

"Like that," he mumbles. Almost chokes on his own breath when your tongue licks against his head. A wet strip of your spit cools in the air. Feels in-fucking-sane. "Oh, fuck."

You do it again. Whatever he says this time is incoherent. Seems like he's forgotten how to talk.

And when you pull back a little? Ease his foreskin back? Get him all exposed and pretty for you? Gather enough spit in your mouth to make your hand feel like your pussy? Yeah . You know he's gonna forget how to breathe, too.

He squirms a little when he's fully retracted. Loves the grip you have on him. Doesn't know what's coming next - which is probably a good thing. He'd nut if he had to think about it for more than a split second.

You line yourself up. Tease a little wetness through your lips and onto his head. Stroke it across with your thumb.

"Fuck."

The noise that Jeongguk lets out when you finally spit on his cock? Heavenly.

You've never been one for religion, really, but think that God must have spent a little while longer crafting Jeongguk. It's why he's got so many damn freckles. Marks of a great creator, or some bollocks like that. A stamp of approval. One for each body part. Wouldn't be surprised to find a freckle on his big toe. They're bloody everywhere else.

Spreading your spit with the hand wrapped around his cock, you begin to pick up the pace. Wank him off like he deserves. Get him twitchy and whiny - but you both know he deserves more .

"That's it," he manages to say as you begin to tease him with your tongue. Up his shaft; around his sensitive head. Wet, needy kitten licks are paired with long, slow stripes, your wet lips kissing against him as if you don't have an aversion to such an intimate act.

One hand wrapped at the base, your other is gripping into his tight to keep you balanced.

It needn't be, for as soon as you take him in your mouth, Jeongguk's hands are in your hair.

"That's it," he rasps, head thrown back briefly as he pulses his hips to fuck himself a little further into your mouth. He can't look away for too long. Needs to see how pretty you are with his cock in your mouth - and yet as soon as he does, he knows he can't look at you for too long either. Too gorgeous. Too much glitter. Too fucking good for him. "Fuck yeah."

Your pace increases for him. You wanna keep him feeling this good. Keep him moaning. Keep his lip shaky and his tummy tense. He's so pretty when his brows are pushed together, chest heaving. His lip ring catches in the morning light that pours through the kitchen, as his deep dark eyes drink you in.

Working your way up and down his shaft, it's impossible to keep your eyes on him, and you hate it. All you wanna do is watch his face as he comes undone, but this isn't about you. It's about him, and making him feel good.

"Shit," he husks as he hits the back of your throat for the first time. You're surprised it took this long, but he's only just started to fuck your face like he wants to. Hands in your hair, hips a little erratic, he's the one in charge of the pace. "Such a good girl for me."

You whine, the sound vibrating around him. Pulling back, you release him, desperate for fucking air. It's not like he was cutting off your airways, you just sort of forgot that you had to breathe for a bit.

"Oh, fuck," he rasps, entranced by your breathlessness. The way you don't really stop? Spit on his cock again? Work your hand up his shaft? Yeah. He's obsessed. "Good girl, aren't you?"

Nodding, you hum in agreement. "So good for you, Koo."

You're surprised by the way Jeongguk encourages you up. Edges you back. Gets your ass perched against the island counter. He dips. Lifts you. Cleans up the evidence of a sloppy blowjob from your chin with his thumb.

Knows that if he'd have spent even a moment longer in your mouth, he would have cum.

It's too soon for that. He wants this to last, now that you're finally giving up on the bratty act. Spent a day going insane; delirious almost from his need to fucking finish. Funny, how now that it seems like an attainable goal, he's putting it off.

Of course he is, though. His favourite thing about fucking you isn't his own orgasms. It's yours .

There's no thought to your movements as your legs spread, just like there are no thoughts in his head as he stands between them. Hands on your thighs, Jeongguk's eyes are on yours. There's a fire burning behind them; a desire to ignite you, too.

The flames are too bright, you think. He'll scorch the earth. Reduce everything to ash.

And yet you don't take your eyes off his. You let him scar your soul. Time and time again, you let him.

It's the only proof you have that Jeon Jeongguk wants you. Wants to have you. To fuck you. To belong to you. Belong with you.

You shake the thoughts from your head. Know it's getting dangerous. Know that you just need little relief to start thinking normally again. You may have been torturing him by not putting out, but it hasn't been easy for you either.

His deft hands stroke up your thighs, a finger hooking beneath your underwear. He doesn't care for niceties. Get your pussy exposed. Is so fucking pleased to see how soaked you already are. Doesn't even need to tease you.

He just sinks his fingers straight into you. Two of them. Thick. Strong. Curved just right. Gets you gripping his shoulders, a gasp being bitten down into his skin. There's no wasted time. Jeongguk doesn't let you adjust. Doesn't ease the rhythm. Just picks up pace. Always fucks you so well with his hand, and now is no exception.

"Fuck," you whimper, because it's all you can manage.

"God," he husks, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Grits his teeth as he says, "you're so wet for me, B. So fuckin' wet. All from having my cock in your mouth, huh?"

"Gguk," you rasp back, breaths stuttering on account of how well he's edging you. Hands reaching for his cock, you're pleased when he moans into your touch. It's gentle, and half the speed at which he's pumping into you - but you aren't trying to make him cum. At least, not yet.

His breathy sigh of pleasure vibrates against your ear, his head shaking ever so gently. He's not saying no; simply expressing disbelief that it's possible to feel so fucking good. The sensation is suffocating; steals the air from his lungs, and yet his heart has never beat faster.

"Let me fuck you," he begs quietly, breaths heavy. "Let me fuck this cunt."

His thumb begins to work against your clit. He strokes. Caresses. Touches you just right. Gets you mewling. Gets you wanting more. You whine his name.

"Yeah?" he husks. Presses a kiss to the top of your ear. "You want that? Want me inside you, huh? Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me."

All you can do is nod. Whimper.

There's a tremble to your lips; a plea waiting to tumble from them.

Until all rather suddenly, Jeongguk's fingers ease. Brows furrow. He glances behind himself, and curses. Withdraws. "Hold that thought." Taps your knees. "Down, baby."

Panic written all over your features, you hop off the kitchen counter as Jeongguk lunges to flick the kettle on and rip open a packet of ramyeon. He's covering his tracks. Trying to make it seem like he wasn't about to do inexcusable things with you in his family's kitchen.

"Your cock is literally out," you hiss quietly, frantically smoothing down the shirt of his that's over your shoulders. You move quickly. Reach for the claw clip on the counter. Twist your hair up.

"Fuck," he curses, hissing just as quietly as you, both trying to restore some form of dignity. His sweats are quickly tugged a little further up, but his boner is still just as present. "Hands, hands, hands."

You're not sure if he's talking to you or himself, but he darts to run his hands under the tap, ridding his fingers of you.

There's a beep. The keypad of the front door slides up. Four more beeps. The passcode is being typed in.

"Shit," he whispers. Looks across to make sure you're decent and thanks the lucky stars you caught on to his panic as quickly as you did. "Take over ramyeon duty. I gotta stand behind the island."

He doesn't need to explain. He's still hard. Has to hide it.

You do as you're told.

Jeongguk's shirt covers you decently, but you're not a total idiot. You know how it looks.

"Oh!" The sound of Jeongguk's mother rounding the corner almost makes you grimace - but you've got a role to play. Gotta pretend like you haven't just had her sons- No. Shut up. Don't think about it. "Didn't realise you two would still be home!"

"Mum," Jeongguk smiles, sitting on one of the island stools while you add boiling water to the pot by the stove. "You're home early?"

There's a rustle of bags on the counter, the sweet smell of her rose perfume filling the air. "No, I'm not - it's midday!"

"Since when do you only work until midday?!" Jeongguk questions, absolutely baffled.

"Morning," you interrupted, turning to give his mother a smile. She reciprocates, and laughs when you say, "or is it afternoon? I never know what midday is."

"Afternoon, I think," she says, then pauses. Shifts her weight to one hip. Looks into the distance. Hums in consideration. "Actually, I'm not sure now you mention it."

Jeongguk looks between you both in the same way he'd look at two puppies chasing their tails. Arguably the two most important women in his life - fiercely independent, incredibly smart and generally better than him - and wonders how the fuck you don't understand how days work.

"Think I'm losing brain cells," he simply states, to which his mother scolds him. He widens his eyes. Pouts a little. Hides a giggle. "Sorry."

"And anyway, young man!" She changes the topic, and begins to put her shopping away. It's just a few bits and bobs from the mart across the road; peppers and a bottle of sauce that Jeongguk's father loves. "Why are you making our guest do the cooking? We both know you'll be the one scoffing it all down!"

There's something incredibly considerate about Jeongguk's mother. She didn't have to refer to you as 'our' guest. She could have said 'your'. Instead, she groups herself in with Jeongguk. Likely groups the whole family together in that statement. Is a woman of inclusion; sunshine on a cloudy day.

Jeongguk whines; behaves exactly as you'd expect him to when at home. Is the youngest child through and through. You knew he could be pouty, but it's tenfold, now.

"Honestly, I raised you better, Jeon Jeongguk," she tuts - but she's smiling. Throwing you a playful glance.

It's a back-and-forth: Jeongguk's mum pretends to tell him off, and he pretends to be upset about it.

"Does he make you do all the cooking back home, too?" she sighs, turning her full attention to you - and that's when she notices what you're wearing.

You're in a striped baseball shirt. Lotte Giants. At first glance, Jeongguk's mum is incredibly confused - but then she notices the 01 in place of the 12 that is on Jeongmins shirt. The name arched above the number? Jeon Jeongguk.

You think nothing of the way her eyes flicker over to Jeongguk, a knowing smile on her lips. Think that she's still just mucking around.

Jeongguk interrupts again, because of course he does.

"Back home?" he scoffs at the implication. "We're not dating."

You laugh now, too, because the suggestion seems absurd.

Before his mum can call bullshit on him, he adds, "she does make a mean pasta though. Shit's delicious -"

"Language."

"Sorry. I mean, it's really good. Next time you come to visit, I'll hire her as our personal chef."

"Do I get a say in this?" You laugh, taking the ramyeon off the heat. "Strainer?"

Jeongguk's mum pulls open a drawer in the island, where the sieve is sitting on top of some pans. Realises you're a little too far to reach it, so kindly passes it to you.

"No," Jeongguk says, then turns his attention to his mum again. "You got plans this afternoon?"

She nods. Snacks on a grape from the punnet she picked up in the mart. "Remarkably, my life doesn't revolve around you."

"I'm literally your child."

"You're twenty-five years old."

"That is beyond the point," Jeongguk scoffs in faux offence. "So it doesn't matter if we're not around?"

She shakes her head. Finishes her grape. Reaches over to the sink draining board to get you both a pair of chopsticks as you dish the ramyeon up into a stainless steel bowl that Jeongguk had already set out for you. "Of course not. It's a nice day, you two should go out. I've got a hair appointment and then I'm meeting your auntie for coffee. Won't be around until this evening. Do you two fancy dinner? I could see if your cousins are around?"

Jeongguk shakes his head as he begins to chow down on the ramyeon before you've even hopped up on the stool next to him. He can be the most considerate man in the world, but as soon as he's presented with food? All manners evade him.

"Don't put yourself out," he eventually says, pushing the bowl a little further over so that it's between you both equally. Kicks you gently with his foot as you take your seat. Doesn't let his satisfaction show when you kick him back. "I'm not sure what we're doing yet, so don't worry about making plans. We'll figure it out."

"If you're sure?" she offers, but Jeongguk insists. "Alright then, I best be off. Clean up the kitchen before you go out, hm? You, Jeongguk." she emphasises, before she smiles at you. "Not you, sweetheart. He needs to learn how to give and take." Sighs. "Boys."

"Hey!" Jeongguk protests, mouth half full. Swallows it down. Rants. "I always wash up when she cooks. Every time! She never has to ask!"

His mum simply raises a brow. "So you do cook together back home?"

For reasons you can't pinpoint, your cheeks flame. That mouthful Jeongguk had just swallowed? Yeah. He chokes on it.

She doesn't wait for a response. Just heads for the door with a chuckle. "Clean up!"

"Heard you the first time!" Jeongguk stresses back, but the door is closed behind her before any more can be said.

As soon as the lock whirs, confirming it's shut, Jeongguk tosses his chopsticks down. Slouches his posture, and lets out a breath so deep it's like he hasn't been breathing the entire time. Shakes his head. Laughs.

You do the same.

He looks over to you, face a little bunched up. There's a small grin on his face, but you know it's from relief more than anything. "I'm so fucking sorry."

You laugh, now too. Nudge his knee with yours. Don't object when his hand rests on top of it, thumb stroking your skin.

"She so fucking knew ," you whine, pouting as you lean forward to rest your forehead against the island counter. Groan. "Mortifying."

Jeongguk shakes your leg in his grip and lets it go again. Strokes your back now, instead. Soothes you.

"She didn't," he deludes himself. Considers it for a moment. Decides, "well, at least I don't think she knows we were like... yanno. She definitely thinks you're in love with me, though."

You sit up. Pull away from him. Look at him with the utmost disgust.

"ME?!" You roar. "In love with YOU?! Oh please."

"You were cooking for me, wearing my shirt, in my house," he reminds you. "It's like you've got a little crush, B. So cute."

"Please," you scoff, getting to your feet, and heading back to Jeongmin's room. You wanna get changed and ready for the day. Think that maybe going out would do you good. "Wouldn't fancy you even if you were the last man on earth."

Jeongguk just smirks as you walk away. "Weird. If you don't fancy me, why was my cock in your mo-"

"SHUT UP!"

Quietly laughing to himself in the kitchen, Jeongguk curses suddenly - because apparently even the mere mention of you sucking his dick makes him twitch. He throws his head back. Groans. Whyyyy .

He decides against trying to reignite the fire that was burning between you earlier. The moment is gone - and you really ought to do something with your day.

"How do you feel about a hike?" He calls through to Jeongmin's room as he walks into his own.

"How do you feel about masturbating with a cheesegrater?" You reply, because like fuck are you hiking in these temperatures. It's still winter. The air is dry and the winds burn.

"What is wrong with you?!" he shrieks, clearly putting a little imagination to your question. "That's grotesque."

"So is a hike in this weather!"

"It's nice!"

"The sun is shining. That's all. Still bloody freezing."

He knows you're right - he just really likes one of the coastal trails, and thinks you'd like it, too. He's not gonna push for you to do it, though. You can always just do it next time.

"Alright then," he concedes through the wall. "You wanna be tourists for the day?"

"I've never seen Gamcheon," you admit. The culture village - a myriad of colourful houses and murals - is a little far out. A steep hike up hilly streets or a rickety green bus is the only way you can access it. You hate those buses almost as much as you hate hills - and it's a shame, because you know it's iconic. You just always choose to spend your time in Busan down by the coast, instead.

"Never seen-" he shrieks again, this time in disbelief. "Alright. We'll go there. We'll get the bus, though. Ain't parking up there. It's a nightmare, even in the winter."

You agree, because you know no matter how much you dislike those buses, Jeongguk being there will make it so much better. He has a way of alleviating your stresses. Makes everything okay. Just like a best friend should.

And so you set off on your afternoon. Follow his lead.

He's your unofficial tour guide for the afternoon. Shows you around the myriad of colourful houses. Tells you bullshit stories about their origins, and you pretend to believe him. He shows you a mural of some idols.

"Not sure who they are. Handsome, though."

You agree. "One of them looks a bit like you."

"You think?"

"Mhmm."

"I'm better looking."

"Sure you are."

The afternoon is lost and found in a maze of patterns and paintings; mosaics and murals. He takes you to his favourite cafe. The coffee is shit, but the owner has pet ducks that waddle around, so it makes it all worth it. You get every stamp on the little map around the village. A hundred photos are taken. Jeongguk photobombs a solid 50%. Laughs at himself every time. He doesn't mind it when you photobomb his. In fact, he prefers those pictures.

By the time you're done with the village, you're starving . Have been on your feet for so long that it feels like they might fall off.

The area you're in is a little run down; paint peeling off the walls of old retail buildings. There's half a dozen hostess bars, and just as many motels to accommodate the illicit deals that are made in the dead of night.

There's a KTX station just a few blocks over, so it makes sense. Just because red-light districts have been outlawed doesn't mean they don't still exist. The neon signs are just pink now, and the girls do technically work in the service industry - they just earn their tips from a slightly different service.

"Okay, I know it seems sketchy, but trust me," Jeongguk promises when you walk past a Greecian-themed motel, complete with nude statues by the entryway. "The neighbourhood is questionable, yes, but I swear it's got the best chicken in Busan."

Again, just like earlier, you follow his lead. Blindly trust him. Let him drag you into a chicken place that looks like it was built in the middle ages - and that's how you know it's good.

"Not sure what I want," you muse, checking over the menu in front of you when you eventually pick a table towards the back of the shop. It's outrageously large. A3 sheets. No menu needs to be so huge. Kind of irritates you - but everything does when you're as frustrated as you are right now. Your eyes flicker up to his, a smile resting on your glossy lips. "What's tasty in Busan?"

Jeongguk looks at you. Shrugs.

Throws you an expression that you just know means trouble.

He doesn't even bother to look at the menu before he replies.

"You should know. You've already had a Busan delicacy in your mouth this morning."

Such a boy.

"Was it really that good?" you banter back. "Can't remember. Think I'll have to try it again."

"Can't remember?" he snorts. "You couldn't stop going back for more, B. You know you loved it."

"Did I?" you toy with his ego a little, just because you can. "Maybe I just didn't want the chef to feel bad."

"Oh really?" he laughs. "Well fine. In that case, I'm sure you won't mind if someone else tries it, instead?"

"Someone else?"

"Anyone else," he nods. "Just cause you didn't like it doesn't mean someone else won't. Might even become their favourite food."

Sounds like a threat - and for some reason, it works.

"Said I'll try it again," you insist. The idea of him letting someone else have him? Yeah. You don't like it. "Don't deprive a girl of a perfectly good meal just 'cause she isn't sure if she likes it. Sometimes you need a second taste."

"Is that what you want?" Jeongguk asks as he reclines into his seat. Your mind flashes to his bedroom; his tie around your wrists. Fuck . "You want a second try?"

You shrug your shoulders. Recline, too. Mirror his body language.

In tandem, your bodies feel naturally inclined to reflect one another. It's innate. Intrinsic. Night and day.

You think he's midday; sweltering heat and nothing to hide. Think that maybe you're midnight; a shooting star to make an ill-fated wish upon.

If Jeongguk were to ever learn of these thoughts, he'd probably agree - but thinks you're midnight for a dozen different reasons. None of them bad.

He thinks, primarily, that you're the embodiment of every star that has ever burned through the height of midnight. You're all of the secrets ever hidden away, illuminated only by moonlight, whispered between friends. You're nervous touches in darkened rooms, and the cosmic entities that dapple his brain whenever his eyes are closed.

He met you at midnight, and time has never really functioned normally since.

The concept of days are lost on him. He doesn't count in minutes nor hours. Now, it's simply time passed since he last saw you , or time yet to pass until he sees you again .

And in those fleeting moments when he's looking at the cosmos herself?

Well, time stands still. Ceases to exist.

Romanticisations of you are typically reserved for moments alone; when Jeongguk's brain is empty of everything except the scent of your perfume and the loss of your touch.

More often than not, it occurs at midnight - and that just solidifies his conclusions of your character.

The restaurant you're in is busy. There are people chattering, vibrant oranges coating the walls and rogue neon lights polluting his vision. Fryers sizzle, alarms ring, tills ding. There's chaos. Pandemonium. An overload for anyone's senses.

And yet, Jeongguk's brain is working just like it does when he's alone. It's you, you, you. That's all he can focus on.

"How hungry are you?" Jeongguk asks, reading into the way you're mirroring him.

He isn't asking about food. You both know this.

"Fucking starving."

His head tips back, lips pressing together, his silver ring flipping ever so slightly in the corner of his mouth as he withholds a satisfied laugh.

As he looks back down at you, he edges forward in his chair. Rests his elbows on the table. Clasps his hands beneath his chin and glances to the side. Checks who's within earshot. Figures the rest of the people in the restaurant are too far away to hear. Is so hard in his jeans that he doesn't give a shit even if they do hear. Let them.

"Me too."

"Oh yeah?" you tease, sultry in how your posture remains as it was. "Watcha fancy, huh? Watcha wanna taste?"

Stupid fuckin' question, he wants to laugh, but now isn't the time. If he didn't know better, he'd think you were flirting.

And so he shrugs now.

"Same thing I wanted this morning, B."

Again, you both know the insinuation - but you wanna be vulgar. Wanna be direct. Wanna get him all hot beneath his collar and hard in Calvins. Aren't aware he's already throbbing.

"Oh," you purr, subtleties well and truly abandoned. "So you wanna eat my pussy?"

He has to stop himself from groaning. Thinks he might die.

Looks around himself again. Hates that you're in the booth seat. Wishes he was on that side with you. There's a safety that comes with it. A little extra darkness. The ability to hold a hand and have no one know.

Not that hand-holding is commonplace for you. Yesterday was an anomaly. A bird. Might be revised one day, but it's best not to make a habit of it.

"Say it," you smirk regardless, clearly enjoying the tease. Lift your chin a little. Challenge him. "Tell me how much you want it."

You're not even sure why you're doing this. Just enjoy the confirmation that you're still wanted. You like how you're able to get Jeongguk hot under the collar, even if you don't make his heart beat faster.

Though you may not have his heart, you have his attention - and after everything the pair of you have weathered, it's comforting.

"B, there are people-"

You don't care. "Tell me how much you wanna eat me out."

"B," he warns. There's an agitation in his voice. Frustration.

You pout. Give him your best wide-eyed gaze. Make sure you're extra whiny when you beg, "Please, Koo."

"Fuck," he curses. Adjusts in his seat. Presses down on himself. Thinks if he was ever gonna cum in pants, it would be now. "Don't call me that."

If you do it again, he'll surely die. Decides he can't risk it.

"Tell me-"

"I wanna fucking drown in it," he grits, interrupting you so harshly it actually shocks you. Makes you gasp. Tongue ties you - and oh, how Jeongguk loves it when you're lost for words. So he continues. Get nastier . Whispers. This is just for you. All for you. "I wanna make you cum, B. Wanna make you cum like I did on New Year's. Wanna make you squirt . And then? And then I wanna fucking drown in it."

It's only when he stops talking that he realises his chest is heaving a bit. So is yours.

He smirks. "Better?"

You look around now, too. Aren't really sure what you'd been expecting, but it wasn't that .

Letting out a small laugh of disbelief, you run your fingers back through your hair. Regain your poise. Pretend to be unaffected. Pretend like you didn't feel yourself getting wetter.

From the look on his face - Smug. Arrogant. - you know that he already knows. Asshole .

"We should order our food to go," you say, nodding as if that will make him agree. Don't know where you'll 'go' to, just know that you need privacy. A room with a door that can be locked and curtains that can be drawn. Soundproofing is preferable, but not essential.

He nods back. Thinks you should have suggested it from the get-go.

"B I'm not fucking kidding. Been fucking hard for like, 48 hours. I gotta-"

"I know," you laugh fondly. It's been aeons since you were this ravenous. Love his outfit, but Christ . You wanna tear it off of him right this instant. "I'm not kidding either. Order to go."

"My mum's at home."

"So? I never said we'd go home."

"So what? You wanna get me arrested for public indecency?" Jeongguk smirks.

"Cuffs are kinda hot," you tease back - and then you're reminded of his room, and that stupid fucking tie that acted like a pair of cuffs and fuck . You don't even care about the food any more.

"You're not wrong," he says, then calls over to the server. As he approaches, a pleasant smile on his face, he's none the wiser that Jeongguk's cock is so hard it feels like he may die. Kind of makes you smile. He masks it well. Cute. "Can we order to take out, instead? Had a change of plans."

It's no problem. The waiter is happy to accommodate. Tells Jeongguk there'll be a ten-minute wait on the food.

"It's fine," Jeongguk smiles. "No rush."

And yet as soon as it's just the two of you again, Jeongguk whines.

"Swear if it takes even a second longer than ten minutes, we're going to the bathrooms."

"You're not fucking me in a chicken shop bathroom," you deadpan, realistically knowing you'd let him fuck you anywhere he likes.

"It's that or the table," he assures you, face just as straight as yours despite his ridiculous claim.

"Then you really will be arrested for public indecency."

"So will you," he reminds you. "How very Bonnie and Clyde of us."

"They die, yanno," you remind him right back. Think that he needs to brush up on his failed romance lore. "We'd make the local news."

"And I'll die if I don't cum in the next half an hour," he assures you. "We better not end up on the news for a chicken shop shag. My parents would disown me."

"That'd really blow my chances with your brother, wouldn't it?" you sigh. "Maybe we shouldn't."

Jeongguk doesn't like this suggestion. Frowns. Clarifies. "Shouldn't fuck? Or shouldn't fuck here?"

"Oh, just here," you assure him. Bite down on your bottom lip, cheeks rosy from just how indecent this entire conversation is. "Think we'll both die if we don't orgasm soon."

"Don't think I'm gonna last even, like, a minute," Jeongguk pouts, admitting his biggest worry. Wants you so bad, but doesn't think he'll be able to savour it like he wants to.

"So like normal, then."

"Fuck you."

You resist the urge to make another joke. Tell him to behave himself. You've only got a little while to wait for the food. Need a plan of action. Need to decide where the fuck you'll be able to relieve yourselves of the pent-up frustration. It was fun while it lasted, but it's unbearable now.

"Look, I won't lie, B," Jeongguk sighs. "There's only one solution here."

"Abstinence?"

"Are you fucking mental? No," he shakes his head. "Worse."

"Worse?"

"Worse."

You know what he's gonna suggest, 'cause you considered it too.

After all, the district you're in is known for them.

"You're not taking me to a fucking love motel, " you whisper in judgemental horror.

You know Jeongguk; know how particular he is about his laundry and cleanliness. He might be filthy in bed, but he's always the filthiest in the shower. Likes being able to wash away his sins. You think a motel would kill his boner instantly.

But it's the forbidden nature of them that makes him a little curious. He's never used one. Never needed to. Not until now. Used to be far better at controlling himself.

You kind of make him go a little crazy.

He can't remember ever choosing sex over food. Would always eat first.

But then again, you were never an option before now.

"Private room or public bathroom," Jeongguk simply shrugs, a little impatient. He's not in the mood to be making deals. "Take your pick."

"You'd rather die than use the bathroom," you say.

He agrees, but also says, "gonna die if you don't let me fuck you, regardless, so who cares?"

There's something oddly charming about that, you think.

There really isn't it. You're just too horny to fully comprehend the language anymore. Everything Jeongguk says sounds like a sonnet. He'll continue to whisper Elysian words worthy of Shakespeare himself until you reach post-cum-clarity.

And then you'll realise his words are just those of a boy desperately trying to get laid.

Until then, you'll bestow upon him admiration reserved for the greatest of poets. Will convince yourself no man has ever used language in the way that he has; that the twist of his tongue sounds as pretty as it feels when it's on your skin.

"And if I agree?"

Jeongguk looks at you like the answer is painfully obvious.

"You get fucked?" He shakes his head a little, confused at how you didn't already reach that conclusion. "Oh, just one thing, though."

The way he begins to grimace lets you know that you're not gonna like whatever it is. Still, you encourage him to continue.

He grits his teeth. Winces. "Gonna have to use your ID for check-in."

The facade slips, like glass shattering all around you. His status as your cheeky, yet infuriatingly charming best friend returns.

"What?!" You pout, voice all distressed and pathetic. "Why?"

"Because," he stresses. "What if the owner knows my parents?!"

"You look just like your dad," you remind him. "If they know your parents, they'll know it's you regardless of your ID."

"Plausible deniability," he counters. "But if they see my ID? No denying that I'm a Jeon."

You laugh, because you think Jeongguk's got the kind of face that stands out. Think that anyone who had met him even once would be able to pick him out from a crowd. He's not the type of person you just forget. One little flick of his lip ring? Yeah. Ain't no way anyone could get him out of their head.

"Look, we can make up a cover story," Jeongguk offers, clutching at straws. A playfulness returns to his eyes. "What if... we're a young married couple on the run. Nothing sleazy."

"On the run?!"

He grins. Finds your slight horror funny. "Yeah. Dangerous. Sexy."

You narrow your eyes. Decide to entertain him, 'cause how can you refuse?

"Fine," you eventually giggle. "How long have we been married?"

"6 years," Jeongguk says. Doesn't even have to think about it. Has always been good at playing make-believe. "Eloped as soon as we could. Our families don't approve."

"Oh?" You question, a little surprised. This doesn't bode well. "Still? After six years?"

"Still," he grins, enthralled by your willingness to play along despite your incessant need to challenge him. "I'm the son of a powerful businessman. You're the cleaner's daughter."

"Oh, a Cinderella-type story," you purse your lips. "But also fuck you. Feels very gender-role-conforming. How did I win your heart?"

It's a funny story... he thinks, but shakes his head. Now is no time for the truth.

"Firstly, it's not about gender - you're the smarter one. You work harder. Are the underdog of the story," he assures you, but you don't really buy it. Think he's just stupid. And a boy. And realise that actually maybe it's fitting. "You used to come with your mum to my parents' house. Would rearrange my sculptures-"

"Dolls."

"Shut up. Would rearrange them just to annoy me, and it did."

"But then?"

"Then I started arranging them back," he nods, pleased with the little story he's concocting. He really is a true romantic, you think, even if this is all just one long-winded attempt to get laid. "One thing lead to another and - boom - in love."

Okay, so maybe he isn't a fine detail kinda guy (although he totally is), but it's the thought that counts. He twinkles his fingers when he makes the sound effect, his big brown eyes just as sparkly.

Laughing, you can't help but find the whole situation ridiculous. Your order is getting bagged up by the front desk. You should get up. Should go.

But you don't.

You indulge in the fallacy of him, and his big ideas. Grand plans. Revel in them. Adore them.

"Okay," you begin to clarify the tall tale. "So we eloped. Been together for 6 years. Why are we in a motel?"

"Like I said, baby. We're on the run," he grins. You burst out laughing, so he just continues. Both pretend like he didn't just call you baby. Will chalk it up to him already being in character. "We're wanted by Interpol."

"Interpol?!"

"We scammed a Vegas casino," he tells you with a face straighter than a spirit measure. "Fled to Busan. Now we're darting into a motel because we think we're being tailed."

"And are we being tailed?"

"No," Jeongguk says. "Just paranoid. It will be our inevitable downfall - but for now, we're high on adrenaline and maybe a little something else, I don't know, so a motel seems like a safe bet."

"And once we're in?"

"I'll shave my head and you'll dye your hair," he deadpans. Has seen it in half a dozen films that always end in disaster. Naive of him to think yours won't. "Secure our new identities."

"And then?" You encourage once more.

"Well, then we'll fuck," he says nonchalantly, as if he hasn't just declared his intentions to the restaurant around you. Not like anyone heard. Not like he'd care even if they did. Let them know. Let them think about the way he'll claim you as his own. Let them imagine your pretty little face as he gets you coming undone. Let them know. "Re-consummate the marriage under our new identities."

He's looking at you with an intensity you don't quite recognise. You don't realise the thoughts behind his dark eyes. Are unaware his brain is as territorial as his cock is hard.

"Can we skip the hair part?" You whine. Don't want him to shave his head. Like his hair, and how it feels to lock your fingers in it.

"No."

"Please."

"No-"

"But I wanna fuck you," you pout softly. It takes him by surprise. Had momentarily forgotten how bold you were both being earlier. Was too lost in his fantasy. "Dying hair takes the best part of an hour. I can't wait that long. I'll die."

The way you stroke his ego makes his heart swell. Cock, too. A rush of blood pumps through his body. He's all testosterone and bad decisions, but he doesn't give a fuck. Won't give a fuck until he comes.

"God, you are horny," he teases. Likes it when you play hard to get, but likes it just as much when you're desperate.

"I was on my knees for you earlier," you remind him. "There's a reason we hadn't done that before."

"The reason being?"

"Gets me a little insatiable. I put the worship in cock worship," you sigh, an air of indifference to your tone. Despite the flirt, you're still able to pretend like you don't really give a fuck - and that just makes him want you more. "You put in the cock."

"Thanks," he laughs. "Guessed that much. You really like giving head, huh?"

"I like power," you simply say.

The truth of the matter is that yes, you like it. Love it. Adore the way men sound when they're all whiney and pathetic just as much as you like a guy who takes control with it.

"Power?" He raises a brow.

You smirk. Won't give him the truth. Instead, will reclaim your status as just a friend.

"One bite and I could ruin your life."

Jeongguk's smile explodes onto his face, a stunted laugh catching in his throat. "Okay, so I'm never putting my cock in your mouth again."

"No!" You say a little too quickly. "I mean, I wouldn't - but I could ."

"Yeah, nope," he just laughs, now. Is glad you're diverting the conversation a little. He needs to be able to stand up, soon. Needs his boner to soften a little. "Never again."

"But-"

"Absolutely not."

" Koo ."

"Don't call me that."

"You know you liked it," you remind him with a teasing grin. "You know you wanna fuck my mouth again, Koo ."

And God, you want it, too. Want his hands in your hair. Want his raspy little moans soundtracking the lewdness of him hitting the back of your throat.

"I'll stick it down your throat just to shut you up," he deadpans.

"And they say romance is dead."

"You're the one who loves sucking on my cock," he smirks. "Not exactly romantic."

"There's nothing more romantic than swallowing spunk," you say all very stoically. "You think I'd let just any man finish in my-"

"Y'know, sometimes I think you don't actually want to fuck," he laughs, cutting off your train of verbalised thought. "The shit you say is just so..."

He doesn't finish. Doesn't need to.

Unhinged? Confusing?

Either could apply. They'd both be correct.

"Put your cock in my mouth and you won't have to hear it."

He shakes his head. "Don't trust you not to bite, now."

"Pussy," you pout, realising you may have fucked it. Shouldn't have threatened violence against a cock as nice as his. Rookie error. Desperately try to claw back control. "Live life on the edge. Take a risk. Gamble a nibble to win a swallow. Worth it."

Regretfully, he thinks it is.

"Are you always like this?" Jeongguk asks, a little bemused. Gamble a nibble. You really are something else. "Like, is this how you seduce boys? Just confuse them into obsession?"

You shrug. Grin. "Sometimes. Not often, though. I'm not actually trying to seduce you, idiot. Just messing with you 'cause you're my best friend."

"Do you offer to suck all your bestie's dicks?"

"Danbi doesn't have a dick," you remind him. "Now, pussy on the otherha-"

"I don't need to know," Jeongguk decides. He's already got Jimin confirmation. Doesn't wanna have to think about you fucking anyone else he already knows.

"I'm just joking," you laugh. "Dan is straighter than a ruler."

"They're quite bendy, actually," Jeongguk corrects you.

"Maybe," you admit. "But they always snap back to a straight position."

He can't fault that logic. Thinks it's probably the best way to describe himself. Has his own curiosities and wonders, granted, but can't really imagine himself exploring them with anyone who doesn't have long-term partner potential - and when it comes to romance, he really is straighter than a ruler.

Kind of likes how open you are about your experiences. Makes him feel safe in exploring his own desires with you.

The conversation is ended by the server coming to retrieve you both. The bill is rung up, and Jeongguk pays. You let him. Will just transfer him half of the balance a little later.

Curiously, as he holds the door open for you, Jeongguk grabs onto your hand. Slides his fingers between yours.

"Making it believable," he just says when you chirp slightly. "We don't have rings. Gotta make the couple thing seem legit."

You don't have to do that in the slightest. It's perfectly acceptable for two young people to show up to a love motel together and rent it for a few hours.

Yet he keeps on holding your hand.

And you let him.

There's a motel a few blocks up, but you're hesitant.

"It's on the main road," you hiss just above the noise of traffic. The tips of your fingers are icy cold, but Jeongguk's keeping you warm for the most part.

"The quicker we get inside, the quicker this is over and done with," he assures you.

"Rude."

"Didn't mean it like that," he grins. Squeezes your hand. Pulls you a little closer as you continue down the path. Rests his lips against the crown of your head. Is quiet as he says, "gonna fuck you for hours, B."

You withhold a small laugh. "You're gonna nut as soon as you get in the room."

"Maybe," he admits with a soft grin. Presses a kiss against your head and pulls away a little. Restores his posture. Is confident in his strides. "Got a pair of hands and a mouth, though."

The mention of them almost makes you groan. "Fuck it," you concede. Pull on his hand to guide him towards the entrance of the motel.

You're no-nonsense as you get to the front desk. Let go of Jeongguk's hand. Get your ID and card out as he stands a little sheepishly behind you.

The place is dreary. Drab. Dark. Sin lines the walls and desire laces the air; a cesspit of human acts that are as hedonistic as they are hellish. The room rate is tacked up on the wall, thick black lines putting a price on privacy. Half a dozen numbers have been scribbled over, the price increasing with every stroke of the pen. Far more expensive than the going rate online, but you don't care. Will pay anything at this point.

There's no price that can be put on how it feels to be desired by Jeongguk. No monetary value could ever compare to the whisper of his lips against yours as he finishes. Priceless .

Card charged, ID photocopied for their records, you're given a key. Room 305. Your check out is the next morning, 'cause you couldn't bring yourself to ask for a day rate.

Silent as you step into the elevator, Jeongguk stands across from you. Food takeout in one hand, there's a casual arrogance to his stance. He leans back against the wall. Rakes down your body with his eyes as you press the button encouraging the doors to close.

Glancing up, you spy the camera in the top corner. Know it's flickering onto a grainy screen behind the front desk. There's an audience. Just one slightly older man who's probably seen far worse offenders than you and your 'husband' for the afternoon.

Jeongguk bites down on his lip. Grins. Lets his lips ring to do the thing. Shakes his head as if he can't believe his luck. Lets his eyes drop to his feet a little before the focus is back on you. Wants to speak. To say something impressive. Something that will make you want him.

But he's stumped. Just continues looking at you; your glitter, your pretty little smile, your sparkling eyes.

And so you're the one to break the silence. "Come here."

He does as he's told. Stops just an inch away from you. Looks down. Presses his lips in on themselves; makes sure they aren't dry. Whispers, "here."

Your hands trail up his throat, arms wrapping around his neck, as your feet press up to their tippy toes. His empty hand cradles your back, keeping your balance neutral.

"Missed a freckle earlier," you whisper. He hums. Encourages you to continue. Knows exactly which one it is. You lean closer. Let your lips graze his. "It's right here. Just below your lip."

So close, your nose nudges against his. Eyes close. Lips press down.

He reciprocates. Whines a little into the kiss. It's a luxury. One he knows not to waste. Grips your waist. Parts his lips. Lets your tongue stroke against his.

Hands in his hair, you know that anyone watching the CCTV stream would believe your lovebird story.

There's an unbridled desire between you both, one that can only be remedied naked - although you're pretty sure he could take you right here in the lift, and it would be just as satisfying (but then you really would get arrested for public indecency).

He pulls back slightly. Rests his forehead on yours. Keeps his eyes closed. You're breathing him in to stay alive.

"I didn't think we did 'that'," he husks. Didn't want it to stop. Just wants to be sure you want it.

And so when you press your lips back against his, ever so briefly, he smiles.

"We don't," you simply shrug as the elevator pulls to a stop. Loosening your grip, you smile. Wait for the doors, and pull him down the corridor as soon as they open. "But we aren't 'us', remember?"

Oh, how Jeongguk loves that you're always so willing to play. You'll feed into his make-believe, and pretend as if it doesn't affect your reality. The game is dangerous, but Jeongguk is safe.

The scrunch of his nose as he enthrals in your acceptance of his childish nature is evidence enough that making Jeongguk happy is the most rewarding task on the planet.

You think, for this reason, that you shouldn't blur the lines between friendship and fucking - but the key is in the door, and Jeongguk's lips are on your neck.

There's only one way this will end.

Turning to face him as the door clicks open, you let his lips find yours again. Will worry about the consequences later. Maybe.

"Gguk-" you mumble against him, eyes closed, following his guide as he pushes you both into the room. Your words are interrupted by the intrusion of his tongue licking against yours. He's desperate. Wants to be yours in every capacity he can be.

The way you grip a little tighter onto him, nails digging into his skin lets him know you don't mind.

Still, he takes a split second to grunt, "What is it?"

You're the one cutting off his words now as you press back up into his lips. Let his hands run all over your body. Pause only when the back of your legs hit something. You assume it's the bed. Are proven right when Jeongguk manoeuvres you both onto it. There's little discussion. Moans. Grunts. Nothing of any substance, yet it says so much more than any fucking word could.

He prizes your shirt off of you while you frantically unbuckle his belt. The sound of clattering metal unleashes something in you. Gets you so desperately needy. Has you taking your own trousers off as Jeongguk quickly stands to rid himself of his jeans.

"So fucking hot," Jeongguk praises as he prowls back on top of you, lips finding yours instantly. His tattooed arms keep him supported by your head, while his over dips to rub your clothed cunt. Precision nor accuracy matter. Above anything else, he just wants to be holding you. Claiming you. Your moans are an added bonus.

His lips break from yours to scatter wet kisses up your throat, tongue massaging the spot that always gets you panting. Beneath his body, you're squirming, overwhelmed by the way he's making you his.

He's rarely ever this quiet. You think it's because he's busy - and he is - but it's not why. It's because he doesn't trust himself. One lost thought spoken too soon could ruin everything, so he keeps his lips busy. Nips at the soft flesh of your chest. Wishes you weren't wearing your bra still. Is oddly perplexed to notice the set you're wearing. It's black. White banding. Calvin fuckin' Klein stitched into it. You're fucking matching him. He finds your lips again, 'cause it feels like his head is gonna explode.

Your hand clasps his wrist. Can barely make it halfway round. You're not stopping his movements. Just need a little control, or you're gonna finish too soon.

"Fuck me," you beg into his lips. "Please fuck me."

"If I fuck you I'm gon-"

"Fuck me," you reinforce your plea. "I don't care. Cum inside me. I don't give a fuck."

You really should. You know such a primitive human act is one that's gonna leave you feeling all sorts of fucked up - but you already feel that way, so what's the harm? Maybe it will help.

Jeongguk pauses. His chest heaves. Pulls away from you, hands stroking all over your body. God. He'll never get bored of this. Of you. Of how this feels.

The lights are off and the blinds are closed. Neither of you has inspected the room like you really should have done.

Small streaks of light sneak through the Venetians. They paint you in gold. You glitter. Of course you do.

Eventually, after what feels like a lifetime of him drinking you in, glossy brown eyes all star-drunk and cosmic, he nods. Whispers. "Gonna fuck you."

You nod, too. Watch as he takes off his boxees. Rid yourself of your bra and he strips you of your panties. No words are exchanged. Why would they be? You both know what you want.

He climbs back onto the bed. Presses a chaste kiss to your lips as one of his hands grips your cleavage. His fingers are tight. Possessive. Intolerant of the idea that you might not be his.

So fucking keen for you, the tip of his cock rubs up against your folds without his guidance. Has done this dance with you enough times now to know the right steps. Sink a little lower and he could push himself into you without any assistance. You're wet enough. Fucking soaked. Will be leaving evidence of your desire on the sheets. His cock is no better. Precum is smeared in his boxers and all over his slit. You're both pathetically needy right now.

Reaching your hand down to stroke his cock as his lips latch onto one of your nipples, you find yourself whining. There's nothing you don't love about the way Jeongguk fucks you. Doesn't forget a single part of your body - and how could he ever forget your tits? He's a changed man because of them.

He sucks harder as you encourage the head of his cock to press against your sopping-wet entrance. Just a little push is all it takes - and yet he doesn't relent just yet. Regretfully eases the suction his lips have around your nipple. Kisses you again. Husks, "Gonna cum so fucking fast."

You just nod. Kiss him again. Cradle his jaw. Nudge up against his nose. "Want you to cum. Fast is okay."

He swallows back a feeling of uncertainty. "Sure?"

"Please just fuck me, baby."

Oh, it's sin . Filth . Gluttonous, how badly he wants you; how insane hearing you call him 'baby' makes him.

He doesn't kiss you, but instead watches your face as he finally fucks his thick cock into you. Wants to see everything. How you gasp. How your brows furrow, eyes wide. How your cheeks blush. The way the heartbeat in your neck matches the heartbeat in your chest. How you whisper his name and desperately pull him back into your lips.

Jeongguk had a hundred and one things he wanted to do to you in these four walls, but with every stroke of his cock into your pussy, one of them melts away. Eventually, all that's left is his need for you to know every atom of his being wants to melt into you, too. Close will never be close enough. He has to fuck his cum into you because he has to fool his body into thinking maybe he could become at one with you.

"Shit," he husks, barely a few minutes into it. Hooks one of your legs over his elbow. Encourages it further. Gets it over his shoulder. Ruts himself ever deeper inside of you. "Oh, shit, baby."

"You good?" you check, to which he just nods. Pants. There's a sheen to his skin. Sweat. Like his very own glitter.

His hips stall a little. Brows furrow. He's trying to hold back - but you don't want him to, so sink your finger down to rub at your clit. Want him to see that it's okay. That he can cum. That you're just as close.

Because you are. All it takes is a little extra help from your hand - and then you're squeaking. Keep his gaze locked on yours. Letting the ripple of what it feels like to cum undone around him make itself known.

Jeongguk curses. "Keep doing it."

You do. Don't stop. Get yourself pulsing around him. Torso shuddering. Cunt desperately trying to milk his cum - and then all rather suddenly, Jeongguk whines.

"Yeah. That's it. That's it. Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck." His hips thrash against yours; his cock using your tight walls to reach his orgasm. You watch his pretty face as he comes undone; mouth open, whines stuttering from his throat. "I'm cumming. Fuck. Oh. Fuck. I'm cumming, baby."

His speech is a mess, and so is he. So are you.

Thick and creamy, his cums spurts into you with unrelenting force. The build of the last twenty-four hours means there's so much more than usual - and it's all yours. Every last drop.

The sound of your cum-filled cunt as he continues fucking himself into you is lewd. The kinda shit you could only imagine. He keeps going. Pushes his cum deeper and deeper into you. Has no desire to leave your walls. Keeps fucking into you until the overstimulation gets so unbearable he could fucking cry - and yet it's still so good.

He curses as he pulls out, body spent on top of yours. Is gasping for air as if he's just gone three rounds in a boxing ring. Buries his head into your neck as you wrap your arms around him.

"So good," you praise, 'cause you think he needs it. Think he deserves it. "Always make me feel so good."

He nods against your skin. Agrees. Presses a kiss to your neck, but can't bring himself to do anything else. Just needs to be still for a little while. Just needs you to stay with him, like this. Needs to know that the little piece of soul that he's just given up is safe with you.

A full five minutes pass before he rolls off you with a sigh and a deep-rooted desire to fuck you again. Harder, this time. For longer. Better. He's not ready, though. Not yet.

Not ready for anything. Hasn't processed any of his feelings. Just knows he doesn't even need to give you a verbalised response when you ask, "Shall we shower?"

He presses a kiss into your shoulder. Nods. Sits up, taking your hand in his. Leads you to the bathroom, which is surprisingly nice for a place like this. Has a tub. He dreads to think of what horrors it's seen.

Neither of you really speak much. There's a heaviness. An understanding that whatever just happened isn't what usually happens. Yes, it was sex, and yes it was still just you two, but something about it was just... different. The silence isn't uncomfortable. It's just noticeable.

Just like it's noticeable when Jeongguk gets hard again a little while later. Just like it's noticeable when you straddle his lap and sink down onto him. Just like it's noticeable when he directs your hips to grind instead of bounce. Just like it's noticeable when he kisses you through a climax. Just like it's noticeable when he cums inside you for the second time that afternoon.

It's not bad. It's just noticeable.

"We gonna talk about it?" You ask as the pair of you sit on the bed, a shitty cable movie on the motel television as you finally snack on the chicken you'd picked up earlier.

Jeongguk plays it cool. Keeps watching the TV, as he says, "about what?"

You're not sure if you should continue. Jeongguk is in his underwear. You're wearing his shirt, and that's it. You both know you aren't done with the sleazy motel room. Part of you worries that your question might lead to an argument. Post-sex conversations have a way of doing that with you two. Emotions are always heightened. Both of you always try and act like stars don't align whenever he's inside you. Think that by playing it cool, you're playing it safe.

Issue is, you care too much about Jeongguk to be playing things safe now. You need to play honestly. Openly. Without fear of losing.

"Well," you hesitate. Dust off your crumbs into the container. Don't look at him. Are scared his gaze will put you off. "What is this?"

The childish part of Jeongguk wants to answer 'fried chicken,' or something dumb like that. Thinks it would be funny. Know you would laugh. Instead, he nibbles on his bottom lip. Briefly glances over to you. The way you're avoiding his eyes makes him nervous.

"What do you mean?" He asks. Knows exactly what you mean. Still wants you to spell it out for him, just in case he's jumping to conclusions.

But he's not.

"Us," you say quietly. "This. What is this?"

It doesn't surprise you when the silence returns. Jeongguk doesn't want to misspeak. You know him well. Anticipated such a response. Don't push for more, because you know it will just take a little time.

Your friendship is well established. He's your best friend, and you are his. It had been agreed upon.

"It's just us," he eventually states. "We're best friends. Right?"

"Right," you nod. Feel a little deflated. Ask, "but, like... the fucking?"

Jeongguk thinks his lungs might collapse, just like your slightly misguided sense of hope. Is certain if the conversation continues, that he will simply die.

"Oh." He hums. "Right. Yeah. That."

You've done this before, his brain taunts him. Don't fuck it up. Don't fuck it up. Don't fuck it up. You know how this works. You'll lose her. Don't fuck it up.

"I'm not, like, in love with you, if that's what you're worried about," he laughs a little sheepishly. Is a terrible liar, but you're too much in your own head right now to realise.

"Oh. No. I didn't mean - I'm not accusing you of anything," you insist - and you really weren't. Was just searching for clarity. Kind of wish you hadn't now.

"No, I know," Jeongguk says back with a kind smile, not that you're looking at him. "I just didn't want you to get the wrong end of the stick, or anything like that."

"I haven't," you promise, finally looking over at him.

Neither of you really appear convinced. Not with yourselves, not with one another.

"And, I mean, you've got that guy," Jeongguk doubles down. Pretends to forget his name cause he just can't help himself. "We've been working on intimacy stuff literally so you could date again, right?" He waits for a response. You don't give him one. "So you're doing it. And that's great. And I'm happy for you... and, like-"

"Do you not think it will cause issues?" you blurt out, a little frustrated with how cool Jeongguk seems to be about it all. You don't realise it feels like his brain is on fire. He's masking it well. The only giveaway is the nervous sweat that's building beneath his arms - but you're hardly gonna notice that.

"Will it cause you issues?" he simply counters. Never wants to be the first to admit things. Has been burned too badly before.

You take a moment to think of a response, but realise nothing will do your feelings justice.

You think of your friendship with Jeongguk, and how he's somehow gone from a once-in-a-blue-moon bartender that would serve you magic in the form of a tiny purple shot to a permanent fixture in your life.

And it scares you, too. He was temporary once. Maybe one day he could become that again.

It doesn't feel like he will be.

Feels like you'll stoke one another's fires and keep your twin flames alive for years to come - but there's no promise that someone won't try and seek warmth from his burning embers. He's a good guy. Wouldn't wanna leave them to go cold. Would forget about you in the process, 'cause he's so used to having you there. Your flame could die out before he realises. Would spend forever trying to reignite it, but ashes just don't burn.

It's unlikely, but it's possible.

And so it seems silly depending on him as your only source of flame preservation. Perhaps you should see where things with Seojoon go.

"How... How does anyone know if they're making the right choices?" You ask a little sheepishly. Feel just as confused as you did at the start of the conversation. "How can they be sure?"

"They're not," Jeongguk simply says, reaching out to nudge your knee. Is as warm to the touch as he usually is, but kinda feels like he burns, now. "We take chances, and hope that they work out. That's all we can do."

"But love-"

"Isn't what we think it is," Jeongguk interrupts.

He's had so many ideas of love in his lifetime, yet refuses to believe any of them were real. Thinks he knows what it is, now. Finally truly understands the concept of setting the ones you love free.

He's trying to do that for you. Doesn't want to hold you back.

"It's not the wind blowing in some dude's hair, or roses appearing behind a pretty girl," he doubles down. "It's not that heart beating out of your chest shit that happens when you first see someone you like. Love isn't what's peddled to us in the movies. It's not."

"No? So what is it?"

"It's peace . It's not struggling to breathe, or panicking, or nervousness. It's none of that. Love... love feels like coming home. I know your ex fucked with your head a bit," Jeongguk says quietly. Looks at you. Feels right at home. "But love isn't supposed to hurt."

And yet as he speaks, Jeongguk's breaking his own fucking heart.

Better me than you.

Just doesn't realise he never had to.

All you ever needed was security. Safety. The rest would come with time.

But you're nervous, now. And you are a little hurt.

So whatever foolishness you were letting yourself indulge in with him is promptly abandoned. You're not about to wreck things. By his own admission, you can't possibly be feeling anything as heavy as love - and the friendship you have with him means more to you than, well, anything.

"We're okay, right?" You ask, a little desperate for things to feel normal.

Jeongguk smiles. Grabs the half-empty chicken box and tosses it down to the floor. Reaches for your hand, and drags you up to his lap. Messes with your hair. "We're fine, B."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jeongguk's a terrible liar.

"Okay. Good."

And so are you.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bd #bad decisions

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

Text

the devil you don't know (or however it goes)

hunter/raider!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: When Joel's men bring back the (adult) daughter of a rival group of hunters, he sees an opportunity.

Warnings: DARK, dub-con, Joel Miller is not a nice man, suspension bondage, abduction, captivity, themes of torture, mentions of past sexual abuse (not Joel), starvation, dehydration, a smidge of knifeplay, a pinch of bloodplay, seriously dead dove do not eat, ambiguous ending, reader has suicidal ideations because of anxiety and threat of imminent death, I mean it guys, this is somehow less depraved than the last raider!Joel but way darker, author makes up stuff about how garage doors work because google failed her but she's probably on a watchlist now so, canon-typical violence, gags, overnight bondage in an unsafe environment, reader's age isn't specified but she was an adult when the outbreak started

Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst.

also on ao3.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Back in the before, in all the movies and books, when the damsel in distress or dashing hero was captured, they woke up clueless. Thinking they were home before it all settled in. They’d write off the pain as a hangover or a friend’s shitty couch.

That’s not how it happened for you.

When your consciousness first blinked back into the world, you were already having a panic attack. Your brain had registered the clues long before you were involved in the process.

Your cheeks are already streaked with tears before you can open your eyes. Your throat is dry and aching, and you can’t breathe.

Of course, you don’t realize it’s a panic attack at first. You just assume you’re dying. Here in this damp, cold… garage?

Recognition snaps you out of it. You’re still gasping, ragged, like you’re full of broken glass, but you’re alert enough to look around.

You’re alone. Small mercies. Or maybe not, given the way you’re tied up. Coarse rope forces your arms behind your back, wrapped from wrist to elbow. Your shoulders ache from being yanked backward, but the length has some slack, at least, between you and the bracket on the thick steel wall.

No. Not a wall. A door. You’re tethered to a huge door, inflexible accordion-style metal punctuated with heavy-duty brackets. No windows, no rotting wood. Impenetrable.

The door isn’t closed all the way, but it’s locked into place. Even if you got your hands free, it would take time and strength to remove the locks and open it enough to slip out.

The air coming through the bottom is chilly but fresh.

It helps. Focusing on the cold shushes the other alarms in your body. Enough to realize it's not just your arms that are tied.

There are loops of rope around your thighs, tethered to the same point as your hands, and loops around your ankles, which are attached to the side walls nearby. Both grant you enough slack to move a little but hold your legs wide enough to prevent standing.

Not that it matters, you think, as a door on the other side of the room swings open.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” croons a man as he steps through the frame, the soft twang plucking at your heartstrings.

No. No. “Miller.”

“I was surprised to see you, too. M’boys said they found one of your daddy’s people in our territory. Imagine my face when they dragged you in.”

“So let me go. You know he’ll come looking.”

“Will he? Lotta blood out there.”

“Not mine.”

“Oh, I know. I saw the way you carved up one of my guys. You got him good.” He almost sounds pleased. “But daddy doesn’t know that, does he?”

“He’ll still look for me.”

“You think he’s going to break our pact for you? He’s gonna risk facing me over a runaway?” He pauses. “Were you runnin’ to me?”

“No,” you snarl.

“But you are runnin', ain’tcha?”

“No,” you lie. “I just got lost. He’s waiting for me for dinner.” Part of that, at least, is true. You would have never intentionally crossed into Joel Miller’s land.

“Alright, I get it. Better the devil ya know, right?” he grins.

You glared over his shoulder, refusing to look at his stupid, smug face. That was why you had stayed these last few years. When supplies ran lower and lower and your father found other ways to keep his men loyal.

At the end of the day, you had food, water, and shelter.

As you look anywhere but Joel, you see what fills the industrial metal shelving along the walls. There are stacks of boxes of bullets. Pallets worth of bottled water and canned goods. Cases of dried pasta. A couple dirty mattresses are leaning against the back wall. Your stomach sinks.

He sees you taking in the stock. “Sorry, would have kept ya in the other one, where we usually have our… guests, but see, it’s a little messy right now.” He pulls a Dasani out of a case and brings it over, pressing it to your lips after pocketing the lid.

You rear your head back.

“What, you think it’s drugged or somethin’?” Joel takes a big swig out of the bottle, a drop rolling down his chin. He swipes it away with the folded cuff of his denim button-up. “Why would we waste any of the good stuff on you?”

He offers it back up to you, and you let him pour it in your mouth. When he takes it away, you spit it at him.

He sighs. “Wish you hadn’t done that,” he says and tips the bottle over your head. “But if that’s the way you’re gonna be, I’ll go.”

But he doesn’t leave. Not yet. First, he presses and holds the button on the wall and watches as the pulley cranks to life.

The machinery grates, gears crying for oil, and you flinch from the noise. You don’t realize what’s about to happen until it does. The ropes holding you aren’t that long, and as the garage door slides up, it lifts you with it.

You scream. “Stop, please, put me down.”

Joel shakes his head, disappointment exaggerated in his scowl. “Shoulda been good. Now ya know.”

He releases the button when the door is open. You’re hanging, now, with your arms pulled to their limit behind you. Your shoulders already burn. The loops around your thighs and ankles keep you balanced at the expense of spreading you wide. You jerk, trying to… what? Trying to get out? You know that wasn’t happening, not like this. All you were going to do was dislocate your shoulders.

The late summer breeze blows in, and you shiver. Your hair and shirt are soaked.

“Don’t worry,” Joel jerks his head to the dark house across the street. “Ain’t got neighbors.”

He goes to leave, and you can’t help it. “Don’t, please!”

He stops and turns around, head to the side like you’re a puzzle he wants to figure out. “You gonna shut up, or do I gotta take care of that?”

Blood drains from your face.

He comes over to you and pulls a filthy bandana from his pocket. He rolls it up and ducks behind you. You try to lock your jaw, but he digs his fingers into the hinges until you open a little. He presses the bandana into your mouth, yanking back on it, and tying it tight behind your head.

“Night,” he tips his head, flourishing a hand like a fucking cowboy in a Stetson, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You don’t sleep, waiting for hungry dogs or Joel’s men to find you trussed up.

When he comes back in the morning, you’re a wreck. You survived the fucking apocalypse, but none of it could have prepared you for this. You’re blinking in and out of consciousness.

There’s nothing but the pain. You’re sure you would have cried or thrown up, but you’re so dehydrated now that you can’t even spare a tear. It’s not lost on you that you got into this situation by wasting water.

“Chilly in here,” he says by way of greeting, tugging the bandana off you.

You keep your eyes closed. Imagining his smug smirk is bad enough; you don’t need to see him see you like this.

“You shoulda worn a jacket, sweetheart.”

“Did,” you croak, and wish you hadn’t fallen for his bait.

“Ah, someone took it from ya? Must have been a nice one.”

It was. It was patched up and ugly, but so was everything in this world. And it was warm. Heavy denim with quilted down lining. The last thing you’d ever take from your father, you thought.

He walks around you. You’d stiffen if you could, but you’ve long been stuck, muscles given out.

“Alright, let’s get ya down.”

At least the dehydration saves you from the whimper you almost let out. But it’s silent, and if Joel notices anything, he doesn’t react.

He walks back over to the door and presses the button. “S’gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warns before the door jerks backward, click click clicking as it lowers. It’s slow, but when your legs touch the ground, you may as well have plummeted.

You scream, wrenching it from your haggard throat, hands balled into fists behind your back. When you’re fully on the ground, you collapse against the door, only sparing a wince when your head bounces against the jutting metal seam between panels.

“Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.” He crouches down in front of you, same ratty denim shirt and jeans, same scuffed up boots. “You ready to behave?”

You nod, barely moving, but he gets the message.

“Y’look thirsty.”

You crack your eyes open to peek at him but can’t. They roll back into your head, lids fluttering.

You’re vaguely aware that he leaves and comes back but have no idea how much time passes. He crouches back down in front of you, and you hear the crinkle of a decade-old plastic bottle.

“If I give you this, are you going to spit it at me again?”

“No,” you whisper.

“You gonna ask nicely?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, but your brain is mostly static, so you give up without much of a fuss. “Please.”

He hums his approval and brings the bottle to your lips. He only lets you take tiny sips, infinitesimal in the arid expanse of your mouth. He pulls it away far too soon, and a soft sob leaks from you in its absence.

“You can have more later. Don’t need you gettin’ sick all over my garage.”

He leaves.

When he comes back late into the evening, you’re asleep, but you startle awake when he turns the light on.

Your wide eyes follow him as he moves about the garage. When he finally approaches you, it’s to offer more water. You accept it immediately, opening your mouth for the bottle before it even reaches you.

“Learned your lesson, huh? Good girl.”

It’s accompanied by a sneer, but that doesn’t stop the way your pussy clenches for a minute. Given that you’re still fully clothed, he remains blessedly unaware.

“Can you just, like, shoot me now or whatever,” you mumble. You know you’re not leaving that garage. You’ve seen where he keeps the top supplies. You know which house this is—or at least, the numbers on the house across the street.

“Nah,” Joel says as if you’re discussing what to eat for dinner. He sits down in front of you, knees bent up, leaning on them with the arm holding the water bottle. “You’re gonna help me first.”

“Why would I help you if you’re going to kill me?”

“Because I’ll make it quick for ya.”

You think you might throw up the water.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he gestures at you with his loose hand, now grasping a closed switchblade. “You know how this goes. Seen your pops do it plenty, right?”

You nod.

“I don’t think you’re gonna make me, though,” Joel muses, and scratches his chin with the outside of the blade.

“I was running,” you blurt. “If I tell you everything, I swear, he’ll never know, I just want to—”

“‘Fraid not,” he says, shaking his head. “Nothin’ personal, sweetheart, just can’t trust ya.”

The way you’re staring at him with your pretty eyes, glistening with fear, makes him scowl harder. He flicks the blade open and watches as a tear escapes before you close your eyes.

“Promise?” you whisper.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll make it quick, if I tell you everything.” You’re shaking, and realize you’re probably about to have another panic attack as your breathing grows shallow.

“Yeah, I promise,” he says. He stands up and watches you, the way you’re clenching your hands into fists and trying to breathe out of your mouth.

“Jesus. It’s not gonna happen right now, calm down.”

Before he leaves, he gives you more water.

You’re awake when he comes back the next morning. He sits in front of you, legs crossed, and sets a cloth full of dried meat between you, and another bottle of water.

He picks up a thick strip. It doesn’t look like the shit they used to sell at grocery stores. It looks like they’ve salted and dried their own fucking jerky.

You stare as he rips off a piece and eats it.

“What? Y’ain’t got pigs?”

You shake your head.

“Jesus,” he sighs. “Is there even anything to take, or am I wasting my fucking time?”

“Lots of guns,” you shrug. “Some food. Not like you’ve got.”

Guns were more than enough of a reason, and you both knew it. He ripped another piece off and held it to your lips.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he says while you chew. “I’m going to ask you a question. If I believe your answer, you can have somethin' to eat or drink. If I don’t believe you, that’s when things get tricky.” He opens the switchblade and sets it next to the water.

It takes hours, but true to your word, you tell him everything. The layout of the old campground your father took command over. Patrol schedules. Planned raids. Locations of guns, food, medicine, everything.

By the end of it, you’d had two sticks of the jerky and the whole bottle of water. You look more alive than you have in days, given that you’d been thoroughly lost for two before stumbling across his men on patrol.

“Why’d you feed me?” you ask when he stands to leave. “Aren’t you about to kill me?”

“No,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Gotta see if your information is good. Probably won’t even make a move for a week or so.”

You tense. “You promised. You promised you’d make it quick.”

“I promised I’d make it quick when I kill ya. If you told me everything. Can’t prove you did until it’s done.”

He doesn’t know what he expected you to do, but screaming was not it. It’s a wounded, rageful thing. He hates it. He stomps back over and covers your mouth, blade in hand. It presses against your cheek, and you hiss.

He pulls his hand away and watches the blood drip down your cheek. You don’t scream again, but there’s something in your eyes when you stare him down.

“Coward,” you whisper.

His hand wraps around your throat, pushing you against the garage door. He doesn’t remember kneeling down close to you, but that’s where he finds himself as he squeezes, bringing the knife up above his hand.

You aren’t struggling, yet, His grip isn’t that tight. Some air still leaks, and you laugh. “C’mon,” you taunt.

He lets go. You slump down a little, chest heaving. There’s blood dripping down from the small nick in your neck to your cleavage.

You watch him watch it. “Can you at least clean that up if you’re going to leave me here?”

He doesn’t know what possesses him. It has to be the unhinged look in your eyes, spreading to him like poison. He grabs your jaw in the hand with the blade and pushes your head to the side so he can lean down and lick the blood off your breast. You moan.

He spits it to the side, and turns your head back to look at him. Your lips are parted, pupils blown. “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, leaning back, putting distance between him and your tits.

“C’mon,” you repeat, but this time, it’s heady.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” But he doesn’t wait for you to answer. He grabs your jaw again and kisses you. It’s not kind or soft. It’s all teeth and snarls and the knife against your cheek. But you kiss him back, because it pleases the ravaging wildfire of rage that lives in your chest. Fuels it.

He pulls back. “Shit," he mutters.

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

He lets go. Stands up. You think maybe he’s going to get his cock out, but he stalks over to the door. “Or what.”

He slams the door so he doesn’t have to hear you howl in fury after him, spitting insults.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

By the second morning, you’re starting to panic. You’re so thirsty. The last bottle had a few dregs in it, just a sip, but it's just out of reach. The only light you have is when it creeps in from the little gap between the garage door and the uneven concrete.

When he comes that evening, he’s ditched the denim. He’s got tight dark pants and a gray t-shirt on. You don’t look at him directly as he gives you water and more of the salty jerky.

He crouches down in front of you again. You’re getting tired of it. Of his stupid pretty face and this stupid garage. Your arms are numb, and the pounding in your head hasn’t gone away since the first day. You don’t even know how long you’ve been here anymore.

“Why’d you ask me to fuck you?" It’s less of a question than a statement, but you know he expects an answer.

“Dunno. Thought maybe you would.”

“I’m going to kill you. Your pussy ain’t going to change that.”

“Didn’t expect it to.”

“What, you a virgin or something? You trying to get fucked before you die?”

“Or something, yeah,” you mutter.

“Shit.” He can’t believe he’s considering this. It feels like crossing one of the few lines he hasn’t crossed.

It’s not lost on you. “Are you having a fuckin' moral dilemma about this? You’re gonna gut me, and you’re trying to figure out if it’d be fucked up to have sex with me?”

“Not gonna gut ya,” he says. “Said I’d make it quick, didn’t I?”

“Oh my god. That was so not the point.”

“Shut up. Look at me.”

You do. He’s holding the blade again. “I verified your information yesterday. We’re going to make our move tomorrow. I’ll be back by sundown. You still want this?”

It feels like he dumped the water on you again. You shiver. So that’s it. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be gone.

“Yes.”

“Fine. But we’re doin’ this my way.” He walks away, and you think he’s going back inside until he stops and presses the button.

You’re shocked enough that all you do is gasp when the door lifts, pulling you into the air. He stalks back over to you and holds the blade up. “Hold still.”

You’re hanging in the fucking air. What does he think you’re going to do? Fly away? But you hold your breath anyway while he slides the knife between your skin and clothes. When you’re bare to him, he drops the knife and grabs your waist.

“You done anything? Anyone ever make you come?”

You shake your head and murmur, “No, no one.”

When you look up at him, you’re surprised to see something almost soft behind his eyes. You glare. “What, is it going to make you feel less guilty if I have an orgasm?”

“What do I got to feel guilty for? You fuckin’ begged for it.”

“Then fuckin’ fuck me already,” you snap. Your arms hurt again. You want to fuck him, you want to land your fists against his stupid face, you want to not fucking die tomorrow.

But you can only have one of those things, so. “Please,” you say, and sigh.

He cups your breasts, stroking thumbs over your nipples. He leans over and licks, and you moan again, soft this time.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t gotta do that. Just fuck me.”

“Ain’t doin’ it for you,” he lies.

You don’t protest again, not after he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. He brings a hand to your cunt and thumbs your clit, sliding two fingers down to start working you open for him. He eases the first one in through your slick, and you whine.

“I’m not gonna be nice,” he says, panting a little. “It’s going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching as he stretches you open. Your legs are held so wide they ache, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from rolling back when he picks up speed.

He holds you tight when you come so your arms don’t jerk too hard. It’d be a shitty end to a shitty life, you think, to wait all day with dislocated shoulders for him to come home and slit your throat.

Finally, he pulls his cock out. A man of his word, he doesn’t go nice or slow. It does hurt. His cock is thick and long, and he makes it fit even as your body tries to reject him. He hooks his hands under your thighs, forcing you to put some of your body weight on him as he fucks up into you.

It takes the pressure off your arms, and you suspect maybe he's strong enough to fuck like this without the help from the ropes.

The burn is exactly what you wanted. It stings, and you cry, silent but for a few whimpers. He pulls another orgasm out of you with his clever fingers on your clit.

When he comes, he pulls you to him and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. You wail, but you also come again as he fills you.

You expect him to leave you there, dangling and dripping his spend. But when he lets go, it’s just to lower you back to the ground.

He tucks his soft cock away and zips up, staring down at you. You lay against the door, trying to catch your breath.

“What’d you mean by ‘or something’?” he says, surprising himself.

“S’nothin,” you sigh.

He sits down, offers you water. You drink and watch him, tense and untrusting.

“Was that the first time you’ve been fucked?”

“First time I ever wanted it,” you say.

His jaw ticks. “Answer one more question for me, ‘bout your father’s camp.” He waits until you meet his eyes. “If you’re strugglin’ for food, how’s he keeping all them happy?”

You flinch and look away.

He doesn’t need another answer.

You don’t expect to see him in the morning, so you’re startled when the door opens. He throws something on the floor, but you don’t have time to look before he’s crouched over you, knife in hand.

You had promised yourself you’d be brave and quiet when he came for you. But you thought you’d have time to prepare yourself, so when he brings it toward you, you flinch back and cry out. “Hold still,” he snaps. He doesn’t have time to wait for you to cooperate, so he holds your shoulder with one hand and slices through the rope with the other.

When he’s done, he jabs the knife in the direction of the pile of fabric by your foot. “Get up. Get dressed.”

You can’t stand. He huffs and pockets the knife, pulling you up. Your limbs barely move from the way they’ve been stuck, splotchy and limp from poor circulation. He helps you tug the flannel on and step into what must be a pair of his boxers.

He looks you over. “S’all I got.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re so confused. Between the pain, the hunger, the dehydration, and the fear, it’s a wonder you can string together a single thought.

“Let’s go,” he snaps as he heads for the door, like you were supposed to know already. When you get into the house, he grabs one arm and pushes you ahead of him, through a kitchen and living room and out another door.

Most of his men are in two vans, but Joel shoves you into a pickup truck. He buckles you in and waves a finger in your face. “You try anything, and it’ll take you days to bleed out.”

You just nod. You’re thinking now that he probably doesn’t want to kill you in his house. Blood all over the stockroom would be a pain in the ass.

At least you got to see sunshine again.

It’s not a long drive, but you keep your eyes closed. The autumn sun is weak, but you think you might cry as it brushes your skin.

Joel doesn’t say a word.

You don’t open your eyes until he parks. He hops out and comes to pull you out the other side, but when you see where you are, you panic and try to push him away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps. “Get out of the fucking truck.”

God. Everything you’d heard about him is true. Was he really this cruel? Monstrous enough to drag you back, to die here when you’d finally escaped?

Or—has he struck a deal? Is he going to give you back to your father?

You can’t breathe.

Joel crowds you against the truck, hands on your shoulders, and shakes you a little. “Snap out of it, I ain’t got time for this. Stick with me and keep your mouth shut.”

For a moment, neither of you move. You get control of your breathing and realize he hasn’t restrained you. He didn’t give you shoes, but you still know this land far better than he does. You told him all your father’s secrets, but not yours.

“Don’t,” he says. It’s the softest he’s spoken to you yet.

And, god help you, you nod.

Two of Joel’s men are struggling to hold your father when Joel drags you into the living room of the main cabin. He’s holding your wrists behind your back, his gun pressed into your side.

“Oh, thank god, honey, you’re okay,” your father says, but his face falls when he sees the gun. “C’mon, Miller, let her go. She’s not a part of this.”

“She is now,” Joel says. “Found her on my land. Ain’t that right?”

You want to close your eyes, want to ignore your part in this, want him to just fucking shoot already, but you can’t look away from your father’s face.

“I swear to god, Miller, if you laid a hand on her—”

“Like your men did?” He waits and doesn’t receive a response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You know how it is,” your father says. He can’t read Joel, never could. “Everyone’s gotta contribute somehow. Keep morale up,” he plows forward, oblivious to the dangerous way Joel’s eyes have darkened. “Look, I can look past it. Whatever you did, she probably had it coming, for trespassing. We can call it even.”

Joel’s slow smirk is feral. He nods. For a moment, your father breathes with relief. But Joel isn’t looking at him.

His men move quick, and your father is on his knees in just seconds. They struggle to hold him down with hands on his shoulders, but he stops fighting when Joel lifts the gun away from you.

He doesn’t aim it at your father, who has to watch as Joel flips the gun in his hand and offers you the grip. He didn’t even notice that Joel had let you go.

You don’t say anything. You look at Joel for a moment, and your father watches you slowly move to take the handgun. He has the nerve to look relieved again, until you stop, holding it in both hands in front of you, looking at it.

“What are you doing? Shoot him!” your father says.

You look up at your father, grimacing against the bile rising in your throat.

You look at Joel again, gun heavy. You wonder what would happen if you let it drag down, out of your fingers, to the knotty pine panels that cover every surface. You wonder what would happen if you clasped your fingers around the weight of it and raised your arm to the left.

Joel’s men watch him, unsure. He holds up a hand and waits, watching the glow from the hearth dance across your face.

“Shoot them, you stupid girl, and get me out of here.”

Joel steps closer, puts his hands on your waist, and leans in. “Up to you, darlin’,” his hot breath against your ear.

You pull the trigger.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dark!joel miller #raider!joel miller #hunter!joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #dead dove do not eat #kinktober 2023

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