#she is so fucking cliche but i love her for it

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦𝔳

summary. the capitol, what a lovely place. however, as humanity's story goes, the most captivating sights have the darkest secrets. capitolites crawl around the city like vermin, teeth bared like daggers ready to sink their teeth into the newest tributes. good thing they have a few days to train.

content warnings. mentions of past suicide (only lasts a paragraph or two), depictions of gore (it's in a dream tho dw), graphic depictions of addiction, smoking, and fist fighting (not in the way you think??)

total wc. 13,045

notes!! i don't have much to say ab this one guys im sorry,, i didn't edit it so that's really great but i talk about that more in the post-notes @ the end!! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

20:10.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.

“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” Alice Reymond beams at the suite, clasping her hands together in awe.

The Training Center is one of many skyscrapers within the Capitol, a large portion of it dedicated to the yearly tributes and their teams. Each floor is assigned to its corresponding District. For example, the first and lowest floor is where the tributes of One will reside. As such, you and Remy are assigned to floor four. Sam and Henry are below you on three, Ariadne Evans and Selene Jones above you on five.

Since the Reapings, you’ve spent hours memorizing each tribute. Ruben deems it to be a waste of time, saying most of them will die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. You beg to differ. Sure, a good portion of tributes will die early on, but most of them will end up surviving the bloodbath and be threats to your survival. Since most people view it as Ruben does, your determination to memorize each tribute provides you with the ascendancy. Well, it would, had you not been born a L/n.

If they Capitol weren’t so fucking infatuated by your family, you’d undeniably have the upper hand by knowing each tribute by name and District. But they all already know you. By more than just name, at that. They know your family tree, history, District, name, and all else that’s up for common knowledge — which is everything. It’s fucking maddening. You have to do double the work just to learn each name whilst yours is a given to everyone else. 

You’ll be a target in the arena, deemed the highest threat and the most valuable kill.

“We each have our own rooms, bathrooms, and dressing rooms. Just like on the train. Though this place is far more ostentatious.” Alice continues on, walking around the space with a wide grin. “Dinner will be served in half an hour, so you’re able to get washed up. Return back here in something more comfortable than those costumes, yes?”

Alice shoos you and Remy away, turning to admire the suite alone. She continues to mutter words of veneration under her breath long after everyone has left.

The suite has an open layout, kitchen and living room separated by a three foot wall. To the right of the space is a wide hallway, corinthian columns on either side. Down the hall are four doors, one for each of you. The floors are hardwood, the walls velvet with intricate mouldings.

You push open your door. Your room is decorated in different shades of blue, likely due to Four’s being a fishing District. It’s cliche, though you find yourself far more fond of the blues than you were of the pure whiteness back home. It adds character despite that being basic.

You’re quick to strip out of your pirate outfit, slipping into something more congenial. 

Your stylist was kind enough, a short plump woman named Birdie. Her hair was chopped into an electric red pixie cut that messily framed her round face. She didn’t look as much as a Capitolite as Alice Reymond, though she still had that wealthy aura to her. She was super sweet, asking how you wanted your hair done and how short you wanted your skirts. Most stylists don’t care to ask for the tributes’ preferences, so you were grateful to her in that sense of things.

The piracy was her idea, though she allowed you to choose between fabrics. You were sure you’d be dressed into something appalling, whether that be two shells or a full blue bodysuit. But the pirate dress wasn’t too bad. It was actually the best option possible. It was creative enough to draw attention, yet modest enough that you weren’t exploited.

You remember feeling someone’s eyes on you at all times, making you shift uncomfortably as you couldn’t figure out who was staring.

But when your carriage turned after leaving President Fedra’s building, you caught the eye of District Seven’s tribute. Ellie Williams, you believed her name to be. She wore something much showier than you did, making her undeniably attractive. Her short auburn hair was cast back, accentuating her blotchy freckles. Whoever Seven’s stylist is this year surely has an eye for Ellie’s features, knowing exactly what to highlight and how.

You walk around your room, taking in the sight of the space. It’s larger than your room on the train, though it’s full of so many gadgets that it doesn't feel as vast as your room at home. You mess around with the devices for a while, exploring the wonders of Capitol technology. 

You can change the color of your walls, lightbulbs, and carpet with the press of a button. You leave it on blue though, something about the color bringing a sense of comfort to the foreign space. There’s also a machine that materializes food within the blink of an eye! All you have to do is order a meal by speaking into the intercom! How cool is that?

Your adulation is quick to fade. And you’re now disgusted by it.

Kids die from starvation in the Districts daily. Yet, here in the Capitol, food is materialized by the press of a button? The thought makes your stomach churn and you’ve suddenly lost your appetite.

Right on time, there’s a knock at your door. You rush to open it, no longer wanting to be near the sickening machines of the Capitol. Alice stands in the hallway, eyes bright as she announces that it’s time for supper. You nod, following behind her to the kitchen. On the way, she knocks on Remy’s door and he joins you guys at the table.

You sit down, the meals already set out in front of each of the four chairs. Though, one remains empty. Looking down the table to where Ruben should be sitting, there’s naught in his space. You raise an eyebrow at this, turning to Alice.

“Where’s my brother?” 

“Oh, all mentors attend a dinner at the Capitol following the Parade! They’re able to talk with sponsors about how well you guys did.” She responds cheerily as she tells an Avox to cut her steak. “He should be back by now, though. Hm. Perhaps he’s just running late.”

You frown, having no choice but accept her nugatory explanation — which did nothing to console your nerves. 

The Avox nods, stepping away once he’s cut her meal into tiny bites. You catch his eye and he raises his brows, silently offering to cut yours as well. You shake your head, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Alice glances up at you, her movements paused. “What’d you say?”

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” You tell her, gesturing to the Avox behind her. You speak casually despite knowing how this will inevitably vex her. “He was going to cut my steak for me and I declined.” Her eyes widen before she places her fork down gently, trying hard to withhold her patience. “It’s informal to speak to Avoxes in such a manner, Y/n. You’re meant only to address them when giving orders. They’re criminals and have earned their place as servants.”

“What’s informal is your lack of sympathy.” You scoff. “You have no idea what their crimes are. There’s a high possibility that they’re defendable, that they have families who miss them dearly.” “Yet there’s a higher chance that’s not the case.” She responds. 

Alice appears to be absolutely horrified by your show of defiance and willingness to argue on such a matter as this. Remy watches with wide eyes as you two continue to bicker back and forth, all Avoxes now having lowered their heads to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

Your argument is ended only when the front door of the suite clicks open.

Ruben staggers through the doorway, his hair tousled and his shirt half unbuttoned. Your eyes widen as he lifts his head. His pupils are blown and bloodshot, his lips are parted and chapped. The cause is obvious — the post Parade dinner. He must’ve taken one too many of the personally enhanced drugs that the Capitol provides him with.

Alice is quick to her feet, rushing to his aid. It’s so odd how she can be so caring at times, yet so malicious at others. Remy’s brows are furrowed in confusion, clearly not understanding why Ruben is acting so peculiarly. 

Alice brings him over to his chair, where he slumps down onto the table. You don’t move. Part of you feels a sense of pain, seeing him like this. You feel like you should help him as he’d helped you all through your childhood. But another part of you wants to run away, cower in your room until it’s all over. You’re frozen in place, feeling like that useless, defenseless child you once were. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Remy asks, his voice small.

It takes a few seconds before you realize the question is directed at you. Remy watches you with concerned eyes. You blink a few times, taking a deep breath to ground yourself before you answer him. 

“He just had a lot of fun and he’s feeling a bit tired, is all.” You say, using the same response Ruben once gave when explaining why your father would return home drunk all the time. You then turn to Alice with the same pointed expression Ruben would give your mother. “Stay with Remy, I’ll take Ruben to bed. We’ll let him sleep it off. He’ll be better by dawn.”

Alice’s brows furrow for a second, though she’s quick to piece it together. She nods, pulling Ruben’s face out of his food before stepping away to allow you to intervene. You crouch down, draping one of his arms over your shoulders before pulling him to his feet.

Ruben stumbles, his knees buckling under her weight so you’re practically carrying him all the way to his bedroom.

His room is a carbon copy of your own, though he’s switched the color settings to a dusky hue of taupe. You lead him over to his bed before dropping him onto the mattress, allowing his weight to slide off your sore shoulders. He groans, shifting around atop the blankets.

“Oh, quit your whining.” You roll your eyes, though you’re aware he’s likely too far gone to comprehend anything you say. With a sigh, you begin to unlace his shoes. “If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” He says, syllables slurring together. He barely opens his mouth, his voice muffled through his teeth. He lulls his head to the side, peering at you through lidded eyes. “‘Never wanted ya t’ do this part, y’know.”

“I know.” You whisper, tossing his shoes aside.

You unbutton his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders for him. Scars cover his arms and torso, painting his skin in different shades of pigmentation. Some scares you recognize to have been caused by your parents’ abuse, others by his time in the arena. There are only a couple that you were unaware of. Though, despite already having known about almost all of them, the sight of his body so battered is painful to look at. 

You wonder if yours will look so bad after your Games. You’re already coated in scars from your parents' inflictions, but that makes up only half of what Ruben has. A mosaic of all things bad, scars are. They paint a picture of ache, telling the story of one’s agony.

You stand straight, folding his shirt over your arm before placing it on his desk. The Avoxes clean the rooms while everyone’s asleep, which includes picking up clothes. So, taking a few seconds to fold them neatly goes a long way.

“G’night.” Ruben murmurs as you open the door to leave. Despite his residual grogginess, the next three words that leave him ring clear as day through the dark room. “I love you.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sound, not having heard those words fall from his mouth in a long, long time. You never thought you’d hear them again and, if you did, you hoped it would be said in sobriety. With him inebriated in such a way, you don’t feel it’d be fair to return the gesture. It’d erase all intended sentiment.

“Yeah,” You whisper, “You too.”

With that, you exit his bedroom and shut the door softly behind you. You walk back out to the dining area, seeing that the table has long since been abandoned. Remy and Alice must have gone off to bed. The Avoxes are clearing the dishes, working in complete silence. You thank them, grabbing the attention of a few. As they’re unable to respond, they simply nod in appreciation before returning to their task.

You stand in there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. You could go to your bedroom, though the sight of all the gadgets makes you sick and you’re certain you’ll be unable to sleep. In the end, you decide to exit the suite. 

It’s frowned upon to venture the halls at night, though it’s technically not unallowed. There are cameras everywhere, watching the tributes’ every move. You spot three in just the hallway down to the elevator. The buttons on the wall start at ground level — where the actual training is set to take place starting tomorrow morning — ranges from 1 to 12 for each District, then ends at rooftop. You were unaware that the Training Center even had roof access. Curiosity gets the better of you, causing you to press the button.

The walls of the elevator are glass, allowing you to look at each floor as you pass it. Though you’re moving far too fast to actually examine what you’re seeing. 

You step out of the small space once you’ve reached the roof, the doors sliding open to reveal a huge amount of space. The railing is made of concrete, reaching the height of your chest. Though you know that there’s an invisible boundary preventing the tributes from killing themselves before the Games. The Capitol wants to see your deaths, so prior suicide is highly loathed by the excited viewers.

The air is chilly, but not cold. You walk across the roof to the edge of the building, resting your elbows on the concrete wall. You can’t see the stars here as the city pollutes the sky with artificial light. The streets, however, provide their own spectacle. And, if you squint hard enough, they almost look like stars. But you quickly feel dumb once you’ve done it. 

The fresh air is nice, despite the lack of stars. It helps to clear your head, ridding your thoughts of your own problems. But whenever your mind manages to stray, you’re reminded of Ruben and how closely he resembles the father he loathes so greatly. They’re perfect mirrors of one another — addicted to the Capitol’s attention, abandoning their family to relish in the spotlight of the sadists, and eventually falling victim to addiction. The only difference is that Ruben hadn’t had kids yet. Perhaps he never will, the fear of replication too much to bear. More than that, you wonder if you’ll end up like the same way, partying with the Capitolites until you’re unable to walk. It’s in your blood, you suppose, so you’re sure it’s inevitable. Might as well accept it now, right?

Just as your thoughts begin taking a darker turn, you hear the elevator doors slide open.

You straighten our back, knowing whoever it is must be either a tribute, mentor, or escort and they’re thereby an enemy to you. As soon as you’re in the arena, whoever they are will be working towards your death.

“You can’t jump, y’know.” A rough, female voice says as her footsteps thud across the rooftop toward you. “I heard a rumor that there’s an invisible field around the building.”

You only look in her direction once she’s leaned against the railing beside you, her back facing the cityscape. Ellie Williams. The girl who defied the Capitol at her Reaping, the girl who stared at you throughout the Parade, the girl who’s suddenly pulling out a cigarette.

“Want one?” She asks, catching your gaze.

“Didn’t know those were allowed here.” You respond shortly, turning to face back forward.

“They’re not.” Is all she says.

Your lips thin in silent perspicacity, eyes narrowing. “Of course not.”

“Well they can’t arrest me, can they? It’s too late, they need me in the Games.” She points out, placing the cigarette between her lips. She once again holds one out to you. You shake your head and she shrugs. “It’s not like your lungs will kill you any sooner than the arena will.” “Unless I survive.” You point out.

“There’s always that, yeah.” She agrees easily, igniting the cigarette with an oddly shaped lighter. It looks oddly familiar to you. She notices your staring and is quick to defend herself. “It’s not mine, it’s Joel’s. So are the cigs. He’s the one who advised me to smoke in the first place, said it’d helped to ease his nerves before his Games. So I decided ‘why the fuck not?’”

She inhales deeply, though it’s apparently too deep because she suddenly breaks out into a coughing fit. She spins around to lean on the wall forward-facing. 

You watch as she struggles for air, the hacking eventually fading to laughter. She straightens, still raspy as she says, “I get that you think you’re better than everyone, but you could at least try to make conversation before we’re shipped off to die. What’s the harm?”

“I don’t think I’m better than everyone.” You respond with a huff.

“Might not think so, but you are.” She says, inhaling once more. She coughs again, though it’s far less riveting than the first time. She exhales the smoke out into the night sky, her breath forming a puffed cloud against the blackness. “You’re the rich girl, you’ll get all the sponsors. You’re already better off than I am in that sense.”

“You’ll get sponsors just fine, I’m sure.” 

You say, thinking back to her costume in the Parade and the way the Capitol adored it. Exploitation is one of the most used methods to obtain sponsors. If she plays her cards right, she could easily be the newest Diamond. She’s attractive and you’d be a fool to deny that.

“Not if you’re hoarding them all.” Says Ellie. You know she doesn’t mean it insultingly, but it still hits you that way. She notices your expression and adds, “Intentional or not, the Capitoli- Uh, Capitol people will be tripping over themselves to get you gifts.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation to you, they won’t be sent through to me.” You say, because it’s true.

Ruben may be your mentor, but your father is sure to be present in Saint Mary’s Hall — which is where the mentors watch the Games and coordinate sponsorships. He’s a Diamond and will therefore be permitted entry, especially considering his daughter is a tribute. 

When Ruben was in the Games, your father had been his mentor and controlled all his sponsorships. Because gifts must first be approved by the mentor prior to being sent into the arena, he had this power. But, the thing is, your father refused a single gift from reaching Ruben. Even when he was dying of dehydration and bloodloss, he refused to let anything through. It created a rift in Saint Mary’s Hall, many sponsors deeming him immoral. He was quick to patch that up, though, as he said he’d been doing it to make his son stronger. Being as skilled as he is at manipulation, the Capitolites were quick to naivety. From there, he was only praised for his thinly veiled neglect.

So, if your father is within the Hall this year — as he likely will be — there’s no way anything will be sent through to you. He’ll refrain Ruben from permitting gifts and withhold sponsorships completely, purely because he wants his kids to win fair and square. It’s iniquitous to let you starve, yes, but you’re almost glad for it. Because Ellie is right. If it weren’t for his cruelty, you’d be undeniably hoarding all sponsors from other tributes. Sponsors could send you buffets and magical medicines while all other tributes die out slowly of starvation and lack of medical care. It’d be the equivalent to cheating the Games and you’ll be damned if you win this thing through sponsorships. If you make it out alive, it’ll be thanks to you, not the Capitol.

“Won’t be sent through?” Ellie asks. She raises a brow at you, wordlessly inclining you to explain.

Instead of telling her your entire life story, you redirect the subject to one you know she’ll be unable to deny. “Actually, I changed my mind. I could use a smoke.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, the corners of her lips twitching as she removes the cigarette from her lips and holds it out to you. You hold it between your index and middle fingers, staring at it with a hint of uncertainty. It’s unwise to do anything related to addiction, considering your family history. But it’s so tempting and the arena isn’t too far away. Plus, being addicted to smoking cigarettes is far better than your father’s alcoholism or Ruben’s drug addiction. Right?

“Scared?” Ellie taunts you.

Her gibe is the final push to make you indulge. You scowl at her before placing the cigarette between your lips and inhaling deeply. It seeps into your lungs, burning the back of your throat on the way down. Your head instantly feels wonky, your vision swimming. You hear Ellie’s laughter as you begin coughing just as hard as she had.

You lean against the concrete barrier, resting your forehead on your folded arms to muffle the hacking sounds. Between coughs, you manage, “That was fucking awful.”

It takes a bit for you to quiet down. The first feeling that you register is queasiness, but then you notice the equanimity. Your maddening thoughts have begun to muffle, pushed to the back of your mind. It only lasts a few seconds though, causing you to already reach for another drag.

“What’d you come up here for?” Ellie asks, passing you the cigarette. “You already know I’m here to smoke, it’s only fair for you to explain in return.”

“Hey, I never asked you for an explanation.” You remind her, inhaling. “I owe you nothing.”

“No, but you’re using my cigarettes aren’t you?” She points out, a glint of something akin to regalement behind her gaze. “A form of payment is due anyhow.”

“Joel’s cigarettes, you mean.”

“Shit,” She curses as you pass it back to her, “I forgot I told you that.”

You huff a laugh, watching as she turns to face the horizon. Not that it’s much of a sight though, what with the buildings plaguing the skyline. Her side profile is illuminated by the dull lighting of the roof. Your eyes trace the slope of her nose, admittedly infatuated by her. You blame it on the nicotine, even more so on the relaxation it causes you.

Ellie drops the cigarette off the roof, pulling a second from her box. While she’s turned, you begin speaking. Perhaps because it’s easier to talk when you can’t see her face or perhaps the cigs are making you that much more sociable.

“Back home, there’s nowhere I could go where I couldn’t see the ocean.” You say, causing Ellie to suddenly perk up at your voice. Her eyes flick between your face and her hands as she rushes to light the cigarette. “I rarely spent time in it, always holed up in our house. But the sight of the sparkling water was a comforting constant throughout my life. It’s odd to be where the water isn’t. Plus, despite not having been in it much, the few memories I do have are enough to satisfy me. They’re all good ones.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.” Ellie says, passing you the lit cigarette. 

You inhale deeply before speaking, “Well, my first memory of the sea is learning to swim in it. My brother took me. He wasn’t allowed to, but I begged him so he did. He was patient, but laughed at me the entire time, saying I looked like a fish out of water. He claims I was a fast learner, that I picked it up quick. But I can remember the salt in the back of my throat and the way my eyes burned. There was nothing quick about that. I was four and was certain I would die.”

Ellie chuckles, watching you from the side. One arm is rested atop the railing, the other taking the cig from your hand. “He’s your mentor this year, right? What’s that like?”

The question itself is innocent enough, genuine curiosity that comes with getting to know a stranger. But it makes you bristle nonetheless, your shoulders suddenly feeling tense. Not because of Ellie’s question but because of the answer. 

‘It’s horrible.’ You could say in regards to the technicalities. The distance between you, the long glances you share, the unsaid apologies. Flashes of his messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and undone blouse pop into your head. ‘It’s great.’ You could say, just as truthfully. This time, you’d be referring to the mentality of his proximity rather than the materialistic things. The comfort that comes with being near him, even amid deafening silence, the odd nostalgia that hits you when he’s sat at the dinner table beside you.

Though, as it turns out, the memory that announces itself most needily is the one most painful — tucking him into bed after he’d taken a few too many pills only a short while ago. Perhaps because it falls under both categories. The horridity of seeing him so disheveled paired with the aching reminder of your father. Though, there’s still a greatness to it. To feel him lean on you, knowing that you’re actively repaying all he’d done in your shared youth, that he needs you. To hear those three words whispered into the darkness of his room despite knowing they’re empty of the meaning you covet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Ellie is quick to ask, nervosity to her tone as she picks up on your hesitation. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” You say, “I’m just not sure how to explain it. The duality.”

She hums in recognition. “I get that. I came here with a loved one as well and, uh, it surely didn’t turn out as I thought it would.”

You blink at her, taking the cig from her offered hand. Your thoughts are fuzzy, though just barely enough that you hardly even notice. It’s nice how you’re still in control of yourself whilst feeling the faraway effects of the nicotine. 

“Riley, right?” You ask, tilting your head at her as you breathe in the tingly air.

She nods, “Yeah. We’ve been best friends since we were nine, inseparable. But, recently, she’s grown a bit distant. Though she didn’t fully disappear on me until the Reaping. Since then, we haven’t spoken a word to one another.”

“You looked pretty close during the Parade.” You tell her.

You can vividly recall the image of their intertwined hands coming onto the screens. The crowd cheered as you watched with thinned lips. It was obvious to you what it meant, though the audience remained completely oblivious. You were impressed, at first, by their unapologetic defiance to the Capitol, especially considering it was the second time they’d done it. But you knew it was a bad idea on their part. Once they're in the arena, the Gamemakers need only press a button to end their lives.

“Didn’t realize you were looking.” Ellie says.

“Everyone was looking.”

She thinks on this before saying, “It’s odd, isn’t it? The lack of privacy. The Parade aside, there’s always someone looking.”

“I suppose.” You agree.

To you, it’s not such a foreign concept. Even in your own home, you were unallowed to lock doors. Your father claimed that needing solitude was a flaw that’d lead to vulnerability in social settings. So having privacy was never even a question, though there’s a vast difference between the possibility of someone walking into your bedroom when compared to being ceaselessly monitored at all times. 

How someone could ever grow used to being watched nonstop is beyond you. Even in your private bedrooms and bathrooms in your assigned suites, there’s no way of knowing whether there are cameras. You wonder how Ruben dealt with it, how he still deals with it annually during his mentorship for the past ten years.

Ruben’s Games were twelve years ago, though he’s only been a mentor for ten in total. He was a mentor for two years until your uncle, Theodore, won the 64th Games. Theodore promptly took over the role of mentorship for District Four for the following two years. It was only cut short when he drank himself dead. His second year being a mentor, two children were Reaped and both died brutally in the arena. He’d blamed himself and ended up committing indirect suicide via alcohol poisoning.

It was a hard toll on everyone. He was always so cheerful, a big round man who was exceedingly vocal about the things he loved. After his Games, though, he changed. He was secluded in a way he’d never been before. To learn that cheery Uncle Theo killed himself was hard on a ten year old. He was your favorite relative after Ruben. You oftentimes wonder what he’d think of your Reaping, how he’d mentor you in place of your brother. Would it be more or less tolerable?

At the thought, you reach for the cigarette. Ellie passes it to you wordlessly.

You’re grateful for her lack of questions, glad she’s able to realize when you don’t necessarily wish to speak. You’re also grateful for the comfortability of her silence. With Ruben, quietude is an awkward endeavour, making the air so thick you feel suffocated. Even with Alice, it feels unnatural. But with Ellie, it feels intrinsic to her company. 

“Shit, it’s probably getting late, huh?” She says after a long time of silence. You look up at the moon, noticing how far it’s risen into the sky. It’s been about an hour or two since you abandoned your suite for the fresh air. Ellie runs her hands down her jeans as she straightens. “I’ve gotta get going before my escort notices I’m gone. She’s super controlling about that kind of thing.”

“Your escort is Tilly Reymond, right?” You ask, recalling the way she’d approached Alice right before the Parade, referring to her as a sibling would.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie says, “Yours is Alice.”

You laugh, remembering their conversation from earlier today. They bickered like children. Tilly had come over to ask if Alice was feeling proud of herself for having another L/n Reaped in her lifetime, to which Alice grinned madly and said she did, in fact, feel rather pleased. From there, they did little aside from argue. 

Their quarrel differs greatly from yours with Ruben. Tilly and Alice are passive aggressive, giving compliments on each other’s dress whilst eyeing a certain stain or disarranged jewel. You and Ruben, on the other hand, fight as though you’d both rather eat glass than admit the other to be correct. It’s nasty, throwing insults like daggers. Something you’d both been unfortunate enough to inherit from your parents, presumably. To argue with such animalistic avidity.

“Well,” Ellie says with a small smile to announce her residual need for departing, “Meet me here at the same time tomorrow? I’ll bring some more cigarettes.”

“More of Joel’s cigarettes.” You correct her with a teasing grin.

She waves a dismissive hand, “Yeah, yeah.”

And with that, Ellie Williams walks back inside. She’d left you with the cig you’d been smoking, so you remain outside for a little while longer as you work it down to a butt. Your mind reels with tangled thoughts of the Parade, Ruben’s addiction, and Ellie’s laughter. Fuck, it’s been a long day. And tomorrow is bound to be even more taxing.

6:00.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 7.

Ellie hardly slept a wink last night, her dreams full of terrors regarding her upcoming fate. Through wafts of heavy smoke, trees from Seven, and estranged voices, she could barely make out the contents of her slumber. What she could decipher was waking up over and over, only to find she’s still trapped in a dream. 

At one point, she was in the arena. As she doesn’t yet know what she’ll be thrown into, her brain concocted the one from last year — which had been won by a girl named Abigail Anderson. It was a rocky terrain, the entire arena on a slope. The tributes were on a mountain, having to find shelter in caves and trees that littered the topography. The tributes in her dream, however, were the ones Reaped this year. She was starving and wounded and struggled to walk on the dampened stone. Other tributes ran past her, their forms abstract and footsteps inhuman. She called for help, only to be ignored by each one. Finally, after what felt like hours of agony, someone crouched down to aid her. Riley. Her best friend and her savior. Except she wasn’t. Instead of propounding assistance, she pulled Ellie to her feet only to shove her back again. She’d tumbled down the mountain, eyesight rolling alongside her. The scene shifted.

She’d fallen all the way down to the rooftop from last night. The logistics were nonsensical, though that hardly mattered when she took in the state of the unwaking world. From her place of elevation, she was able to overlook the Capitol as she’d done last night. Though, this time, the buildings were up in flames, people screaming in the streets with scorched flesh and mutilated bodies. She attempted to run to the elevator, only to find that her feet were manacled to the floor. She fought with futility against the chains until her ankles were bruised and blistered from the unforgiving metal. Somehow, due to unconscious malarkey, she could see the Capitolites as though she were looking through a pair of binoculars. Their faces, distorted and pained. Their hair, scorched and lacking in their tell-tale extravagance. Then she saw a familiar face. Riley, crumpled on the ground just as Ellie had been when they were on the mountain. Riley reached up, begging for help. Ellie lurched at the sight, though she was still bound to the rooftop. Riley was pleading with someone. Ellie followed her gaze to see you, leaned back coolly against a brick building with a cigarette hanging from your lips. Her– Well, Joel’s cigarette. You helped Riley to her feet, only to shove her to the ground. It was a perfect mirror of what Riley had done to Ellie. Only this time, the shove caused her to be trampled by the huge crowd of panicked people that plagued the streets. Her body was crushed under the people until she was naught but a heap of meat and tissue.

Ellie awoke with a jolt, her chest heaving. 

Those were the only two dreams she could accurately recall. All the rest were blurred and distorted by the others. But she knows there were more, so many more. The scene kept shifting, antagonizing her relentlessly. Flashes of Riley’s face, both pleading and cruel. Of your face, imbued by that same duality. Of Joel’s or Marlene’s or even Tilly’s. Her mind was a horrid, callous place and she never wanted to think of the terrors again.

Though, as it turns out, her luck ran out rather quickly. The trepidation of her dreams followed her all the way down to the training rooms below ground level. Joel and Tilly brought she and Riley down, the group of them comfortably conversing in the elevator. Even Riley joined in, though Ellie couldn’t. Her head was still reeling, though she’d woken an hour prior. She wonders if she’s still in a dream, only this time with sentience.

She chews at her nails as the elevator opens to reveal a wide, metallic hallway with two heavy doors at the end. Above them is a sign reading, Tribute Training Rooms. She removes her fingers from her face, stuffing her hands in her pockets. 

“Hey,” She feels a heavy hand on her shoulder, causing her to jerk away. She turns to see Joel standing beside her as Tilly and Riley leave them in favor of entering the training rooms. “You’re actin’ weird today.”

“Oh,” She breathes, willing herself to relax, “It’s nothing, just on edge. I guess.”

He nods, pulling her over to a shadowy corner of the hall. “Did the cigarettes work? Y’know, for your nerves.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” She says. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Just then, the elevator doors creak open and another pair of tributes walk out with their mentor and escort. She recognizes them to be from Eleven, only able to remember because that’s the Reaping that Riley stormed off after. 

They’re the two kids, their mentor being Dina Woodward who won the 66th Games at age thirteen. She’s infamously kind to her younger tributes as she’s able to relate to their youth. The Capitol is split directly in half, one portion adoring her for the empathy whilst the opposing portion loathes her for it.

As they walk past, Dina offers Joel a kind nod that he returns. She pushes the heavy double doors open, holding them ajar for her little tributes to saunter through. Joel only turns back to Ellie after Dina has shut the door behind them.

“Ya have to be more careful.” He tells her harshly. “If anyone, even Dina, overheard that you’re smokin’ in the Capitol, we could get into a shitload o’ trouble. Me specifically, since they can’t do anythin’ to you before the Games. But still.”

“I get it.” Ellie scoffs. “I didn’t even say anything while she was out here, anyway.”

“Well still.” He crosses his arms. “What’d ya wanna ask me?”

“Why’re you helping me?” She inquires, eyes narrowing in distrust. “You were a complete dick when we first met and now you’re giving me illegal solutions to help my nerves. Why even bother if you think Y/n will kill me?”

Joel sighs through his nose, leaning back. “I had a talk with a friend last night.”

“At the dinner party?”

“Yep.” He concurs. “She kinda lit into me ‘n’ said I need to at least try with my tributes. See, I wouldn't usually take such hard criticism, but t’ argue with Teresa Servopoulos is a fuckin’ death wish.”

“That’s..” Ellie trails off, trying hard to remember which District she’s from. But her mind is blank. She knows Tess is a mentor, which would explain her presence at the dinner party last night, but Ellie can’t seem to recall anything else about her.

“District Three.” Joel says, picking up on Ellie’s contemplation. “Victor ‘f the 55th Games.”

“Oh yeah.” She says. “She won the year before you did.”

“Yeah, she–”

Joel is cut off by the elevator doors opening again. From them, District Two’s crew exits. Ellie stiffens at the sight of Abigail Anderson’s strong build. The braided girl scowls at Joel, her gaze so sharp it could cut through the tension that’s suddenly accumulated within the hall. Had Ellie not just had that funky dream about Abigail’s arena, she’d likely have not thought anything of her presence. But she did and so she does.

She won last year’s Games, taking over mentorship from Melanie Moore. Abigail’s victory allowed Melanie to move to District Ten, where she instantly wed Owen Moore — winner of the 70th Games. Their relationship gathered a lot of attention from the Capitol as people gushed over their love story, much to Melanie’s distaste. This year is the first time in seven years that Melanie isn’t the mentor for Two. Which is a shame because the tributes appear to have already picked up Abigail’s insolence. Lev and Yara walk shoulder to shoulder, glaring at Joel just as their mentor is.

Joel frowns, though he seems more upset than angry at their show of distaste. Once they’ve entered the training rooms, Ellie turns to him. “Geez, what’s her problem?”

“Uh,” He pauses, thinking on how best to explain, “Her father, Jerry, was Reaped the same year that I was. And, well, only one victor can win, so–”

“I get it.” Ellie nods, feeling a sense of solemnity to his tone. It’s unsettling to hear from such a naturally rough man. Joel’s Games were aired when Ellie was three years old, so she doesn’t recall much from them. The Capitol replays highlights from past Games, but it’s not the same. She knows only what the Capitol deems important — his most brutal kill, him running in the opposite direction from the Cornucopia, and his final kill. Jerry Anderson isn’t among that.

“C’mon, kid.” Joel says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Let’s go.”

Ellie nods, following him down the hall to the training rooms. The interior is exactly like the outside, a big metal box made of tile, glass, and concrete. A large circle is formed at the center of the room, all the tributes and their corresponding mentors and escort encircling an athletic man who’s preaching explanations, schedules, and rules for training here. There are stations set all around, an expert in each skill located there, willing to offer help to the tributes. The escorts and mentors all leave once the instructions are finished.

Ellie watches them depart. The crowd of them is plagued with ambivalence; the escorts exude an air of wealth and elegance reserved only for someone raised in the Capitol, whereas the mentors exude strength, honor, and dignity reserved for killers who won past Games via brutality. 

As the doors close behind them, she watches through the cracks as pairs are formed. She sees Joel and Tess begin talking with a blonde woman she recognizes to be Maria Miller — she married into Joel's family by marrying his little brother. Joel doesn’t talk about him much. Abigail and Owen also seem to instantly turn to each other, as do Tilly and Alice. And, before she can see any other duo, the doors close fully. She turns back around to see the rest of the circle has dispersed.

Her instinct is to look for Riley, though she quickly discards that instinct and walks over to an empty station without reading what it’s for. A short, hoary man welcomes her to the plant section. She withholds a sigh, now realizing why it was empty. Everyone else fled to the weapons.

“Plants are much more important that most people realize, you see.” Says the old man, picking up a small bunch of berries. “What does this look like?”

“That’s nightlock.” She says.

“Oh, uh-” The man’s brow furrows.

It’s clear he was expecting her to say ‘Those look like blueberries, I would totally eat them!’ but she didn’t. Ellie hunted in the woods in Seven often enough to know her way around which plants are and aren't edible. She feels bad for the man, as she looks clearly upset. It’s not her fault, though, she hadn’t meant to come over here.

“What are nightlock berries?” Asks a small voice from beside her. Ellie jolts at the sudden presence of another, turning to face the owner of the voice. A small girl with dark skin and coiled hair stands to her side. She’s from Eleven, one of Dina Woodward’s tributes. 

“Oh, I’m glad you asked.” The old man grins. “Nightlock is a wild plant that grows small purple berries below its pointed leaves. They’re extremely poisonous to anyone who eats them. You’d be dead before they even reach your stomach.”

“Woah,” The girl whispers, looking at the pomes with wide eyes. “I never would’ve guessed such little things could cause such big reactions.”

The man chuckles, “Yes, nightlock is not something to underestimate.”

As the two of them fall into a long conversation about plants, Ellie slowly backs away from the scene and exits the station. She knows well enough not to sit at stations she doesn’t need to sit at, doing so would be a waste of everyone’s time. But then again, perhaps it was a good thing. Everyone is learning, yes, but they’re also watching. She feels the careers’ eyes pinned to her as she exits the plant station. Everyone is observing everyone, learning their weaknesses and strengths.

For Ellie to walk into the plant section first, they’ll assume she knows nothing about it. They’ll underestimate her. And, much like the poisoned berries, it’s a foolish thing to do. An idea pops into her head as she walks over to the archery section.

A few other people are there, she counts three. Henry from Three, showing his little brother how to aim an arrow at a target; Ariadne from Five, who’s hitting the bullseye each time; and the other little kid from Eleven, whose name Ellie doesn’t know, attempting to hold the bow with both hands. See, just from gazing across the space, she’s gathered enough information to be considered valuable. Ariadne Evans is a beast with a bow, Henry will likely be trying to teach Sam to use every weapon possible, and the little Eleven boy is horrible at long range.

Ellie walks over to the table, grabs a bow and quiver, then positions herself in front of one of the targets. The instructor offers assistance, though she refuses it easily. She feels a pair of eyes on her, though she doesn’t dare turn around. Every instinct in her body screams to hit the bullseye, to show off. But that’d be useless. Then her strengths would be revealed.

She positions the bow in her hand, holding it out a bit crookedly. She places the arrow on the string, purposely messing up a few times. Then, with both eyes open and her back slightly hunched, she releases the arrow. It clatters against the floor and Ellie huffs, feigning annoyance. She does this three more times before setting the bow and quiver on the table and storming off, appearing to have given up on archery.

As she leaves the station, she does a quick assessment. Three people had been watching her. Nolan Barlowe from Ten — the buff guy who looked overjoyed to have been Reaped. Thalia Thatcher from One — the younger sister of the 68th victor. And, finally, you. The literal best people to have put an impression on. You three are the most threatening. If she’s underestimated, all the better.

You’re leaned against the wall, arms crossed as you observe everyone with sharp eyes. She fights a smile at the sight. You look the polar opposite of who she’d smoked with last night. Your gaze remains steady as you eye her from across the room. 

Right. You’re not supposed to know each other aside from brief passing. 

She is amused by your technique, though it’s the single most cockiest thing she’d ever seen. You’re not training with everyone else, instead opting to watch as though you’re superior. It exudes the idea that you don’t need to train, which Ellie assumes is the case. 

She walks over to another station, struggling to ignore the way your eyes follow her every move. The station happens to be spear throwing — which won’t be hard for her to suck at because she does suck at it. Throwing the overlarge stick over her head and hitting a target? Yeah, it’s not exactly something she practices back in Seven. There’s no need to spear while hunting as it just damages the meat. Had there been any bodies of water in her District, which there’s not, she’d perhaps have learned it through fishing. 

She vaguely wonders if you’re good with a spear, being from Four and all. She then recalls what you’d said about not being in the ocean much. God, it pisses her off how secretive you are. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that you know how to spear. You’ve clearly trained a lot, so you’ve likely practiced with it. But also, she knows you went to the ocean sparingly.

Two other people are at the spear station — Nolan Barlowe, and an old man she doesn’t recognize at all. She doesn’t even remember him being Reaped. Oh. He must be from Twelve because she hadn’t watched their program when it aired.

He watches her with a glint of something unreadable in his eye. It makes her stomach churn as she grabs a spear.

There are human-shaped mannequins against the wall for tributes to practice hitting. Nolan sees Ellie and scoffs under his breath. At first, it irritates her. But then she remembers this is her plan: look weak and be underestimated. She sighs, feigning recluse toward his show of disregard. He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he throws the spear without looking, the blade wedging right between the mannequin’s eyes. She swallows, this time not needing to feign her unease. I mean, seriously, who practices with a spear in their freetime?

Ellie shifts as the two men practice on either side of her. She adjusts the spear in her grasp, dramatizing her oblivion. 

Do I hold it with one or two hands? She thinks to herself. The fuck do I do with my elbows? 

With a grunt, she throws the spear at the target. She shocks herself when the blade wedges in the mannequin’s heart. She’d fully expected to miss. Nolan’s brows furrow in curiosity. Ellie grabs another spear, desperately needing to undo what she’d just done. She holds it the same way as before, muttering under her breath to remember how exactly she’d done it. She then tosses it halfheartedly, the spear landing three feet in front of the mannequin. She frowns and Nolan chuckles.

“I knew it was just beginner’s luck.” He says with a scoff, causing the man from Twelve to chuckle. Ellie sighs, fighting the urge to argue with him. Instead, she scowls at them both as though she’s terribly offended, then storms off. 

The next hour in the training rooms is spent doing the same thing. Sometimes, she actually feels like she could get the hang of some weapons. She finds herself quite enjoying small throwing knives, though she purposely drops them when she notices herself getting better with them. She also, shockingly enough, is good at just straight up hitting things. She’d used a crowbar as a weapon and scared the trainer, who was forced to take a few steps back to avoid being injured.

She’s noticed other tributes’ traits as well. Nolan hasn’t left the spear station, so it’s likely he’s only good at one thing. After half an hour in the archery section, Ariadne left to practice with a mace. And, terrifying as she is, she’s even better at that than with a bow, swinging it around like it weighs nothing. Ellie was also proven correct when she watched Henry escort Sam to each station, instructing him on how to use every weapon. Lev and Yara are both scary with a bow as well, having even better aim than Ellie herself. The couple, Roland and Archie, don’t dare stray a foot from one another, bound together at the hip. She’s also noticed that Riley has been trying different stations, though she’s careful not to be near the one Ellie is currently at. She’s stayed away from the axes, not daring to show off her skill with them just yet.

Ellie is walking over to the fire-making station when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She whips around to see you standing behind her, finally having peeled away from your wall. Your gaze is steady as you watch her, looking every bit the threat you are.

“I need a partner at the combat station.” You tell her easily, casually. As though you’d never spoken before. Ellie gets flashbacks to doing this exact same act with Cat at the Remake Center. It makes her chest cave.

“And I’m your first choice?” She asks.

Everyone’s eyes are pinned to the two of you, though Ellie knows they’re far more interested in you than her. You haven’t left your wall for the entire hour of training, watching everyone with such closeness that there’s a heavy weight in the air. You’ve done naught but observe. It’s truly no shock that they all find it impossible to look away.

“Yes.” You say easily, your voice deceptively smooth.

She narrows her eyes, desperately trying to read what you’re thinking. Is it not foolish to be talking at all? She’d thought you two came to a silent agreement that speaking would give away your recent rendezvous. She continues to stare at you. But you’re a closed book, thoughts cryptic. But then you tilt your head at her, inclining her to reply.

Ellie shrugs, “Why not?”

With a threateningly alluring grin, you begin walking toward the large mats set to the side of the room. Ellie trails behind you. Nobody has used the mats yet, leaving the instructor to be sleeping in her chair. You kick off your shoes before stepping up to the ring. Ellie unlaces hers, taking a few moments longer than you did.

She’s still clueless on your logistics to this, to training with her. You’re the most feared. The tactic of refusing to show your strengths was honestly the smartest thing you could have done in your position, in spite of the clear show of pride. If you were to train with someone, it’d make best sense if you were to do so with your fellow tribute, though Remy is too small to fairly practice hand-to-hand with. Or you could train with the second strongest tribute present, which would either be Nolan or Ariadne. Or, possibly, the weakest, which would be– Oh. Well, shit. It’s Ellie. Perhaps she took her strategy too seriously. Yes, the children from Eleven are weaker than she is, but it’d be unfair for you to beat them up. Ellie is a year older than you and thereby your best option.

“No damage to the face.” You tell her as she pulls herself up onto the mat.

She looks around. A crowd has formed around the ring, everyone yearning to see you in action. Ellie feels a sense of pride at knowing she’s the one who gets to fight you. She turns to face you, realizing she has two options. She could keep up her weak facade, causing everyone to continue to underestimate her so she can easily sneak up in the arena — which is the wiser of the two. Or she can reveal that she’s not the useless girl she’s pretending to be — which is more satisfying. 

Ellie squares her shoulders, already coming to a decision. Fuck, her dignity will be the death of her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She replies.

You chuckle, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Good to hear.”

Ellie holds up her fists, not at all knowing how to approach this. Are you a tackler or..? She knows that Marlene likes to keep her distance, dodging more than she punches. She knows that Riley uses her legs more than most people, sweeping or kicking her opponent. But you’re a mystery to her, to everyone. Do you rely on offense or defense more heavily? She knows Marlene uses–

Her thoughts are cut off by a blow to her gut. Ellie hunches over, not having even noticed you moving in on her. She’s quick to recover, though her stomach aches from your punch. 

The crowd remains silent as you two begin to circle each other, holding their breaths in anticipation. 

She watches you, taking in the way you step and the way your fists are idly positioned in front of you. But you’re giving no signs toward your next move, completely closed off. She decides to make the move this time, aiming for your jaw despite her agreement of ‘No damage to the face’. You evade her easily, light on your feet as you back out of her reach. 

Ellie comes forward, attacking again. She’s fast. Fast enough that you’re unable to dodge her fist to your ribs. Breath is forced from your lungs at the impact. Ellie is momentarily proud of herself. But that's before she realizes all she managed to do was rile you up.

Your leg collides with her side before she registers the movement. The same side that you’d punched in the beginning. While she’s still catching her breath, you grab her by the arm and twist it around her back. She grunts at the ache in her shoulder. 

Your lips caress the shell of her ear as you whisper, “I knew you were a good pick.” before then shoving her hard in the back, sending her stumbling forward.

She’s quick to spin around to face you. It pisses her off to see that you appear unmoved, standing in the same spot as before without so much as a hair out of place. You move with fluidity, like a dance. More than that, you’re calculative. You already know Ellie’s style. 

You close in on her, reeling your arm back and aiming for the face. Apparently, you’ve both abandoned the agreement. Ellie ducks under your fist, taking advantage of your unprotected stomach, punching you hard in the gut. Exactly where you’d hit her. It’s childish, but it makes her feel a sense of satisfaction as you buckle over.

The satisfaction is short lived as your ankle is suddenly coming at her face. She twists, grabbing you by the calf and using her own leg to sweep you off your feet. Your back slams against the mat. Hard. Ellie stands over you with a shit eating grin.  

“Still think I’m a good pick?” She asks, crouching to taunt you. You’re splayed across the mat, chest heaving. Sweat clings to your hairline, your lips parted. Ellie’s stomach flips at the sight, though she’s careful not to show it.

A smirk tugs at your lips, “I knew you weren’t weak.”

“Is that why you chose me?” She chuckles. “To prove to yourself that–”

She's cut off when both your feet fly into her stomach. She coughs, staggering backward as you hop to your feet. You’re instantly on her, hands on her shoulders before you drive your knee into her gut. Once. Twice. Three times before Ellie notices your face has been left unguarded by your busy hands. Her fist collides with your jaw. Your head snaps to the side. She’s quick to use your momentary shock to her advantage, tackling you to the ground.

You slam against the mat, on your back once more. This time, she’s wise enough to hold you down. Ellie’s knees are on either side of your torso as she pins your wrists above your head. You pant heavily as she grins down at you. You scowl up at her, brows contorted into a furrow. But then, all at once, your expression does a 180 and you’re smirking with just as much titillation as she. You squirm under her, causing Ellie’s grip to tighten on your wrists.

“Y’know,” You say through heavy breaths of exertion, “If it weren’t for our current situation, this could be a rather fun position.”

Ellie’s face flushes, her eyes widening. Her focus slips and your grin widens. Unbeknownst to her, that was your only intention — to get her to slip up, to be taken aback just long enough for you to change the game. You buck your hips hard enough to roll her over. You straddle her waist as Ellie pants beneath you, glaring. 

“That wasn’t fair.” She says.

“It worked, though, did it not?” You point out with a grin. She groans, tipping her head back against the mat in defeat. She can feel every movement you make, your bodies close enough together that she’s sure you could count the freckles on her face, if you so desired. “What’s your next plan, Williams?”

“I’m thinking.” She grunts. “I could headbutt you, but that’d damage your face.”

“Oh, so now you care about that.”

“I don’t want your stylist killing me in my sleep.” 

“Ah, she’s far too kind for that.”

“Is she?” 

Ellie thinks of Cat, wondering what she’d make of this. Do you have a similar relationship with your stylist? She doubts it. What she and Cat have is highly illegal and could result in both of them being turned to Avoxes if they were ever found out. You’re far too reputable to risk such a thing. But then again, most stylists barely even talk to their tributes. 

She wonders, wonders, and wonders when it comes to you. A mystery, you are. An enigmatic book so foreign to her she’s unsure where to even begin to read you. The words blur and the page numbers shuffle, forming an unintelligible story left unread by all. 

“What an odd tone, that was.” You say. Ellie hopes you’re unwise enough to not recognize it as jealousy. To imagine you with your stylist as she was with hers is a sight she wishes to remain as such an enigma.

“I yield.” Ellie says, cutting the conversation short via surrender.

The crowd hums with conversation. Everyone knew you would win anyway, though they’re shocked at the fight Ellie was willing to put up against you. They disperse as you climb to your feet, offering Ellie your hand. She takes it, standing.

She briefly catches the sight of Riley’s face as she’s pulled up. Scowling, condescending. Not at all an expression one would reserve for their lifelong best friend. It makes her stomach twist and she quickly releases your hand. You don’t seem to think much of it, walking over to put your shoes back on. She does the same. 

And with that, you part ways as strangers. Which, with or without the rooftop acquaintance taken into consideration, is technically true.

21:37.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.

“Did I or did I not say to avoid any type of combat?” Ruben asks, trying desperately to keep his tone level as he reprimands you for the bruise on your jaw. The moment you walked into the suite, he rushed to freak out over it whilst Alice gaped dramatically.

“I won.” You argue back, scowling at them both. “Plus, it’s not like I was hiding some big secret. They all know I can fight.”

“Yeah, well now they know your technique.” He says, pinching his nose in annoyance. “They know what you’d do in certain situations. They know if you prefer offense or defense, if you use your upper or lower body more, if you–”

“I get it.” You butt in, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you? Because it doesn't seem like you do.” Ruben snaps. 

He’s been, frankly, acting odd all day. You wonder if it has something to do with last night’s dinner. You want to ask about it, sitting at the foot of his bed with bright eyes as he speaks about his issues. But you can’t do that, no longer on that level of relation with him. 

You frown at him, fists clenching at your sides. “You’re not my fucking parent. I’m an adult and can handle the Games how I damn well please.”

“Well if you die, that’s on me. That’s my guilt to carry.”

Of fucking course. It only makes sense that he’s only interested in how your death would affect him, how guilty he would feel. Not once does he think of his little sister who would be the dead one, buried six feet under the dirt.

“Great. Then you add my death to your fucking sob story.” You seethe. “Cry about it to your Capitol friends, maybe they’ll make you some new drugs.”

Ruben opens and closes his mouth a few times. His eyes are wide, clearly offended by your comment. A mixture of satisfaction and repent swirls within your gut, creating a recipe for cataclysm. You know this’ll end one of two ways — you and Ruben will get into a screaming match, taking after your parents in all the worst ways, or one of you’ll storm off and subsequently not talk for a long time. Both options result in misery, so you allow Ruben to make the choice.

Alice’s jaw is hanging open, resembling some sort of a fish gasping for air. She appears absolutely appalled by your audacity to insult Ruben in such a way. It takes everything in you not to wipe that expression clean off her face.

“You say some really fucked up shit when you’re mad.” Ruben says, voice quiet. “Y’know who else used to do that?”

You say nothing, already knowing his answer. You hope your lack of indulgence will prevent him from saying the name, but it doesn’t. He speaks it nonetheless, spit with such venom that your jaw twitches.

“Your father.”

Something deep in your chest yearns to lash out again, to bear your words like daggers ready to slice him open with their cruelty. It’s an insatiable, carnal desire that’s followed you all your life, looming over you like a shadow. Anger is so quick to wrap his hands around your throat, so hasty in pulling the strings like a sadistic puppeteer. You only now register that it’s not Anger causing this, it’s you. The blood in your veins and the nitrogenous bases in your DNA that tether you to your father. There’s nobody, nothing else to inculpate aside from your own heritage.

You crave the sweet release of shouting at him, imagining the hurt look on his face. Despite knowing the satisfaction won’t last long before guilt replaces it, you still want it. To inevitably hurt the ones you love, what a curse that is.

As said, there are two options from here and you take the latter. With a heavy huff of anger and a clenched jaw, you turn on your heel and storm out of the suite. You’re on the rooftop before you’re even able to register how you’d gotten there.

You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, having promised Ellie to meet at the same time as last night. You desperately hope she hasn’t left yet, for you really want a cigarette.

“Look who finally showed up.” her voice is heard before her form is seen. You turn toward it to see Ellie leaned against the railing opposite of the one you’d occupied the night prior. Fair skin and freckles dance under the silver moonlight cast upon them, auburn hair a flame against the darkness.

She already has it lit between her fingers and you refrain from lunging toward it. 

You wave off her comment, walking toward her.“Yeah something came up.”

“Such as?”

“A desperate need for some food.” You lie. “Didn’t mean to take so long, Capitol meals are just too good to turn down.”

Ellie chuckles, mindlessly passing you the cig. You take it, placing it in your mouth with an animalistic hunger that only causes her laughter to grow laced with amusement. The smoke fills your lungs and clouds your head, a momentary sense of tranquility washing over you. It causes the sting from Ruben’s words to not burn so much, easing the wound he’d left like intangible ointment.

You begrudgingly pass it back to Ellie, staring at her as she inhales. There aren’t any bruises on her face, which is rather unfair as you’re certain you got a lot of punches in. Well, you suppose they were mostly aimed at her stomach and ribs. Shame.

“Why’d you choose me?” She says into the chilled night air, breath fogged. It takes you a moment to realize what exactly she’s referring to.

“As a combat partner?”

“Yeah,” She confirms, “If you wanted strong, you could’ve asked Nolan or Ariadne. If you wanted weak, you could have asked Selene or Elliot.”

“I didn’t want them, though. I wanted you.”

Her mouth twitches at this, though she simply speaks, “But why?” “Because I knew your frailty was an act.” You shrug, swiping the cig from her. “You’re a good actor, a great one even. But I know what it looks like to enjoy something. And you really enjoyed that archery station. The spear and the crowbar too, just not as much. And, oh, how could I forget your cute little plant section?”

“Okay, stalker.” She huffs as you laugh. 

“I was watching everyone, Ellie. Don’t feel too special.”

“Awh,” She feigns a pout, “I was just beginning to.”

It’s comfortable here, on a roof of solace. It’s like a secret oasis shielded away from the rest of the world, obtained only by the two of you. It’s nice, perhaps too nice. You’ve formed a bad habit of distrusting things when they grow too good to believe. As you pass the cigarette back to Ellie, your mind comes up with countless scenarios of how this could end — you get caught, cast out of the games, and turned into tongueless Avoxes; or maybe you don’t get caught, become good friends, then you’re forced to kill her in the arena. No matter how this goes, the ending is the same. Inevitable loss of comfort. 

Ellie remains silent beside you, comfortable in the lack of conversation. She overlooks the city, the lights reflecting within her viridescent eyes. You imagine the way the light will leave them in the arena. Because, amid the infinite scenarios in your mind, there’s not a single one that entails you losing the games. Whether you’re the one to take Ellie’s life or not, she won’t live.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask, desirous for an off-switch to your thoughts.

Ellie’s eyes remain on the scene below as she responds. “The higher Districts might train for the games, but the lower ones are taught to defend themselves.”

“From what?”

“Anything?” She shrugs. “Everything.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way, as an act of defense. Of course you’re aware that’s what fighting is for. But you were raised into thinking it was a fact of life — you’d been expected to know how to take an enemy down at the age of seven. You were trained to fight with Ruben before you used the holograms. 

“Well who was your practice partner?” You ask. “Back in seven.”

You hadn’t thought much of the question, though it causes Ellie’s expression to falter. Her lips tighten as she passes you the cigarette. “It was interchangeable between my caretaker and Riley.”

Oh. Okay yeah, that was your fault. You’d completely forgotten about her stifled relationship with her best friend. Guilt traces up your spine. You want to ask what she means by caretaker, but you decide against prying for more information. 

Although she’s good at hiding it, Ellie’s expression is rather dejected. At the sight, you feel the need to offer a fair trade. To give her information about yourself that’s not so easy.

“Mine was my brother.” You say softly, turning toward the city before inhaling the smoke. It’s her turn to stare at you while you observe the city. Her eyes bore into the side of your face and you fight the urge to look at their greenery.

“Are you guys, uh,” She trails off, sounding unsure on how to approach this. “What’s your relationship like? Currently, I mean. You— well, I know you used to be close because you said he took you to the ocean as a kid. And, uh,” 

Her rambling makes you laugh, lightening the ache in your chest.

“We’re not so close anymore.” You admit, passing. Her brows furrow, clearly wanting to ask more. You appreciate her forbearing from doing so, though you know she deserves honesty. If you wish to pry as much as you do, you can’t expect to not return such an endeavour. In a much quieter voice, you speak, “He wasn’t the same after his Games.”

Ellie frowns, “I wouldn’t expect anyone to be, considering what the tributes are put through.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “It was just, really bad.”

She nods in understanding, though you know she doesn’t exactly have many details. “I’ve lost people too.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I was a baby but yeah.” She says, quick to undermine her own losses in comparison to yours. It’s endearing. “Both my parents passed when I was an infant. I was raised by my mom’s best friend, Marlene. She’s cool and all but– Well, she’s not my mom. And she makes no effort to act as one.”

You’re quick to recall Ellie referring to Marlene as her caretaker. Well, now you know why.

Ellie turns, looking out at the horizon. Her face is illuminated by the moonlight, smoothing her skin and shining her hair. She breathes out a cloud of smoke, clouding the cool air.

You’re not sure what to say, unused to having people confide in you. Are you supposed to tell her more about yourself as to relate to what she’s saying? Or would that be self-centered? Just as you’re about to spew out a random response, Ellie speaks up, swiftly changing the topic. Thankfully.

“I don’t tell many people emotional shit like that.” She admits. “But, for some reason, that’s all you and I seem to talk about — sentimental crap.” She then turns back to face you, your eyes meeting for a moment. Something passes between you, her gaze sharp but in a watchful way rather than a predatory one. She hands you the cigarette. “Tell me something about you. Something conversational.”

“Like what?” 

“What’s your favorite color? Who’s your biggest inspiration? What’re your hobbies?” She lists off, counting each point on her fingers. 

“I don’t really have hobbies.” You say, huffing a laugh. “Don’t have time for them.”

“That’s impossible, everyone has hobbies.”

You hum as you inhale the smoke, thinking. You truly can’t think of anything. You’re normally too busy with your mother’s training or retrieving game from mister Alden. When you finally think of something, it’s from your past. Long before Ruben left, when you were allowed to be a kid. “I used to enjoy writing poetry when I was younger, though it was no good.”

“See, that’s a great hobby.” Ellie smiles encouragingly, nudging your shoulder. 

“Okay, then. What’s yours?” You redirect, narrowing your eyes at her.

She grins even wider, already knowing her answer. “Hunting, gardening, doodling, painting, reading comic–”

“Painting?” You ask, mildly shocked by this.

“I mean, it’s the one I do the least out of them all, but–” “What do you paint?”

Her brows raise at your sudden interest. “Depends on the day. Sometimes I paint people, though I can never get the proportions right so I only end up pissed at myself by the end. Sometimes I paint abstractly, but I can never figure out what the end result depicts because it’s just a big burst of colors and vague shapes. Ninety percent of the time, they’re landscapes. Of the woods, of the road by my house, of the abandoned mill. Anything, really.”

“Hm, I didn’t really take you as a painter.”

“I’m not, really. I mostly just doodle in my notebook.” She says. “I only paint when I want to create something bigger than the journal’s confines.”

“Is that what you brought with you? Into the arena?”

“No. That would've been a good idea, though.” She shakes her head, clearly disappointed in herself for not having thought of that before you. 

“What’d you bring, then?” You ask. She holds out her hand in response. On her right index finger resides a thick metal ring, shaped as a moth. The creature’s wings wrap around her finger, body thin. It’s so intricate, so detailed. You lean closer to get a better look. “Is it a family heirloom or something?”

“No, uh,” She falters as she decides on how to answer. You straighten, still looking at the ring even after her hands have been dropped back down to her sides. “It’s from a friend.”

“So is mine.” You tell her before reaching up to touch your necklace. Ellie looks at it, eyes tracing the line of your collarbone all the way down to the pearl pendant. She reaches out, fingertips grazing the thin chain. Her hands are cold, causing your breath to hitch. She notices and is quick to pull her hands away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

She turns back toward the Capitol, you do the same. The city is asleep, the lights all turned off in the windows as the streets are naked of vehicles. You wonder if there’s a curfew, though you doubt it. Capitolites rarely have rules.

You imagine yourself living here, residing in an overpriced home that you won’t be charged a penny for. You’d be tended to by a vast quantity of Avoxes, never hearing any of their voices. The home would be yours to keep and yours to design. There’d be blue everywhere, subtle reminders of your life back at Four and the salty ocean that mister Alden would put through each visit on his skiff. The thought sounds nice at first, the luxury of it all. But the finer details — owning people, never seeing the ocean again — those are what get you. Not to mention all the parties you’d have to attend. All Capitolites are made to attend the more prestigious parties, mandatory under President Fedra’s decree. But then another thought crosses your mind. You’d have to win the Games first. To even be pondering on your life after them, you’ll have to survive before all else. The idea sickens you as it never has before. At first, you think it’s because you'll have to kill people, a thought that’s never sat right in regards to your morals. But then, as Ellie passes you the cigarette, the cool metal of her ring brushing your finger, you realize it’s not only that. It’s not the fact that you’ll have to kill people. It’s the fact that you'll have to kill her.

[post] notes!! i'm gonna be so fr, i only edited half of this chapter bc its SO fucking longggg (sorry ab that btw). i normally try to reread & edit as i go, but i seem to have abandoned that process #whoopsies!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo.     @ilovewomenfr.     @zzombiegirl.     @elliessweetheart.     @shawangel.     @defnoteleonor.     @fatbootymuncher.     @autisticintr0vert. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss.  @dsybouquet.   @serraphinm.   @smellovie.   @sakiigami.   @opt1mistic.   @spacecinnamonbuns.   @clouded-whispers.    @sappicarribean.   @corpsebridenightmare.     @jaliyah-s.    @pixiec4t.    @chappellroankisser.   @mxquelo.    @vahnilla.     @moshuka.    @cupidluvzz.    @elliewilliamssrealgf.    @h4-rt3s.    @tmbpyv.     @prwttiestbunnies.    @jinxtheplanet.    @sevyscoven

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Just learnt ‘Findis’ is a combination of ‘Finwë’ and ‘Indis’—

they were that sort of sappy parent.

[torchickentacos]

Posting low-effort Contestshipping memes every day until CS Day: Day 4- This counts as tangentially cs related, right?

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

god, grief hits you at the weirdest fucking times

[designernishiki]

sue me but i just really don’t wanna see someone try to rectify that terrible cliche out of character love triangle again like. if they chose to cut that out all together (not cutting YUMI out all together, obviously, just the romantic implications) then they’d probably have my attention. but let’s be real that’s probably not gonna happen

[whoreiaki-kakyoin]

I can’t think too hard about making my self insert more of an oc because then I’m going to want to flesh out her lore and and and and….

[catcatb0y]

I am on such a yandere kick but have NOWHERE to put this energy.

[neverendingford]

.

[29121996]

.

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

*head in hands* oh God my parental issues affect my view of Kiryu

[sleepyhoon]

✰ pairing. — emo!hs x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayal (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!hs, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni. very cliche shit. reader doesn’t know much abt sex tbh.

✰ synopsis. — Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of, "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ a/n. revamping this from my bts acc with heeseung this time bc im absolutely obsessed with this couple and need them to exist in every possible universe :P revamping part 2 as we speak and ill post in a few days hehe

✰ perm taglist. @intromortal @aanniikkaa @meetletsinmontauk @lovelyyf @right-person-wrong-time

———

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

[ilovethanosdick]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that

[jarofstyles]

Merlot

Hello my lovely ducklings. I promised a good age gap DILF sorta thing and I’m here to hand ‘em over. He’s getting some silver at the temples and she’s loving every second of it. Let me know what you think 🍷

Check out our Patreon for early access to the second part and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 8k

Warnings- age gap, dilfrry, smut, oral (m + f receiving) unprotected sex (please wrap it up irl), exhibitionism, daddy kink if you squint, and all the fun stuff.

“I hate to ask this cliche question, and it absolutely pains me to ask in such an uncouth way- but do you come here often?” Peeking over the rim of the glass, amber liquid brushed his top lip and the ice cubs clanked as the smoky liquor hit his tongue.

God knew what he was doing- the girl in front of him looked too young for him, but she had struck up the conversation first. Commenting on his silver lion’s head ring and asking where he’d gotten it, wide eyed and eager as she looked up at him with that pretty pout and mascara coated lashes. Perhaps it was the crippling loneliness of divorce, maybe it was the hint of a buzz of his second drink, or even a hint of desperation that had him continuing the conversation with the younger woman as she took the bar stool in front of him- but she seemed receptive. Leaning into the conversation and keeping eye contact, she played into him.

"Cliches can be cute sometimes." She laughed as she placed her own glass down, now empty. "I don't, no. I'm not one for the whole going out thing. Not anymore. I was in uni, but I think as soon as you graduate they take away your tolerance card." Rolling her eyes playfully she felt a lick of satisfaction in getting a chuckle out of him. "And what about you? Do you like to come to bars with overpriced drinks to talk to random people who decide to invade your bubble to ask where your pretty jewelry is from?"

"Well, I can't say I make a habit of it, but sometimes a man needs to escape the responsibilities of reality- and as much as I adore my pets, I think they’re tiring of hearing my voice.” He shook his head as he flexed his fingers, looking back down at the conversation starter. Pretty eyes met his own. It had been so long since he felt flustered but she had done a pretty good job at making him feel a little off kilter in the best way. A break from the mundane.

“I’ll have to agree with you on them revoking your tolerance once you exit uni. Though I will say it’s a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t terribly into partying in my last year, considering I’d started getting awful hangovers. Almost like s’bad for you, or something.” He teased, leaning against the bar top. It was clear that they’d shifted closer to each other through their conversation and he tried to not get his hopes up, but he sort of did feel like she was giving him… those sort of eyes. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends, though.”

“You’re not.” She said simply, looking up at him. Usually, facial hair wasn’t something she considered much at all. Not many around her wore it, but she had to say the longer she looked at him, the more she liked it. It was just… masculine. Rugged, in a way, but he kept it groomed. This man was interesting all around, with pretty rings and a deep raspy voice, seafoam eyes and a little tiny gray streak starting near his temple. God, that was hot. “I’m plenty happy talking to you.”

His heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, those eyes sparkling with something he hoped was interest, but at the very least looked like genuine intrigue. Nothing about their encounter led to her feeling otherwise. It was a nice change, feeling the ease of a conversation flow even if he stumbled on words when he accidentally looked down at her lips.

Fuck it.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "I’m glad t’hear that. You're very easy to talk to." he said, his voice low and warm. The risk was there, initiating a bit of touch, but he had fo test to waters. See where this was headed. Was she looking for a safe haven? A reliable guy who didn’t look like a creep (hopefully), someone to buy her drinks as she pitied the older man at the bar, or… was this headed the direction the heat in his belly desperately wanted.

“Am I?” Her head tilted slightly, smile slightly shy but making no effort to move from where his fingers hovered slightly. “I do get told I have problems knowing when to shut up and let things be quiet, so I suppose that tracks. It can be nice in conversations.” Especially when he had seemed slightly apprehensive of her at first and now warmed up. “You’ve got a nice voice. It’s nice to talk to you.”

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep talking, then." He said softly, his voice growing even warmer as he leaned in closer, his eyes flicking back down to her lips briefly before returning to her eyes.

“I agree.”

Y/N could be considered bold at times, but she liked that he was showing some effort- some interest. It was give and take, push and pull, a fun little game as she was given a perfect chance when someone else approached the bar top from behind Harry. “Oop- come ‘ere.’ She laughed, gently tugging him in as her ankle hooked around the back of his knee to tug him into her. “Someone’s tryn’ to make an order.”

Now he was closer than she had anticipated, stood between her thighs as she sat on the barstool with her leg wrapped around his. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get in your space.” The girl could feel his body heat. Fuck, he smelled so good. None of that… the familiar cheap colognes and aftershaves she was used to, not was it overpowering. Harry smelled expensive and spicy with some sort of leathery vanilla and she had to wonder what it was. "You smell really good..."

"No, no, it's fine..." He said softly, his voice trailing off as he looked down at her, their faces inches apart. He didn't move away, instead, he leaned in even closer, his hand resting on her knee. “Thank you.” The heat felt a little overwhelming in his cheeks. Pathetic to be a grown man blushing over such a simple compliment but he was so close to her now, body head radiating off of her and she smelled equally as good. “Um, so do you.”

He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent. It was a unique blend of floral notes, with a hint of citrus and a sweet, vanilla-like undertone. It was feminine, youthful, and intoxicating. Sweet and fresh. It didn’t choke him in floral and musk like the women who had been after him since his signature had barely dried on his divorce papers, but something that he vaguely remembered from his own days around her age. Perhaps that was a sign he should back off, but he couldn’t. He felt himself getting lost in the scent, his head spinning slightly as he continued to breathe her in.

His hand on her knee nearly burned but she relished in the feeling, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she smiled slightly at him. It was her first time attempting something like this. Older men were always a thing for her, a desire, but never one she felt bold enough to go for. Now, though, she wondered why she had waited. The feeling in her stomach and the delicate way she felt under his touch was something that had her nearly giddy.

“I like the mustache.” She pointed to it. “It’s a mature look. In a good way.” Of course she didn’t want to offend him, make him feel like she was calling him old. “Guys I’m around usually can’t pull it off. But you do.” Braving a touch, she let her fingers run over his jaw and felt a slight bit of scruff. “Are y’gonna go for a full beard? Or no?”

"Maybe..." Harry murmured, leaning into her touch. "Depends on how well it's received..." The joke was cracked softly, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as she touched his face. He let his hand slide a little higher up on her thigh, squeezing gently. "Thank you for the compliment though. Was hoping it wouldn’t be a bad thing cause I noticed y’looking at it.”

“Mm, I was. It’s nice.” Sexy. Her eyes felt heavy as she watched his lips curl in a slight smile. “ I’m assuming that there’s no missus at home?” She asked lightly. “You don’t seem like a cheater, Harry.” It was a tease, but he didn’t wear a ring on his ring finger. Usually she never gave men the benefit of the doubt but selfishly, she wanted to be right so she wouldn’t feel guilty about imagining her inner thighs raw from beard burn later tonight.

"No missus." He confirmed, his thumb rubbing small circles on her thigh as he opened his eyes to look at her. "Just me, and the office. I've been too busy to think about dating, let alone finding someone serious." He admitted honestly, his gaze lingering on her face. "I mean, I was married. Briefly." He said, his expression growing slightly somber. "But that's over now. It didn't work out." He shrugged, trying to downplay it, even though the divorce had been messy and painful. "What about you? Boyfriend at home?"

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She frowned. It wasn’t something she’d pry on because she could see it bothered him a bit, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Nor that she didn’t feel bad. “I’m single, thank god. My last boyfriend was a complete prick.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Cheated on me a few times on a boys holiday. Was stupid enough to post with other girls and think people wouldn’t send it to me just because he hid stories from me. but it was a relief, anyways.” It sounded cold, callous maybe, but it was the truth. “It’s just me now as I figure out what to do.”’

"He sounds like an idiot." He grumbled, his hand tightening lightly on her thigh. "You're too good for that." He paused, his eyes flicking over her features. "What do you mean, figure out what to do? Like, with life?"

“Yeah. Career wise mostly. I think I want to do writing but it’s been hard to tell lately. I do that part time and then work at a cafe as a waitress and pick up shifts when I need the money. I’m tired all the time so it’s taking me longer to simply sit down and figure out 100% what I want to do but, that’s life.” She shrugged. “So I get suckered into going out to bars with my coworkers and getting a buzz so I go up to a handsome man and demand to know where his ring is from, so it suppose it isn’t all bad.”

"Writing, huh?" There was intrigue in his voice as he took in her answer. The compliment wasn’t lost on him, and it fueled that bolder part of him that wanted to break out. "Like, books, or journalism? I happen to be in publishing, so if that’s something you’d like to walk about we can…." He trailed off, his thumb continuing to rub soothing patterns on her thigh. "It’s not the easiest thing to break into but you’ve got a lot going for you. I’d be willing to help you if you feel ready.” . That was a genuine offer, regardless if he got laid… but he still felt that the way she was looking at him had an undertone

"You should come by my office sometime, if you want." He offered, his voice low. "I mean, if you're interested in publishing. We could... talk shop. Or something." He added, his hand slowly creeping higher up her thigh as he spoke.

“Or something?” She grinned widely. “Are you making a pass at me, handsome stranger Harry?” Her fingers stroked down his jaw towards his neck, messing with the collar of his shirt.

"I mean, m’being serious about helping you but… Maybe a bit of flirting is happening." He whispered, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. "I mean, you did ask where my ring was..." He pointed out softly, his hand now resting high up on her thigh, fingers spread wide, said ring gleaming in the low light. "And I haven't exactly been getting much action since the divorce..."

Eyes fell down to his hand and back up to his face, ever so slightly spreading her legs more to allow him to step closer between them. The heel of her shoe gently ran over his calf, biting lightly on her lower lip as she tried to keep the smile off her face. “And is that the only thing you want from me?”

Harry's breath hitched as she spread her legs, his heart racing at the subtle gesture. His hand tightened ever so slightly on her thigh, his fingers digging in just a bit as he leaned in closer. "No," He admitted quietly, his voice husky. "But it's a good start."

“Tell me.” She slipped her hand down to let them curl into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve never been with an older man before, Harry. Are you all just as shitty as the younger ones? Or are you better?”

Harry's eyes darkened as she slipped her hand under his shirt, the rough pad of her fingers against his skin making him shiver. "I'm better." He said confidently, his voice deep and rumbling. "I know what I want, and I know how to treat a woman."

The man’s hand tightened on her flesh as she let out a breathy sigh, his eyes never leaving hers. "With respect," He said simply. "With kindness and attention. I open doors, I pull out chairs, I make sure they're comfortable and cared for. And in bed…" There was a pause, a slight smirk on his face as he averted his gaze for a single moment.

“In bed?” She echoed, looking up at him expectantly. “Don’t keep me on edge here. I’m dying to know.”

Harry smirked at her, his hand moving higher up her thigh, stopping right at the hem of her panties. His knuckles could feel how humid she was, no denying she was wet. It was hard to keep focused, but he had to. "Well, Y/N… I make sure they're satisfied," He said, his voice low and sultry. "I take my time, I pay attention to their body, I explore and learn what makes them tick."

“So you won’t just cum and roll over and fall asleep?” She hummed, her other hand running under his blazer and over his back. “Because I’m real tired of giving it my all and barely getting a subpar orgasm out of it. It’s why I was trying to be celibate for a while…”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Not on my watch," He said, his thumb brushing against her panties. "I'll make sure you're thoroughly satisfied, multiple times if needed. I'll hold you close, kiss you, tell you how beautiful you are, while I make love to you."

“Ooo… he makes love..” She cooed, giggling lightly before leaning into whisper the next words to him. Was this an older man thing? Or a literature person sort of thing? Waxing poetically about the things he could provide, it all sounded amazing. But she had to know. “But can you fuck? Can you make me feel it for days, bruise my ass, get me so wet I ruin your sheets?”

Harry groaned quietly her words, his thumb pressing against her panties, feeling how soaked they were. "Fuck, yes." He growled under his breath, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "I can be rough, I can be gentle, I can do whatever the hell you want. All y’have to do is ask."

Y/N let out a shuddering breath as his thumb brushed over her clit through her panties, looking to the side as she attempted to see if anyone was paying attention- but considering how crowded it was tonight, no one was paying them much mind. “So you’ll take me back to your place and make me cum? That’s what I want.”

Harry nodded, his thumb rubbing against her. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'll take you back to my place and make you cum so hard you'll see stars. And then I'll keep going, as long as you want, until you can't take it anymore."

“God.” The girl’s head rolled toward and thumped on his shoulder, feeling him chuckle as he rolled his thumb over her swollen clit. The lacy scrap of material she considered panties did little to hide how slick she was, the older man having plenty of fun playing with her as she turned her head and nipped her teeth into his throat.

Harry let out a low hiss at the sharp little bite, his hand still pressing against her clit through her panties. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a text message before putting it back in his pocket.

“W-What are you doing?” She murmured, slowly pressing her lips to his skin and staining it with her lipstick. He was casual about playing with her, acting like stroking her clit was second nature as his other hand adjusted the straps of her dress back up from where they’d begun to droop.

Harry smirked as she inquired, his thumb still making small circles against her clit. He leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "I'm sending a message to my housekeeper, to make sure the bed is prepared for when we get back to my place."

“God, M’gonna suck your dick so good.” She sighed, a tipsy giggle leaving her throat. “It’s big. I knew it was when I came over here but… shit, I’m gonna feel it for days.”

Harry grinned as she grumbled against his neck, his hand leaving her panties to grip her hip possessively. "You're going to love it, baby. I'm going to stretch your little mouth wide, and you're going to take every inch like a good girl." He crooned low in his throat. “But you need to get that pretty ass up and come t’the car with me. My driver is here.”

——-

Y/N let out a squeal of delight as Harry tossed her into his bed. His Californian King with a canopy, four postered, hand craved fucking bed frame, his shirt unbuttoned, belt undone and jacket on the floor. Her dress was over her hips and she wasn’t sure exactly how they’d gotten here, but what she was sure of was the fact that she really did like kissing him. “Kiss me.” She demanded, grabbing his scruffy face as he crawled up the bed and hovered over top of her.

Harry chuckled at her demanding tone, his mustache brushing against her lips as he obliged her request. He kissed her deeply, his hand wrapping around her jaw to pull her close. As they made out, he let go only momentarily to reach down and grab her dress, yanking it up over her head and tossing it carelessly aside.

That left her in just the pathetic excuse of lace panties, as she had forgone the bra for the sake of the dress, and there was no complaints on his end. Her hand pushed at the shoulder of his shirt, trying to get it off of him. “Want you closer.” She mumbled, leaning into him with a mewl as he pulled back to do as she asked. It was erotic and hot and she was surprised by the amount of tattoos he had, but god, did she want to see more of him.

Harry grinned, feeling her warm hands pushing at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing her to pull it off of him. His tattoos were extensive, covering most of his arms, chest, and back. Inquisitive hands ran over her sides, marveling at her form compared to his own build.

The man bent down and started to place kisses along her collarbone and up her neck. His rough hands squeezed her sides gently, thumbs brushing along her ribs. He continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, his facial hair tickling her sensitive skin. He whispered, "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby."

She did as asked, eyes fluttering shut as she could feel him through his trousers. Of course, she’d been right. The man’s cock was big like she had expected, and it was thick. Throbbing against her through the fabric, her mouth watered slightly as she rubbed herself against him, fingers finding his hair as he made his way down her throat. “Fuck, it’s been so long.” The slight scratching of the facial hair only made her feel more sensitive, like she was on a live wire. It was decided that she definitely liked it now.

Harry groaned at her words, the sound coming out more like a rumble from his chest. He continued to kiss and nip at her throat as she ground herself against him. His hands squeezed and gripped her ass, encouraging her movements. "God, you feel so damn good, and m’not even inside you yet."

Harry paused for a moment, looking up at her with a heated gaze. "You're so precious, so sweet... I've never been with anyone like you before." His voice was gruff, filled with desire. He ran his hands up her sides, marveling at her smooth skin. The curves, the indents, all of it was new and exciting.

“No?” She asked softly. “I’ve never been with an older man either. Kinda like it.” There was no hesitation in admitting it. “Was your ex wife not good to you, Harry?”

Harry's expression darkened briefly at the mention of his ex-wife. "She wasn't... attentive. And she certainly never looked at me the way you are now." He buried his face in her neck once more, kissing and nuzzling her skin.

“No?” It was astounding. “I don’t know how. If I had a man like you…” She let out a breathy laugh. “You’d have to pry me off of you. you are so attractive, so sweet… Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be all over you, all the time.” It wasn’t something she could really understand. She barely knew the guy but she liked what she saw, and she liked it a lot.

Harry's heart swelled with pride at her words. He felt his ego growing a bit, having this beautiful young woman fawn over him. "I think she was always more interested in the status and prestige that came with being married to me, rather than actually being in love with me." It wasn’t something he liked to think about but in this instance he felt okay with it. If it hadn't ended, he wouldn’t end up here.

His lips continued to kiss and caress Y/N, his hands roaming over her curves almost in awe of what he had his hands on. It wasn’t what he had expected. People watching at the bar was his goal, really. He had one night stands a few times but he didn’t necessarily want this to be a one time sorta of thing. Not when she smelled this good and her lips tasted like cherry wine. He wanted to know what books she liked just as much as he wanted to know how she looked when she came. "But now I have you in my bed, and you're looking at me like I'm the most desirable man you've ever seen, so I think m’doing okay." He crooned, nipping at her neck.

“Because you are.” The girl purred. “All man and power in the best way. Not socially, but in what you are. You exude it.” Her cunt rubbed against him, making her eyes lull. “I knew you’d have a big dick. Knew it just walking up, how you stood. I wanted it inside of me.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his voice a deep rumble. "Is that right? You wanted me inside you from the moment you saw me?" His hands gripped her backside firmly, spreading her cheeks as she ground against him. "Well, you're going to get it, baby."

“Mmm… I want it now.”

Y/N nearly whimpered as he pulled away but quickly shut up as she watched him stand up, hands working the button of his trousers. It took her seconds to lift up and get on her knees in front of him, shooing his hands away to take over. it had been months since she’d given head and while she wasn’t a normal lover of it, she had been dying to get her hands on him.

Harry watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she pushed his hands away and undid his pants herself. He bit his lower lip as she slowly revealed what she'd been craving. "You don't have to do that, baby." He said hoarsely, knowing full well that he wanted her to- but he wouldn’t make her. It would be more than okay if he focused on her. He got off on giving, and that’s what he focused on.

“Need to.” She gave him a look as she slowly tugged the zipper down, guiding his trousers down before palming him over his briefs. “Fuck, I’m gonna be full of this.”

Harry let out a low moan at her grip and the words that followed. The image of her full and well used was enough to send any red-blooded man to their knees, but he just stood there in front of her, letting her take control, letting her give him pleasure. He watched as she pulled his boxers down, freeing his length. His hands moved to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. He could see the lust in her gaze, and he couldn’t help but sigh again at the sight of her.

His thick, veined shaft jutted out proudly from a trimmed thatch of dark hair. The head was a dark, angry red and already glistening with precome. The older man let out a sharp breath as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly starting to stroke him. He watched intently as she gripped his cock, sliding it over the sensitive length, causing it to pulse in her grip.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as she watched his control come undone. Her eyes were locked onto him, watching his cock pulse and throb in her hand. She could feel it grow harder with each stroke, leaning herself down and sticking out her tongue for a taste.

The sensation of her tapping tongue against the tip of his cock made him shudder, watching the precum string from his slit to the pad of her pink tongue. He looked down at her, seeing the hot promise in her eyes- this was going to be good and he knew it. She slowly began to slide the head of his cock back and forth between her lips, teasing it with her tongue.

Y/N wasn’t one to call any cock pretty, but she would dare to say it for him. Harry’s cock was appealing in the way most others hadn’t been. Maybe part of it was her overwhelming attraction to him in general, but she felt even more eager to make him feel good than she had with anyone else in the past. “I want to take it in my throat. I can do it, I promise. Jus’ need your help.” Her plea was finished with a kiss to the tip before opening her mouth, looking up at him to let him take over.

He guided her head forward gently, encouraging her to take more of him into her mouth. "Relax your jaw, baby, you can take it." He coaxed softly, his voice laced with desire. As Y/N did as he asked, Harry felt his cock slide deeper into her warm, wet mouth. Her lips stretched around his girth, pushing in slowly before he felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat. He could feel her nose pressing against his pubic bone as she struggled to take him all in. “Shh, sweetheart. Just gotta get it wet for me, show me what you can do.”

He held her head steady, his hands gently gripping her hair as he started to slowly thrust his hips. The sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth filled the room, along with the occasional gagging noise as she struggled to accommodate his size.

"You're doing so well, baby," Harry praised, his voice low and gravelly. "Look at you, takin’ it like a good girl. You're gonna make me come so hard today, aren’t you, sweetheart? Just like that, that's it- relax that throat for me..."

As Harry continued to talk to her, his sweet words and praise, Y/N's eyes began to water from the effort of taking him so deep. She gagged a few times, her hands coming up to his thighs for support, but she refused to pull away for longer than a few seconds to catch her breath.

Her cheeks hollowed and her jaw ached, but she was determined to take him all in. Harry's hands moved to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, fucking her mouth with more urgency. "That's it, baby. You're making me so hard... S’been so long... Been ages since anyone’s made me feel like this..." Harry's voice trailed off into a low moan as Y/N finally managed to take him all in, her nose pressing against his lower abdomen. “Tha’s it, right there- fucks sake.”

Harry's hips began to thrust involuntarily, fucking her mouth with shallow pumps as he held the back of her head, still buried deep in her throat. He released the grip, trying to urge her off- but she didn’t want to. "Fuck... you’ve got t’pull off, sweetheart..." he groaned, his breathing heavy and erratic. “Need t’fuck you.” Y/N whimpered around his thickness, her eyes watering as she shook her head slightly, indicating that she wasn't ready to give up yet. She wanted to taste him, to drink him down like he had with her. Harry's grip tightened in her hair, his voice strained.

"Babe...you've gotta-you've got to... please," Harry begged, his voice cracking as she continued to suck him off, her head bobbing and nose brushing his thatch of hair, making his eyes clench shut. "If you don't stop now, M’gonna, fuck...I'm gonna cum in your mouth..."

Y/N whimpered, her hands gripping his thighs tightly as she continued to suck him enthusiastically, eager to taste him. Harry's breathing became rapid and shallow, his fingers tightening in her hair as he struggled to hold back. "Y/N, last chance...I'm-"

The girl moaned as she felt him stiffen, his hips bucking forward as he finally gave in and let go, filling her mouth with his warm release. Watching his face fall in ecstasy, it was going to be worth the soreness tomorrow. She struggled to swallow it all, some of it dripping out of her mouth and down her chin. Harry's knuckles were white from gripping her hair so tightly, his body trembling as he came deep in her mouth. The sight of her swallowing him down was almost too much for him to handle, and he had to close his eyes and focus on not passing out. It truly had been a long fucking time.

As Harry finished cumming, Y/N eagerly cleaned his sensitive prick with her tongue, licking and sucking until he was completely clean. She ran her tongue along the veins and underneath the head, making him shudder and pull back. "Too sensitive...God, you're so good at that." he praised breathlessly. There was slight disbelief in there too, a slight tingling in his thighs as he looked at her as she pressed sloppy kisses to his hip bone. Mascara smeared under her eyes and lipstick a faded smeared mess, he wondered how he had gotten this lucky.

Harry needed a moment to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intense orgasm. He looked down at Y/N, her messy appearance only making her more adorable to him. "You know what would be perfect right now?" he asked, his voice still shaking slightly.

“What?” Her voice croaked, feeling his thumb brushed away some of the tears on her cheek that had fallen from the gagging.

"Letting me get a taste of that pussy I've been fantasizing about." Harry suggested, his eyes still lingering on her messy and sated appearance as he pulled her up and pushed her to lay back down on the bed. “S’my turn now. Spread those perfect legs and let me see that cunt.”

Y/N obediently spread her legs wide, letting Harry see her dripping wet pussy. He let out a low groan at the sight as he got on his knees, his thumbs spreading her lips apart to reveal her slick folds. He buried his face between her thighs, inhaling her scent deeply before diving in and licking her from asshole to clit. There was no wasting any time or pretending to be shy about a single thing.

A started squeak left her mouth as her head popped up, hands gripping his head as he dove right in with little hesitation. Harry hadn’t seemed like the type to have any reservations in taking what he wanted, and it was being proven by how his tongue slid over her most sensitive parts.

He continued to eat her out with reckless abandon, his tongue fucking her pussy as if it belonged to him. Her breathing was heavy as he sucked on her clit, nibbling at it gently before returning to lap at her folds. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks wide to give himself better access to her tight hole. He wanted to have it all. “S’this okay, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” Y/N hadn’t really had anyone touch her there before but she couldn’t say she hadn’t been curious and self explored. It was always something she wanted to play around with and it felt exciting, handing herself over to the man like that.

Harry grinned mischievously against her wet flesh, his hands spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper. He pushed his thumb against her hole, slowly sliding it inside as he continued to lap at her cunt. “You taste so good, sweetheart...” he murmured, his voice muffled by her flesh.

He added a second finger to her ass, scissoring them apart slowly as he tongue fucked her pussy. Y/N's legs started to shake as the dual stimulation became too much. She gripped his hair tightly, her back arching off the bed as she let out a high pitched whine. "Ah!"

Y/N's fingers tightened painfully in Harry's hair, her knuckles turning pale as she tried to stay grounded while the pleasure consumed her. His tongue was spearing into her soaking wet hole over and over, curling up to rub against that spot inside her that made her see stars. And his fingers… god, those hands.

His fingers were stretching her asshole, pushing past the initial resistance and sinking deep into her tight heat. He scissored them further apart, popping her open wider as he fingered her ass. Y/N's legs shook violently, her whole body trembling as she felt herself on the verge of a massive orgasm.

"Harry...it's...too- please..." She babbled, unable to form a full sentence as he continued to stuff her holes. It had never been like this before, no one had even come close. He ignored her pleas, instead burying his face deeper and pumping his fingers faster. She felt so stuffed, so full, the pressure mounting inside her unbearably.

He felt her whole body stiffen, her pussy fluttering on his tongue as she cried out. She gushed against his mouth as she came, the feeling so intense and overwhelming that the waves of pleasure forced her to collapse against him.

Harry worked her through it as she trembled and whimpered with pleasure, his fingers still buried in her ass and his tongue still buried in her pussy. He felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he'd reduced this beautiful young woman to a whimpering, shaking mess. It was not only an ego boost from what had been lacking for a while now, but he liked seeing how she reacted to him. He alone had done it.

Harry slowly lifted his head, wiping her from his face as he grinned wickedly at Y/N. "You taste even better when you're coming apart for me, sweetheart." He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with her. "And you’re tight everywhere, hm?”

Y/N stared at Harry, her eyes glazed over and pupils dilated from the intense high she was still riding down from. Her mouth was slightly parted, breath hitching as she watched him clean her off his hands. A soft blush spread across her cheeks, embarrassed yet turned on by his bold actions.

"H-Harry...that was...I've never...I mean...no one's ever..." She stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence even still.

He chuckled darkly, enjoying how flustered she was. "No one's ever played with your pretty little hole before?"

“No.” Her face felt hot as he grinned up at her. He seemed more than pleased and it made her feel good to know he was happy but still, she had the slight embarrassment that only came with the territory.

"Well, consider that box checked then." He said smugly, crawling back up her body to kiss her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, the musky flavor a testament to what he'd just done to her.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as he continued to ravage her mouth. She mewled into the kiss, arching up against him as she felt his hard length pressing into her stomach. "Does my pretty girl want more?"

“Mhm.” She nipped his lip. “Want you inside of me.” Was she still sensitive from her orgasm? yes. But she had been desperate to get him inside of her since she’d first spoken to him. “Do you- are you clean?”

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against her cheek. "I'm always clean, sweetheart. I get checked regularly and I'm very particular about who I share my dick with." He gave her wrists a gentle squeeze before releasing them, reaching over to his pants to his back pocket to grab his wallet.

“I-“ Her hand reached for his wrist. “I don’t wanna use one.” The words laid in the humid air for a moment. It was risky, sure, as any sort of unprotected anything was, but she didn’t want anything in between them. “I want t’feel you inside of me…”

He groaned at her words, his eyes darkening with desire. "Christ, doll. You're gonna be the death of me." Leaning down to kiss her again, his tongue traced over her bottom lip before slipping inside her mouth. He took his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, causing her to shiver in anticipation. His hands made their way under her hair, feeling the warmth of her skin.

“Can I push in, baby?” He asked with a low tone, his lips tracing her collarbone. At her nod, he wasted little time. Poor thing hadn’t been fucked right before, and he would happily give her a proper experience. Reaching down between them, he positioned himself at her entrance. With one slow thrust, he entered her fully, feeling the warmth and tightness of her around him. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he buried the tip inside of her. “Fuck, thank you.”

He groaned as he pushed into her, feeling the way her body welcomed him. He paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust and letting himself feel the depth of her wet heat around him. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

Being with a younger woman was different for him, but maybe it was just her- he realized as he moved inside of her. It was like being with a whole new sense of being, one who was full of energy and life. Everything about her was so fresh and vibrant, from her tight little pussy to her perfect tits and gorgeous face.

He continued to thrust into her, feeling the way her walls tightened around him. His hands moved down from her breasts, over her soft stomach and to her hips, exploring whenever he could.

His movements were slower, each thrust deliberate and measured. He wanted to savor the feel of her, the way her body yielded to his. He was drawn to watch her face, loving the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open as he filled her. "Look at me," he murmured. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a dazed expression. "Good girl, like t’see those pretty eyes." The man sighed, unable to resist praising her. He continued to thrust into her slowly, each movement filled with lust and desire.

“Fuck.” She kept her eyes on him as her hands ran over his hot shoulderbaldes, keeping that contact as he dipped all the way back home as deep as he could. Her mouth fell open and a high pitched noise left her throat without her permission, brows furrowed. “It’s never been that d-deep.”

He grinned at her, loving the way her inexperience made her react to him. "That's because no one's ever taken the time to stretch you out right." He leaned down to kiss her neck, his hips continuing to move in slow, deep thrusts.

“Where the fuck have you been, then?” She laughed breathlessly, letting her eyes fall back closed as he kept the thrusts slow and deep, relishing every inch he took. her body was lax and hot, his for the taking. Right now she felt like he could do anything and she would welcome it. “Are all older guys like this, or is it j-just you?”

He chuckled darkly against her neck, "There's a reason why women often prefer older men, doll- but M’gonna say for greeds sake, s’just me." He suckled at her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs and push them back farther, opening her up even more to his slow, deep thrusts.

“Oh, shit.” Her mouth fell open and he welcomed it, sliding his tongue back inside her mouth and humming at the taste of her against him. The fact there was not a single barrier, albeit risky for the first time fucking, made it even hotter.

His movements became gentler, his hands caressing her skin instead of gripping it. "You like that?" he murmured against her lips, his hips rolling into hers instead of thrusting. "You like knowing that there's nothing between us?" He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a heated gaze. "I want you to look at me when I ask you something," he said, his voice low and commanding as he took her eyes. "Are you on any birth control?"

“Y-Yeah. Uh-huh.” Her eyes wide, she looked up at him hazily as she wrapped her legs further around his hips. “Don’t pull out when you cum. Please- I know m’crazy, but I need… need it.” Y/N knew she was insane for it, but their connection was so strong, every thrust inside of her, hitting places she didn’t know existed prior to this… she needed it.

His expression softened, a coo leaving his mouth as he nodded at her. How precious. "Alright, sweetheart. I promise I won't pull out." A dumb decision on his part too considering they’d just met but in the midst of it all, it was all he wanted to do. His hips began to move again, his pace quickening as he felt the heat of her around him. "You're going to take it all then, aren't you?"

“Yeah.” She mewled. From the sounds and feel alone she knew she was making a mess on his cock, but she had a feeling he was enjoying it every time he snuck a glance between them. “Take everything you give me, Daddy.” It was a risk, but she wanted to see what he’d do.

His face contorted with pleasure, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching. "Good girl…" he hissed, his voice low and gravelly. He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her with more need, his movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to make me cum, doll."

“Cum.” She begged. “Cum in me. Then fuck it into me. Please.” Her nails dragged over his toned back as she clung to him, his bed creaking as he fucked into her welcoming, wet pussy.

He let out a primal grunt and slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot, thick cum. He held himself inside her, his hips jerking as he pumped his load deep into her cunt. "Fuck, baby... I'm going to fucking fill you up."

But he wasn’t done. Not in the slightest.

With his cum still pouring into her, he reached under her and grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide apart. Observing the mess he made, he fixed his fingers on her clit as he fucked the cum into her just like she asked. “I gave you what you wanted, darling. Give me what I need too, mm?” His lips brushed her cheek, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. She just needed a little extra, and he was more than happy to provide.

Y/N squirmed slightly as she felt it creep up on her faster than she could anticipate. The pulse of his cock as it dribbled the last of his cum inside of her, the feel of his facial hair brushing her tender skin and his fingertips rubbing quick circles over her clit, it was impossible to keep from holding back. Heat boiled in her stomach as she tried to tell him, but it came on quicker than she could speak.

A broken moan left her lips as her body shook under him, eyes burning with tears of pleasure as he fucked her messy cunt and continued the circles until she pushed his hand away, grabbing his face and kissing him far more messily than she would have done in any other capacity- but this felt right. Fucked out and wobbly, melting into the bed as he slowly stopped the thrusts and stayed buried in her.

“Mm- baby. Sweetheart…” he pulled back to look at her. “You alright? Tell me how you’re feelin’.” He needed to check in on her, make sure she was feeling properly taken care of. Just by the look of it alone he had a feeling she felt that way, but he wanted to hear it from her pretty lips.

“I’m so good.” She grinned, drunk with the pleasure as she looked up at the handsome man. He was everything that she had dreamt about when she woke up sticky between her thighs. Aged like a fine wine.

“Can we go again?”

[milfsdoll]

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

Officer!Agnes x reader

Summary: After almost burning your house down because of your boyfriend you end up at the police office, being interrogated by your ex girlfriend.

Warnings: +18, smut, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Agatha, bratty sub!reader, handcuffs, chocking, hair pulling, degrading kink, praise kink, strap on, slight spanking kink, daddy kink, fluff.

Word count: 4k

A/N: this is my first fic so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing! Also english is not my first language <3

Masterlist

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You honestly didn’t know how it happened, one minute you were screaming at your cheater of a boyfriend and his fucking side chick and the next thing you remember was running out of the house, trying to get away from the flames.

You sighed in relief, finally at home after a long and stressful day at work, your boss was being a bitch again and making you do extra hours just because she feels like it. God how you hated her, you just wanted to go home, have a nice dinner and watch some bad movie with your boyfriend. 

As you reached your door, searching for your keys inside of your needlessly big purse you heard a sound coming from inside of the house, making you stop immediately, what was that? Again, another noise, was it… a moan? Pressing your ear to the door you heard it once again… and again… those were definitely moans “what the fuck?” Was he watching porn or something? I mean you couldn’t blame him if he did, you were barely home, but then you heard it, someone moaning his name. 

Your heart stopped for a moment, he could not… could he? 

With shaky hands and ringing ears you carefully opened the door, the sight of candles all around the hall and into the living room making you shake your head, no, no no no no no, three years, three years of relationship, this couldn’t be happening, right? He wouldn’t throw it all away, not like that, right? Your mind was playing with you, it had to be that.

Slowly, you made your way to said living room, the moans and grunts getting louder, and your heart pace getting quicker, and then you saw it, you were’t crazy, it was really happening “You motherfucker” your hoarse voice causing the room fall silent, your now, ex boyfriend, throwing the blonde girl off his lap, watching as she immediately put her clothes on and ran through the door, you didn’t care a bit about her.

You only focused how he made his way to you, the noises of him trying to talk to you into a pit of lies sounded blurry.

“Honey, it’s not what it looks like I swear” mhm… what a cliche lie,

“It’s her fault! She seduced me” great try, another one, 

“I’m so sorry, my love” huh, that was a good one… no,

“It’s not my fault you’re never home to get me off, I had to find someone else!” oh there was it, that son of a bitch.

Everything went red, you weren’t conscious of what you were doing, throwing everything your hands reached at him, screaming how much of a stupid fucker he was, not even trying to hide it, doing it in your own fucking home! And you didn’t realize one of the many things you threw at him was one of the big candles he set, hitting against the curtains.

It happened too fast, there was fire everywhere, and you stood there, frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the burnt out wall, realizing what a stupid thing you did, I mean you didn’t even love him, you never did, but you trusted him, and you felt fucking betrayed. 

It wasn’t until a big flame got into your view you got out of your shock and ran out of the house, a police car already waiting for you.

And now here you were, sat in the interrogation room, leg shaking with anxiety and your heel kicking the floor repeatedly, staring at the door as if someone would appear faster. You’ve been waiting like 20 minutes already, and you knew there was only one person in the police office at this hour so you didn’t understand why she was making you suffer like this.

It’s something she have always loved to do.

As those thoughts ran through your head the door opened, revealing the brunette woman, she leaned against the door after closing it, studying you for a moment, she tried to grasp everything around her head, trying to understand the reason behind all of this “I’m very curious… what made you burn your house down and nearly killing you and your boyfriend?”

You scoffed and the last word “not my boyfriend, not after tonight” your words sounded furious and… painful, you squirmed in the chair, feeling quite uncomfortable “I didn’t mean to ok? You know I’m not that crazy” 

Agnes and you had a… situationship in the past, you both wanted more, wanted a serious relationship but her work and schedule were a problem, you barely saw her once a week or two causing you to argue a lot, so you both decided to part ways and stay friends, it was the best for both of you.

Or that’s what you wanted to believe anyway.

The older woman hummed, detaching herself from the door and sitting on the chair in front of you “I know” of course she knew, she knew you weren’t capable of hurting a flower “that’s why I’m asking you” 

You looked up at her from your fidgeting hands “I caught that fucker cheating, alright? I-I got furious and started throwing things at him and maybe… accidentally, I threw him a lit candle” replaying the scene in your head you let out a giggle, seeing his stupid face was worth it after all “but honestly Agnes? I don’t regret a thing”

Well… maybe you were a little crazy.

She fought back a smirk, she couldn’t blame you, he deserved it, she always knew that bastard wasn’t good for you, and if she had found out about it before she would have done the same thing, or worse, no one but she can mess with her girl “well, I’m sorry” she wasn’t, at all “but I’m afraid you have to spend the night in the tank”

What? No

No way you were gonna spend a second in that hell hole.

And just like that, an idea crossed your mind, it was risky but you knew very well it would work, for both of you.

“But… Aggie” you whined, looking at her with doe eyes, yes… you were playing that card “you know I’m a good girl” she flinched in surprise, feeling your foot caress her leg under the table. 

Those eyes, those fucking eyes.

You were playing a dangerous game, but oh… two can play this game and she hates to lose.

Without saying a word she got up, slowly making her way around the table, you watched her intently, like a prey watching her hunter’s next move, and then suddenly you let out a gasp, she threw your chair back with a kick, caging you between her arms, resting them on each side of the chair.

“Are you? Because I only remember you being a fucking brat” she was so close, so close you could smell her woody perfume, her breath against your face, fuck how you’ve missed her, every smell, every touch, every word of hers.

No one could ever compare to Agnes.

“And I remember you loving it… you loved to fuck the brattiness out of me, you loved to shut me up shoving your dick in my mouth” your hand carefully ran up her leg, watching her breath hitch you never took your eyes off hers, and just as you reached her crotch you felt something hard, making you bite you lip “you haven’t changed a bit Agnes, always packing around with that purple d-” 

She didn’t let you finish, grabbing you by the throat, shoving you up and against the wall, earning a huffed grunt from you and grabbing her wrist for support.

There she was, the rough Agnes you always loved, how she lost control of herself because of you, it made you weak on the knees, your mind already fogging into submission, but you had to fight it back, you wanted to test her limits, to totally break her, and let her break you from the inside in return.

On her end she knew she should tease you further, see how far you were capable of going but she was so weak for you, all this time apart from you, trying to find you in other girls but there wasn’t anyone like you, she only wanted you, she needed you, like she knew you needed her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game you know you’ll lose to here, pet”

God, you loved when she called you that, her pet, her plaything, her doll to play around anytime and anywhere she wanted. 

No.

Focus.

Break her.

“Is that the best you can do Aggie? Aww, maybe I was wrong, maybe you’ve lost your spark” 

Yes, yes, yes, that was the look you were searching for, that rough, primal look that sent you into a subspace without hesitation, you were ready to take whatever she wanted to give you.

Agnes pushed her leg between yours, pressing against your center, watching as your face squirmed in pleasure, she always found it fascinating how she could pull these kind of reactions out of you with such little actions “you really think you’re in control here, hm?”

You both knew the answer, you both knew there was no way you could take control.

“A-Agnes, is this really the place to do this?” Your voice came out hushed and shaky, your mind fighting to get a hold of itself.

The older woman chuckled darkly at your state “oh please, don’t tell me you’re chickening out now doll” and she knew you were right, the interrogation room was no place for this but she knew too neither of you were gonna be capable of waiting another second. 

She would deal with the consequences later.

Her hand on your throat loosened, letting you breathe for a bit, they travelled down your figure, stopping on your waist, her eyes burning into yours, you saw her expression change for a moment “you have no idea how much I missed you”

Shit, this wasn’t in your plan.

You gulped, trying to loose the nervous knot in your throat “I missed you too, every fucking day” your voice came out in a whisper, as if you were telling her your deepest secret, and maybe it was. 

Agnes pulled you close, her hands tightening around your waist as if you were going to disappear from her grasp, she had to make sure this was real and not just a dream.

Your lips ghosted against hers, your hands caressing her face, eyes still locked on each other, both of you trying to search for any sign of regret “are you sure you want this?” that made you nod eagerly “I need words baby”

“Yes, yes Aggie, I want you… I need you”

And then her lips were on yours, it was slow and sweet at first, both of you trying to savour the moment after all these years apart, but just as a moan escaped your lips Agnes lost it, her tongue asking for entrance licking your lip, you immediately let her, submitting to her, letting her take control of the kiss. 

You were always so good to her, always her good girl.

She walked backwards until her legs hit the table turning you both around “up” she simply said patting your hip softly, causing your puffy lips break into a smile, and of course you obeyed her, hopping on the table before grabbing her by the collar and smashing your lips against hers again.

Your impatient hands deciding to rip her flannel shirt after various failing attempts unbuttoning it, the action making the older woman to laugh against your lips “you’re buying me a new one” 

You huffed “you have plenty of those, officer” she smirked at the new title.

“Cute, but I like the old title better” her hands making their way into your pencil skirt, stroking your inner thighs, realizing how much she missed your soft and warm skin, how she missed having those thighs around her head, clenching and unclenching with every one of her touch.

“Okay… daddy” 

And just with that her whole mind went feral, grabbing the slit of your skirt she ripped it in two, making you gasp and looking at her in disbelief “well, now we’re even” before you could spit back at her she cupped your cunt, your head falling back with a moan “fuck, did I make you this wet, pet?” She bit her lip, rubbing the wet spot on your thong with her fingers. 

“You know you always do, even only the thought of you does” That stroked her ego, thinking how you got this messy only thinking of her, after all this time, it made her even more eager to ruin you.

You watched her as she got on her knees, your breath hitching as she travelled your thighs with kisses, pushing your legs apart so she could tease you further but never where you really wanted her. 

You knew what she wanted, teasing you like that, playing with the stripes of your thong with her fingers, but you just whined, grabbing her head attempting to push her to your center but she just sat back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow “come on… it’s not that hard to ask me nicely if you want it that bad, doll”

Groaning desperately, your mind trying to fight back the words you just stared at her with heavy breath, her eyes watching your every desperate move, knowing very well the fight that was going on in that pretty head of yours.

And she knew exactly how to get it out of you.

“Do it for me, pet, come on beg for daddy” she then continued with her kisses, now starting from your ankle, watching as you gripped the ends of the table tightly “be a good girl and beg for me to fuck you, sweet thing”

Your jaw hanged low, your eyebrows furrowing in total desperation.

Come on, you just have to say the word.

Be a good girl.

Her good girl.

“Please” 

It came out shaky, her kisses stopping to look at you “please, please fuck me Aggie”

Yes, much better. 

She had you just where she wanted you “there you are, my good girl”

Then you both rushed to discard your thong and the ripped skirt before she locked your legs around her shoulders, finally burring her head in your center, giving your clit a long lick that had both of you moaning, your hand flying to her hair, pushing her further into you, wanting to feel her even closer.

And she gladly did, wanting to get drunk of your taste, her skilled mouth nipping and sucking on your clit, loving every sound she pulled from you, holding your hips down as they desperately rolled towards her face. 

Your back arched into nothing as you felt her two fingers tease your entrance “fuck, daddy please” your submission making the older woman chuckle only of the vibrations to go right to your core, causing you to let out a strangled moan.

And deciding to put your suffering to an end Agnes slowly pushed her large digits inside you, feeling your legs tense around her head, her pace painfully slow, to focused on your face and reactions, your head almost snapping back as she curled her fingers inside of you, making you struggle to breathe at the amount of pleasure she was giving you.

She could never get enough of you, your intoxicating taste and addicting sounds, she could spend the rest of her life between your legs, driving you absolutely mad with just her mouth and fingers, feeling your warm hole, how you clenched and unclenched around her fingers trying to last a little more only to have her like this.

Quickening her pace, her got up, pulling you into a deep kiss as her thumb continued the abuse on your clit, swallowing your whines and moans and letting you taste yourself, her free hand making it’s way inside of your top, finding your nipple and pinching it between her finger, she always loved how you went braless everywhere, making it easier for her to access.

And when she felt your core clench harder, knowing you were already close to your orgasm, all her movements stopped “w-what are you doing?” you whined out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Shh, it’s ok” she kissed your temple “open your mouth”

Without hesitating for a second you obeyed, her fingers slipping in, making you instantly close your mouth and suck, watching as her lips parted and pupils darkening in pleasure, your tongue playing with her fingers, cleaning them before she got them out, your mouth letting out a ‘pop’ sound. 

She then suddenly pushed you off the table and turned you around, pressing your front against the cold surface, manhandling you in the position she wanted “you better keep your hands there” she said locking your hands on your back.

“I will, daddy” you bit your lip from giggling shaking your ass against the hard bulge in her pants, knowing the effect that action had on the woman. 

There was silence for a moment, you could feel her eyes on you, and then- 

slap!

You gasped in surprise, your body jumping forward “keep that up and it won’t be the only one” you felt her deep voice right in your ear, her hand caressing you red and itchy bottom cheek.

You couldn’t deny and say you didn’t like it, on the contrary, it felt fucking good, but right now you just wanted her to fuck you raw, so just nodded keeping in mind to bring that side of her another time. 

The sound of a belt unbuckling reached your ears, your heartbeat fastening in excitement and your legs rubbing against each other for some friction yes please, please, please, your hands twitched, needing to grab onto something, or to feel her under your touch “keep. them. there.” 

It was easy, right?

Wrong.

You swallowed a whine in anticipation, feeling her hand running down your back, stopping on your waist, and just as you felt her rub against your entrance your hands flew to grab the table for support “oh… my poor pet…” she roughly grabbed your wrists, and after a second you felt something cold around them, and then a click “you asked for it” 

Did she just put her handcuffs on you? Fuck, you shouldn’t find it as hot as you found it.

She took advantage of that distraction to push herself inside of you, watching your whole body squirm in pain and pleasure while a loud moan escaped your lips, stilling for a moment, letting you adjust to her size, and it only took her seeing your hips start to push back into her to slide out almost entirely before roughly pushing into you again, the table cracking at the action “fuck!” 

She kept her rough but slow pace, the sounds of your moans and whines getting louder, oh how she missed having you like this, all fucked out because of her, your little brain only filled with her and the pleasure she was giving you. 

You felt her hand interlock into your hair, and in a sudden move your back was flushed against her front, both of you seeing your reflexion in the mirror on the wall “look at you… already so ruined and I just started fucking you” you clenched around the strap, wishing she could feel how your body reacted to her words, but she could see it, she saw how your breath stopped for a second, how your eyes closed with a cute little frown on your eyebrows.

Her free hand made it’s way around your throat, squeezing it just the right amount to make your mind fog, your moans fighting to get out as her pace quickened, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more “p-please” you managed to let out, looking at her through the reflexion.

Just like she could read your mind she removed her hand from your hair and painfully slow travelled down your body, rubbing and pinching your nipple, scratching your lower stomach, before finally making you roll your eyes back, pressing your clit between her fingers, while her dick hit that right spot it had you seeing stars. 

The obscene sounds of your skin against hers and your strangled breath turning the older woman on more than she would admit, her praises in your ear as she abused your clit faster “Good girl… you’re doing so good for daddy”

Your legs already shaking, the knot on your lower stomach getting harder to hold “d-daddy please, please let me cum” your almost pornographic moans getting more desperate by the second “fuck- please I’m so close!”

“Cum for me” it only took those words from her to reach your orgasm, your lips parting in an ‘o’ shape, summing all over her strap.

She slowed her pace, helping you through your orgasm, only stopping when your limb body fell on the cold table, making you shudder.

She let you catch your breath for a second, stroking your back up and down before she stood you up again, turning you around to see your fucked out face.

You opened your eyes to look at her smirking face, causing you to chuckle “hi” you whispered, closing the gap between your lips, both of you humming “are you gonna uncuff me now, officer?” 

“Not yet” she pecked your lips lovingly again before looking at you, with those demanding eyes “on your knees” 

You stared at her for a second, your breath hitching once again in anticipation, and slowly you got on your knees before her, watching her with doe eyes “you know what to do, clean your mess doll” and that you did, your tongue darting out to lick her shaft from the base, never taking your eyes off hers, slowly taking the large, purple dick into your mouth.

Her hand rested on your cheek, her thumb softly wiping away a tear that fell from your eye, her shaft hitting the back of your throat “breathe beautiful, through your nose” she hummed as she held your face down, enjoying having you like this again, your mouth full of her, struggling to breathe and those beautiful tears on your face. 

So fucking obedient for her.

When you started to cough around her she finally pulled out, helping you get up, and sitting you on the table while uncuffing you, her lips kissing all over your face as you recovered, your hands fisting on her navy blue tank top as soon as they were free “you did so good for me, sweetheart” she whispered against your lips, making you smile. 

“Thank you Aggie” 

You rested your forehead against hers, both of you savoring the sweet moment, her hands tightly around your waist in a possessive and protective way.

These were the moments you missed the most, her sweet self taking care of you, making sure you were ok like she didn’t just fuck your brains out a minute ago.

It was almost comical.

“So… officer, am I still spending the night in the tank?” She laughed at that, kissing your forehead softly, you were insufferable.

“Thinking about it… it will be the best if you spend the night at my place” you bit your lip suppressing a smile, you were too excited to wake up in the morning next to the older brunette woman “what do you think?”

“I’d love to” you whispered before pulling her into a loving kiss.

She helped dressing up again, giving you a pair of sweats she had in her office, and when you were gonna leave her office she grabbed you hand, pulling you flush against her.

She stared at you trying to get the words out, you could see the fight she was having in her mind projected in those blue eyes, so you planted a soft kiss on her nose, your hands caressing her cheeks trying to calm her thoughts, and then she said it.

“Be mine”

Your eyes locked, her eyebrows furrowing in worry as you took a second to reply, but when your lips broke into a smile she knew the answer.

“I have always been yours Agnes”

[desireangel]

A Good Girl's Reputation | Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: It was the last place you wanted to be but nonetheless, you found yourself pulled along to a party you hosted by none other than the Targaryen's, only for spilled wine to force you into Aemond's shirt. A sight that had him dragging you to his bed, eager to corrupt the well-behaved girl who had set him ablaze with desire.

Word Count: 6.7k.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only!! Oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex, dirty talk!!, a major cliche on the good girl trope, reader is shy!, slight degradation, mean friends at a party maybe?, Aegon being sneaky, bad language. Unedited. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Okay, I wasn't going to post this one because it was purely self-indulgent and I kinda wasn't happy with my pen game in this but I was feeling bad about the delay in Dark Cherry part 5 so wanted to share something!! I also love the idea of Aemond being totally feral about seeing reader in his clothes. Share your thoughts my loves, I'm more than happy to discuss things, thoughts and feedback with you all - xoxo, kisses!! <3

There was a nonsensical grandeur about everything that Jilly dragged you into. This time was no different and you silently waited for the sound of the elevator ding while listening to your best friend chatter about the ‘world’s best fucking boyfriend–wait, do you think this makes him my boyfriend?’

“I don’t know, Jilly,” you nibbled on your lip, craning your neck to look around the corner of the entrance hallway. For what reason, you weren’t sure but there was a crawling nervousness on your skin and the urge to make sure there were no unexpected surprises was consuming. “It’s Aegon. Only he can answer that question for you.”

The elevator was taking an infuriatingly long time. You wondered if this was the building’s way of telling you to turn around and return to the dorm room that had become your safe haven over the last two years. Jilly had somehow gotten herself involved with none other than Aegon Targaryen, a man notorious for his partying and hedonism.

It was entertaining at first, and you were more than happy to remain a spectator of the ridiculous pairing. Jilly was entirely different to Aegon and tended to carry herself with a lot more modesty than Aegon was known for. She was calculating and calm where he was impulsive and excitable. 

You thought back to the first time they had met. In a tutorial for a statistics class you needed to take to meet course requirements, the three of you paired together to facilitate a useless discussion on probabilities. The bickering between the two of them was amusing and the first greeting that Aegon had graced the two of you with was a grumbled ‘what kind of name is Jilly?’

And weeks later, Aegon had decided to hold another one of his campus-famous house parties. He had obviously invited Jilly–and by extension he had invited you because there was no chance Jilly would go to a party without you. In fact, before she had met Aegon, there was no chance Jilly would go to any party regardless. 

A loud, excited hmph! fell from Jilly’s lips when the elevator doors finally opened. You had hoped it had broken down on its way to pick you up and that there was a rather convenient lack of staircase to climb instead. 

“I don’t think–”

“Don’t say it,” Jilly held a hand in front of your face. She clicked on P with her other hand. For the penthouse, you guessed. “I know you don’t want to be here. But we are going to have a good night.” 

You sighed, tugging the short, black skirt that Jilly had wrestled you into further down your thighs. It looked good paired with the white satin button down you had insisted on wearing for comfort but it was shorter than you were accustomed to. The thought of maintaining it enough so it didn’t ride up past your bum was tiresome but there was no arguing which you could do to wiggle your way into some pants instead. 

Jilly snickered. “Quit fiddling with your skirt, you’ll poke a hole in your tights–Oh!”

The two of you shared a gasp when the doors opened. No wonder people had so much to say about the Targaryen siblings and their parties when their apartment looked like it was straight out of a Forbes magazine. For a moment, it seemed impossible that the apartment housed two students. It was incomparable to the wardrobe sized dorm you had been living in over the semester. 

Distant chatter pulled you out of your thoughts and you followed Jilly further into the apartment, reminding yourself not to let your jaw drop as your eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting. The party was an hour or so away from starting - Aegon had told everyone to head in after seven but had given Jilly an earlier time so that the two of you could join their pre-game. 

Not that you would. The prospect of getting as drunk as Aegon planned at your (embarrassingly?) first student party was daunting. 

Anxiously, you followed Jilly into the living area where a handful of familiar faces were lounging and drinking. There was a deep bumping of bass, and you could feel the floor vibrating with it, but you couldn’t make out the song that was playing. 

“Jill!” Floris, Aegon’s friend who you had only ever seen on campus, pulled Jilly towards the nearest couch. Hesitantly, you followed, flashing Aegon and Cregan a purse-lipped smile as they made their way to greet you. “We were worried you wouldn’t show up. Is this your friend?”

With a smile, you introduced yourself. Floris only grinned at you before returning her attention to Jilly, who had started up an animated conversation with Helaena. Aegon whistled at Jilly, tipping the neck of his beer in her direction as if to say hello, and threw his other arm around your shoulder. 

He laughed when you cringed, pulling back from him slightly. Aegon smelled like a mixture of beer, red wine and sandalwood cologne. “We placed bets on whether you’d show up. Glad you did. There’s multiple motherfuckers in here who owe me a silver stag each. Not that I need it.”

You spluttered a bit. “What-” 

“Relax,” Cregan teased you from the other side of Aegon. He was clearly drunk. “You’re clearly not much of a party girl but that changes two-” he held up two fingers and then aggressively pointed them down at the floor with a jerk. “-night.” 

Aegon laughed, handing you a glass of wine which suddenly appeared in his hand. You shook your head and he shrugged, downing it himself. He turned away from you, waving someone down. “Aemond!”

Oh gods, no. 

You tried to keep your smile on your face. Aemond fucking Targaryen was leaning against a counter, a beer loosely hanging between his fingers. He was in the middle of a conversation with Criston Cole, a friend of their family who you had heard of only through mindless campus gossip. Aemond glanced toward Aegon in response, an eyebrow raised lazily. 

If there were ever a man you had crushed on, it really had to be him. It was a little bit maddening because you were exactly like your peers in thinking Aemond may be the most attractive man you’d ever see in your lifetime. He was tall, had an air of darkness and mystery to him and his silver hair framed his defined cheekbones and sharp jawline perfectly. But it was the severity in everything about him that had caught your eye–right from the first lecture you had seen him in. 

Aemond, as you understood, had no idea who you were. And while you knew exactly who he was, it wasn’t odd. Everyone knew of him and his family. He had practically been birthed into the public eye. 

“This pretty thing here,” Aegon, much to your protest, had pulled you across the room to introduce you. “Jilly’s best friend. Much like you, dear brother, she hates parties and is not here by her own will. You’d get along.”

Aemond looked at you and you suddenly had no idea what to do with yourself. You met his eye, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and waiting for whatever this moment was to end quickly. Your skin was tingling under his gaze which dropped from your head to your feet and then back to your face. 

When he didn’t say anything, you offered him a tight lipped smile and a timid wave. “Hi?”

He was going to respond. You could see it in the way he had moved but Aegon was quick to cut him off, ever the loud mouthed brat. As subtle as Aegon believed himself to be, he was an incredibly obnoxious drunk.  

“Surely,” Aegon drawled, wrapping his arms around Jilly’s waist when she appeared by your side and pulling her into him tightly. Mockingly, he targeted his question at Jilly but switched his gaze between her and Aemond. “Your little-good-girl friend could use a bit of corrupting, Jills. Seems like Aemond would be entirely capable, from what Floris has–”

“That’s enough, Aegon,” Aemond’s voice was smooth and darker than you’d expected. He gave you a small, reassuring yet tight smile. “Don’t be an ass. Let her be.”

You were a little breathless. Sure, you didn’t quite let go of yourself as much as everyone else did but you were no prude. Right? 

There was no offence intended in Aegon’s teasing but you couldn’t help but feel the sting. He was right–you were relatively good. All of your time and effort went into studying and working. Where you weren’t doing either of those, you preferred the solitude of a good book at a quiet cafe. There were very few bad habits in your life, the worst of which would only be the likes of a dependence on tea or coffee. Parties were a rarity but on the odd occasion you would tag along wherever Jilly would go. And, regardless of that, here you were.

It was embarrassing. You had hoped that if you were to ever introduce yourself to Aemond, things would go slightly better than this and your uptight prudish reputation (which you didn’t realise you had until today) would remain undiscussed. He was different and he didn’t tend to spend his time with people of your tendencies. Aemond was the object of everyone’s desires; if they didn’t want to have him then they certainly wanted to be him. 

You were clearly different from his normal type. If only for the fact that he also had a reputation and that reputation consisted of a string of heartbroken girls who he had never pursued or never shared more than his bed with. Those girls were a lot more like his friends; confident, daring and well accomplished. Aemond was not Aegon; there was a lot more respect in the way people spoke of him and his academic and professional talents were impressive to most people. 

Thankfully, Jilly had pulled you away from that dreadful conversation with a harsh glare pointed at Aegon. The kitchen, which was the closest place for you to hide, was filled with snacks and drinks almost falling off of the countertops. You recognised Helaena, and waved at her.

Helaena had been a friend whenever you had bumped into each other. She was sweet and kind and you actually enjoyed her company. “It’s nice to see you, Helaena. Didn’t think we’d ever run into each other at a house party but hey, it’s been an hour full of surprises.”

She laughed with you. There was an easy flow of conversation between the two of you and when Floris and Jilly had taken to what they called ‘Kitchen Karaoke’, you had even danced together. Jilly, as drunk as she was, pushed the bottle of wine in her hand to you, waiting for you to drink. With some encouragement from Helaena and Floris, you smiled and took a few sips. 

The peace you had found in the kitchen was short lived and when Jilly, joined by Aegon and caught up in her exaggerated Lady Gaga performance, flung her arm out, the bottle of wine in her hand spilling right onto your chest and soaking through the white fabric of your shirt. 

“Shit,” she winced. It was cold and you had a small sense of panic that raised goosebumps on your skin at the thought of wearing a wet, stained shirt all night but at the drunken apologetic look on her face all you could do was force a smile. Jilly giggled nervously. “At least it makes your tits look good.”

“Right,” you mumbled, fingers pulling the wet fabric off of your skin. It was uncomfortably sticking to your skin and the smell of the red wine was beginning to catch. “No problem.”

Aegon tapped your shoulder gently and gave you an animated salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you something from the fresh laundry.”

You followed him into the laundry, which was only just around the corner, waiting as he grinned and shuffled through the clothes that were sitting in the dryer. When Aegon turned to you, he had a stupid toothy smile and passed you a grey shirt. “Wear that. It’ll be big but it’ll still look good with the rest of your outfit if you tuck it in or something.”

The t-shirt Aegon handed you was a little long but you weren’t going to complain when you were much happier to be in dry clothing. It was a Slipknot shirt, the graphic on the front slightly worn down with time and washes. You figured it could have been worse–at least Slipknot were good. Aegon had long gone, giving you privacy to change and when you stepped out of the laundry room, you were surprised to see that people had started piling into the apartment. 

Some hip-hop song you could barely recognise played loudly and you were a little thrown off by the crowds of unfamiliar faces. But everyone was having a good time, smiling and dancing among themselves. 

Cigarettes, cologne and coffee filled your senses and you let out a small yelp as you met with a hardened surface, stumbling a little to catch yourself. Aemond’s hands reached out to grab hold of your arms, holding you steady against him so that you wouldn’t fall to the ground. 

“Easy, missy,” he stepped back slightly, as if he were trying to get a good look at you. As Aemond dragged his gaze over you from head to toe, he smirked and hummed deeply.

The heat that rushed to your cheeks was quick and you wondered if Aemond had always smelled so delicious. Your mind was clouded by him and the way he didn’t remove his hands from you, his fingers still gently squeezing your flesh and keeping you far closer to him than you needed to be. 

Whatever it was, if he continued to look at you with so much intensity and hold you as if he didn’t want to let go of you, there was a high chance you’d do something that would only leave you disappointed and embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” you squeaked, pulling away from him in one movement and rushing into the kitchen. Jilly grinned at you, eyebrows wagging exaggeratedly in her drunken state. 

The rest of the girls had found their way to the kitchen, which had actually quietened down even more in the short moments you were away. You found yourself once again at Helaena’s side, watching as Jilly danced with her bottle of wine in hand, and failing to listen to the conversation that was somehow still in flow. 

If you were being honest, the party was a certain type of boring. There was a lot going on yet nothing at the same time and you chalked it up to the fact that you weren’t that friendly with anyone here. Helaena was only part of the crowd because she lived here and Jilly was becoming a part of Aegon’s group of mates, all of whom you knew of but had no real friendship with. 

Floris, who had been staring at you on and off since you had returned, took a sip of her drink and flashed you an odd look. “Is that Aemond’s shirt?”

Helaena giggled beside you, watching you keenly as you frowned. When you answered, Floris looked at you with narrowed eyes. You cleared your throat, nervously nibbling on your bottom lip. “I assumed it was Aegon’s since he gave it to me.”

“What was wrong with what you came in?”

“Floris, you saw that blouse get ruined,” Jilly rolled her eyes, stepping closer to you when she noticed the gentle alarm on your face. “She couldn’t have stayed in a stained top. It won't dry out until tomorrow.”

Floris only huffed, regarding you with a harsh stare and a forced shrug. There was an odd silence that lingered and you considered offering her an apology. But you quickly realised that you didn’t really have anything to apologise for, even though it is probably Aemond’s t-shirt and it was no secret that Floris was all about Aemond. 

The night was passing slowly and you continued to make small talk with the same few people you knew. But the weight of Floris’ glare never disappeared. And Aemond, with his gentle smirk and quiet confidence, had been lingering the entire night. You were half-certain that it was Floris who was the purpose of his prolonged presence in the kitchen, which had become somewhat of a break room for everyone at this point.

There was a pointed silence from him aside from the few words he had muttered in conversation with Helaena or Daeron yet his gaze was communicating more than his words could. Aemond kept looking towards you, his wanting eye holding yours assertively whenever you’d catch him watching you. You couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck at the way he looked you up and down at every chance he got. 

It was suffocating when paired with the daggers you could feel from Floris’ stares and Aegon’s vexing grin. 

“I’m going outside for a bit,” you told Helaena, placing your glass down on the counter and flashing a pursed-lip smile at whoever caught your eye on your way towards the terrace. 

The journey to the terrace wasn’t easy and you could feel your throat closing in as you tried to squeeze through crowds of people. It was sweaty and loud, shoulders knocking and elbows bumping as you finally pushed your way through to a secluded part of the terrace, sighing at the fresh air and solitude. 

Once again, your peace didn’t last long before you caught a flash of silver in your peripheral. 

Aemond stood beside you, so close that your shoulder brushed the leather of his jacket. “You alright?” 

His proximity had turned your brain silent and you simply nodded, forcing your eyelids not to flutter shut at his delicious smell. There was a comfortable silence that followed. He rested his elbows on the railing as you were, relaxing against it and watching the street below. 

A tickle on your cheek from a loose strand of Aemond’s hair following the breeze woke you up from the haze you were entering. “Not enjoying the party?”

“I don’t like parties,” he chuckled, reaching into his pocket. 

You snickered, eyes trailing across his hands as he fiddled with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Taking a moment to admire the way his rings complemented his nimble yet clearly strong fingers, you couldn’t believe how attractive a man’s hands could be.  “You’re not like your brother, then. That’s good–couldn’t handle having two Aegon’s about.”

Aemond shook his head, smiling as he held the box out to you. “Thankfully my brother and I are not alike. Cig?”

“Not for me.”

He hummed, popping a cigarette between his lips and holding the lighter to it. “Good. Do you mind?”

You didn’t have much else to say other than a shrug, letting him know it was alright for him to smoke. It would hardly be anything to complain about with the way Aemond seemed to look ten times sexier with a cigarette between his fingers and hanging from his lips. 

“I guess your reputation isn’t a lie,” Aemond let his eye fall to you, holding a world of darkness and sin as he smirked at you. A cheeky grin played on his lips as he turned to his side, resting on his arm and leaning back a bit to look at you better. 

You swallowed thickly. A wave of heat to your core had you turning away from him, the intensity of how he looked at you like you were tempting all of his urges. “I just try to stay clear of bad habits. It doesn’t really matter.”

“So you are a good girl,” Aemond leaned closer, his fingers gently tipping your head upwards at your chin. He was closer than he was before you had blinked and all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. “I like that. I wonder if Aegon was right about us.”

Because of the way he was holding your chin, firmly and gently at the same time, you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Goosebumps arose on your skin and you shivered despite the burn of his fingers on your skin. 

“Let me take you somewhere more comfortable,” Aemond drawled. The air grew charged when he grazed his lips against yours, so softly it was almost nonexistent. “They all thought I would be the one to corrupt you but I can show you all the ways you’ve corrupted my mind instead.”

The small gasp that fell from your lips made his jaw tick and he let go of your chin, dragging the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek affectionately. 

You nodded and cleared your throat quietly, surprised at your own eagerness. “But I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Aemond gently lowered his hand to hold your hip, letting one last puff of smoke out before putting his cigarette out. He guided you inside, keeping you right in front of him and his free arm loosely extended in front of your body to stop people from pushing into you. His lips lingered at your ear all the while. “You were already a pretty little thing, missy. But I never could have guessed that you’d be so fucking delicious in my clothes.” 

You were grateful that you weren’t facing him. He couldn’t see the flush that had crossed your expression and had you shying away gently but only to sink further against his chest as he led you through a quieter hallway. When Aemond pushed open the door to his bedroom, he finally noticed your dishevelled state and let out an affectionate huff. 

Only letting go of you for a moment so that he could close the door behind him, Aemond had turned you to face him and pulled you back to your place against his body. His bedroom was pointedly his; neat and collected, the walls decorated with a few posters of the bands he likes and bookshelves that were almost filled entirely. It smelled like clean linen and his cologne. 

“Wait.” You remembered the girl who had been far more than unhappy to see you in his shirt and stiffened. “I thought you and Floris-”

“Floris and I are nothing,” Aemond was calm when he spoke, still watching you with that fierce desire that you had felt from him when you bumped into him earlier on. You swallowed down your apprehension visibly, avoiding eye contact. “I promise.”

Odd, considering you were well aware he didn’t need to promise you anything. 

Aemond watched your chest heave with your heavy breaths, covered entirely by his favourite t-shirt which draped perfectly from your breasts. A hand returned to your hip, squeezing lightly while the other rested at the crevice of your neck and shoulder, his fingers tickling your warm skin. 

He pursed his lips, hyper aware of how tense you were in his hands. “Tell me to stop and I will. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can just chat and get to know each other.” 

“No,” you shook your head.“I don’t want you to stop.”

It was impossible to resist the way that Aemond was pulling you against him, as if you weren’t close enough despite how you were pressed flush against him and the fabric of your clothing was all that could fit between the two of you. Gods, he smelled so good. 

Confident with your reassurance, Aemond dipped his head so close to yours that you were sharing air, his smirk returned when he felt you shiver against him. “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t usually do this,” you muttered, eyelids fluttering shut when he brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek and pressed a featherlight kiss beside your lips, dragging them to your jaw when you instinctively moved to try catch his lips in the kiss you only now realised you were craving. But you failed and he cheekily worked away from your attempted kiss. His lips felt good on your skin and a soft gasp in his ear had him squeezing your hip harder. It reminded you what you were telling him. “We technically just met.”

He never stopped placing the smallest of kisses along your jaw, moving them towards your neck. “Technically?”

“We have a couple lectures together.”

The thought that it was rather surprising that he had never noticed much of you crossed Aemond’s mind but when you let your hand fall to his chest, fisting the lapel of his jacket and tugging like you needed him more than oxygen, it disappeared into a haze of your perfume and warmth. 

Aemond hummed as you noticed he did often. “Does it count if I take you out the day after?”

“I’m sure it does,” you bit your lip to hide your smile, frowning when he pulled away from your neck. “But only if you really want–”

All your thoughts were lost when Aemond swallowed your words, his lips finding yours eagerly. You moaned against him, stiffening for a moment as your skin flushed under his touch but returning his vigour when he laced his fingers through your hair, holding it in a tight fist. It was a perfectly coordinated mess of tongue and teeth, and Aemond never once faltered in his fervour. 

Blindly, you let him guide you to the bed, pulling him down without breaking the kiss when the edge of the bed hit the back of your legs.

In the soft glow of candlelight, the both of you were enveloped in a world of your own. The air was thick with anticipation as your bodies drew closer, the heat shared between you palpable. You tilted your head back, inviting his lips to trace a path along your neck, each kiss sending your blood rushing to your core.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

“Everything, Aemond.”

As his hands found their way under his shirt, fingers gliding over your soft skin, you let out a soft gasp, arching into him. His hands roamed freely, seeking out the warmth beneath the soft fabric, craving your skin against his own.

You felt the weight of him above you, powerful and intoxicating. With a careful urgency, Aemond sat back momentarily, pulling you with him so that he could reach to unclasp your bra. When you moved to take the shirt off with a soft smile, he stopped you. 

“Keep it on,” Aemond placed a kiss to your clothed shoulder, running his hand across the side of your leg as he let you get rid of your bra underneath the shirt. He pulled your skirt and tights off with steady hands, humming appreciatively at the way your underwear peaked out from where the t-shirt had bunched at your hips. “I want you in my shirt only.”

You watched him, entranced, as he took in the sight of you and muttered under his breath about how perfect you were for him, his eye dark with longing. Aemond moved downwards, nestling himself comfortably between your legs, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his mouth warm and inviting. 

When you whined impatiently he smiled, a wicked glint in his eye, and returned to his explorations, kissing his way closer to your core. Aemond never took his eye off you and you could see him watching you from where he teasingly licked at the skin where your thigh met your covered womanhood. The tension in your core tightened and you jerked when he wrapped his lips around your clothed clit and sucked hard. 

Strong hands held your hips down as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. Again, you whined at him. “You’re not very patient are you? Already so wet for me that I can taste your delicious pussy through the fabric. Tell me what you want.”

You propped yourself on your elbows, your arms quivering under your weight and breath hitching when you noticed his own clothes had been haphazardly taken off. Aemond was ridding you of your mind and he had barely done anything. “More, Aemond. I want more.”

“More what?”

“More of you,” you whined again, mouth watering at the way he gazed at you from where he was nestled. “I want more of you.”

Aemond complied, pulling your panties off as soon as your hips had lifted on his command. He gave you a pointed look, scolding you gently when you gave him a shy whimper, moving to shut your legs so he couldn’t see you spread for him. 

“Spread your legs, pretty girl,” he let out a coarse breath when you wordlessly did as he said, baring yourself to him and gracing him with a sight more tempting than all the gold and jewels the world had to offer. Aemond’s hands guided your thighs apart encouragingly. “That’s it–little bit more.”

His gentle commands were both exhilarating and daunting. The weight of his gaze was both thrilling and intimidating, sending heat rushing to your cheeks and your cunt and the chuckle coming from the man between your legs was enough to tell you that he had seen you clench around nothing. 

Trailing his kisses from your knees and down your thighs once again, Aemond groaned, fisting the bottom of the shirt that rested against your raised thigh and licking a long stripe between your folds. It had you sucking in a breath, the sensation of his wet tongue suddenly exploring your cunt taking over every part of your mind and body, your fingers grasping at the sheets when he lapped at your clit and moaned into your wetness.

“Gods, Aemond-” you made the prettiest noises but Aemond’s cock jumped at the way you said his name, giving him a newfound fervour as he ferociously sucked at your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 

Nothing you had experienced with anyone had you trembling from sensitivity and pleasure so easily. His tongue and lips moved against you expertly and he let his arms wrap around your thighs as they rested against his shoulders, using his thumbs to spread you even more for him. 

Spit mixed with your wetness, creating a slick that dripped from your cunt and tainted his chin and his cheeks but Aemond seemed only to revel in it. His cock grew painfully hard at the beautiful sounds you made and the sweet, slightly tart and metallic taste of you on his tongue. 

At a particularly harsh suck on your clit, you jerked, legs clamping shut around Aemond’s head as you felt your orgasm building faster than you had expected. “Aemond. Oh fuck, it’s good-”

“Are you going to come for me, missy?” Aemond asked and the vibrations of his voice while he continued to feast on you had you moaning out an incoherent answer. He was watching you as you nodded, head thrown back so all that he could see over your body and his t-shirt was your chin and glimpses of your blissful expression. 

Shuddering and struggling to even your breathing, a heated pleasure took you with surprising intensity. Aemond continued to suck on you, delving into you with his tongue and teasing you with his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm, groaning at the way your body tensed and your pussy clenched. 

Placing a final kiss on your clit with a cheeky grin, making his way up your body, enjoying the way you continued to tremble and whimper under his touch. He took a nipple into his mouth through the shirt, teasingly only giving it a moment of attention before his lips were back on yours. 

Sharing the taste of you, Aemond kissed you hungrily despite having done the same within your folds only seconds ago. It was unbelievably hot in the room and you became dizzy with how your body gave into his, moulding against him perfectly as his hips found their place between your legs. 

Aemond’s voice was dark and confident, dripping with lust. 

But you salivated at the thought of taking him in your mouth and tried to push him back. “I want you in my mouth too.”

“Not tonight.” His hand found one of your breasts, touching you over the shirt. When you pouted at him, legs still jerking around his hips, Aemond softly moaned. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Good girl like you, so eager to suck me.”

Hot and heavy, Aemond grinded his cock against you, pressing it deliciously to your clit and then taking its place with his fingers. He wondered whether the pout on your lips would disappear when he pushed a digit into you, satisfied to see it fall away and be replaced with a furrow of your eyebrows and a silent gasp. 

Keening at both his words and the way that Aemond slid another finger in and curled them inside you, searching for that spot that had your toes curling, you were increasingly desperate to taste him now that you had felt how hard and ready he was for you. “Please, let me taste you.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities for that.” He sighed deeply when you moaned loudly, grasping at his shoulders and pressing your face into his neck. “I would kill to feel your pretty lips on my cock. Do you want to know what I think, missy?”

Aemond was intoxicating, sending your body into overdrive and your mind hazy with need. All you could do was nod, lost in the way he was perfectly bringing you to so much bliss. 

“I think,” he purred. “That I’m going to make you mine. And that I’ll fuck the well-behaved girl right out of you in each and every shirt that I own.”

Gasping for air as he pushed himself into you, replacing his fingers with his cock, you clung to him as he stretched you out. There was a sharp sting from his size but it subsided quickly and you could feel the effects of Aemond’s cock in you all the way down your legs and to your toes. 

Aemond’s breath hitched, his eye holding yours as he gave you time to adjust, jaw clenched and holding you tightly as if he’d fall to the pits of the hells if he were to let go of you. 

For someone he had just met properly only hours ago, Aemond thought he had found his own heaven in you and your body. 

You mewled, pushing your hips forward greedily. “It feels so good-so good, Aemond.”

He slowly moved his hips, hissing and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder where he bit down gently. The way Aemond pushed deeper into you at every thrust forward stole your breath from your lungs each time. He felt like he was a virgin once again, feeling the comfort of a wet, hot cunt for the first time, losing the control he had over the urge to claim you properly and spill into you already.

Aemond was no stranger to the pleasures of the body but never had he fallen victim to weakness by a woman and Aemond was of half a mind to understand that he would do anything you asked of him simply because your bodies were a carnally perfect fit. Right now, he would burn down cities if you asked him to. 

Keeping the steady pace, Aemond’s thrusts became more forceful, driving into you harder and drawing out nonsensical murmurs and whimpers from you. It was white-hot, each thrust sending a barrage of pleasure and sensitivity through your body. 

“If only they could see you now,” Aemond’s tone was deep, laced with lust and somewhat desperate as his hips snapped into you, the sound of skin against skin and his cock pushing lewd sounds from your wetness that couldn’t be drowned out by the distant thump of the party’s music. “The perfect, innocent girl that they all believe you to be, squeezing my cock like a good little slut. Just for me.”

Blissful, incoherent sounds that he pulled from only spurred him on further and you could feel how his cock twitched and moved within you. The way that Aemond’s body fit with yours was perfect and it had that tension return to your stomach, your skin tingling and toes curling as he sped up his movements. It was blinding and deafening at the same time, stealing your breath from you each time he dragged his cock out only to push it back in. 

Shaking and trembling, your legs squeezed around his hips and Aemond grunted, his head falling to your shoulder as he grabbed the flesh of your thigh and pushing it up and holding it beside you. Angling your hips perfectly, Aemond’s rough thrusts found a sensitive spot and you gasped, back arching off the bed as you gripped him tightly in your arms. You were barely of the right mind to notice him hiss when your nails scraped across his skin. 

Aemond was convinced he had found a version of peace in your body, the feeling of your warmth and wetness squeezing him, quieting the loud, painful thoughts that never ceased in his mind. He swore, his voice constrained and his fingers digging further into your flesh. There wouldn’t be a day that could go by in which he wouldn’t be haunted by your perfect cunt and pretty sounds. It was a thought that would have had him scoffing in any other circumstances but he was so lost in you that he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. 

“You are so fucking-” he groaned. “Tight. Made to fit my cock perfectly.”

“Aemond-”

He chuckled, enjoying the way his name was the only word you could force out between your moans. Aemond’s hips stuttered as you clamped down around him, your eyes rolling back and falling shut as you turned away from him reflexively, pressing your head into the pillow and whining pathetically. 

“Yes, missy?” Aemond’s voice was constricted but still smooth. 

“Gonna come–I’m gonna come,” you gasped out between whimpers and moans, calling out his name as if he was your salvation.

Aemond let go of your thigh, his fingers clasping around your throat and squeezing the sides enough so that he could force your head out of the pillow. “Look at me when you come, pretty girl.”

When your eyes met his, you were surprised to see that his eyepatch hadn’t been discarded but couldn’t linger on the thought. Not with the way that overwhelming tension had become too much, coiling in your stomach and making you quiver underneath Aemond’s strong body, coming to its peak and snapping with an earth shattering, burning intensity that forced your entire world to go quiet. 

With strained gasps, Aemond’s peak quickly followed yours and he pulled out, surprised to see how swiftly your hand replaced his. You felt the ropes of his hot seed fall onto your stomach, the warmth of his breath against your skin as he buried his face into your neck, heaving as he rode through the strength of his orgasm. 

Strings of curses came from him as he let his body fall to the space beside you. Aemond barely wasted two seconds before pulling you into him so that your head rested against his chest as he held you against him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting yourself melt into him, too spent to spare a thought for the mess on your stomach. “But I doubt I’ll be feeling so great tomorrow.”

A deep chuckle vibrated against your ear. “I’d apologise but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it.”

“Cheeky.”

Aemond took a hold of your wrist when you slapped his chest gently, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles before letting his hand fall to that spot on your hip. “I wasn’t lying you know.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow, craning your neck so that you could see his face without moving away from him. 

“I will take you out.” Aemond grinned, squeezing your flesh playfully. “And I will fuck you in every single one of my t-shirts.”