#my brother is relatively well off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fairene · 7 months ago

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beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter.

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself.

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep. a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own.

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing.

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open.

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him.

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head.

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence.

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin.

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth.

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things.

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.”

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure.

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity.

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun.

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face?

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.”

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase.

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first.

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places.

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck.

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.”

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door.

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.”

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.”

and then he was gone.

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly?

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature.

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers.

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open.

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage.

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress.

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence.

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths.

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat.

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you.

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years.

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him.

you thought you were going to kiss.

and so did he.

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality.

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you?

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you.

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase.

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.”

he smiled.

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge.

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge.

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch.

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you.

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you.

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes.

“what? i wasn’t manly before?”

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.”

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms.

“really?”

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you.

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner.

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger.

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late.

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him.

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth.

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle.

“gonna jump out on me?”

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core.

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.”

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him.

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.”

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.”

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would.

“between us, then?”

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence.

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends.

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute.

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you.

“he say anything to you?”

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?”

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though.

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with.

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.”

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies.

“what?”

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone.

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?”

you swallowed. nodded your head.

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair.

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.”

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile.

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’.

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu.

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked.

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice.

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all.

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow.

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard.

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.”

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?”

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?”

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair.

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him.

you still couldn��t believe what had happened.

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he?

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free.

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things.

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he.

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked.

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for.

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut.

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer.

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from.

he did.

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back.

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty.

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.”

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.”

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind.

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment.

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?”

you were shameless when you nodded your head.

“so embarrassing, i know–”

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips.

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest.

“what do you feel for me now?”

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down.

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be.

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you.

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his.

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins.

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips.

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest.

“some dreams just remain dreams.”

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall.

“do you want to dream forever?”

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted.

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same?

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes.

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.”

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own.

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat.

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years.

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you.

he lied.

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando.

‘course he fucking noticed.

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore– black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight.

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress.

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own.

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress.

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.”

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?”

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs.

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…”

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock.

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.”

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice.

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.”

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream.

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin.

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.”

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck.

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body.

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body.

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice.

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come.

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you.

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair.

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?”

you shook your head. “no– no!”

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping.

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself.

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat.

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again.

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips.

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you.

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.”

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again.

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.”

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like.

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret.

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand.

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling.

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes.

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you.

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone.

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep.

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister.

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself.

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace.

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart.

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is.

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed.

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly.

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong?

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words.

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?”

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart.

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.”

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped.

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs.

your name was sweet on his tongue.

“what would your brother say–?”

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down.

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck.

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin.

“how much?”

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in.

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress.

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions.

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.”

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace.

“the one with the bows?”

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him.

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility.

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently.

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.”

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move.

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense.

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck.

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same.

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone.

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life.

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning.

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist.

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’

fuck that.

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you.

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim.

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately.

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?”

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.”

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?”

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction.

“slept great.”

you scoffed.

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks.

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?”

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage.

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning.

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that.

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something.

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment?

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense.

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?”

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate.

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?”

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste.

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?”

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.”

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek.

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving.

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant.

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.”

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left.

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat.

but you stood your ground. “positive.”

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold.

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane.

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool.

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack.

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime.

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one.

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head.

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over.

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless.

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw.

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water.

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands.

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him.

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin.

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste.

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.”

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out.

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool.

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max.

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention.

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap.

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning.

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling.

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at.

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted.

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest.

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show.

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.”

“asshole.” max mirrored you.

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind.

though you did.

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through.

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word.

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could.

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you.

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?”

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall.

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?”

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him.

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions.

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.”

but you dared to disagree.

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?”

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure.

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge.

“get your hands off me.” you bit out.

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.”

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist.

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone.

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength.

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone.

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock.

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go.

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.”

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex.

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair.

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power.

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger.

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner.

you had come up with the idea for dinner.

fish. as everyone enjoyed.

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself.

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious.

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.”

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer.

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind.

it was an afterthought for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot.

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines.

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for.

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?”

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.”

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker.

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice.

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove.

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days.

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged.

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips.

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done.

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table.

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck.

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap.

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit.

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone.

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table.

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here.

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind.

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit.

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings.

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word.

“dessert, anyone?”

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen.

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go.

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you.

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you?

you were.

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends.

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours.

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not.

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself.

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward.

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger.

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered.

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you.

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall.

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted.

and maybe you did.

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races.

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand?

the answer was undoubtedly yes.

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it?

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick.

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time?

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all.

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean.

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought.

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table.

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most.

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in.

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own.

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.”

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises.

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine.

“being a fucking tease…”

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity.

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed.

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction.

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust.

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?”

“no.”

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were.

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth.

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly.

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you.

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?”

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you.

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat.

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more.

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan.

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.”

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure.

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes.

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle.

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat.

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam.

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him.

he snickered. “guess so.”

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue.

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–”

you shushed him.

“on the house.”

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes.

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad.

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home.

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee.

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms.

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call.

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds.

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds.

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night.

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air.

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him.

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is.

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching.

and spellcasted he was.

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper.

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice.

you were.

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed.

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper.

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile.

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust.

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic.

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you.

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right.

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother.

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf.

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him.

“he’s a good guy.”

lando was sitting up now. listening.

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.”

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter.

“and…what did you say?”

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them.

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.”

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you.

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it.

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity.

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping.

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers.

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat.

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.”

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered.

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you?

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?”

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons.

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical.

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side.

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?”

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age.

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs.

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes.

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired.

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.”

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile.

shit.

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night.

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top.

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time.

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?”

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris.

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had.

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good.

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek.

“he’s a good lad, innhe?”

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of.

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful.

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa.

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone.

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?”

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could.

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.”

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you.

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat.

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you.

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—”

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.”

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too.

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan.

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum.

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?”

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness.

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.”

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him.

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away.

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed.

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—”

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.”

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way?

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt.

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom.

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry.

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect.

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for.

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling.

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear.

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.”

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder.

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend.

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh.

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail.

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed.

“am i?”

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean.

“think you like it, love.”

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter.

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered.

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?”

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder.

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit.

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine.

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with.

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.”

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad.

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table.

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it.

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him.

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?”

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words.

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through.

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to.

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other.

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end.

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse.

lando hummed.

“about us.”

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for.

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship.

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for.

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms.

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat.

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side.

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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fxstpace · 2 months ago

Text

little white lies

summary: miya atsumu needs to find a date for his cousin’s wedding, or risk getting hounded by all his relatives prying into his business. unless said business is you—in which case, he’s all for it. maybe he can work up the courage to ask you out for real while he’s at it.

⇢ pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers au, fake dating au, idiots to idiots in love, debatable attempts at comedy were made ⇢ word count: 9.2k ⇢ warnings: profanity, one (1) scene where atsumu is shirtless

Miya Atsumu acknowledges the fact that he has made several stupid decisions throughout the course of his life.

There was the time he decided that dipping waffles in hot sauce would make for a tasty food combination. (It did not, and he ended up lying in bed with a stomach ache for three days with a grumbling Osamu looking after him). Then there was that incident where he proudly claimed he could crush an entire watermelon with his bare hands. (He could not, and Suna had laughed his ass off when Aran easily demonstrated the same feat).

And then, there was the time he tried to comfort you after you watched Hachiko Monogatari together. You’d been sniffling quietly, your eyes red and puffy, when he awkwardly handed you a tissue and said, “‘S okay. The dog’s probably acted in better movies.”

You’d stared at him, horrified, before bursting into tears. Osamu had walked in just in time to witness you chuck a pillow at Atsumu’s head, calling him an emotionally inept moron; he’d laughed so hard, he dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding and got mint chocolate chip all over the carpet. Atsumu still cringes whenever he thinks of it.

Nothing much has changed in Atsumu’s life. He still has a massive crush on you, and he still makes stupid decisions.

What transpired in the Miya twins’ childhood home’s sitting room fifteen minutes ago is a testament to this tragic fact.

When the Miya brothers’ cousin, Shohei, called them up to invite them to his wedding taking place in two weeks, Atsumu and Osamu were nothing short of elated. Shohei video-called them, and for a good five minutes, all Atsumu did was scream incoherently when he announced that the wedding date had been fixed. Osamu promised to close Onigiri Miya on the Saturday two weeks hence, and Atsumu made a mental note to ask Meian if he could take the weekend off.

Shohei then turned the phone to their grandmother, sitting on her favourite armchair with the pink satin cushion, wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and sagging skin by her cheeks. Atsumu’s heart lifted at the sight of her—he was her favourite grandson, after all—and when she smiled at the twins, her lips were slightly puckered because she didn’t have her dentures in yet.

But that wasn’t the important bit. It shouldn’t have been what Atsumu focused on most, as he opened his mouth to tease her. He should have been focusing on the knowing, youthful gleam in the Miya household’s matriarch’s eyes—a gleam that spelled trouble when she set her gaze straight at him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Grandma Miya herself,” Atsumu drawled.

“Grandma Miya won’t be living for much longer,” she retorted, not one to be outdone by her own grandson.

Osamu had frowned. “Don’t say things like that, Grandma. It’s superstitious.”

Shohei had sighed dramatically, making a face at Osamu. “She does it all the time now. You should hear her go on and on. It’s good that you’re getting married, Shohei. This old woman won’t live for much longer, but at least I can see one of my grandsons getting married. Shame on the twins for making me live in suspense!” He said the last bit with an imitation of Grandma Miya’s toothless drawl, and it drew out a giggle from Atsumu and a swat on the shoulder to Shohei from the woman herself.

“Maybe I do have a girl in mind, Grandma,” Atsumu said on instinct, waggling his eyebrows. “I just haven’t told anyone yet.”

Grandma Miya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is she nice?”

“The best,” he had promised. “You’ll love her.”

Beside him, Osamu had gone very still. Even Shohei quietened down, letting Atsumu and their grandmother talk. In hindsight, Atsumu probably should have realised what a horrific blunder he was making, but he had a habit of letting his mouth run loose and this was one of those times.

Grandma Miya’s eyes had lit up. She had lifted the corners of her mouth into such a wide, hopeful smile, that Atsumu felt a twinge of guilt deep in his chest for lying to her. He couldn’t take back his words, however, because Grandma Miya excitedly clasped her fingers together and said, “You’ll bring her along to Shohei’s wedding, won’t you? She must meet the rest of the family. It’ll be nice for Sakura to meet her, too.”

Shohei nodded. Sakura was his future wife, a beautiful and kind lady who complemented Atsumu’s cousin perfectly. “Sakura would love to meet someone that’s going to be part of our family.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. When Atsumu looked at him, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Uh—” he began.

“No hesitating,” Grandma Miya had said firmly. “Tell her to come along. It will be fun.”

Atsumu couldn’t deny that; events that took place within the Miya family were always fun. But he couldn’t exactly create a girlfriend out of nothing, could he? Belatedly, Atsumu felt the guilt and horror of his words seep into his brain. He flashed a panicked look at his brother, but Osamu only shook his head and didn’t say anything.

He looked back into his phone screen, at his grandmother’s happy expression. If there was one thing Atsumu hated, it was letting down the people important to him.

Meekly, he nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Grandma. Don’t say I don’t do things for you.”

“Silly child,” said Grandma Miya affectionately, and that had been that.

Atsumu has since paced in front of the living room couch exactly eight times after Osamu pressed end on the call. He twirls in his spot, ready for his ninth walk around the living room. His brother sits on the sofa with one leg thrown up, watching him amusedly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Okay,” Osamu interjects. “Swearing isn’t gon’ help your situation.”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu wails pathetically, flopping onto the sofa next to his brother. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Glad to know you’re aware.”

“Samu, what do I do?” Atsumu leans his elbows on his knees and holds his hand in his hands. “‘m so screwed.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to get Grandma’s hopes up for nothin’.”

Atsumu huffs, annoyed at both himself and his brother for being so unhelpful. “I know that, asshole. I jus’ meant— What the fuck do I do about it now?”

Osamu pats his brother on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. “Tsumu, I can think of only one solution.”

“What?”

“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

Atsumu wrinkles his nose when you wave a bottle of some sort of bubbly, green-coloured concoction at his face. It looks disgusting even through the translucent plastic, and he has no doubt that it’ll taste twice as bad.

“Eugh. What’s that?”

“Wow. It’s so nice to see you too, Atsumu. I’ve only just flown back from halfway across the world after two weeks. No big deal at all,” you deadpan, staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m so happy you’re back, but what is that, and is it for me?”

Atsumu is glad you’re back—you’d gone overseas on your first ever business trip at the company you work at, and he’d missed your presence at the Tokyo apartment right next to his. He tries to verbalise it, but truthfully, his attention is solely fixed on the green muck you’re holding out to him.

“It is, actually,” you reply, shoving it into his waiting hands so he can scrutinise it better. You turn back and rummage through your open suitcase, pulling out an identical bottle—only this one is filled with something that looks like a cross between a squashed pumpkin and a gruesome shade of brown he doesn’t want to define. “And this one’s for Osamu. Can you give it to him the next time you go back to Hyogo?”

He lets out a sound of disgust, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a raspberry at you. “You couldn’t have gotten us somethin’ more… eatable?”

“Edible, Atsumu,” you correct, walking around the luggage strewn about your living room and plopping down on your sofa with a grunt. “This is what’s popular everywhere now. Apparently.”

“That doesn’t sound very optimistic,” he points out, sitting down next to you. Atsumu holds the drink bottle close to his face and squints at the ingredients printed on the back in a tiny font. “Is that… spinach?”

“Yeah.”

“And…” he continues, “kale? What’s a kale?”

“It’s some kind of leaf? Kinda like spinach,” you say, shrugging.

“Oh, wonderful. This is a cocktail for cows.”

You huff out a soft laugh, shoulders shaking with the movement. Atsumu grins, pleased that he’s made you smile.

“It’s supposed to be healthy, Tsumu. And you’re a professional volleyball player so I figured you’d drink stuff like this.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Atsumu shudders, but pockets the bottle anyway. It bulges out of the side of his cargo pants and he might look a little silly, but it’s really the thought that counts; the fact that you’d bought this drink with him in mind makes his heart rate spike. He nods at the muddy orange drink you left on the floor, meant for Osamu. “What’s in that one?”

“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”

Atsumu gags. “Did’ya pick the worst flavours or somethin’? You say this is popular?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “They were selling it everywhere I went!” you defend. “I just figured it was, like, the thing, or whatever.”

“If me and the team promoted this, it’d be sold out in no time,” he says thoughtfully. “Even if it tastes like a gourmet meal for goats.”

“So humble.” You roll your eyes, letting your head fall back on the couch cushion.

Your airport clothes—a hoodie and jeans—stick uncomfortably to your skin after hours of being airborne, and you scratch your elbow. Atsumu thinks it must be annoying; you must be itching to peel off your clothes and take a warm shower.

But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.

He tries not to let the wording mess with his head. He’s doing this for his grandmother, and most certainly not because of the self-indulgent fantasies his mind conjures up for him when he’s asleep. Dreams of holding your hand, walking through the cherry blossoms together, kissing your cheek and taking in your delighted gasp—they haunt him even in his waking moments, and Atsumu aches to make them turn into a reality.

He acknowledges that he is a coward in some ways. This is one of them.

“Hey…” he begins, and then trails off, unsure.

“Hm?”

“That bottle of muck you got for Osamu—” Atsumu gulps, ignoring the hammering of his heart inside his chest. “Think he’d like it more if you gave it to him yourself.”

You sigh. “I would love to, Atsumu, but I don’t know when I’ll be going to Hyogo next. I don’t want that milkshake to stay rotting in my fridge for, like, six months.”

“Well… I’m goin’ there next Saturday. Wanna come with?”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon. It’s Shohei’s wedding. You can’t miss it. Grandma Miya specifically told me to tell you to get your ass down there.”

It’s a lie that slips easily through his teeth, but he’s not exactly wrong, is he? Just—bending the truth a little. Grandma Miya did tell him to bring his girlfriend with him, and if he thinks about it, you are his girl friend, aren��t you? With a space in between the two words, but that’s just semantics. Atsumu ignores the voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s coming up with excuses that he used to think of when he was in elementary school.

“I’ll think about it—”

“You have to,” Atsumu implores, briefly letting go of his pride in favour of convincing you to come with him to his hometown. “It’ll be a nice break. You can meet Samu and Shohei. Have fun at a wedding—you know how fun Miya weddings are. Get dressed up, dance around a bit. And Grandma would be ecstatic if you came.”

“Ecstatic…” you echo, an amused smile flickering on your face. “Did Osamu teach you that word?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “But that’s not the point! The point is, I want your company for Shohei’s wedding.”

Atsumu waits for his words to sink in. He notices your sharp inhale when he emphasises on the fact that he wants you there. This one is the truth, and nothing but; there is no one else he would rather go to his cousin’s wedding with.

For all the lies he’s spouted out this afternoon, some part of Miya Atsumu wants you to recognise that he’s not lying this time.

“So, please,” he continues quietly, “will you come with me to Shohei’s wedding?”

You look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. A moment later, you nod.

“...Fine. But you’re paying for the train tickets.”

Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.

It takes exactly two hours and forty-six minutes to get to Hyogo from Tokyo by train. Atsumu purchases the tickets, partly because you’d asked him to, but mostly because of the steady feeling of guilt gnawing at his chest. He even purchases tickets for the first-class coach, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, even going so far as to give up the window seat for the aisle one.

“You’re being weirdly nice,” you note suspiciously, as he hefts your suitcase onto the rack above.

Atsumu grunts with exertion, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He takes in the small bob of your throat at the sight with a gleeful sense of pride. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”

Luggage secured successfully, he rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and settles down into the seat next to you. The plush cushion is soft and velvety to the touch, a dark shade of blue that’s soothing to the eye. As he looks around, he can’t help but notice that the rest of the passengers consist of old people—senior citizens, with wobbly knees and wrinkled skin. Old and married, they must be on their way back to their hometown after visiting their children and grandchildren in Tokyo. As far as he can tell, you and Atsumu are the only two people here who don’t have a relationship beyond the platonic. There’s the occasional family of four: a tired husband, an even more tired wife, and two boisterous children. One child, no more than four years old, with her hair done up in two pigtails, points a chubby finger at him.

“Mama, look! That man looks like Pikachu!” she exclaims loudly.

You giggle at the chagrined look on Atsumu’s face, and his heart lifts slightly at the sound.

“Komi! Shhh. It’s rude to point at people.” Her mother pulls her hand down, giving Atsumu an apologetic bow of her head.

“She has a point, I guess,” you whisper to your friend, nudging his shoulder.

“The point being…?”

“You do look like Pikachu.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair, Tsumu.” You grin mischievously. “It’s yellow. You’re practically halfway to having electric powers.”

Atsumu flushes. He runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair self-consciously. “That bad, eh?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Your fans seem to like it.”

“And you?” he asks softly. “You’ve never told me what you think.”

You hum and look away, fiddling with your phone case. “If you like it, then I like it.”

“That’s not even an answer.” Still, Atsumu will admit that your reply makes him happy.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s—”

“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”

Startled, you and Atsumu look in front of you. Komi pokes her head out from the seat in front of you, a wide grin on her lips. You stifle a laugh; it turns out Komi and her brother have occupied the seats in front of you and him. The tips of Atsumu’s ears turn crimson—whether with embarrassment at being caught bickering by a four-year-old, or at Komi’s previous comment about his hair, he isn’t sure.

“Hello, there,” you greet the small girl with a grin as wide as hers. “Komi, isn’t it?”

She nods, her pigtails rocking with the movement. “‘m Komi! An’ my brother is Kento!”

“It’s very nice to meet you both, Komi and Kento,” you say, solemnly holding out a hand for her to shake. Although you haven’t met her brother, you can hear his excited babbles from his location on his mother’s lap. “I’m ____, and this is my friend, Atsumu.”

“But you can call me Tsum,” Atsumu supplies, knowing it must be hard for the little one to pronounce his name properly.

Komi shakes your hand with the sort of vigour that one only has at the young age of four, and then glances expectantly at Atsumu. He holds out his hand as well, and the little girl grips it with all the strength she can muster. Her soft palm is sticky; once she releases it, he tries to discreetly rub his own palm on the seat in front of him, garnering a frown from you.

Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.

“Tsum and ____,” Komi says, “are you both like Mama an’ Papa?”

“Like… Mama and Papa?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“Yeah! Like, sleepin’ in the same room an’ givin’ each other kissies while cooking dinner!”

Atsumu gapes at the child. He feels his face heat up at the insinuation—if Komi thought his hair was like Pikachu earlier, then now she’d surely think his entire face was akin to Charmeleon, or something of that sort. Unable to answer, he glances at you.

Your face settles in an expression that he can only describe as pained amusement. Your lips twitch up, finding the whole situation funny, but you pick at your cuticles at the same time. A chuckle forces its way out of his mouth.

“That’s right, Komi,” Atsumu says. “Except we aren’t… married yet.”

The girl tilts her head, confused. “Wha’s that mean?”

“It means” —Atsumu pauses, just enough to notice the stupefied glower you give him— “that we haven’t promised each other what your Mama and Papa promised each other.”

“Oh!” Komi gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She grips the seat with her tiny hands, clearly thrilled at his words. “Like a pinkie promise?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Atsumu scolds himself yet again for letting his mouth run loose all the damn time. How is he supposed to break this poor, innocent girl’s heart by telling her that you and Atsumu aren’t married? Heck, you aren’t even dating, and he doesn’t even know if you want to get married to someone eventually. He wishes he could blabber about his feelings for you directly to you—but it appears that he is tongue-tied only around you, as well. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Regardless, he cannot take back his words now, which means he must plough on.

Ignoring your pointed glare, he nods. “Exactly. You’re very smart, aren’t you, Komi?”

“‘m the third in my class!” The girl beams proudly.

“Really?” Atsumu gasps. “I was only fifth!”

“From the bottom,” you interject, seemingly having finally found your voice.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just trying to make me look stupid.”

Komi giggles. “Papa says that’s a bad word.”

“And Papa is right.” Atsumu nods. “Idiot is also a bad word.”

“You’re so brilliant, Tsumu,” you mutter. “Teaching her bad words by saying they’re bad. Genius.”

“See, Komi, now what ____ did is something called sarchasm—”

You let out an odd noise, something in between an exasperated sigh and an amused giggle.

“...And now she’s laughin’ at me,” Atsumu finishes, staring at Komi and shaking his head ruefully. “Can’t believe I’m payin’ for this one’s train tickets.”

Komi’s curious gaze darts between you and Atsumu, a little confused but wholly entertained. “Stop, stop, stop!” She holds her palms out as though she’s a judge imparting all her four-years worth of knowledge to pass her verdict. “Both of you need to make a pinkie promise.”

You blink. “What for, Komi?”

“To always love each other. Forever an’ ever, until you both die!” she declares seriously.

Atsumu’s smile turns soft around the edges. Ah, the child-like innocence that vanishes so quickly. He doesn’t remember much of his own childhood—it’s mostly just a blur of juvenile volleyball and fistfights with Osamu and Aran, and playdates where you would come over with your mother and the three of you would romp around with the twins’ toy dinosaurs—but he hopes he had the same sort of faith in the world that little Komi so proudly presents to him.

He turns to you, fingers already twitching with the urge to wrap his little finger around yours. “I think you have a point, Komi. Whaddya say?”

“I agree,” you say quietly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Atsumu gently takes your hand in his, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. Your skin is soft, a little bit clammy, but so is his. He swallows thickly, nervous for no reason at all, and says:

“____, I promise to love you forever and ever, until we both die.”

“I, um” —you inhale shakily— “I promise to do the same.”

He squeezes lightly and then lets go, letting his hand drop down to his lap. It was only a brief moment of contact—barely thirty seconds—but Atsumu’s finger twitches again; he aches to prolong the contact, to hold not just your finger but your entire palm, encase it within his hand’s confines, and never let you go.

“No, you didn’ do it properly!” Komi whines, her chubby fingers tightening around the headrest.

The volleyball player’s gaze snaps back to his small friend’s face. Gruffly, still wary, he asks, “What did we do wrong, Komi?”

“Mama an’ Papa always make me an’ Kento kiss after we fight! You should do the same!”

“But we haven’t fought, Komi,” you try to gently persuade her from exacerbating your situation.

It doesn’t work. Komi is adamant, as most children are, and Atsumu senses the beginning of a tantrum. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Komi and Kento’s parents napping in their seats, probably taking a well-deserved break from handling two kids. He doesn’t want to wake them up, all because he couldn’t satisfy their daughter’s harmless demands.

“All right, all right,” he says, flashing Komi a winning smile. “We’ll kiss to seal the deal, ‘kay?”

Next to him, he hears your sharp intake of breath. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, a marching band of his own. The words just slipped out—as they always do. It is his fatal flaw.

Before he can turn towards you, he freezes.

You kiss him on his cheek.

You kissed him.

He can feel remnants of your lip balm on his skin, a slightly oily residue that he doesn’t bother wiping away. His brain feels like it’s a laptop with the Blue Screen Of Death causing it to cease all functions; blood rushes to his ears.

“There,” you tell Komi with an air of finality. “Pinkie promise made properly.”

The girl giggles and claps her hands, but he can tell she’s getting tired as well. With one last parting smile, she turns back around, presumably to nap for the one hour of travel left.

Atsumu’s cheek tingles at the spot where you kissed him. He resists the urge to brush his fingers against it, conscious of the fact that you might find it weird. Instead, he forces down the giddy smile that threatens to overcome his face and joins you in silently observing the countryside whip past him through the window.

Jealousy is an emotion Miya Atsumu grapples with rather frequently, and it’s no exception when he sees his brother tackle you into a hug as soon as he lays eyes upon you both.

Meanwhile, he’s left standing at the genkan, carrying both your bags and suitcases. Osamu doesn’t even spare him a look. Atsumu scowls; is this what their brotherly love has been reduced to?

“Don’ mind me,” he announces, toeing off his shoes and socks. “‘m just a luggage carrier.”

“Guest room’s all yours,” his brother says, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

You snicker at Atsumu’s disgruntled expression and he rolls his eyes. Hefting a bag on his shoulder, he smirks and shoots back, “Someone’s gotta be the useful one. Cookin’ isn’t gonna save your life.”

“Dinner’s on you, Tsumu,” Osamu calls out to his retreating back. “And then we’ll see who survives after eatin’ your food.”

Atsumu blanches, but he sees the amused tilt of your head and flashes a winning grin at you instead, trying to quell the envy that bubbles in his chest when he sees Osamu whisper something into your ear and you giggle.

After depositing your bags in the guest room, Atsumu heads upstairs to put his own luggage away and wash up a little. He can hear the sounds of you and Osamu talking and laughing downstairs, taking the time to catch up on everything you’d missed in Hyogo district—about the twins’ mother and her little circle of friends, the news about when one of their neighbours threatened to cut down another person’s apple tree—and your delighted laugh sends a ripple of something warm down his spine.

He knows he’s well and truly fucked when he thinks about how much he wishes he could be the one to draw those elated sounds out of your mouth.

Downstairs, you’re doubled over with laughter as Osamu regales you with the story of their Grandma Miya accidentally crashing the wrong knitting circle and not realising until three meetings in that they were discussing trashy romance webnovels instead of actually knitting. Atsumu lingers at the top of the stairs, listening to your guffaws. You snort, once, and it sends you and Osamu into peals of laughter again. His fingers curl around the bannister.

The volleyball player steels himself, plastering on a confident smile as he saunters down the stairs.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” he drawls. “Ya laughin’ without me now?”

“Just tellin’ her about Grandma’s new knitting club,” Osamu says. “She’s startin’ to think she can direct a romantic drama now.”

“I mean, she probably could,” you agree, smiling. “From what I know of her, your grandmother is a force.”

Atsumu scoffs, dropping into the armchair closest to you. He mutters, “A force that guilt-tripped me into bringin’ a date to the wedding.”

Osamu snickers. You tilt your head, curious. “A date for Shohei’s wedding?”

“Yeah. And if I show up without one, I’m doomed. Grandma’ll start parading me around to every eligible bachelorette she’s ever met—the neighbours, the cashier at the konbini I said looks cute, random strangers on the street.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you’ll find someone perfect.”

Atsumu swallows down a groan. The last thing he needs is for you to think he’s taking his grandmother’s matchmaking seriously. “Nah, it’s a nightmare waiting to happen. Imagine Grandma introducin’ me to that one lady who brought natto salad to her friend’s birthday party.”

Osamu barks out a laugh. “Everyone ended up with really bad diarrhea that day,” he explains to you. “Guess Tsumu will hafta rely on me for cookin’ unless he wants bowel problems by the time he’s thirty.”

“As if,” Atsumu says quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Point is, I need someone to save me from this circus.”

“Hm, better start polishing your flirtin’ skills, Atsumu.” You give him a teasing smile.

His eyes lock with yours for a fraction of a second longer than he intends, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. You’re my date. I was thinkin’ of asking you. But his throat tightens; instead, he tosses a pillow at his twin brother to cover his nerves.

“You busy, Samu? Wanna be my date?” he jokes, deflecting easily.

Osamu catches the pillow without missing a beat, and then shudders. “Not a chance. The second they see me with you, they’ll think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up.

Atsumu clutches his chest dramatically. “Even you, ____? Betrayed in my own home!”

“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”

Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.

“Well, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ll find someone. Real classy. Someone who’ll shut Grandma up for a whole year.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, Tsumu.”

You glance at Atsumu again, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s something indecipherable in your eyes, the way your forehead is creased ever-so slightly. Before he can say anything, Osamu’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call, leaving the two of you alone.

“Who’s the lucky fake date?” you ask after a beat. You don’t meet his gaze.

He rubs the back of his neck, debating his next move. His heart pounds as he tries to muster some semblance of courage, but all he manages is a lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll know when I see her.”

“We have a problem.”

“We do?” Atsumu has only just woken up. His brain is still struggling to catch up with the rest of him; he blinks once, twice, waiting for your statement to sink in.

“Get up, loser,” you say, walking into his bedroom like you own the place. You flick his duvet off of his body. “We’re going shopping.”

Atsumu sits up, pressing his palms to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The duvet slips further down.

“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately turning around. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see anythin’.”

A shiver ripples through his body. Without the warmth of his blanket cocooning his body, the cold of the morning seeps into his skin. He’s trying to figure out why, exactly, he’s being presented with a marvellous view of your back, and what you’re apologising for, when the chill makes him shiver again.

Oh. He looks down at himself.

Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.

His cheeks flood with heat, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Er. I’m wearin’ pants,” he says, like that’s going to be of any help.

“I’m, um, going to leave,” you say. Your voice sounds stilted—likely due to being similarly embarrassed by Atsumu’s bare-chestedness. Atsumu grunts in agreement. You walk out slowly, gingerly tip-toeing over a discarded pair of sweatpants he left lying on the floor.

You shut the door behind you, face lowered, and exaggeratedly twist the doorknob until it lets out a click sound, as though you’re showing him that you have not seen anything indecent. As though his abs have personally offended you. Like you’re a National Geographic narrator documenting a rare, disgruntled creature in the wild.

The shirtless Miya Atsumu, with its ruffled plumage and tragic morning breath, appears to challenge the peace of its habitat.

Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

To his credit, Atsumu gives himself five minutes before he flops onto his stomach and screams into his pillow. Then, he rises and rummages through his closet for a shirt—he settles for a grey one that he probably stole from Osamu’s closet during high school—and, still mortified, slips out of his bedroom and heads downstairs to see if breakfast is ready.

He finds his mother and you sitting side-by-side on cushions by the chabudai. It’s the usual motherly nonsense she always spouts whenever you come over—gushing over your job, asking about your parents, and, of course, wondering if you have a boyfriend yet.

“Not yet, Miya-san,” you reply politely, though Atsumu can tell you’re a little embarrassed. Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, and it’s always a tic you’ve had, Atsumu’s discovered.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” his mother says. “Beautiful girls like you should have boys tripping over their own two feet to date you.”

Atsumu is sure he’s tripped over his own two feet in front of you enough times by now for him to be able to date you. He clears his throat and puts a little swagger to his step when he sits down opposite you. “Missed me, Ma?”

“Slightly lesser than how much I missed ____,” she says.

“Just adopt her already, why don’t you?” Atsumu quips, rolling his eyes.

His mother actually seems to consider this, as she presses her lips together. “Marry one of the twins, ____. You know I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law.”

Your eyes widen, and you flounder, beseechingly locking eyes with Atsumu and begging him to help you out. He smiles a little. He remembers why he brought you here in the first place. His smile gets wiped out in an instant.

It’s not as though Miya Atsumu doesn’t want to spend time with you. He knows Shohei would love to have you at his wedding, and Hyogo is a beautiful place to be at this time of the year. But the thought that he needs you to be a scapegoat to appease Grandma Miya niggles at the back of his mind, unforgiving. He really should tell you, he thinks.

Thankfully, you’re saved from his mother’s matchmaking attempts by Osamu, who walks in balancing bowls of rice and miso soup. He sets them down on the table expertly—Onigiri Miya has trained him well—and plops down on a cushion next to his brother.

“Sorry for bein’ late,” he says gruffly. “Forgot to add salt in the miso.”

It smells delicious. Atsumu has to admit that he’s missed his brother’s cooking. After surviving on a majority of meals that were either konbini snacks or cheap ramen in Tokyo, home-cooked food makes his stomach grumble in a good way.

The four of you chorus your gratitude for the meal with bowed heads and folded palms, and then dig in. Atsumu slurps up the miso soup, chewing on a piece of tofu. It’s heavenly—it really is, and he nudges his brother’s side with his elbow to convey it. Osamu nudges back, and the table is silent for some time.

“Oh, by the way,” his mother says, “we need to get your suits from the dry cleaners. I have to go help your aunt out with last-minute wedding preparations, so I need one of you to do it.”

“Not me,” Osamu says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Osamu,” she continues, giving him a small smile. “That’s why I asked ____ to wake up Atsumu early today. Both of you still have the same build, so Atsumu can go to the tailor’s to see if it fits or if he needs any adjustments.”

“Oh,” says Atsumu. You don’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know we had actual work to do today.”

“I also offered to buy ____ a dress, but she refused.” His mother casts a quick, affectionate glance at you. “So, Atsumu, I need you to buy her one, all right? Get her a gorgeous one.”

“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.

Osamu looks curiously between you both. “Didn’t ____ tell you all this when she came to wake you up, Tsumu?”

A wad of rice gets lodged in Atsumu’s throat. You accidentally inhale miso soup through your nose. Both of you cough and splutter.

Osamu frantically pats Atsumu’s back, while you, eyes watering, accept a glass of water from the twins’ mother. Something unfurls inside Atsumu’s chest at the thought of spending the whole day with you, getting his suit tailored and buying you a dress.

It’s almost like you’re actually his date for his cousin’s wedding.

Is it weird that Miya Atsumu wants to see your reaction to him wearing a suit? Is he being presumptuous in the way he lifts his chin and puffs out his chest so that the tuxedo fits him better? What are your thoughts about men wearing tuxedos and ties, in general? Should he buy a tie that matches your dress?

This, and other such mysteries of life, are what the volleyball player ponders over in the tiny fitting room while one of the seamsters kneels in front of him and measures the length of his leg with measuring tape.

Atsumu has to constantly remind himself that you don’t know he’s your date yet. The wedding is tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to stick it out until then.

“All done,” the seamster announces, getting back to his feet. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be able to alter this to the right size.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, pulling back the curtain and heading outside.

You’re sitting on one of the couches they’ve kept by the corner of the shop, scrolling through something on your phone. The bag with your new dress—his mother’s gift to you—is placed on the floor by your feet. He doesn’t know what the dress looks like; you’d insisted on buying it secretly because it was, apparently, embarrassing to go dress-shopping with a close friend who happens to be a well-built, devilishly handsome, popular, famous pro-volleyball player.

Not that you said those words exactly, but Atsumu can fill in the blanks.

He plops down next to you, leaning back and circling his head to get rid of the cricks in his neck. You put your phone away and glance at him.

“Take a picture,” Atsumu says, not looking back at you. “Lasts longer.”

“If only your face actually looked good in photos.”

“My face looks excellent. Haven’t ya seen me and Bokuto in the Calpis advertisement?” It was a small gig they’d gotten right after the Olympics season. Kuroo had said it would make for good PR, and Atsumu and Bokuto jumped at the chance to have their small five minutes of fame. Shouyou had sulked about not being a part of it for two weeks straight afterwards.

“I have, actually,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I wouldn’t ever miss out on that. I’m surprised no one here’s recognised you yet.”

“Livin’ under a rock, the whole lot of them,” Atsumu mutters.

You laugh softly. “The fame’s gone to your head, Atsumu. Don’t forget me when you and the team go gallivanting across the country.”

“You know I wouldn’t ever be able to forget you,” he says, after a beat. “You’re, like, a part of me now.”

You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”

Atsumu’s cheeks burn. How is it that he always, always fumbles so much in front of you? It’s like his brain sees you and immediately decides to unplug itself for maintenance. He gulps, thinking of ways to salvage whatever dignity he has left.

“‘S not weird,” he forces out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I think you spent more time at our house durin’ elementary school than you did at your own.”

“Fair enough,” you acquiesce. Shifting slightly, you eye the bit of fabric from your dress that pokes out of the paper bag. “Still can’t believe your mom insisted on getting me a dress,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingertips against the edge of the bag. “It’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“She just likes you a lot,” he responds. “Honestly, I’m startin’ the think she likes you more than me or Osamu.”

“That’s not a very high bar.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in the action. “But it’s probably ‘cause I didn’t dunk her favourite teapot into the toilet when I was seven.”

“That was an accident! And I apologised more than a hundred times!”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the apology totally made up for the fact that you made Osamu stick his hand down there and fish it out for you.”

“Why d’you always take his side?” Atsumu grumbles. “Can’t ever catch a break with both of you around, I swear.”

You lean back, shoulder brushing against his. Atsumu can feel your gaze roving over his face; he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling strangely self-conscious.

“Maybe,” you say, “I just enjoy making fun of you. You always make fun of me back. It’s nice.”

Atsumu swallows hard, trying to focus on anything else—the tacky wallpaper, the sound of pop music blaring from the shop next door. Anything but the way your words make his heart somersault, or the way your smile lingers for a second more than usual.

“That’s cruel, yaknow,” he manages to say. “Gangin’ up on me all the time. Makes a guy feel unloved.”

You stay quiet, thoughtfully steepling your fingers under your chin. Atsumu glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your expression doesn’t betray anything, until you reach out and gently grasp his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Didn’t realise you didn’t like it.”

Miya Atsumu is certain—not for the first time in his life—that he’s utterly doomed. It’s a little bit pathetic, really. It started back in middle school, and still, somehow, he’s unable to move on. You’ve consumed him. Your thumb brushes over the veins on his wrist; he wonders if you can feel his pulse racing.

“Don’t stop,” he says, because what else does a fool in love say?

“Atsumu, I—”

You’re interrupted by the seamster, who calls Atsumu over to the register to finish his billing. He grits his teeth. This is the worst sort of interruption ever. He turns to face you properly, because maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear the tailor, you’ll tell him what you were about to say.

But your face is carefully blank, your lips pressed together. “Go on,” you tell him. “Don’t forget to collect Osamu’s tux, too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu nods once, twice. He gently extricates his hand from your grasp, as much as he dislikes it. “I’ll, uh, go do that, then.”

“Okay.”

Atsumu hates this. He’s not sure if he even wants to attend the wedding anymore. All his relatives are going to heckle him about his love life—and that’s fine, he can deal with them. He just doesn’t want his grandmother’s face to crumple with disappointment on finding out her grandson’s whole “relationship” was a farce. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pays for the alterations done to his and his brother’s outfits, and gestures for you to accompany him outside.

You don’t meet his eyes the entire way back home.

It’s the eve of the wedding reception, and Miya Atsumu can’t find you anywhere.

The reception hall is lovely. Golden lanterns hang from the ceiling, enveloping everyone in a soft, warm glow. Vases of peonies and cherry blossoms, intertwined with sprigs of baby’s breath, are placed on top of the soft linen covering each table. The delicate strains of a koto and shamisen ensemble weave through the air. The centerpiece stage, framed by cascading fairy lights and flowing silk, bear the names of the bride and the groom, written in exquisite calligraphy. An array of traditional Japanese sweets and cups of sake are placed on a long table by the corner of the hall.

Shohei and Sakura sit by the shintaku, looking resplendent in their outfits, surrounded by family members and friends. He’s already congratulated them, clapping his cousin on the back and winking proudly at Sakura. You’re nowhere near them, so he tries the snack table instead.

Atsumu hides his mounting worry by shoving a piece of mochi into his mouth. He racks his brain, trying to think of other possible hideouts where he can find you. It’s not like you to disappear like this—and it’s a shame, really, because all he wants is to be by your side this evening. Osamu is posing for a group photo with his second cousins and his mother is helping his aunt with the gift bags, but you’re not anywhere near them either.

He knows you won’t be at the smoking area where his uncle has held court all evening, but he decides to check anyway. Atsumu gives the area a cursory glance, confirming that you’re not among them, before hastily walking out. He curses under his breath, his usual confidence giving way to an unfamiliar, gnawing unease.

You’re supposed to be here. You said you’d be here.

He adjusts the lapels of his tailored suit and forces himself to think rationally. You’re probably just outside, he tells himself, getting some air or hiding from the relentless matchmaking attempts of meddlesome aunts. It’s probably fine. It has to be.

Atsumu’s footsteps turn towards the garden doors. His urgency is masked by the cocky, practiced demeanour he wears like a second skin.

“Atsumu, boy, where d’you think you’re running off to now?”

The volleyball player freezes mid-step. He exhales slowly and drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair before turning around.

Grandma Miya stands by the hall’s entrance, wearing a lavender kimono that glows under the warm lights. Her lacquered cane gleams as she taps it softly against the polished floor. Despite her diminutive frame, his grandmother commands the space effortlessly. Sharp eyes—so like his own—pin him in place.

“‘M not runnin’ anywhere, Grandma,” Atsumu says, summoning a sheepish smile that he hopes will placate her. “Just, uh, checkin’ on something.”

Her eyebrows lift, arching in a way that shows she’s wholly unconvinced. “Checking on something or someone?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, an excuse perched on the tip of his tongue, but she raises a hand and continues before he can say anything. “Thought you ought to know—there’s a pretty girl standing outside in the garden cussin’ out your name like she’s auditioning for a sailor’s choir. Care to explain why?”

“Wait—outside?”

“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.

“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.

“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”

“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”

His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”

“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.

“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”

Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”

“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”

“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”

He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.

His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”

There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.

“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.

“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”

Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”

“But what if—”

“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”

Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.

The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.

It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.

“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”

He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”

A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.

“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”

“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”

Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.

“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.

“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”

You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.

“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.”

Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.

“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.

“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.

You don’t pull away—not immediately.

He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late.

He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself.

It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely.

“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.

“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”

You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”

“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.

“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”

He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt.

Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.

“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”

Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.

“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”

Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.

#atsumu #miya atsumu #hq #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu!!

1K notes · View notes

revehae · 2 months ago

Text

girls goon too

pairing ↠ jeno x (f) reader x haechan

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) / face fucking, virgin!reader, dubcon

summary ↠ jeno can’t take it anymore. you just won’t stop gooning in your bedroom for all the world to hear, and he’s tired of it. he’s pretty sure all you do with your spare time is watch porn. haechan suggests that he just jerks off, but his morals won’t let him; until he decides that he can’t hold back anymore. he has to shut you up.

wc ↠ 5.3k

a/n ↠ um… i know i said No to Nohyuck but i saw these pics of jeno and started hearing The Voices. i hope you guys appreciate me losing sleep over this. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“she’s doing it again,” jeno grumbled, walking into haechan’s bedroom. only because the door was ajar, though. he knew the sight he’d walk in on if it was completely closed would be worse than what you were surely doing.

haechan snickered, eyes fixed on his computer. “what’s the occasion? sixth-month gooning anniversary?”

jeno scoffed. he didn’t know why you did it. he thought jisung was bad, but you were next level. “i thought surely she would give us a break for november.”

“and she did,” haechan quipped, moving his mouse. “for all of three days.”

that was true. for the very first three days of november, the house had been relatively quiet apart from haechan’s shouting when he was losing. then, on the fourth day, it was back to hearing your annoyingly perfect fucking moans in the afternoon.

and god forbid your parents would be coming home late. you were relentless on those days, touching yourself to no end. jeno couldn’t stand it. he hated minding his business, trying to rest or work or do anything that didn’t require thinking about the sounds you were making as you persistently edged yourself.

but he couldn’t help himself. sometimes, he could hear your moans even when you weren’t there, and that was when he knew he was finally losing what little bit was left of his goddamn mind.

haechan, on the other hand, didn’t seem as miffed. jeno was certain his brother could hear the noises you were making down the hall, but he was sitting here without a care in the world, typing an email to his professor of all things. which made no sense to jeno, considering he knew how much haechan liked noisy sex.

“okay, i’ll bite,” jeno said, crossing his arms. “how in the hell are you okay with this?”

haechan shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a smirk. he was well aware of the fact that jeno always got worked up when it came to you, which was fair. you were the biggest minx this world had ever known. “well, first of all,” haechan started, snickering again. “there’s a thing called jerking off. i’m sure you’ve heard of it. it’s really popular amongst guys we know.”

jeno looked almost scandalized. “i’m not jerking off to my stepsister.”

“then, you’re an idiot,” haechan retorted. “she’s given us enough material until new years. of the year after next.”

“it’s wrong.”

haechan rolled his eyes. “you’ve got such a stick up your ass, like a proper princess or something.”

“i’ll beat your ass, hyuck,” jeno warned.

haechan threw his hands up. “i’m just saying. i’m not telling you to stick her in a washing machine, bro. but the answer’s obvious. just jerk off. you know you want to.”

jeno sighed. had he thought about it? obviously. but he couldn’t shake how wrong it felt, even if you made him perpetually horny. “i want to smack the shit out of you right now, but i haven’t done it yet.”

rather than recoil, haechan laughed. that asswipe finds humor in everything, jeno thought to himself, irritated. “and i commend your patience, man,” haechan replied. “but it’s only making you more frustrated when you could just bust a nut and be happy.”

jeno was thinking about it now. well, he had thought about it countless times, but he had never allowed himself to stoop that low. you were his younger stepsister and it was his responsibility to take care of you. not picture your face as you moaned and imagine how you would feel, tight and sticky and creamy as you wrapped around his…

haechan broke the silence, musing more so to himself, “maybe we should put her in the washing machine.”

jeno’s eyes flickered. “what the hell, man?”

“my bad,” haechan replied, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “i was just thinking out loud.”

fuck, now jeno was picturing that too. your house had one of those washing machines that opened from the top, not the front. too many times had jeno seen you struggle to take your clothes out, dangling over the washing machine and nearly falling inside. he would offer to help, every now and then, but he liked watching you climb the washing machine just to get your clothes from the very bottom.

it was much more realistic for you to get stuck in that than the kinds of washing machines in porn.

haechan broke the silence again, still thinking. it was his greatest skill and simultaneously his worst habit. “if you’re so against it, why haven’t you just asked her to shut the fuck up then?”

that was a good question. jeno wasn’t the kind of guy to shy away from an altercation, not with friends and not with family. he had certainly never shown haechan any mercy. he loved his brother, but he was annoying as all fuck.

“i see,” haechan said, smirking. see, annoying. “it’s because you don’t really want her to stop.”

jeno sighed. “yeah, fine. i don’t want her to stop. happy?”

haechan burst out laughing. always laughing, always scheming. he was going to get a stocking full of coal for christmas. “i have an idea.”

“oh, god,” jeno groaned.

haechan finally pressed send on his email and turned around in his desk chair. “hear me out. we should fuck her.”

jeno gawked in disbelief. then again, none of haechan’s ideas were ever truly brilliant. “you’re insane,” he murmured.

“thanks,” haechan chirped, the insult rolling off his shoulders. “just sleep on it.”

“you know what? sure,” jeno replied, walking out of his brother’s room and shutting the door. he didn’t want to hear another word.

he went about his day like everything was normal, going on a walk so that he didn’t have to hear you, eating dinner and watching netflix in the living room to ignore the fact that you existed altogether. and then he went to bed.

jeno couldn’t fucking sleep. on it, over it, under it. he couldn’t sleep whatsoever.

it wasn’t like you were just loudly moaning all day long, that would be absurd. but every now and then, there would be a whimper you’d let slip. jeno could tell that you were actually trying to be quiet. but this was one of those nights where your parents wouldn’t be back and you were taking advantage of that. again.

jeno decided that he was at his breaking point. the need for you was too goddamn strong and he was tired of pretending that he was better. he couldn’t ignore it anymore. he couldn’t fight it, suppress it.

he threw the blankets off his bed and went to haechan’s room, the door closed this time. he knocked on the door and called out, “stop jerking off and get your ass out here.”

jeno heard a groan, one of the disgruntled sort. a few seconds later, haechan opened the door, a scowl on his face. “what the hell, man? your voice ruined my nut.”

it was jeno’s turn to laugh. he clasped a hand on haechan’s shoulder. “don’t worry. you’ll be in the mood again in no time.”

haechan lifted a brow. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

jeno nodded.

“we’re gonna teach her a lesson.”

“we’re gonna put her in the washing machine?”

jeno’s smile instantly dropped and his hand fell from haechan’s shoulder. “why the fuck are you both so addicted to porn?” he asked.

the excited shimmer in haechan’s eyes died a little. “no, i was… i was just kidding. let’s go.”

jeno sighed and started down the hall to your bedroom, deciding not to argue haechan on that. it would be a waste of valuable time.

jeno knocked on the door and called out your name. “can we come in?”

there was audible shuffling as you called back, “just a moment!”

haechan glanced over at jeno. “so, how we doing this?”

jeno looked calm, collected. as if fucking his stepsister was something he did on the regular. “just follow my lead.”

you opened the door, a towel thrown around you. but your skin looked damp with sweat, not water. your face was a little flushed. it was obvious that you were naked. “um, can i help you guys?” you asked, somewhat breathless.

jeno looked you up and down subtly. haechan, on the other hand, was damn near ogling you. the former repeated, “can we come in?”

“um, i guess,” you murmured, stepping out of the way so that they could enter your bedroom.

haechan closed the door behind himself, not that there was anyone to worry about. it was only the three of you in the house at the moment.

jeno glanced away, looking for traces of what you had been doing. he found them very quickly; your laptop shut on your bed, the blankets messily thrown on top to conceal the damp spots in your sheets, and your shirt and shorts on the floor by your bed, implying you were only in your underwear.

“is there something you guys need?” you asked, a bit annoyed at having been interrupted.

jeno walked towards your desk where your laptop probably should have been, though he saw something fearful flash in your eyes. his brows furrowed, but he didn’t inquire about it. he would figure it out on his own. “do we have to need something to want to visit you?” jeno asked, a small smile on his face. “i haven’t seen you all day long. we just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”

“oh, that’s… very sweet of you,” you murmured. “as you can see, i’m perfectly alive and breathing.”

“yeah, you’re breathing a lot,” haechan commented.

jeno chuckled. he moved away from your desk and instead towards your nightstand, noticing your eyes still watching him like a hawk. “relax. what’s got you so worked up?”

“i’m not worked up,” you lied, eyes darting between him and your bed.

that was when it clicked in jeno’s brain. the bed. you didn’t want him to see the bed. he chuckled again, sitting down on top of it. “are you okay? you look a little… flushed.”

“yeah,” haechan chimed in, moving your hair out of your face. you jolted. you had been paying so much attention to jeno that you failed to notice haechan had creeped up behind you. “and sweaty.”

you released a shaky breath. you were nervous, but you couldn’t tell them that. because then they would start asking questions. “i’m okay, guys. you can go.”

“why are you trying to get rid of us?” haechan asked, leaning in a little too close. “it’s almost like you’re hiding something.”

“what are you watching?” jeno asked, grabbing your laptop.

your eyes widened in horror. “no, wait!” you exclaimed. you tried to stop him, but haechan was quick to pull you back against his chest.

jeno opened your laptop, being met with a twitter porn browser. he feigned surprise. “oh, wow,” he said, merely blinking. “wow.”

“what is it?” haechan called from the other side of the room.

jeno turned the laptop to face you and haechan. “guess she’s really into… creampies, sucking dick, and doggy style.”

your face was hot with embarrassment and you thrashed in haechan’s arms. “this is an invasion of privacy! you guys jerk off, don’t you?”

“jerk off? sure. watch porn for hours on end? no, i don’t,” jeno answered, setting your laptop down. he moved your blankets out of the way, revealing a few damp spots on your bed. “how long did you have to sit here for this to happen?”

you felt very exposed at the moment. like your deepest, darkest secret was steadily reaching its way around the whole world. “i’m not that bad,” you murmured, shy.

haechan laughed. he tugged at the towel and brought his hand to your chest, pinching your nipple. “not that bad? you almost gave poor jeno over there an aneurysm with how enticing you’ve been.”

your whined when haechan squeezed your chest, tearing your gaze away from jeno to look up at him with wide eyes. “what are you doing?”

“fuck. yeah, that’s what i’m talking about, princess,” haechan groaned, pressing himself against your ass. “those sweet sounds have been driving him mad.”

any other moment, jeno would have narrowed his eyes at haechan and called him disgusting. but this was different. jeno didn’t care about what was right or wrong anymore. maybe he never truly had. what was certain right now was that any desire to behave in a morally acceptable manner was outweighed by the desire to fuck you brainless.

“bring her over here,” jeno said, shoving your laptop of the way to make room.

haechan grabbed your waist and led you towards the bed, pushing you towards his brother. jeno grabbed your chin, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “gooning isn’t healthy,” he told you straightforwardly. “you know what you need?”

you glanced at him, fretful. the towel had completely fallen at this point, leaving you solely in your water, just as jeno had pieced together. “what?” you whispered.

“a fuck,” jeno replied unabashedly. “you’re so damn touch-starved. always complaining about how you want a boyfriend, but you never go out, because you’re too busy playing with your clit.”

your face was hot. honestly, they hadn’t given you the opportunity to cool down. but you had to admit that he was right. compared to how much you touched yourself, you didn’t go out enough.

“have you ever even had sex?” haechan asked, running his hands up your thighs.

you wanted to hide so fucking bad, but that clearly wasn’t an option. “no,” you replied, ashamed.

jeno snickered, because apparently that was funny. “obviously,” he said, moving his thumb to your bottom lip. “this pretty body has gone untouched for too many years, that’s all. once you get fucked, you’ll be as good as new. worked for jisung. didn’t it, hyuck?”

“yep,” haechan chirped, nodding. “he was the biggest gooner i’ve ever seen. jaemin had so many roommate horror stories. then, we got him some pussy, and he’s all better now. actually goes outside and gets light that isn’t from his laptop.”

“so, what do you say?” jeno asked, turning your head back to him. “want something other than your fingers inside you?”

your heart racing. were you really about to agree to getting fucked by your stepbrothers? when it was over, you could blame it on the fact that you genuinely were touch-starved and desperate for a release for all this pent-up frustration.

and because you really, really needed to come after having avoided it for hours, you nodded your head.

“words, princess,” haechan said, his hands still gripping your thighs as he thought about how soft they were. “say it. say, ‘i want you to fuck me, haechan.’”

you swallowed, but you weren’t going to disobey. “i… i want you to fuck me, haechan.”

“jeez, you don’t have to beg. i’ll do it,” haechan replied, playful as ever. “and because it’s your first time, i think we should do missionary. is that okay, princess?”

“that’s… fine,” you murmured timidly. it didn’t really matter to you how he fucked you. you just wanted someone inside you.

haechan was beaming, like he had prayed for this day and it was finally happening. “good. and if you ever want me to fuck you on all fours, you know the way to my room.”

the way haechan was looking at you was entirely overwhelming, so you glanced over at jeno instead, though he was also watching you intently. “what about… you?” you asked.

jeno chuckled, thumb sweeping over your lips. “i don’t need to fuck your pussy. i’ll leave that to haechan. i just want to fuck this pretty little mouth that’s been keeping me up at night.”

haechan, growing impatient, tugged at your panties. you lifted your hips, watching him drag them down your legs. “jesus,” he murmured. “they’re fucking drenched.”

“they better be,” jeno replied with a chuckle, stepping out of his pants. “long as she’s probably been wearing them.”

haechan spread your legs, wanting to get a good look at the treasure hidden between them. he moaned at the mere sight of your pussy, dripping with arousal. “fuck, you don’t even need prep,” he mused.

as if you couldn’t get any more embarrassed than you already were. they knew exactly what to say to make you want to hide your face beneath a pillow and hopefully suffocate to death.

despite his declaration about you not needing prep, haechan couldn’t help but drag his tongue along your folds, which made you gasp in surprise. it wasn’t a tentative lick, either; he was confident and unreluctant. you were clearly sensitive, but he didn’t seem to care, eager to suck and lick at you.

“haechan,” you whimpered, involuntarily trying to close your legs. he swore his dick twitched when you said his name like that.

all the while, jeno was stroking himself beside you, half hard. for the first time thinking about you at the same time that he touched his dick, and god, he really should have done it sooner. just the thought of you made his blood pump harder.

haechan pulled back after a moment or two when he was finally sated. “sorry,” he apologized, completely inauthentic. “just wanted a taste.”

jeno tapped your cheek. “open up, baby.”

you slowly opened your mouth, wide enough for him to push inside. which jeno seized the opportunity to do as soon as it presented itself. he was impatient now, tired of waiting. you had tortured him long enough with those pretty noises; it was time you paid him back for tolerating your horniness.

“fuck,” jeno cursed upon feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock.

haechan snickered. it was amusing to him that only a few hours ago, jeno said he was insane for suggesting that they fuck you. and now here he was with his cock down your throat. a few hours could truly change a man, for worse and for better. “how’s it going?” haechan asked.

jeno closed his eyes, trying to go slow before he started fucking your throat with a purpose. he didn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but damn, he was getting pretty damn close. “how do you think?” he retorted.

you watched jeno as he slowly moved inside your mouth, though his patience was obviously dwindling by the second. part of you wanted to see what it would look like when he lost it all, but the other dreaded it, uncertain whether or not you could handle it.

you were still a virgin, after all. in the important and unimportant ways. you had never been fucked. you had most certainly never had your throat fucked until this very moment. the furthest you’d ever gone with a boy was a little bit of groping while kissing and even that was awkward.

haechan licked his lips, appreciating that they were coated in your arousal. “taste so good, princess,” he said, dropping his hands down to his shorts.

you would have gawked when you glanced down and noticed the dent in them, even if it weren’t for the fact that your mouth was preoccupied. when did he get so hard?

haechan started to undress himself, pleased now that he had gotten a taste of you and eager to be inside you. he was quick to shed his shorts and the layer underneath, unafraid to show just how desperate he was. for him, it was easy to accept his attraction to you and even easier to act on it now that he had your consent.

he climbed onto the bed, grabbing your thighs again and spreading them apart. he gave them a few affectionate, departing kisses and sat up to grab his cock, bringing it between them. “say ‘goofer gooner’ if you’re ready,” haechan joked, knowing you couldn’t speak.

you furrowed your brows, but you couldn’t even focus on his nonsense because jeno was noticeably forgoing all restraint. could you blame him? your mouth was warm, alive, and everything about you seemed to drive him straight through the brink of insanity.

“you know, jeno,” haechan started, gazing down at the little distance between your bodies. “you were right. i’m already in the mood again.”

you had that effect on him, on them. haechan knew he probably should have fought it better, but he truly saw no point. it was easier to fold and surrender to the fact that he found you infuriatingly sexy, despite your tendencies. and with nothing more to say, he slowly but surely pressed himself inside you.

haechan tipped his head back, already moaning like a bitch and he wasn’t even fully sheathed inside you yet. “holy fuck,” he said, his grip on your thighs tightening.

you whimpered, the sound muffled by jeno’s cock as his balls slapped against your chin. you immediately pulsed around haechan’s cock, clinging to him like now that he was there, you would never let him go.

“holy fuck,” haechan moaned again, stopping for a moment as if the breath had been completely sucked out of him. “so fucking wet, my dick just slides in.”

he was damn near flabbergasted. maybe there was benefit to you gooning for hours on end, a benefit that he got to reap. he had never seen anyone this wet before, much less felt anything this wet, and it was taking a toll on him. his head was already reeling.

“okay,” haechan said, more so to himself. he was adjusting. “okay. fuck. i’m gonna move.”

and he did, growing more and more mesmerized with every thrust of his hips. his mouth hung open, moans of your name and explicit curses dangling from his lips with a shrill touch to them that only made you even more aroused.

to say nothing of the sounds jeno was making, almost directly in your ear. he was so close to your face that you could explode. he was finally moving comfortably, fucking your throat with a rhythm that almost made it hard to breathe.

though you had no intention of making him stop. you had fantasized about making yourself available for this purpose many, many times. not necessarily to your stepbrother, but well, it wasn’t like you were discriminating. especially not when he sounded so goddamn sexy and his face was tensing the way it was in pleasure.

it was strange, but you found yourself going from solely craving the experience to wanting to pleasure them. and it would appear that you were doing a fantastic job without hardly even trying, all things considered.

haechan was gripping on your thighs for dear life as if without the support, he would get blown away into the eighth dimension. or maybe drown in how wet you were, gushing around his cock, if not for him using your soft thighs as an anchor to keep him afloat.

“this sweet fucking pussy,” he sighed, losing himself in the vice of you. he had set a pace too, fucking you without intention of stopping. with every fiber of his being, deep and hard. “i could fuck you forever.”

you could sit here and take it forever. you had never felt so full in your life. your fingers hardly did the job, always reaching just shy of where you needed them instead of completely offering you the satisfaction you’d long craved. and here haechan was handing it to you on a silver platter.

the only problem was that you felt slightly overwhelmed with so much happening at one time in two different holes. you didn’t know who to pay attention to; jeno fucking your throat with a vengeance, eager to gain something out of your mouth for once, or haechan railing you to kingdom come, making you feel hot everywhere.

you found yourself trying to juggle both, eyes flitting between them, moaning around jeno’s dick at haechan’s angled thrusts and throbbing around haechan at every guttural groan that slipped from jeno’s mouth. you couldn’t help yourself; it was too goddamn arousing.

jeno noticed how fucked out you looked, eyes rolling back to another timeline, and it was doing unimaginable things to his cock. you looked better than he could have ever imagined and he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he left you hoarse and rasping.

with that thought, he grabbed your hair to push you down and started to fuck your head against the mattress rather roughly, which caught you by surprise. you tried to take it, you really did, but it was overwhelming. you could barely breathe.

“take it,” he hissed, holding your head in place. you looked pretty like this, struggling to keep up with his hectic movements.

your eyes were watering as his cock went too deep for you to handle, and you started gagging. jeno moaned, but pulled your head off him to let you relax for a second, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and the head of his cock.

“breathe,” he said, letting one hand run through your hair almost tenderly.

you nodded, willing yourself to relax. all the while, jeno marveled at how pretty you looked with saliva on your face and tears strolling down your cheeks.

“you guys okay up there?” haechan asked from between your legs, having noticed the action.

“we’re fine,” jeno answered on your behalf. he moved his hand from your hair to your cheek. “you ready?”

you nodded your head. you couldn’t shake the urge to really make him proud, to satisfy all his inappropriate cravings. it was the least you could do when you had been tantalizing him for months on end.

“good girl,” jeno whispered, guiding his cock back to your mouth and this time using your hair to push your head onto his cock as he fucked your throat.

you moaned at the pet name, because something about the way it sounded coming from him made your head spin. maybe you were just horny and in dire need of a fuck like he’d said. maybe after you came, all of these feelings would wear off, and you would feel somewhat sane again.

but you couldn’t deny that you were somewhat indulging in your fantasies here. you didn’t necessarily hate the the way jeno was treating you, even if it was a little beyond your limits and more than a little rough. but limits were just boundaries you’d yet explored.

haechan was a different situation altogether. your pussy was still sensitive from the hours of playing with it and you were already about to come much before him. there was a familiar heat in your stomach and festering throb of energy in your core, only more intense than you had ever experienced.

but haechan recognized it, even without being able to hear your sweet moans of his name. he could see it in your body language and it flattered him in a way; he always felt proud when he lasted longer than the person he was fucking, especially without necessarily even trying to finish them quicker.

“she’s gonna come,” haechan pointed out, grinning. “come for me, princess. come on this dick. you know you want to.”

it was like he your voodoo doll or something, because merely seconds after those words parted from his mouth, you were shuddering and tightening around his cock with climax, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes clenching.

haechan let out the pitchiest moan ever when you throbbed around him repeatedly. words could not describe how good it felt, but sounds could. and the sounds he was making were sensational, only contributing to the mind-numbing pleasure wrecking you from within.

“goddamn,” haechan said, mesmerized by how hard you came. it was probably warranted after hours of resisting.

but the other thing on haechan’s mind was how much wetter your pussy sounded, sticky with your release. he whined, literally going mad. he knew that his own orgasm wasn’t far out and just the squelch of your cunt could easily finish him off.

jeno was facing a similar predicament, fucking your mouth without restraint and not letting you escape his thrusts. “fuck, i’m gonna come,” he groaned. “swallow it. or don’t. it’s your sheets.”

the last thing you of all people cared about was having your sheets ruined. at the moment, you were more burdened with how sore your throat felt and how overstimulated your pussy was being fucked despite having already orgasmed. it literally felt like you’d had the soul fucked out of you.

you didn’t even know it was possible at this point, but jeno’s hips went faster. it was a brutal but steady pace, which was somewhat admirable. he was trying to get himself there, right over the edge, knowing release was only seconds away.

with a few more smacks, jeno released down your throat with the sexiest groan you’d heard, one that claimed every award. when you’d milked him of every drop, his hands tight on the sides of your face, his grip on your head slacked and he slowly pulled your mouth off him.

you swallowed what you could, but he had came so goddamn much at once, it was borderline ridiculous. what you couldn’t take dripped down your chin, blending with the saliva from the messy fucking.

haechan glanced up at you and the sight of your cum-stained face triggered something so primal in him that he knew he wasn’t going to last another minute. “princess, where do you want me to come?” he asked breathlessly.

“inside,” you replied with maybe half your voice, if even. it hurt to speak. the sound pleased jeno.

the thought of coming inside your pussy had haechan levitating and was the last push he needed to bring himself past the cusp of ecstasy. his hips stuttered as he came inside you, crying out half of your name, leaning on top of you as he buried his load inside your warm, wet, gushing, sticky hole.

a satisfied hum escaped you when you felt his cum seeping inside your pussy. why did it feel so good?

“d-don’t move yet,” you whispered, because it was all you could muster.

haechan glanced up at you, recognizing the look of pleasure on your face. if he had the energy, he would tease you about how you wanted to feel him cum inside you, but he needed to catch his breath. so he answered with a nod.

jeno whistled. this had gone better than he’d hoped. “well goddamn. you’re just a virgin slut aren’t you?”

haechan chuckled breathlessly. “she took that shit like a champ. i’m impressed.”

jeno kissed your forehead. “you did so good,” he whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i’ll get you some water in a second.”

you nodded, appreciating the tender side after all that had just happened. your heart felt a little lighter than usual, despite its racing. you had so many questions, but you didn’t want to strain your voice. was it normal to feel like a different person after having sex for the first time?

haechan was going to pull out, but seeing the look on your face, he decided to stay nestled inside you for a little longer. “you okay?”

you bobbed your head. “i’m good.”

haechan snickered and teased, “whoa there, batman. what have you done with my sister?”

you rolled your eyes, but giggled. jeno joined in on the laughter, but he added, “don’t speak. you’ll make it worse.”

haechan sighed contentedly. knowing that you wouldn’t say anything in response, he decided to tease, “our little gooner.”

you glared at haechan wordlessly, conveying a lot of different things with your eyes.

jeno translated playfully, “i think that means ‘fuck you.’”

“again?” haechan joked. “what can i expect from a gooner. but hey, i guess girls can goon too.”

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #lee haechan smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #tw: dubcon #tw: stepcest #revehae fics

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everytimewetouch-dot-mp3 · 2 months ago

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svsss omegaverse au where only those with profound cultivation ability develop into alphas or omegas. this means both powerful spiritual cultivators and powerful demon lines

under luo binghe’s rule, any alpha or omega in the general populace is brought to bingge’s palace. omega women are added to the harem without question, tho there are a notable few alpha women there as well (shl and lmy).

sy transmigrates into a wandering omega cultivator exploring the world (the world building was the best part of that dumbfuck novel and now he gets to experience it firsthand!!!). his exploration quickly takes him from the few safe remaining human cities and into the wider world.

he’s chased for days by different demon groups until one finally catches him, because junshang’s been hell-bent on finding some particular male omega for the past few months. he’s put out a bounty and everything; whoever brings the right omega gets riches and their choice of one treasure from junshang’s vault.

everyone thinks he’s gonna kill this dude. they assume the omega wronged junshang somehow and he wants revenge. sy is scared absolutely shitless. these guys tie him up in immortal binding cables and beat him up a little bit. by the time they make it to the underground palace, sy looks fuckin rough

and surprisingly, lord luo is not pleased by this. so displeased, in fact, that he cuts the demons down right there in the middle of his reception hall? sy is 100% sure he’s gonna be next and he nearly passes out when bingge approaches. (part of him is screaming because!!!! luo binghe!!! in the flesh!!!!! with an air of power and deadly beauty and strength!!!! the protagonist!!!)

lbg studies sy’s face for a minute, then has servants take him away. he’s bathed (THOROUGHLY!! maybe TOO thoroughly!!! he can wash his own ass!! thank you!!) and styled, and with the cables removed he can finally heal his injuries from being captured.

the next time they meet, lbg seems weirdly angry. his hands are shaking and his face is red, and every time he makes eye contact with sy, he growls and looks sharply away. he’s definitely barely holding back from killing sy!! maybe it’s because sy left the human cities? maybe it’s because he was poking around somewhere off-limits?? sy has no idea what he did.

lbg leads him down down to the water prison, and again sy almost passes out. my mans definitely pukes into the water just from the smell alone. it’s…a gory scene. but what’s most unsettling about it isn’t the emptiness in sqq’s eyes or the desperate grunting that only becomes louder the closer lbg brings sy.

what’s most unsettling is how similar they look. they could be brothers, their family resemblance is powerful. same face shape, same nose, same cheekbones.

and sy gets it then. bingge is done playing with sqq; there’s nothing really left to do to him (though he’s still got his dick…sy was one of the loudest proponents of cutting it off for what he did to ning yingying!) so lbg must be looking for a replacement.

lbg studies them both for a long time, as if cataloguing all the similarities between their faces. the whole time, sy is shaking, trying not to fall over. eventually, lbg must be satisfied, because he looks sy up and down slowly before muttering. ‘you’ll do for now. we can see how you measure up.’

POORLY!!! shen yuan is determined to measure up extremely poorly to that old shizun of lbg’s!! to save his own skin, he’ll be nothing like that asshole!!

thus begins shen yuan’s plan to treat the emperor with such doting, kind respect that he’ll see nothing of sqq in him beyond his unfortunate face!! surely lord luo won’t want to kill someone so kind to him!!

(every measure of shen yuan’s kindness is overwhelming to lbg. after so long he’s found what that other him flaunted in his face. a close relative of his shizun’s, no doubt, (maybe a twin separated at birth?) who became that other binghe’s shizun in that timeline. he’s kind and gentle and so concerned with binghe’s wellbeing in a way…no one has since his mother, so so long ago. that one morning with the other shizun was so sweet, but this—having this omega here in his palace, fussing at him to eat more and dress more warmly when he goes to the north, smiling unrestrained, smelling so impossibly sweet—this is so much better than he could have imagined. luo bingge will convince this shen yuan to be his omega. not as a concubine, but as a proper wife. first wife, maybe. empress, even. whatever it takes to get him to say yes. whatever it takes to keep him.)

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captain-joongz · 7 months ago

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Deserve you

Pairing: brother-in-law!Seonghwa x f!reader

Genre: smut, darker themes, it's a little angsty

Summary: Marrying into the Park family was already a curse in on itself, but the cherry on top comes when on your wedding night the clock strucks midnight and there's the wrong brother knocking on your honeymoon suite door. But being a mindless pawn in his game of revenge might not be the worst when he buys it out with pleasure beyond your comprehension.

Word count: 18.5k words

Warnings: unhealthy family dynamics, arranged/forced marriage, infidelity, Hwa is mean and manipulative, themes of revenge and resentment, humiliation and praise, very rough handling and manhandling, spanking, rough sex, blink and you might miss it choking, oral (f. rec.), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, pussy drunk hwa, unprotected sex, doggy, creampie, some breeding kink (would it even be my fic if there wasn't lol), squirting, biting and marking (another one of my staples), a tiny bit of body worship

A/N: it's only going to be 13k i said *insert clown emoji here* enjoy cause good half of this is pure porn lol, i wrote the smut scenes at like 3 am while i was ovulating and therefore i legally cannot be held responsible for anything inside. please do enjoy!! if you wanna, leave comments and reblog, i always love to see what you guys have to say! i recommend listening to lurk by the neighbourhood, that's what i was listening to while writing this

Annoyed, I looked over the decorated hall to where my groom was amusing himself with a bunch of his goons. Their boorish laughs carried through the five-star hotel’s restaurant and could be heard over the hum of conversation from all four corners of the spacious room. I watched, completely unimpressed, as they took another shot together, every other one holding a half empty bottle of some kind of liquor in their hands. Rum, whiskey, vodka, all the colours of the rainbow.

My attention was pulled away by yet another very uncaring, but still unnecessarily cordial congratulatory small-talk from some relative who I’ve either never met before, or it has been so long their face blended into all the other hundreds of people who claimed blood-relation to our family.

While pretending to listen to their sugary fake speech and distractedly shaking their hands, my eyes flitted over to the close family table. I couldn’t help the trace of cold rage and hostility that crept into my gaze as it landed on my father, who leisurely sat at the table pushing around some greens on his plate while holding an amicable conversation with Mr. Park, my so very enchanting and charming father-in-law. My mother sat expressionlessly next to him, ever the picture of a perfect wife, here or there entertaining some pointless chit-chat from Mrs. Park.

With disgust I watched these four interact with each other, the realisation that this is where I was headed as well slowly sinking in and making me sick to my stomach. I excused myself from the circle of insincere inquisitors and went to sit down at the head table, pretending to eat to gather my strength.

When four months ago it was announced to me that I would be marrying into the Park family, a shocked disbelief quickly melted into an absolute rage. Even knowing that we were a very high-profile family, generations upon generations of wealth and a steady successful conglomerate of companies keeping us near the very top of the food chain of the upper class, it would have never crossed my mind my father would actually sell me off like a milk cow.

Yes, arranged marriage was still very much a thing between these families, profit and merging of riches far more important than such a silly little thing like love, but I always made it clear to my father I didn’t agree with such practice, and I would like to choose my husband myself. There was an unspoken agreement between us that he would leave me free reign and I would decide between the sons of the families that were on our level and suitable for marriage.

And Parks were nowhere near my radar. Although there were two sons in the family, only one was eligible for marriage and he would be the sole heir of most of their father’s empire. That made him a favourite in my father’s eyes, but all the women around these circles knew to give him a wide berth. Notoriously known for his unpleasant character, spoiled behaviour and stupidness, no self-respecting woman would ever touch him with a two-foot pole.

And now I was married to him.

Of course I opposed the marriage. I cried and begged and raged, I bargained and threatened, but nothing swayed my father. He had already made a good deal and now all he had to do was threaten me that if I didn’t listen, he’d make sure I was cut off not only from the family, the family wealth, but also every respectable company in the city. No matter how many times I told him ‘anyone but the Park’, he’d never listen. Papers were signed, deal was made. I was sold. All that was left was coming to terms with the situation.

The Parks, while they kept their respectable front, were a family that rose to the level of the likes of my father very rapidly and somewhat recently. It was an open secret that most of their business happened in the illegal little dark corners hidden behind a few presentable companies, but what mattered the most was their money and influence. Even though there were a few skeletons in their closet.

Like the one that suddenly made eye contact with me from the close relatives table while I was pretending to enjoy the worst day of my life.

The eldest son of the Park family, Park Seonghwa.

Mr. Park, much like his younger son Yujun, also known as my amazing husband, was known for his unlikable character and somewhat unscrupulous ways and manners. Or lack-there-of. Before even officially meeting him at some boring dinner, I had already heard the mountains upon mountains of rumours about his womanising and misogynistic ways.

Therefore it wasn’t a great surprise when just five years ago a boy showed up on his doorstep, determined to claim a corner of his ever so elusive father’s paradise. Seonghwa was older than Yujun, but due to him being a bastard of a poor maid that once upon time was harassed by the master of the house into giving into him, even though he managed to weasel his way into Mr. Park’s graces he still wasn’t considered a good face of the empire, and so Yujun remained the main heir, with his older half-brother as his glorified henchman.

Back then, even though I wasn’t 18 yet, I was also privy to all the drama that went down with Seonghwa’s sudden appearance. Perhaps eager to please his father and buy his approval, he managed to beg a broken-down old hotel out of him and set to his path of a lonely businessman always chasing some old man’s praise.

That hotel? The same one we were sitting in today. Seonghwa proved to be a formidable force in the business sphere and managed to bring this place from the bottom of the barrel and turn it into one of the best establishments in the whole country. He has since bought a several restaurants and another hotel, skyrocketing into those same circles that looked down upon him still. Including his family. Especially since everyone knew Yujun was a useless fool that would no doubt tank his father’s business the moment he got his hands on it, which made Parks the laughingstock of the rich and the bored.

During the four months I spent tagging along with our mothers and a wedding planner, trying to put together a last-minute grandiose event for half the city, I saw a lot of him. He always hung around the Park residence or the various lounges we chose to sit and chat in (which I later realised was because he owned them). When he graciously offered to host the banquet in his hotel, I was grateful to him but held no other regard to his actions.

But there seemed to be a strange connection between us. Maybe it was that I saw the same resentment reflected in his eyes when he looked at his own father, or maybe because he seemed to be the only other self-aware person here. We never spoke much, but sometimes we would catch each other’s eyes and see the same emotion in them.

In present time, I finally managed to tear my gaze away from his intense one, seemingly trying to burn through me with a single glance. In truth, I was a bit unsettled by him. Not matter how human he tried to appear, there seemed to be a dark aura around him and sometimes this strange feeling possessed me, as if I was on the cusp of getting devoured by a dangerous beast. His eyes, while part compassionate, also held this underlying viciousness, like they were trying to bait me into trusting them. And I didn’t. The more the wedding approached, the more I saw some kind of depraved excitement in them, only heightening this unsettlement that dwelled in my bones every time I came across him.

So thus I pissed away the evening. I tried to dodge as many guests as possible, keeping the conversation short and sweet, always finding an excuse why I had to move on, while giving a wide berth to the family table lest I get entangled in whatever was going on there and steadily growing more and more irritated by my new husband’s behaviour. He was nearing a dangerous level of intoxication and we still had at least two or three hours of entertaining everyone present in front of us. Well, at least I did. Yujun seemed to be quite happy wreaking havoc with his buddies and leaving me to do all the work. That is most definitely going to be a staple of our marriage.

I sighed and reached for a fresh flute of champagne. I didn’t even like champagne, but this day was driving me fucking insane.

“Darling,” my mother’s voice startled me enough to lightly choke on the drink and attempt to hide the flute like I was a naughty schoolkid sneaking snacks, “it is getting quite late. You might want to talk with your husband about retreating for your wedding night soon.” I looked at her, sizing up her perfectly schooled elegant face, her slender frame draped in expensive designer clothes and sighed again.

“It’s only half past eight,” I argued back petulantly, “we still have time till around eleven.” No matter what, I just wanted to avoid talking to Yujun, especially when he was this wasted and surrounded by similar idiots. My mother’s expression spoke of quiet reprimand. She only looked at me like that when she wanted to tell me I should know better.

“Most people are going to start leaving around ten, you know that,” she scolded me lightly and picked an invisible piece of dirt off of her sleeve, not even directing her full attention to me, “Stop stalling and go talk to your husband.” With that she was done, already turning and walking away before I could even open my mouth.

I pursed my mouth to keep the expletives from falling all out loud enough to embarrass her for 10 years in advance. Just aimlessly standing around, I threw back the rest of the champagne in the flute, chugging it in two big gulps, before slamming it down on the table perhaps a little too hard and startling a poor waiter just trying to clean up the buffet table. Steeling myself, I looked determined back into the direction of the rowdy table, but my feet stayed stubbornly glued to the ground.

“I can go talk to him, if you want,” the mellow voice came from my left and this time it startled me enough to jump. His big dark eyes crinkled in amusement, lips curling gently in a pleased smile. Park Seonghwa annoyingly looked absolutely stunning in his fitted three-piece suit and long dark hair carefully swept in curls out of his face, a tiny half bun sitting at the back of his head.

I regarded him coldly, trying to keep my distance from a man that felt too dangerous to be this close to. I didn’t even realise he had moved to the table, had no idea how long he has been standing there watching me. Even now, he patiently waited for my answer with his eyes eagerly taking me in, causing goosebumps to erupt on my naked arms.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you discussing my wedding night with your brother,” I fired back when my brain finally jumped back online, and I no longer just stared at the tall slim man and his deceptive gentleness.

He smiled lightly, really it was just a quirk of one corner of his mouth, and shifted a little closer.

“I’ll just tell him fun’s over in an hour and a half,” Seonghwa assured me in a manner that was maybe supposed to be calming, but only made the dark pools of his eyes even deeper. I didn’t step back, even when my body was begging me to put more distance between us, and stood my ground.

“I’m not sure the fun will be over for him no matter what you say,” I sighed and threw one more angry stare towards the drunkards, “He’s already too drunk to even get home and we still have more than an hour to go.” Seonghwa sidestepped and turned, and we stood there side by side, just watching the madness unfold.

“There’s a honeymoon suite prepared for you in the hotel,” the tall man supplied dryly, “all you have to do is get him into the elevator.” I hummed but couldn’t tear my eyes away from the embarrassing displays of drunkenness that were beginning to scare away nearby tables, the guests side-eyeing the young men and moving to leave while throwing disgusted glances around, more often than not sending them towards me as well. As if I wanted a husband like that, old lady.

Suddenly there was an arm gently coiled around my shoulders. Before I could react, Seonghwa squeezed gently twice and then moved towards them with a cheeky wink.

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry,” he told me while walking backwards away from where we stood, “and once you get him into the honeymoon suite, you can just dump him there and go sleep next door.”

I didn’t react in any way, only sending him an unimpressed look and then watched as he walked briskly the rest of the way and slowly inserted himself into the mayhem of the groomsmen. Immediately his face completely shut off, putting on a fake pleasant expression, but none of the men seemed to notice. I watched as Yujun got up and drunkenly stumbled until he was half hugging Seonghwa, hanging off of him and laughing loudly. From Seonghwa’s expression I could only guess whatever the joke was, he must have been the butt of it, but he took it well, years of practiced patience taking over his body. He said something to Yujun and I could see his eyes darting to me before his face was split by the grossest sleaziest grin known to man. I couldn’t stop the full body shudder that went through me, and honestly, I didn’t even try. The groomsmen all started whistling and shouting obscenities, pouring more shots and patting Yujun on his back while he cackled like a madman. Seonghwa then proceeded to say something more which elicited even more hollering and back pats, now even to him to his incredible discomfort.

He then withdrew from the situation just as slowly and quietly as he entered it, quickly walking back towards me. I hated the pity in his eyes, genuine or not, so instead I just grabbed another flute of champagne and grumbled into it while I sipped.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” he whispered and I avoided his gaze as hard as I could, instead staring off into the distance. “Whatever,” I grumbled back, trying to shake off the disgust that once again started to crawl back into my bones and stomach, making me sick with the thought of sharing a bed with that man.

Just then Seonghwa was called over by one of the servers gesturing wildly to the bar. He gave me one last apologetic glance and then ran off to deal with whatever mess that needed his immediate attention, leaving me to stand alone next to the champagne tower like the drinking wreck that I was quickly becoming. From the corner of my eye I saw my mother’s disapproving face, signalling me to step away from the alcohol and mingle more, smile more and look happy to have my life ruined by father’s business, but I ostentatiously ignored her until she alerted father of my unbecoming behaviour.

That quickly shook me into action, and with his stare burning into my back, I disposed of the empty glass and threw myself back into the madness.

The rest of the evening was a frenzy of overwhelming sensations and passed in a blur. I must have spoken to every guest that was invited, held so much small-talk I was beginning to lose my voice. I still avoided the two tables that held all of the people I didn’t want to interact with and rather I listened to some old aunt’s rants about how the modern generation of women just don’t want to be perfect housewives anymore and how they bring dishonour on their husbands.

Before I knew it, two hours have passed and I found myself stationed at the main entrance, shaking hands and exchanging goodbyes with everyone who was leaving, and waving at people that were staying in Seonghwa’s hotel.

The man himself was suspiciously scarce throughout the last hour of the party, his tall lean figure nowhere in sight, which made me surprisingly jumpy. There was a mounting feeling in me that something would happen, anxiety rising with every minute ticking by, but I thought it to be just a by-product of this whole clusterfuck of an evening and disregarded it.

My husband was also missing, probably still thrashing the bar in the lounge one room over, not even bothering to see his guests out.

Soullessly I watched everything happen, empty smile plastered on my face as I was pushed from side to side, listened to the same four meaningless sentences come out of the hundred mouths on faces that all blended together in my mind.

After they were ushered out, there was suddenly a flutter of action around me, people all speaking over one another, one telling me to go there and other telling me to stay here. I stayed silent and waited like a puppet for someone to move me where I was supposed to be. My emotions were shutting down one after another, too overloaded by everything and too scared to face head on what was about to take place.

Woodenly I let my mother drag me to the elevator, mumbling something about not worrying about my husband, father would get him, he would be here any minute, there was no reason to stress out, just relax and wait for him, it was as easy as that, after all we were a man and a woman, it was all perfectly natural. I nodded when there was a lull in her chatter to keep her none the wiser, agreed when I heard her intonation climb in a question.

Finally, the elevator climbed all the way up, reaching the quiet floor with a long hall that had only four doors on it, two of which were honeymoon suites. I felt more confused than ever, as if even my brain completely stopped working, but fortunately (or not) my mother seemed to know where to go.

The room was spacious inside, with a beautiful view of the night city, a whole comfortable lounge that already held a tray with more champagne and some appetizers. To one side I could see a sleek bathroom and to the other through an arch was visible a king-sized bed that dominated the space.

Mother sat me down on one of the sofas and I just distantly took notice of how soft and comfortable it was before she again launched into some sort of a monologue I wasn’t interested in. I amused myself by looking out the window, already nursing another flute of champagne, which was promptly yanked out of my hands.

“Are you trying to catch up with your husband?” my mother’s angry voice cut through the fog in my mind, but I was beyond caring what she had to say.

“I certainly cannot go through it completely sober,” I noted dryly with a sarcastic flare, snatching the flute back. That earned me a glare that could split a mountain in half, but I stubbornly, and somewhat childishly, refused to look at her.

“You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again after,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if she didn’t understand where the problem was, “it’s just sex.” A wave of rage and hatred raised in me so strongly that I had to hold myself back from either screaming or bursting into tears.

“Just leave already,” I said coldly instead, still not looking at her, but watching her figure in the reflection of the window. She froze, her arms stuttering a little in the middle of a movement, and I could clearly feel the disappointment in my behaviour radiating off of her. Then she straightened out and without a word walked towards the door.

“Your husband will get here shortly; I advise you to prepare yourself and meet him not completely hammered.” Her cold words rang through the silent room and then she was gone.

I simmered in that silence for a long few minutes, working to get my emotions back in check. In the end I just gave up on resisting this. There was no way out of this anyway. With a bit of luck Yujun was already so drunk he’d just take his clothes off and pass out and then I can tell him the next day how he was just a wonderful lover, how I enjoyed our time together so much.

So, I had one last glass and then started preparing myself mentally, steeling myself and pacing nervously around the room waiting for my husband to burst drunkenly through the door any minute now. I flinched with every sound, strained my ears to hear anything moving outside those doors.

Only… it never came. After 40 minutes of waiting, Yujun was still nowhere to be seen.

I was beyond irritated, checking the time every two minutes and still expecting the shoe to drop. The longer he took to get here, the drunker he’d be and the drunker he was, the more volatile and unpredictable he’d get. The irritation quickly rose to anger, my mood fluctuating between rage and fear and panic.

Once it was longer than an hour, I was just tired. The clock struck 23:45 and I sighed, completely drained and resigned. It became clear that he wouldn’t get here. At least not now.

Sitting down on the sofa, I felt all the stress trickle out of me as I completely decompressed. There was a sudden numb calm washing over me and I just wanted to be done with it, so drained I became completely detached from the world. I rose to finally fucking change out of the gown and promptly found out that now I faced a different kind of problem.

My dress had a lacing I couldn’t reach on my own. I needed help to get out of my dress. There was no one else on this floor and my parents were long gone, choosing to return to our home instead of sleeping in a hotel. My husband was god knows where and most probably in a state where he wouldn’t be able to take off his own pants.

I crumpled into the sofa, half groaning half screaming into my hands, the frustration of the whole situation, the whole day, the whole four fucking months weighing down on me enough to force a sob out of me. And then another, and then another, until I was bawling my eyes out in an empty honeymoon suite. For long moments I laid half draped over the settee crying, just getting all of my jumbled emotions out in the only outlet I had. Why did everything just have to go absolutely wrong?

It felt like whole centuries had passed when I seemed to run out of tears and finally managed to calm down again; and I looked around the room, playing with the thought of just cutting myself out of the dress with a knife or scissors, but quickly giving up on the idea with a despaired laugh falling out of me.

Everything hurt and I was exhausted, and I wanted to go to sleep, alone preferably, so instead I went into the bathroom and tried to salvage my makeup as much as possible. Thankfully bridal makeup seemed to be invincible, and I just had to tap at some smudged corners to get them dry again.

With that I set out of the room, determined to find anyone that could help me out of the dress, even if it was just some poor busboy trying to make it through nightshift. But I didn’t make it far.

I had just made two steps into the hall when the elevator suddenly dinged, and the door opened. For ten absolutely terrifying seconds I expected my husband to be the one stepping off of it, but instead a tall slender figure elegantly made its way towards me, hair still effortlessly falling around his face as if it was paid to do it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” flew out of my mouth before any reason kicked in, my brain too fried to concern itself with proper manners. Seonghwa only blinked at me in amusement, lips quirking up. Something was different about him and my alarms started going off, but I’d already gone through so much that day I barely even realised.

“Is there a reason why you’re roaming the halls like the ghost of Christmas past?” he shot back, coming close enough to lean and tower over me. His eyes peered down on me over the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking a lot less amused and a lot colder and domineering. I stuttered over my words, clocking in the change in his demeanour once I noticed the darkness swimming in those usually expressionless orbs.

“I- I need help getting out of my dress,” I whispered, too shocked to comprehend what was happening, the truth suddenly slipping out unwittingly, “I was looking for someone… Yujun hasn’t-“

Seonghwa’s dark chuckle interrupted me, it rumbled through his chest close enough I could almost feel it. I looked up at him questioningly. His grin was suddenly mocking and it threw me for a loop. All my instincts screamed at me to back away from such clear savagery shining through in his expression, but I felt completely frozen, half mesmerised half terrified.

“Yujun wouldn’t be able to untie his own shoes right now,” he said meanly, the resentment towards his family he so often hid away now out in the open, raw in his voice like a bleeding wound.

“Do you know where he is?” I decided to ignore his heated stare that seemed to be penetrating deep into my being and instead focused on my goal – locating my husband so I could kick his ass and then avoid him for the rest of the honeymoon.

But Seonghwa only smirked and curled an arm around my shoulders, pulling us towards the suite doors, clearly steering me to follow him inside.

“First, let’s help you with that dress, sweetheart,” his deepened voice almost purred somewhere close to my ear and it sent shivers through me, some kind of dark anticipation setting into the pit of my stomach.

Alarm bells were blaring loudly through my mind, but I just stared him completely stunned and let him drag me. Man, maybe I did overdo it with the champagne.

I looked at his face and fully took in just how ethereally beautiful he really was, the big dark eyes and full sensual lips on a slender face framed by glossy dark hair, he was a vision that an artist would die for just to catch a glimpse of. A face that could unleash wars and bring down empires, break the honour of gods, taint them and seduce them into immorality. Such a man he was. And I saw in his eyes that he would.

Before I could stutter out some sort of answer, he was already pulling us inside the door and shutting it behind us, the lock clicking with a startling finality. Suddenly I found myself standing panicked in the middle of the lounge with Seonghwa circling me like a shark, watching my form and the dreadful dress with dark hungry eyes. Even though my mouth hung slightly open as I still processed the current situation, nothing could come out of it, as if he took my voice with just a single touch.

“How terrible, chaining you poor thing into such a dress,” he whispered sensually, his voice caressing my skin like raven black feathers, “it must have been tiring, having it on the whole day…” He trailed off, a second of silence stretching between us and putting me on edge. Then, I could feel his fingers lightly dancing down the exposed back of my neck, until they hit the edge of the lacing. My breath hitched, getting caught deep in my throat at the sudden contact, and I shivered, eyes fighting the urge to roll back into my skull.

I blushed at my body’s visceral reaction. Either I had to be even more drunk than I initially thought, or the desperation clouded my judgement enough to actually allow my brother-in-law’s advances. Both options were terrible and unacceptable. Still, I felt rooted to the spot, unable to even lift and arm to swat his hands away, not even to turn and scold him with a glare, nothing. It was as if I was deep under a spell, his aura pressing me into inaction and sluggishness, my brain muddled and confused but vaguely excited.

Just as I took in a deep breath to break the fog away and started gathering a sufficient effort to move from him, he abruptly stepped closer, pressing his front against my back with his arm coiling around my waist like a strangler snake. Now all he had to do was squeeze the life out of me. His lips touched lightly on my exposed shoulder, and I could feel his breaths hitting the crook of my neck, a wave of goosebumps breaking in its wake.

“You shouldn’t act like this towards your brother’s wife,” I managed to get out of my dry throat, the words no more than a breathless whisper. There was a mocking scoff next to my ear and his arms coiled even tighter before releasing me all at once. I heaved a sigh of relief, not realising yet this was only the beginning of his game. Oh, he wasn’t anywhere near done.

I was spun quickly, two dexterous hands moulding me to his liking until I was facing him again. There was a terrible grin on his face and an absolute terror set into the pit of my stomach.

“I’m just trying to help you out of an uncomfortable situation,” Seonghwa lied smoothly, the words slipping out of his lips easily with faux concern. We both knew it was utter bullshit, but I still floundered in his arms, not knowing what to say or do, how to combat his searing mocking gaze.

His hands started moving again slowly, sliding tenderly down my arms and back up and then making their way to my back. Seonghwa pressed himself closer again, now front to front with my face awkwardly angled around his shoulder. Before I knew it, his arms looped around me and started tugging at the ribbon tying the corset part together while his face slowly lowered until he was gently mouthing at my shoulder.

I gasped, hands on instinct shooting up to grab something to stabilise myself. It ended up being the lapels of his suit jacket that hung between us. The tall man chuckled darkly, and I was caught in the strange in-between of his gentle touch and mean demeanour.

I felt my knees shaking, the tension rising to a point that my body could barely handle it. A whole-body shiver wrecked through me, the path his mouth made on my skin burning and sending shocks of pleasure through my nervous system that had dangerous heat starting to rear its head in my tummy.

Slowly, leisurely, his hands worked on the ribbon until it was flowing freely from the top and the first few knots were loosened. My heart was beating inside my ribcage so hard it felt as if it was hitting against the bones, and my chest tightened enough to make breathing hard for me. The silence suddenly stretched between us tensely and I wondered if the man could hear the wild beating in my chest, if to him it maybe felt like a scared bird fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Seonghwa lifted his head enough to turn me again, enough to let me see the self-satisfied smirk, and I went easily wherever he wanted me to go. My brain was screaming at me to do something, say something, but I could barely think over the dull buzz of nerves and dark thrumming of my boiling blood. My body yearned and I lost all control over it, turning into a pliant little doll in the hands of a terrible master. The temptation was just too strong, what he offered too sweet.

Words were bubbling in my throat, catching on the swallowed sighs and getting stuck in the constricted little space as I fought for every breath, but I knew they needed to spill over. I couldn’t go down without at least a little fight.

“Where…,” I started but it came out all scratchy and barely audible, “Where is my husband?” Seonghwa’s hands froze where they were unhurriedly playing with the ribbons and loosening them a millimetre after a millimetre to turn this into a torturous progress, to show me that I would let him play me like this for hours if he so pleased. Then he snickered.

“You’re still looking for him?” he asked with his lips pressed into the skin beneath my ear, “Aren’t I enough for you?” It was said as a tease, but I felt the sharp daggers of bitterness in his voice, like he was daring me to insinuate he was beneath his brother. “Aren’t I the better choice?” came out with a chuckle a moment later. Now, that was a taunt.

“Any moment he can get here and then I’ll get fucking murdered for your misdeeds,” I hissed back venomously even though I still haven’t made a single move to get some space between us. Seonghwa laughed condescendingly at me, and I didn’t even have to see his face to know he was sneering madly at my insistence to discuss the other man with him.

“He won’t be coming anytime soon, don’t you worry your pretty head darling,” he bit out with a mean laugh, “I know my brother and he can’t resist an open bar. It was only a matter of waiting until he drank himself into a coma. He won’t disturb us until the morning, and even if he wakes up during the night he won’t know up from down.” This time it was me who froze completely while Seonghwa’s fingers resumed their journey. Some terrible realisation dawned upon me, and I felt as if the rug was swept right from underneath my feet and I was freefalling, straight into these dangerous outstretched arms.

“You were planning this the whole time,” I whispered shakily, trembling in the man’s hands but ultimately, I was helpless to his games. I already knew I was fighting a losing bet, and in the end I would surrender to him.

This time Seonghwa outright laughed at me, making embarrassment sink into my gut and I shrunk into myself. I felt his fingers dig into the fabric of the white wedding dress. In the reflection of the window I saw him, shoulders shaking and mouth open with the laugh, eyes crinkled in a depraved kind of amusement. The sound cut through the empty silent room, strangely as melodic as much as it was savage. I watched him equal part with both horror and reverence, the dark atmosphere finally sinking through my skin and penetrating deep into my soul. In that moment I realised I had just walked into the tiger’s den and there was no way out.

Seonghwa finally calmed down and his eyes found mine in the reflection of the window almost instantly; they were full of contempt and I shuddered under his gaze, humiliation spreading through me at his sneering lips.

“Finally you’re catching up, darling,” he spit that word out like it was poison, and even though it was meant to caress it felt more like a slap, making me sharply inhale, “how could I let my spoiled little brother just walk into this without a little price.”

Suddenly his hands roughly grabbed at the ribbons and pulled hard, almost tearing the corset apart in his haste to finally rid me of it. I stumbled under the force and almost wished there was a wall or a window in front of me, so I could lean on it. My own hands were shaking, as were my pupils while I tried desperately to catch up with the situation. His beautiful face looked almost ethereal with this much wrath and hatred pulling it into a savage grimace, all burning eyes and bared teeth. In this light they almost looked sharp enough to tear flesh apart with a single bite.

“There’s a little compensation to be had, don’t you think darling?” he sneered some more, hands feverishly working to rid me of the oppressive clothing.

Then he used the ribbons tightly clutched in his hands to pull me closer again and our bodies collided harshly. This time I did gasp out loudly but before I could comprehend or react, his face was pressed to mine, our cheeks smushing together lightly while our eyes met again in the window. Pure deranged madness was swimming around his blown-out pupils and he flashed me a beastly savage grin.

“How do you think our little prince would like that I defiled his lovely wife before he even had the chance to get his hands on her?”

There was a sound of tearing fabric ringing through the room and I felt the dress give way, sliding down my arms and torso. In panic I quickly caught it to stop it from pooling around my ankles. But I might have as well let it be, because shortly Seonghwa’s arms circled around my waist and trapped both my hands and the dress under his grip.

Without wasting a single second, he pushed us together as close as we could go, moulding around my back and feverishly attacking my exposed neck and shoulders. Quick scolding hot wet kisses were laid one after another and I felt his hands squeeze at my waist as he licked and bit into my skin, rapidly moving up my neck to the edge of my jawline.

My mouth hung open a little wider with every swipe of his tongue, little breathy sighs and half moans flowing out freely. I was helpless coming face to face with such devastating passion and desperation, how could I protest anything when I heard Seonghwa’s satisfied groans muffled by my skin, when I felt his hands tearing at the dress and never letting me part even a single millimetre from him.

Desire and duty warred through my body, leaving me desperate and frustrated and unable to make a single move in whichever direction. I never wanted this marriage and I already despised Yujun. If I could, I would have since long walked away from this, from my father and his stern unloving face, from my mother and her constant reprimand and propriety, and most of all from my awful disgusting husband. Seonghwa was offering me the same thing he himself sought with this. Revenge. But I respected the vows and despised cheating, and my moral side was begging me to end this at once and remain faithful to a man I barely knew, barely even liked. The result of this was my torn silence and inaction, never taking part but never stopping it.

It was so wrong, but it felt so good I couldn’t do anything except for stand there and take it from the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

The confusing mix of emotions tore through me and left me all bloody and aching like an exposed nerve. My hands clenched and unclenched, eyes flitted around the room in panic, mouth opened and squeezed shut, the words always just at the tip of my tongue but never quite making it out while my brain quickly sunk deeper and deeper into lust.

Seonghwa’s eyes found mine in the reflection once again and slowly bled into a condescending pity. He licked a long stripe along my neck, tasting the salty sweat and purring in content, eyes just slightly rolling back. The sight made me weak, made my body thrum with feelings I haven’t felt in a long time, the excited tension manifesting in the dull throbbing in my lower tummy and the tingles running through me whole. I felt myself clenching at the display, and quickly pushed my thighs together to chase after the pleasure.

“You’re all up in your head, darling,” Seonghwa whispered, spinning sweet webs to catch me in, “Stop thinking, pretty. Just turn off your brain and let the sensations wash over you. Just go with the flow.” His dark eyes flew over my figure for one last time and then he was gripping my jaw roughly and jerking my head to the side to finally feast upon me like he wished.

He kissed like he was laying a claim on me, hard and heavy, tongue prying my mouth open immediately and swallowing the aborted little sounds I couldn’t stop from slipping out. It was filthy and wet and I felt as if he tried to devour me whole. I couldn’t even reciprocate fully, only stand there and take it, weakly moving my own tongue against his but I was quickly overpowered by him in every sense. Then it stopped just as quickly as it started.

I opened my eyes, blearily blinking and trying to get my unfocused gaze back into working order. I felt like I was underwater, like thick molasses was pulling me deeper into the sweetness. Meanwhile Seonghwa looked beyond delighted, lips permanently quirked up and showcasing his sharp canines.

Quick hands spun me around again, one arm immediately securing me against him while the other went to my face, caressing it with deceptive gentleness. Slowly he ducked his head down and kissed up and down the side of my neck and my shoulder, and this time around his lips were tender and reverent, like he didn’t turn into a beast just a few moments ago. My head was spinning from his constant flip-flopping between kind and cruel, but I submitted to him every time anyway.

“He doesn’t even deserve you, darling,” his sugary whispered words carried a little sting to them, but he still trickled them like honey straight to my awaiting throat and I happily drank it all, “He can’t value you as he should… He can’t fuck you like he should.” He growled the word into my throat, hands migrating to grab at my ass and press me up against his crotch, letting me feel the hardness of his arousal.

I gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders, not even knowing whether I’m pushing him away or pulling him closer, but the result was the same. He kissed the same the second time around, plunging his tongue into my mouth and dominating it completely, not giving me a chance to do much else than sigh and moan filthily as he pried me open in every way.

The dress was slowly pulled down and I suddenly found myself exposed to his eyes, the white lacy wedding lingerie a contrast to my heated flushed skin. My first instinct was to hide myself away from him, shyness fighting to take control over me, but I stood still. Somehow to me it would have been more embarrassing if I cowered before him, so I faced his lust head on.

Seonghwa’s eyes hungrily took in every detail, every new inch of skin revealed, from the lacy top and the frilly ribbons in the middle, to the panties that barely hid anything and the wedding garter still firmly sitting on my thigh.

“God, look at you,” the man darkly groaned, eyes glued to my crotch, “You’d be wasted on such an idiot. You deserve so much more, darling, so much more.” On a whim I decided to gather some wit and push back a little, even though it might not be a great idea to provoke him right now.

I threaded my hand through his long locks and tugged hard, making him hiss loudly while his head jerked back. There way annoyance in his eyes, but even that couldn’t mask the sheer amount of arousal and lust reflected in them.

“And you think that you’re what I deserve?” I attempted to say coldly, but I couldn’t tell how successful I was at my delivery with my whole body shivering and succumbing to his touch already. His eyes narrowed and his face turned to stone, and I immediately wanted to take my taunt back. I did not feel anywhere near ready to have that kind of confrontation with him. I felt the fight drain out of me at the dangerous glint is his eyes, head instinctively ducking in shyness and submission.

Seonghwa must have sensed my surrender too, because his lips quickly turned into a cruel smirk and he laughed at me, hand going to lightly grab my throat. I waited with bated breaths, fear and anticipation bleeding together into an ugly kind of arousal, but I didn’t have it in me to feel much shame anymore.

The world suddenly spun around me and then I was crashing into the settee behind me with enough force to knock the breath out of me. I barely just gathered my wits back and Seonghwa was already kneeling in front of the sofa spreading my legs. His hands grabbed my hips and roughly manhandled me into the position he wanted, and once my legs were thrown over his shoulders, he wasted no time descending onto me.

He bit and kissed and licked his way down my inner thighs, the sensitive skin hurting and pinching with every nip, making me jerk and gasp in his hold to which he only chuckled coldly.

“Hold steady now, doll,” he said evenly, “I’m gonna eat your pussy until you’re cumming all over my face.” With that he smirked and dove in. His warning did nothing to stop my body jerking wildly the moment he licked a long bold stripe over the seat of the panties.

Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up full of dark reprimand, sending a wave of goosebumps over me. I saw his arm rise and descend quickly, just barely managing to hold my breath as it harshly collided with the skin where my thigh met my ass. The smack carried through the room, as well as my loud whimper. Embarrassingly I felt a gush of slick hit my panties at the action, but I had no time to dwell on it when Seonghwa bit mercilessly into the inner part of my thigh before sliding back to my centre.

For a few long moments he amused himself by skirting around where I truly needed him to touch and instead paid attention to the edges of the panties or lightly licked and sucked through the drenched lacy fabric. My whole body thrummed with excitement, begging to be finally touched where it needed it the most, but I was too afraid to writhe around or push him, so I just lied there and whined loudly, not even caring anymore. There wasn’t even anyone else on this floor anyway.

I was so wet and aroused, my cunt pulsing knowing he was so close to touching where I needed him, my brain completely melted and unable to comprehend anything beyond the burning consuming need as I trembled under his teasing touches and licks.

Seonghwa’s eyes bore into me, just endless swirling pools of arousal and arrogance, watching me battle my body to listen to his instructions and slowly falling apart before he even did anything. Once he had enough of the pathetic little show I put on for him, I more felt than heard his chuckle before he suddenly dove in.

The moment I felt his lips curl around my clit through the panties and suck, it felt like I could cum just from that as the relief and pleasure rushed through my veins and my hips kicked up a little. A long moan left my lips almost unwittingly and I threw my head back into the cushions hard enough to hurt even through the softness. My hands flew to his hair practically immediately and pulled hard, trying to keep him buried between my folds until the end of time.

Seonghwa didn’t seem to mind I disregarded his rule not to move, instead moaning loudly into my cunt in response and desperately mouthing and sucking at the little nub over the fabric. I felt my thighs tense with every move and Seonghwa’s hands gripped them harder to keep them still, his fingers sinking deep into the flesh until it was borderline painful, but the sensation only fuelled the madness of ecstasy that was warring through me and made everything just a tad bit sharper.

The man could only bear it for few more moments, before a frustrated noise sounded from between my legs and he was suddenly flying off of me. I instinctively pulled his hair to keep him where I wanted him and was greeted with the sight of his eyes rolling back into his skull and mouth opening on a silent moan. The display was enough to make me forget about the annoying lack of stimulation for just a few seconds, and I whined, high and long, as if trying to lure him closer.

Finally he looked at me, debauched pleasure written all over his face as his red swollen lips curled into a sensual grin, and then he quickly ripped my panties off and flung them somewhere across the room, only giving me the warning of hearing the fabric tear before the tatters curved through the air. I had barely two seconds to react and gasp before he was diving back straight for my pussy, his mouth and tongue finding my entrance almost immediately and licking and sucking all around it, spreading my wetness all over the lower part of his face.

An electric current went through me, my back arching on its own as I tensed and moaned at the sudden contact. And this time Seonghwa delivered, with all his might.

Only loud slurping sounds could be heard throughout the room as he wildly swirled his tongue around my folds, quickly gulping down everything he could gather and sucking intensely at my clit, making me jolt in his arms every time. Every once in a while he would move down for a moment, immediately sticking his tongue as deep into me as he could and fucking me with it with harsh fluid movements while his nose bumped against my most sensitive part and the loud chuffs of air, pants and moans vibrated through me and sent me higher; and then he’d rise back up only to abuse the swollen nub with rough flicks and well timed hard sucks.

I was falling apart under his ministrations quickly, almost embarrassingly so, my whole body jerking and quivering as my back curved up under the powerful euphoric bursts ravaging me inside out and the feeling of his warmth enveloping my folds made me almost crazy. The feeling only intensified when I looked down breathlessly and saw Seonghwa’s eyes, completely gone and glazed over, making him look like a helpless slave to the pleasure. I would have even felt some sense of power from it if he didn’t completely overwhelm me with the sensations, dutifully stimulating me in every way his clever mouth could think of.

He ate pussy wildly and messily, spreading my juices everywhere and nigh drowning in them, leaving me slack jawed under the onslaught of his tongue until I couldn’t even moan anymore, only tremble and gush even more right into his welcoming lips.

I felt myself clenching on him, the powerful feeling growing in intensity, building up from deep inside my core and my thighs shook over his shoulders. I knew I was a goner; I knew I was going to cum soon, and there was nothing I could do to fight it. So, I let go.

Seonghwa kept working my cunt tirelessly, swirling his tongue around my clit, licking through my folds, thrusting his tongue inside of me in slow and rough motions. And as he felt me getting closer, his own moans rose in pitch as if he was the one about to cum, mouth latched onto my entrance hungrily awaiting my release.

It only took a few more pumps and his nose pressing down hard on my clit, and the tension was snapping and suddenly I found myself cumming loudly, moan ripping out of my throat in shock at the strength of the orgasm, my whole body spasmed attempting to curl and arch with the euphoria, hands tightening impossibly in Seonghwa’s hair.

I blanked, everything turning to white and I could swear I could almost see stars as my ears rang. The whole feeling kept intensifying with Seonghwa still going, groaning into my pussy like it was the most delicious food he’s ever had.

When the high started coming off, I whined in overstimulation at his lazy strokes, for the first time trying to push him away instead of pull him closer, until he finally stopped and rested his head on one of my thighs. We both were breathing heavily and my whole body thrummed with the sweet release, while I could already see the darkness swirling back into his black irises. He smirked at me, half of his face completely smeared in my slick and glistening under the golden light of the room.

“See, wasn’t that refreshing?” he asked suddenly with voice raw and hoarse, a lot more joy seeping into it as he took in my boneless form and my unfocused eyes. I blinked through the tears and through the haze, rendered useless by the force of pleasure and yet still strangely unsatisfied. There were already swirls of new lust building up in my belly at his calculating hungry stare, and I was completely ready to give myself over to him in any way he requested, if only just to have him rain euphoria on me.

As if hearing my thoughts, the man rose suddenly, towering over me and once again looking down on me condescendingly over the top of his nose, but this time around I was considerably more distracted by the enormous tent attempting to push through his pants. He scoffed at me, watching me lust over his cock like I was nothing more but a bitch in heat, and then two of his fingers curled in a beckoning motion, luring me to him with a single gesture. And we both knew I would go.

I eagerly forced myself to sit up, taking a few seconds to try out my limbs again and see if I could even hold my weight now, but after some uncoordinated slips and bumbling around like a newborn fawn, I was able to push myself into a kneeling position on the sofa, my face exactly at the height of his crotch.

I looked up at him expectantly, already licking my lips at imagining having his length stuffed all the way down my throat. I knew he would do it to me, I knew he would push his way in harshly and fuck my throat until it was unusable, until I was crying and struggling to breathe. He would hold my head and force himself as deep as possible, disregarding me completely. It had me slicking up again, breathing quickening, the arousal building up steadily and quickly, the idea of it making my cunt clench in a silent plea to be filled up and absolutely ravaged. And by the look in Seonghwa’s eyes, I could tell that wish would soon become reality.

There was so much mockery and condescension etched into his features I would absolutely feel shame at myself the moment this ended, but while kneeling there I barely minded him clearly looking down on me, both literally and metaphorically. And he played with me a little, hand tangling itself into my hair and messing up the bun I had done for the wedding even more, pushing my head against his bulge, but not letting me mouth over it or touch it, always pulling away as soon as I moved closer. His cruel smirk reflected clearly how much fun teasing me he had, knowing he had me in this state after one orgasm without even fucking me. How truly pathetic I was.

His hard cock pushed at my cheek, and he pressed himself closer and firmer against me, slowly rocking his hips until he was dry humping my face, peering down at me filthily. I stayed docile in his hold, letting him rub himself over me, eyes trained on the way pleasure slowly broke through his mask, colouring his eyes with different kind of darkness. But he soon grew bored of this and pushed me away.

I held in the embarrassing whine at that, biting my tongue to keep myself together while he gazed at me looking like he was trying to figure how to destroy me. Which, to be honest, he absolutely was.

His thumb swiped over my lower lip quickly and then his hand migrated to my neck again, this time manhandling me a lot gentler as he pushed me around to turn and bend over to all fours, still perched on top of that sofa.

The furnishing moved and dented behind me, throwing me off balance a little, but then there was a body pressing into me, hips firmly digging into mine and a hot hard cock pushing against my weeping red cunt.

I gasped lightly and moved backwards, grinding onto the man to feel him sliding through my folds even with his pants still on, but he stopped me with a hiss, one hand going to push at my lower back and the other grabbing onto my hip.

“Stop being so impatient, doll,” Seonghwa taunted darkly, voice heavy and low with the accumulated lust, “You’ll take what I give you or I’ll have you watch as I cum all on my own.” Though even this threat sounded a little tempting, I immediately froze, only feeling my walls clenching in anticipation. I dug my fingers into the furnishing, almost even holding my breath to settle the wild desire running through me and begging me to just spear myself on his cock rules or no rules. But I held steadfast and was rewarded with his amused chuckle.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you doll?” he whispered, hands grabbing onto the meat of my hips and pulling me back against him while at the same time thrusting forward. I was so wet I slid along his pants seamlessly, leaving behind a trail of my arousal, and he parked himself home perfectly, cock pressing into my folds just flawless enough to make my brain absolutely melt.

I could feel the trembling in my hips start up again and fought against the urge to cant my hips in an attempt to finally have him fuck me. I didn’t feel strong enough to hold myself up on my arms anymore, so I slowly lowered myself until I was lying on and grabbing onto the arm of the sofa, looking straight into my own eyes in the reflection in the windows.

Seonghwa behind me was fascinatedly watching where we were pressed together while his hips resumed the gentle rocking against mine, just enough to make me feel him but not enough to give me any relief. I couldn’t hold back the whine and his eyes snapped to mine in the window, face instantly crumpling into a mean smirk.

“Such a good girl,” he repeated more teasingly this time, “only want someone to push you around a little and stuff you full, huh? Need someone to throw you down and show you your place, don’t you darling? No thoughts, just a cock drilling into you and filling you with cum, that’s what you need, huh?”

His words triggered a visceral reaction out of me; shuddering I whined loudly and finally pushed my hips against his, working them in little circles right on his erection, hoping to entice him into doing something. But I clearly underestimated just how much of a menace he could be when he wanted to.

Upon his entertained laugh I searched the window for his form again, finding him amusedly watching me pitifully attempting to get myself off on his pants, and frustration rushed through me. A growl ripped itself out of my throat and before I knew it, my mouth was running off.

“God, Seonghwa, just shut the fuck up and fuck me finally.”

Suddenly we were plunged into silence as I saw his eyes narrow at me, boring right into my soul even through the medium of the window. One of his hands pushed at the small of my back forcefully, steadying my hips and pinning them away from his, while his other finally moved to his belt and zipper. But there was a dark expression on his face, all amusement draining out of him in a second, instead now giving him a colder and domineering aura again.

“Guess I spoke too soon, huh?” he said with faux anger, hand aggressively tearing his belt off of his pants, “Did you already forget what I said about taking what I give you? Well… don’t tell me I didn’t warn you…” The last sentence had me breaking into cold sweat, both a warning and a promise sounding through his voice, throwing me into panic while my cunt slicked up even more in anticipation.

Seonghwa tore his pants open, pushing them around just enough to pull his cock out and without even giving me a chance to look, he shoved himself balls-deep inside of me knocking the wind out of me. I gasped out loudly, whole body jerking forward, and my hands grabbed onto the sofa as hard as I could to battle with the dual sensation of pleasure and fulfilment with burning pain. Tears sprung into my eyes, one sliding down my cheek and falling right into my mouth open wide on silent moan, making me taste salt.

Turns out, the dark-haired man wasn’t willing to wait on that either, as he immediately started pumping his hips into me full force, using his cock to mould my walls to fit him without giving me time to adjust. But it’s not like I complained about anything, when ecstasy I haven’t known before wracked through me and I moaned out desperately with every rough thrust, quickly feeling the pain melt into mind-numbing pleasure that had fire spreading through my every nerve.

I could already feel my body responding and we were barely a couple of thrusts in, but if the rapid throbbing of my walls and my shaking trembling hips were anything to go by, I was ready to cum within few moments. And Seonghwa felt it.

His hands readjusted their grip on my body and then he upped the pace, snapping his hips into me wildly and forcefully, almost knocking to wind out of me on every uptake and sending me crashing into the armrest. He slid in so deep and so perfectly, pressing up against my sweet spot with every move and sending me into overdrive. Every few thrusts I felt like I blacked out for a few seconds as my mind and body started shutting down to only receive the pleasure and nothing more. My face was wet, and I wasn’t sure if it was from sweat, drool or tears, but still I felt like I was sitting on the edge of some terrible breathtaking revelation, like a messiah witnessing a godly act for the first time in their miserable life.

I was literally gasping for breath and on the cusp of cumming again after barely two minutes of his rough pace, cunt so wet I made a mess everywhere and every time he pulled out my juices splattered on our bodies. I was hungrily sucking him in, clenching around the intrusion in hopes of keeping him lodged so deep inside of me it scratched something wild and primal in my brain.

There was babbling and nonsense spilling out of my lips, begging the man to never stop and whining out how good he felt stretching me out like that; cock hammering into my walls with brutish force and I knew I’d never forget the feeling of getting fucked by him, of his thickness spearing me open and the spongy tip overstimulating me from the inside.

The man behind me snickered and I peeked through my half-lidden eyes to the reflection, seeing the vision of Seonghwa ravaging me with all of his clothes still on and perfectly intact, only his pants pushed slightly down, sweat running down his forehead and his cheeks, eyes crazed and trained on the way my whole body bounced with his thrusts. His eyes screamed absolute power and rendered me defenceless against him.

He kept steadily upping the tempo until he was jackhammering into me so quickly my body was crashing down under the tidal wave of pleasure, my g-spot so fucking battered I was crying and drooling into the pillows. I was so sensitive and high-strung, experiencing a wave after a wave of nearly there orgasms, always strong enough to have me breathless but never enough to quite push me over the edge.

I wanted to plead and beg for him to make me cum, but I couldn’t even speak properly through the loud whines and moans spilling freely out of my throat, tongue completely useless and wooden, and any attempt to speak got drown out by Seonghwa’s grunts and groans anyway. So I put the matter into my own hands, quite literally.

I quickly stuck my hand down between my legs and went straight for my clit, pressing on it desperately, half expecting Seonghwa to push it away and punish me, but the man only laughed, head thrown back beautifully to showcase his neck shining with perspiration. When his head lolled back, he was grinning brilliantly, eyes half-lidded and yet so alert it was scary. He was drinking it all up, taking in the spectacle and enjoying the show.

“Look at you, making yourself cum on my cock,” he teased breathily, trying to keep the same tempo but I could feel he was slipping too, “If I knew you’d be cumming your brain out within a few thrusts like this, I’d have treated you like that from the beginning, darling.” I barely registered it, instead everything inside of me screaming from teetering on the edge for too long.

And then suddenly I stuttered and gasped, everything crashing onto me in a burst of fire, and I was cumming so fiercely I screamed, cunt clenching strongly enough to restrict his movement, but he continued slamming into me forcefully as if nothing happened, as if it was nothing while I shook and jerked and cried, the feeling overtaking me with such intensity I blacked out for a moment, eyes rolling back into the back of my skull and my tongue lolling out of my mouth and dripping drool everywhere. Everything was just white noise, and all I could register were my curling toes, my fingers digging into the fabric hard enough to hurt, the feeling of my juices streaming down my thighs as I came and my cunt pumping the most delicious euphoria I’ve ever felt through my body, like sweet ambrosia running through my veins.

I heaved a deep breath suddenly, like coming up through the surface after almost drowning, my body snapping back into itself as the climax turned into a continuous shivering electric hum under my skin. I felt even barely conscious, eyes slipping closed after the intensity of the orgasm plundering through me at the hands of the beautiful man.

But Seonghwa was still thrusting into me, plunging deep and keeping practically the same tempo, and I cried out in overstimulation, instinctively trying to pull away from him, but he kept me in place with his grip, never faltering and taking what he wanted. He was grunting and loudly gasping for air behind me, clearly also on the edge of finding his release, while I was fucked into complete oversensitivity, every new thrust sending scalding hot fireworks through my tired body.

His pace changed, his strokes getting more heavy-handed as he focused more on delivering deep hard thrusts instead of keeping up his pace, the impact of our bodies strong enough to make loud slapping noises that flew through the room, and in any normal kind of headspace it would make me embarrassed, but now I could barely think about anything else other than the hard hot cock making me go crazy and slowly pushing me towards a third high.

Seonghwa curled around me slightly, crumpling with the force of his oncoming orgasm, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open, his hands digging into me with such force I was afraid they were drawing blood.

This was pure animalistic fucking, the kind that I’ve never experienced before, and wasn’t fully prepared for what was in store for me, turning me into a lifeless ragdoll in his hands, just taking it, body jolting around on the soft settee along with his movements.

“I’m going to ruin you for him,” gasped out Seonghwa abruptly after such a long period of silence. His mind seemed to be completely gone, eyes glazed over with something insane and dangerous. His hips pumped desperately, and I felt his cock twitching wildly inside of me just begging to burst.

“I’m going to ruin you for him and for everyone else,” he continued hurriedly, the words falling out of him quickly and with force, “every time he even tries, you’ll only be thinking about how I gave it to you better than any man ever could. My sweet little sister-in-law thinking about my cock while fucking her husband.” A long groan left him, the image he was painting getting to him and pushing him towards the edge hard, his eyes squeezing shut tightly.

I moaned out weakly at that, heat clamping down on him once again in response to his filthy words, and there was an absolutely debauched high-pitched moan from behind me before I felt Seonghwa explode, cumming in strong thick spurts that filled me up quickly as his hips jerked forward with the momentum, trying to press himself as deep as possible to deposit his load.

Another wave similar to a weak orgasm rolled through me and I shivered under him, body protesting and begging me for a reprieve.

We stilled, both trying to catch our breath and recover from the highs we went through, and Seonghwa leaned down, plastering himself to my back. The heat rose at the contact of our two bodies and it was nearly unbearable, but then suddenly the man was giggling darkly into my ear and dread rolled through me at the sound. His lips attached themselves lightly to the lobe, playing with it a little before getting to the point.

“Gave you my load nice and deep darling,” he whispered conspiratorially, another breathless chuckle escaping him, “just like your pussy wanted.” There was a terrible beat of silence, the calm before storm, the dark awful moment before a disaster strikes. I felt his lips pressing closer to the shell of my ear, almost feeling the shape of his smirk.

“Wouldn’t it be ironic…” he started playfully, intentionally avoiding what he wanted to say, until he finally whispered: “How fun would it be if his first son was my bastard, huh? If I got you nice and pregnant tonight and sent you back with a little gift? Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

A sense of dread and panic started setting into my stomach, but I was too tired, too drained, and I couldn’t do anything except lie there under him and slowly come to terms with my fate. My eyes were even barely open, but I saw enough of him to know that he had more than just a little sick satisfaction from that. The only thing I could do was turn my gaze away and quietly stew in the possible consequences of my lapse of judgement.

“He took everything of mine,” Seonghwa said with dark finality, “It’s only fair I take something of his.” I didn’t react to that, letting him ride the high all on his own while I just wanted to lie down and sleep. But he seemed to have a different idea of how this evening would continue.

With a deep rumbling laugh he gently gathered me in his arms, dislodging himself from me in the process. I blushed lightly at the feeling of his thick cum trickling down my thighs immediately, but I bet it could be barely seen on my sweaty red face. I dreaded to see the state of my makeup after all of this, or the state of the sofa where my face got smushed into the light brown fabric. Or where I, you know, got fucked into oblivion.

Seonghwa happily heaved me up and started walking towards the king bed in the other room, softly laying me down on the bedding. In my half delirious state my tired brain tried catch up with him now that he flipped again and started being all kind, but I just watched him warily as he moved about the room elegantly.

His clothes were somehow still perfectly in place, except for his pants that were open and hanging onto his hips by sheer willpower. I could see the dark stains of my slick on them alongside some colourful smudges of my makeup and I blushed again, the shame catching up on me now that my brain wasn’t as heated anymore, and I could think at least a little clearly.

I was gathering up my strength to sit up and remove the rest of the tattered lingerie (and my shoes, somehow I managed to forget my heels were still firmly strapped on my feet), when I felt a shadow fall over me. My eyes blinked open slowly, taking in Seonghwa who suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, looking down on me amusedly.

I watched on as he slowly started loosening his tie and undoing the buttons on his black vest and white shirt. He undressed unhurriedly, the whole time hypnotising me with dark eyes and the bad premonition rose in me once more, the pit in my stomach opening. But if it was with dread or hunger, I couldn’t tell.

Once he got rid of everything except for his pants and underwear, which was on again even though there was a dark wet stain on it, I was already inched up all the way in the middle of the bed as if instinctively trying to put some distance between us. The predatory glint in his eyes told me he was very aware of that; it was trained on me like a wolf’s gaze on a helpless rabbit.

He leisurely climbed onto the bed, one leg after another, beautiful muscled torso on display, just miles of flawless honey-toned skin rippling with every fluid movement of his lithe body. Suddenly he leaned forward and his hands clasped around my ankles like shackles, but his touch remained delicate, a complete one eighty from the ruthless man before.

While keeping his eyes trained on mine, he languidly bent down and placed a barely there kiss on the skin right above my ankle, and I shivered at the caress, my legs tensing and trembling under his care. Seonghwa smirked lightly, snickered quietly and put his lips back to work.

As he unhurriedly climbed up my legs, crawling over me with his hands and lips reverently tracing my heated skin, here or there swiping his tongue over it and tasting the salt of our combined sweat, I laid there and observed him with bated breath, tentative excitement beginning to swirl in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure whether I could go on, but it was hard to remain cold under his lustful stare and gentle hands.

When he reached my crotch I gasped and he laughed at me, nosing a little around the sensitive area and staring like a hawk at my reaction. Trying hard not to break I pursed my lips together hard, but I couldn’t conceal whatever it was that swam in my eyes to which he seemed to be drawn the most. I cursed at my weak mind and flesh and threw my head back in surrender, thighs automatically falling more apart to give him space to operate.

My heart gave a few painful pumps, and I tried not to think about what was happening here, tried to not think about what night this was and who I was with, but the man seemed determined not to let me forget what sin we were committing here.

An amused chuckle flew out his mouth at me, I felt the puff of air hit my sensitive slit and jolted a little with a quiet gasp, but he only kissed the top of my mound and then moved on to kiss at my hip and further up.

“I’d love to clean up your naughty little pussy, darling,” he whispered into my navel stuttering and trembling with my uneven breaths, “but I want my cum stay right where it is for just a moment longer.” I shuddered at that, a pulse of heat running through me. My hands, all sweaty and clammy, desperately grabbed onto the sheet and dug deep into the mattress in a miserable attempt to not grasp onto him.

Seonghwa slowly kissed his way all the way up to my breasts and suddenly his way was obstructed by the remnants of my night-dress, the white lacy bra barely holding on after he ripped off the lower half of the set. After one cheeky glance my way he sat up and tapped my side gently.

“Arch that back for me for a moment doll, let me take it off for you,” trickled out of his mouth in a sensual drawl, hands already sliding to my back. I listened, of course I did, even though I still stubbornly refused to meet his eyes and turned my head to the side, instead looking out the window at the night Seoul. The man’s reflection was embedded there, obstructing my view and forcing me to perceive him until the bitter end. I watched as he moved fluidly, hands caressing their way up my back and searching for the clasp, undoing it with a single blind flick of his fingers.

I felt the fabric give and slide off of me slightly, before Seonghwa dutifully moved to collect it and move it away, quickly taking it off and throwing it to the side towards the closet. I kept my eyes trained on the vision he was, a dark silhouette backlit with golden light, almost shining skin like a halo, on the backdrop of the beautiful nightline. It was ethereal, he looked ethereal.

The figure moved again, smoothing himself out over the bed, anchoring himself between my thighs. I witnessed him languidly bend down, like he had all the time in the world, a soft smirk on his face that spoke of victory. The same moment his head ducked down lazily, I felt the man’s hot breath hit my skin and then he was licking a bold stripe up the strip between my breasts. In the reflection, the two forms moulded together, and I felt myself arch up into him and gasp, breaking the eye contact with the window.

I lost the battle to my hands and finally reached for him, needed to feel him and grab on to him so viscerally I almost couldn’t breathe with the desire. I ran up the smooth planes of his back until I finally tangled them into his long black messed up hair, for the second time that night.

Contrary to what I expected, Seonghwa kept himself calm and only migrated to softly play with my tit, pulling the nipple into his mouth and lightly sucking, sending tingling down my spine. He wasn’t hurried at all, the lazy strokes of his tongue around the little nub and the sucks pleasantly sending bursts of warmth through me.

His hands held my tits from the sides, pushing them together as he trailed his mouth all over them, laying down searing branding kisses, alternating between the two nipples and biting lightly. I surrendered to the feeling, letting the beautiful man play me as he pleased, curling into him and hands pulling him closer, massaging the skin of his back and his shoulders.

I was obsessed with the feeling of him under my hands, the heat radiating off of him, the softness of his skin compared to the firmness of the muscle bellow, feeling it ripple as he moved himself closer and plunged his head between my tits, feeling it vibrate with his light moans and sighs of pleasure. It felt like I was losing my mind, body melting into him and eternally begging for more.

I had my eyes closed firmly shut, head thrown back and all thoughts banished except for the sensation of his wet tongue exploring every inch of me and leaving a trail of shivers behind. Without me realising it my thighs rose to cage his waist and hips, hitching up to the back of his thighs and latching onto him so he could never leave and deprive me of this feeling.

Seonghwa was full of happy chuffs and amused chuckles, just entertaining himself by watching me struggle to contain the lust, and I could feel his eyes on me, the dark orbs taking me in as I laid there under him and pleaded for his attention without even having to say a single word.

After what felt like hours of just worshipping my tits, until not even a single millimetre of my skin wasn’t kissed or licked or sucked by his naughty mouth, he finally moved higher and settled into the crook of my neck and latching onto the soft spot right under my ear, making me keen and sigh and whimper. He paid the same attention to my neck, marking it all up with searing kisses and bites that left a gentle sting mixing into the pleasure and I felt my cunt gushing once more, getting ready to take him again.

This new position had our hips perfectly aligned and there was an unmistakable bulge pressing into my centre, and before I could stop myself or think about it, I started gyrating my hips and rubbing myself all over him.

“Being so naughty again, princess,” Seonghwa murmured into my skin with a snicker, “Need another good fucking? Want another load from your brother-in-law, is that it?” I whined, turning my head away from him in embarrassment, but he didn’t seem bothered and only pressed himself closer. I hated when he was using that name for himself, but I couldn’t deny it was the truth. I’ve done such a good job of ignoring that blaring fact, but he never failed to bring me back firmly onto Earth.

Then his hand slowly sneaked from my breasts down my stomach between my legs and he immediately pressed two fingers onto my clit, forcing a stuttered moan out of my throat.

My pussy was so raw and tender after the fucking it received, just wet and swollen and burning, burning for more and begging to be filled and ravaged again, and I knew the moment I’d get his cock inside me again it would feel like getting branded with a fired seal, but I craved nothing more than to have the tip battering my sweet spot until I couldn’t speak.

His fingers didn’t waste time and after some playing around with the sensitive aching nub, he plunged them as deep inside as they could go, giving me a nice substitute but knowing they wouldn’t fill me up enough, not in the way I craved as I began to lose my mind to the lust once more.

The residues of his last release squelched and spurted around his fingers as he began slowly but forcefully fucking me with them, turning it into even a bigger mess, but I barely cared when I had something to clench onto and ride the feeling.

I absolutely felt like I was going through a heat, like I wasn’t capable of single thought beyond getting absolutely railed by this stunning cruel man. At the back of my head countless alarms blared through the night, but I ignored all of them. So what if he did it for revenge? So what if he didn’t care one bit? So what if this had potentially devastating consequences? Nothing mattered as long as he kept fucking me and making me cum.

“How’s that, darling?” he asked on a mean turn of his fingers, forcing them deeper into me and curling them into the most sensitive patch, “Enjoying your brother-in-law’s fingers? You’re such a dirty little whore, letting me have my way with you on your wedding night.” The equally fascinated and mocking tone of his voice was back, hypnotising me with its sweetness and luring me in just to hammer my shame home even further.

I ignored the way I clenched around him at those words, though Seonghwa no doubt noticed judging by the snickers and giggles that kept escaping him as he watched me flail about on the bed under his ministrations. The whine that did claw its way out of me was completely involuntary though and I tried to cover it up with a loud exclamation of “Seonghwa!”. I truly meant it as a reprimand, but it came out as a helpless moan as I felt a shockwave of pleasure rushing through me.

And had I been watching the man, I’d see the way his already blown out pupils dilated with lust even more, as the familiar glint of aroused craze settled back into them.

“Fuck, darling, I really do like hearing you say my name like that,” he whispered breathlessly, fingers picking up the pace, “And you’re absolutely right. You should be screaming my name, you should scream yourself hoarse on my cock so you’d never forget..”

I panted heavily and my legs kept tensing with the rising feeling of another orgasm coming, this time the tidal wave rising higher and higher, the tension getting more strung up and tightening around my core like a string about to snap. But I needed more. I wanted more.

Letting go of all the inhibitions I had left, I grabbed onto the man, desperately pulling at him as I arched more, thighs falling open and hips canting up to feel his thin frame lodge into mine even more. My eyes blinked open after what felt like a whole eternity in a blissful darkness and sought out his immediately, looking into those all-consuming orbs watching my every move.

“Please, Seonghwa…” came out as a hoarse whisper, more a desperate whine than anything, “fuck, please! Please, give me something!” A wicked fucking grin split his face and I realised that it was what he was waiting for this whole time. To break me enough to beg for it all on my own. A dark anticipation ran through me, knowing I’d finally get what he’d been teasing me with.

And I couldn’t even feel bad about it when the man finally extricated himself from me, settled on his knees and pushed his trousers and underwear off, baring himself to me for the first time that night. Or early morning, I had no idea how much time has actually passed.

I was taking his lean figure in hungrily, eyes scaling up and down the elegant planes and curves that hid so much muscle and strength under deceptive beauty, and of course, his beautiful cock standing tall, thin, long and angry red at the weeping tip, all but begging to get back inside of my warmth. And who was I to take that away from him?

Clocking in how starvingly I was eyeing his length, the man smirked at me, hand going to grip my jaw and force my eyes back to his face. There was an arrogant self-satisfied grimace, knowing he’d captivated me like no other before.

“Now now, be a good girl,” Seonghwa taunted darkly, “and maybe I’ll let you suck it some other time.” The promise in that sentence sent shivers and goosebumps down the line of my body, but I couldn’t decide whether it was dread or pure ecstasy at knowing I’d get him like this again, already completely hooked on what he was offering. I licked my lips and his eyes jumped briefly down, lips absentmindedly turning into a smile and then he released me.

Now fully naked, he teasingly slowly settled over me, hips anchoring themselves between my thighs like before, but this time he went for my mouth in another claiming kiss, grabbing onto the side of my head as he pushed his tongue in immediately and eagerly drank up all my little noises of surprise and joy.

This kiss was different though, languid and deliberate and deep, the slow strokes almost lazy in nature, and I keened into him, eyes rolling back with the sensations that washed over me both suddenly and gradually at the same time.

And then, without any warning, he started pushing in, much like he was kissing me – languidly and deliberately driving into me in a slow motion, until our hips were moulded together. And this time it felt like he was even deeper, just sitting there inside of me, pushing into me in a way that was making me crazy without even moving, the weight of having him pressed there enough to choke me up on a sob.

My mouth opened on a moan and Seonghwa hungrily ate it up, mouth continuing to work me and kiss me even though I grew unresponsive in his arms, eyes glazed and unseeing.

And just like before, contrary to my expectations, he didn’t start wildly thrusting into me. Instead he just as slowly pulled out and pushed back in, hips fluidly moving in broad slow strokes and I felt like he was pumping hot molten iron into my circulation.

Our mouths disconnected with a lewd gasp, a few strings of saliva connecting us together until his dark grin broke them. We were so close to each other, our skin melded together by sweat, bodies sliding against each other with every leisured thrust. He stayed hovering right above me, our noses brushing together and breaths mingling. Seonghwa drank up every little twitch of my face with his dark blown out eyes and I couldn’t help but keep my wide open, staring right back.

The eye contact was intense, and I felt sparks jumping between us, but neither of us broke. We just breathed into each other’s lips, brushing but not initiating another kiss. It was so intimate it almost fooled me into believing we cared about each other; with one of his hands reverently caressing my side and the gentle steady pace of his hips, it would have been easy to believe that.

Seonghwa shifted slightly, so that he was leaning on his elbow placed by my shoulder, while the free hand travelled down again to grasp at my hip. Pinning me down to the bed, he roughed up the pace a little, snapping his hips to me a little harder. That finally got me breaking out of the spell and the moment he hammered into my sweet spot, my eyes rolled back into my head and I moaned whinily.

I grabbed onto him, at first onto the shoulders and then I migrated to his waist. Seonghwa chuckled and swerved to get back to my neck, giggling lightly straight into my ear.

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered devotedly, voice honeyed and curling around my senses like a snake, “Fuck, yeah, that’s it…” I took in a shaky breath and immediately tensed at another perfectly aimed pump.

“Seonghwa..” I whimpered out, arching under him even more if that even was possible, legs curling around his hips, and he suddenly pulled back his arm to grab onto my right knee and force it all the way until it hit the mattress, opening me up to him and sliding in even deeper on the next stroke. I choked on a whine, the gradual build up of another orgasm turning my tongue into lead and whiting out my mind.

Seonghwa stubbornly refused to speed up, even though I was hopelessly writhing underneath him on the king bed in the honeymoon suite, husband of barely few hours drunken halfway to death somewhere in this 60-storey building, and here I was. Falling apart another man’s cock, begging for more.

“S-Seonghwa!” I choked out again, “Please, please, fuck I need something!” My cunt felt so raw and sensitive from all the fucking and orgasms before and every time he plunged back inside, slowly to make me feel every inch, every ridge, until his tip nudged as deep as it could go, it ignited me in a way that seemed to touch deep enough to burn my soul.

I felt the sweat trickling down my body, from the creases on the inside of my knees, from beneath my breasts, down my neck and hairline, we both felt so sweaty we stuck together, every movement made smooth by it. It made the slapping noise of our bodies meeting each other wetter, along with my juices that must have by now covered absolutely everything. The heat was nigh unbearable, but it was consuming me from the inside out just like all the other sensations, making my brain even more muddled.

I fought to focus my eyes again, pull them towards Seonghwa, to see the man that was ruining me like this, to see what kind of expression was on his face. The moment I rolled my head back, he was there. The man must have gone back to watching me at some point without me realising it, because there he was, with his face wet with perspiration and hair sticking to his forehead, eyes almost black and lips curled loosely into a smug grin.

“There you are, darling,” fell out of his lips easily, in the otherwise pretty silent room it was almost too loud. I gasped and hiccupped, still hanging onto him like a lifeline.

“After this, what I wouldn’t give to have you ride me, pretty girl,” the man continued now that he had my attention again, “To see your tits bounce as you ride my cock, to fill you up with another load… I know you deserve another one, don’t you pretty girl?” He grew breathless with every word, hips losing rhythm and snapping a little faster, not much but a smidge. I appreciated it all the same, chanting a row of “yes, yes, yes!” while he laughed at me like I was pathetic.

“I’ll have you do it some other time, darling,” Seonghwa just kept going, my reactions fuel to his fire, hips now swirling with every thrust, working in little circles like he was just amusing himself, “after all, I’ll probably need to pump you full a couple times before it takes, huh? And we have all the time in the universe… now that we’re family.”

I whined, but it was drowned out by the noise inside of my head. Sparks were erupting all over my body, the steady pace he set putting just enough pressure on my g-spot to have me stiffening and growing taunt, getting pushed closer and closer to an edge that was already so familiar to me by now.

“Like that!” I couldn’t hold back the scream, head thrown back into the pillows, “Hwa! Hwa, please don’t stop!” The man in question didn’t laugh at me like I anticipated, instead he bent down until our foreheads were almost touching, hand clenching on my knee and keeping it pushed into the bedding, hips enthusiastically pumping into me in a deep circular motion. There were some soft creaks of the bed that got lost to my relieved moans, drowned in the cacophony that was us.

The shaking started up again, the feeling close to overcoming me so intense my whole body shook and trembled as I gasped and moaned, my throat hoarse and lips bitten raw (whether it be from Seonghwa or my own self).

Seemed that the man for once decided to listen to me, cause he kept his pace and aimed at that one spot until I felt the wave rising, rising, pussy clenching and squeezing. It was mounting way more intensely than before and I found myself thrashing, feeling like I was about to explode.

My fingers dug into Seonghwa’s skin, enough to leave him some nasty marks and scratches, and I heard the man hiss in pleasure, hips kicking forward a little rougher and all it took was two, three, four more pumps and then everything burst out in blinding deafening blast, body contorting as much as it could twist under Seonghwa, toes curling and the ecstasy shot through me, shot out of me in strong currents of relief and it felt so fucking good, so good I could cry (and I probably did).

Once the first wave fell off a little, I registered Seonghwa’s stuttered moans and curses, hips jerking wildly, drawing out the euphoria endlessly until I thought I might die between the never-ending pulses of pleasure. The feeling of wetness rose tenfold between us, but my brain couldn’t comprehend anything.

I kept moaning as Seonghwa kept thrusting, going with the feeling and riding the high, listening to his desperate groans and murmurs. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, not fully, everything still fuzzy on the edges and my bones molten gold, even the air I was breathing was full of ecstasy and everything swam in front of my eyes.

“Look at me darling, fuck, look at me,” his desperate moan pulled my attention, and I did my best to focus on him. Eyes blown wide and hair messy, golden skin dewy with drops of perspiration; I felt one hit my skin and splatter and it was almost burning.

“Fuck, I wanna see you when I fill you up one last time, pretty girl,” Seonghwa gasped out, hold tightening on my thigh and mouth open wide gasping into mine as our noses slid against each other with sweat.

When he came, I felt it viscerally through my whole body.

At first, he trembled under my hands, muscles growing taunt. Then his hips kicked forward forcefully and suddenly an overflow of scalding hot seed spilt into me in thick long spurts. Seonghwa’s face fell to my neck and his high-pitched moans reverberated through my chest and I lied there gasping, walls contracting, trying to keep everything inside. It was a primitive instinct, but I knew no better than to get absolutely bred and fucked after all.

There were little tremors running through me, aftershocks of the orgasm, aftershocks of feeling Seonghwa’s orgasm so close, of the raw pleasure it brought me to feel him release inside of me. But as the adrenaline started wearing off, I suddenly felt dizzy and boneless.

Seonghwa was like the devil, lips pressed to the shell of my ear and whispering, tattering off with hushed praises, hands caressing me and his weight comfortably pressing me down into the bed. I felt the warmth of his cum trickling down the cleft of my ass, escaping around his softening cock still lodged inside of me.

“You’re amazing darling, I had no idea you’d squirt for me like that,” I caught one of the things he muttered into my neck sweetly, kissing along the column of it in gently, “such a good girl for me…” Everything wavered, growing dark.

My eyes were closing by themselves, and I could barely keep myself awake enough to hear what he said next, the gravity making itself known once more and pulling my heavy body into the bedding. I slowly drifted off to his soft whispers and tender touches.

Waking up the next morning, if someone told me I got runover by a truck in my sleep, I’d have believed them. I’d fucking swear my body creaked when I tried to move, the muscles protesting and bones cracking into place one by one.

Upon stretching I realised that I was laid in clean sheets. I distinctly remembered falling asleep in a bed that was soaked through with release and sweat, the feeling of the cold wet bedding on my rapidly cooling skin was uncomfortable enough to burn into my memory. I was still naked though.

The next thing I noticed had mortification mixed with shame spreading through me rapidly and I didn’t know whether to blush or just burst out crying. I could feel the dried up cum coating my heat and thighs, meaning he didn’t clean me up afterwards.

I wanted to hate him and paint him in my mind as an asshole that didn’t give two shits about aftercare, since it wouldn’t be that big of a leap honestly, but if I got to know one thing about him yesterday, it’s that he most definitely left it on purpose.

Just as I was cursing him in my mind and figuring out how to take a shower while my entire body refused to work, there was a groan and a ruffle of sheets from behind me. I froze immediately and panic gripped me.

If the bastard didn’t even leave… Anyone could come in at any moment, there’s no explaining the fate that would befall me if I was caught here like this.

But when I finally willed myself through the panic to turn around and face it head on, there was my husband, sleeping like a baby. He was undressed and smelled absolutely horrendously, but it was him unmistakably. Unfortunately. A vague shape of a memory fought its way to the surface in my mind – blearing through sleepy eyes glued together at the shadow of Seonghwa pulling someone into the room, the rustling of sheets and nondescript cursing and thuds – before I got pulled back under.

Great. Just awesome

After few moments of struggling to stand up and balance my weight on my shaky unsteady knees, I finally managed to set out on my way to the bathroom. It was all across the suite and in the process, I got to witness the doom of our night together.

The poor sofa had a stain and a few splatters on it, and I didn’t wish to investigate their origin any further, so I moved through the tattered remains of my wedding dress that was split in the middle almost cleanly. At some point one of us had to knock over a champagne glass, because I almost stepped on it while looking over the dress, instead landing my foot in still a vaguely damp sticky pool of drying alcohol seeping into the carpet and lower tiers of the dress. I ignored the mortification and embarrassment at the clear display of complete mess and soldiered on shakily.

Getting to the bathroom was a whole ordeal, but when I made it, I had no idea the true show was yet to begin. There in mirror was my reflection, it was much clearer than the ones I had burned into my memory of yesterday, there were no blinding lights behind it, no dark sky to distract, only me covered in marks from head to toe, hair a fucked-out nest and eyes red-rimmed.

I breathed out a sigh, resignation setting in as I looked at the state of me. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t even have my makeup here, it was a hot summer outside. I would have to walk out of here eventually and I couldn’t hide even an inch of the reddish and purplish spots and bitemarks that littered the skin of my neck and the swell of my breasts. The bites tapered out a little there and I looked down, seeing the carnage that was my hips with vivid marks of fingers and hands printed on my skin.

For a moment I stood there, eyes squeezed shut and face pulled into a frustrated grimace, but then I just sighed deeply again, the tension quickly bleeding out of me. What was done, was done.

With slumped shoulders I dragged my feet to the shower, trying to make myself forget as much as possible and wash away all the evidence that could be taken off with the soft floral soap.

I hid away in the bathroom for as long as was humanly possible, going through all the extra steps of trying out the several samples of moisturizes and drying my hair until it was almost fried, even cleaning up after myself. If I had the solution, I’d even polish the fucking mirror, but eventually there came a knock on my door and a timid maid informed me I was eagerly awaited at the brunch. I waited to hear her leave, and then with shaky hands pushed the door open.

The room was already empty when I stepped out, but it was clean – the carpet with the dress were gone and the offending sofa stain was covered up with a throw blanket, I supposed until they could get to cleaning it. A single pile of folded clothes sat on the table.

I didn’t even question it until I had it in my hands and realised both the top and the skirt covered just enough to be decent, but most of the marks would be pretty much visible, the spaghetti straps barely covering anything and the slit between my top and bottom showing off the fingerprints on my waist. Rolling my eyes annoyedly I fucking immediately knew this was Seonghwa’s pick.

I was going to murder the man once I got my damn hands on him.

With no other choice left in the empty room, I put it on and made my way downstairs. It was a real walk of shame, all the eyes turning my way and examining my colourful state. Even knowing the staff were all aware it was my wedding night didn’t make it any easier, and at some point, I found the idea of them thinking this was Yujun’s job actually worse than knowing it was his brother. I shimmied quickly down the halls until I reached the little private salon where we were apparently being hosted.

Without realising how bad my day was about to get, I hurriedly rounded the partition and promptly froze in my tracks. This wasn’t a private breakfast. As soon as I stepped into the space, there was several sets of eyes trained on me, more sets than I was comfortable with.

At the head of the table sat my mother and Mrs. Park, both alternating between casting judging glances towards Yujun and towards me, on one side of the table sat three of Yujun’s obnoxious buddies and on the other I found myself once again face to face with Seonghwa.

He was eyeing me with undeniable interest, pupils dark and hungry. Proud. He liked the clothes. Liked showing me off. I flushed but thankfully the embarrassment was easily explainable by the sudden attention from everyone else, especially since Yujun’s bodies started murmuring something no doubt very inappropriate, judging by their lewd expressions.

It was awful and I wanted to fucking melt into the floor, so I stood there for few long moments battling myself to stay put and not turn on my heels and walk straight out of the hotel and into the sea.

Yujun was puffing up his chest, much to the distaste of our mothers sitting right by his side, but he was ignoring them and already sending looks to his friends and looking like a right idiot. I fought to keep the scowl off of my face, and when I finally forced myself to move to sit down in the only spot left at the table, I kicked Seonghwa who was grinning in a very much “cat who ate the canary” way.

The man barely reacted to me and continued leisurely eating his waffles, so self-satisfied it rolled off of him in fucking waves. And what was even worse, of course I had to sit in between him and Yujun. The gods couldn’t be more against me, but I soldiered on. I really had no other option.

I tried not to insert myself into the conversation too much. After the initial shock of my entrance wore off, the hum of amicable chat resumed. I ignored some very uncouth comments and soon they lost interest in teasing me when I stubbornly stared into my cup or food and didn’t react at all. The brunch dragged on with the air of awkwardness hanging over everybody, our mothers attempting to pull the table back to polite conversation while Yujun continued making an idiot out of himself by behaving like a fucking caveman.

Or maybe it was just me, my husband and his buddies certainly seemed in great spirits. I almost scoffed, managing to put my hand in front of my face last minute and cough. I heard Seonghwa’s quiet snickers to my right and registered my mother’s warning glance, and after that I didn’t speak another word.

And just when I thought I had escaped, with the empty plates signalling the end of the brunch was in sight, I felt a hand on my thigh. My right thigh. Seonghwa looked at me from the corner of his eye, lips dangerously curved into a playful smirk. I tensed, body slowly turning to stone.

Everybody else carried on.

My heart was pumping painfully, hands shaking. An awful feeling of despair set into me, my chest cavity filling with black tar while my head spun. What had I gotten myself into?

“Seonghwa, thank you for letting us use the hotel,” my mother said, completely clueless, “it was so very helpful.”

He laughed gently, hand squeezing my thigh possessively.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure.”

thank you for reading!

the divider taken from the amazingly talented @saradika-graphics

#kpop smut #kpop fic #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez x reader #seonghwa fic #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez #seonghwa #ateez angst #seonghwa angst

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