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astraystayyh · 8 months ago

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The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

2K notes · View notes

rosyblooom · 7 months ago

Note

I just finished watching Daisy Jones and the Six and I wanted to ask if you could write a Charles SMAU where his wife passes away from illness and leaves a video behind for him to find happiness. They can have a little child together please. Thank you😊❤️

when i die, i want you to live | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: after battling illness, y/n unexpectedly succumbs to it much sooner than expected, leaving behind her husband and their daughter. 8 months later, charles is not coping very well, so your best friend hands him an envelope addressed to him from you. WARNING(S): mentions of death, sad A/N: ooh i love that show!! anyway, this is my first ever request (!!), so hope it's as u imagined 🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading!! <3

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption 1: I sure hope so!😌 ] [ caption 2: my heart is so full🥹💕 ]

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 735,290 others

charles_leclerc Today, 27 years ago, is the very special day that brought me my beautiful wife and best friend. Forever grateful for that. Happiest of birthdays to you, Mon cœur ❤️

view all 3,958 comments

username HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N WE LOVE YOU😍

username all time favourite wag ! 🥰

yourusername ❤️❤️

(liked by author)

username ly girl🫶

username oh she won😩

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scuderiaferrari happy birthday y/n 🥳🥳

username if my man ain't like charles i don't want him

username real

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 263,719 others

yourusername had the loveliest birthday with my dearest people!💕thank you for all the birthday wishes, they've been such a joy! 🥹 here's to another beautiful year, here's to 27🥂

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yourbestfriend ily to the moon and back ❤️❤️

yourusername love u so much🥹

username queen🫶

username 27 and still looks young af iktr! see what happens when u're unproblematic😌

username that's bc 27 IS young lol

charles_leclerc belle👸

yourusername 😘 username you guys are so cute omg username *cries in 29 and single*🤧

username girl drop the link to the dress RIGHT NOW @/yourusername

yourusername it's from my spring collection love! xx username you ate that y/n😌

iamrebeccad you look so pretty 💗

yourusername my girl 🤍

Three weeks later...

tmz_tv

liked by username, username, username and 1,005,862 others

tmz_tv Tragic news emerged in the early hours of this morning as Y/N L/N-Leclerc, a renowned fashion designer and philanthropist, passed away unexpectedly, just three weeks past her twenty-seventh birthday. Her untimely passing has left her family and friends in shock and disbelief.

In a statement released by her family, it was revealed that Y/N had been battling illness for an undisclosed duration. However, medical professionals had initially estimated a longer prognosis, making her sudden passing even more devastating.

During this profoundly sorrowful time, we extend our heartfelt condolences to Y/N's family.

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username wow and to think she was always so smiley even with all this going on behind the scenes

username a literal ray of sunshine🥹

username I can't imagine how charles feels right now omg, please take care charlie🫶

username this doesn't feel real...

username y/n was always working with charities all across the globe, she was an absolute angel. her impact will live on 💛

username is it just me who's thinking about their little girl in all this?? she must be so heartbroken :(

username I think bc she's so young she probably doesn't even understand what's going on😭💔

username y/n, you were a great addition to the paddock, always smiling and just all around lovely to fans. we won't ever forget you!💕

username sending prayers to the family 🙏

scuderiaferrari

liked by username, username, username and 594,752 others

scuderiaferrari Due to personal matters, Charles Leclerc will not be continuing racing for the remainder of the season. Ollie Bearman, our reserve driver, will take his place instead.

This was not an easy decision, and therefore we ask that you handle this news with respect and sensitivity.

Our thoughts and support are with Charles Leclerc and his family during this challenging time. 🙏❤️

comments have been disabled

8 months later...

Charles enters the living room, ensuring the door closes softly behind him to avoid disturbing his little girl. Running his fingers over his beard, he examines the envelope in his hand and sighs. Y/N’s best friend pressed it into his hand at a dinner party the previous evening, insisting he watch it as soon as he finds the time. And here he is now, holding the thin envelope.

If someone had told him when he was younger that he’d get emotional over something as simple as seeing his wife’s handwriting on paper, he would have scoffed in disbelief. Not him, that would have seemed absurd. Yet here he is, feeling a lump form in his throat over mere black ink on paper.

As peculiar as it seems, he brings the envelope to his nose, and memories of Y/N flood his mind. He can almost feel her soothing touch as she works the knots out of his back after a gruelling day of racing. Inhaling, he feels Y/N’s sweet scent—it is as comforting as her smile.

A smile tugs at Charles' lips as he pictures that infectious grin that lit up his wife’s face at the most unexpected moments. It was one of the things he loved most about her—she had a way of bringing brightness to even the darkest of days.

Shaking his head, he snaps out of the trance, shifting deeper into the living room until he sinks into the welcoming embrace of the couch. There, he retrieves the laptop resting on the coffee table, feeling the weight of the moment as he opens the envelope and extracts a flash drive from within. Rolling it between his fingers, he inserts it into the side of his laptop with a determined motion.

Once all is in place, he watches a file labelled “To my dearest Lover, brightest Heart, and deepest Soul” materialise in his list of files. The sight catches him off guard—his throat constricts, making each breath a struggle, and his eyes well up, though he fights against the tears. Not now. He can't afford it. Allowing himself to be consumed by grief would mean losing precious time, time he needs for his daughter waiting in her playroom down the hallway.

He takes a moment to regain composure, squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his breath until the tension in his chest begins to ease. With a sharp intake of air, he opens his eyes wide and taps the file, revealing a video. Running his teeth over his lower lip, he hovers the pointer over the play button, then taps the mousepad with a steady hand.

The video opens with Y/N seated on the very same pale couch he’s currently occupying. He places both hands onto the soft sofa, yearning for a connection, a way to feel her, even though he knows he can’t—touching the past is impossible.

Y/N walks toward the camera, readjusting it before taking three steps backward and retaking her seat. Inhaling deeply, she hesitates, her mouth opening, then closing again, like a fish out of water.

“Mon cœur,” Charles whispers, moving the laptop onto the coffee table.

“Hmm,” Y/N drops her hands into her lap and smooths down her flowery dress. She stares directly at the camera, tilting her head sideways with a crooked smile. “I don’t know where to start.”

Her eyes widen. “After all this planning, I still don’t know where to begin.” She lets out a few chuckles and then purses her lips. “Well, I suppose greetings are in order?”

Her expression softens as her brows furrow. “Hello, my darling, my world, my everything.”

“Hey,” Charles whispers, his throat tight with emotion, barely allowing sound to escape.

“Although I'm very happy to see you, if you’re watching this, it means you're not living as I want you to,” Y/N's voice trembles, causing her to pause and swallow. “I know it’s hard, baby. I don’t expect this to be easy on you, but I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life looking back at us in sadness, you know?”

Charles leans forward, elbows on his lap, eyes fixed on the screen, his face tinged with a faint shade of red.

“Remember our first date, when we had to cancel our reservations at that restaurant because you felt sick on the way there?” Y/N bursts into laughter but quickly stifles it, her hand covering her mouth.

“No, no,” Charles pleads softly, shaking his head, “please don’t hide your beautiful smile, my love.”

“It’s not like there was anything you could do about being sick, but I remember feeling miffed because I already had a stressful day, so for you to cancel just like that, it irritated me,” she reminisces with a nod. “But you were quite pale, so I wanted to make sure you got home alright. And we walked, barely talked,” she giggles, the joy reaching her eyes, “but then this little kid appeared, his name was…”

“Benny,” they both say simultaneously, a faint smile tugging at one corner of Charles' lips.

"Boy, was he excited to meet you, his idol. It was like seeing a completely different person. You became someone entirely new for this little boy whom you didn’t even know. Nobody forced you to take time out of your day when he came running, his arms wide open," Y/N says, extending her arms along with the words. "You could’ve just walked away. I mean, you had a reason to: you were sick."

Pausing for a moment, Y/N sits up straighter, leaning forward and shaking her head. "But you didn’t. You put on a brave face, and you turned into Benny’s hero and so much more. I think we stood there with his parents for about half an hour, and you didn’t complain once. And that’s when I knew."

Y/N nods, crossing her legs and slinging one hand behind the sofa. "That’s when I knew you could be the man I was going to marry. And turns out you were," she says, smiling sheepishly. "The love you have for people, for our daughter, it’s… it’s so profound, it’s boundless. So don’t limit it. Don’t you dare limit yourself just because I’m not around anymore."

Her expression turns serious as she exhales. “You’re such a bright light. You bring happiness and purity into people’s lives—into my life,” Y/N presses her hand against her chest. “I don’t want you to dim it. I want you to shine for as long as that candle burns. Don’t let it die prematurely because of bad happenings. There’s so much more to love, to live, to enjoy. And while you may not see me at your side anymore, holding onto D/N, I’m right here.”

Charles sniffles, folding his hands over his mouth as he swallows his sobs, while Y/N points to her heart.

“I’m with you forever and always. I’m protecting you and D/N, and I’m watching over you, making sure everything’s alright.” Y/N releases a sigh before chewing at her bottom lip with a wistful smile. “And part of that means making space for more love, for you. You have a big heart, you know? There’s enough room for you to find happiness with someone new. There’s no shame in it, and there’s no guilt in it. It’s what makes being alive such a beautiful thing: your love is yours, and it’s not confined to just one or two people. You can spread it, and still, our love will remain unchanged.”

Tears stream down the sides of Charles' cheeks as he struggles to maintain his composure, his eyes fixated on the screen as if afraid that if he peels his gaze away for one second, his wife will disappear.

Y/N briefly looks off to the side, her attention seemingly caught by something in the room, before snapping her head back to the camera with a bright smile.

“It seems I have to go,” her shoulders sink.

Charles leans forward, the screen mere inches away from his face, as he strokes the outline of Y/N’s face on the screen, whispering desperately, “Please don’t, mon cœur…”

“I love you so, so much. You and D/N are the most precious gifts, the greatest joys I have had the privilege to experience, so please, please,” she claps her hands together, moving them back and forth, “please…when I die, I want you to live.”

Y/N rises from the couch and walks towards the screen, her eyes unwavering for even a moment. “Give my little girl all my love, and kiss and hug her extra tight for as long as you can, for me.”

Offering one final smile, she blows a kiss at the screen. “I love you. Please don’t stop. Don't stop loving and don't stop living.”

The video freezes with Y/N frozen in place, a beautiful smile etched onto her lips, filled with the purest form of love.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Charles collapses, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He drops his face into his hands and releases all of it: sob after sob after sob. There’s something liberating about finally letting go; the burden pours out of him, leaving behind a fragile yet tranquil Charles as he gazes at the still shot of his beloved wife, whom he adores so deeply.

A soft click draws his attention to the door just in time for it to creak open slowly, revealing his little girl standing there, her favourite yellow teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms.

“Papa,” her voice floats like a gentle breeze.

Charles smiles, opening his arms wide as she runs towards him. He's momentarily winded as she reaches him, but he quickly regains his composure and lifts her onto his lap.

“Hello, my love,” he whispers, touching his forehead to hers.

Her tiny hand pats his cheek, her expression filled with concern. “You’re crying?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to reassure her. “Happy tears,” he explains, “look.” He points at the screen, where Y/N's serene face is frozen in time.

“Maman!” D/N exclaims, slipping from his lap and heading towards the screen. Her small hands tap the screen eagerly as she calls out, “Maman! Maman! Maman!”

“Yes,” Charles swallows, ignoring the pang in his chest as he shifts his focus to his little girl. “You want to see Maman, huh?”

He rises from the sofa and lifts D/N into the air, settling her on his hip. “How about we go take a look at the photo albums, okay? There are lots of beautiful pictures of Maman in there, alright?”

“Maman! Maman! Maman!” D/N continues to exclaim, squirming excitedly in his arms as they walk through the door and down the hallway into the living room.

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 14,296 others

f1gossipofficial Nine months after the tragic passing of his wife, Y/N, Charles Leclerc has been spotted for the first time on a beach in Spain with their shared daughter.

Witnesses who captured the photographs above mentioned that he appeared to be coping well, and fans respectfully gave them space while appreciating the sight from afar.

We're glad to see Charles out and about again, and we extend our best wishes to him and his family as they continue to navigate these changes.

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username im so glad the fans kept to themselves

username right?? so respectful🫶

username charlie🥹❤️ it's been so long but we'll always be here whenever he's ready

username tbh I was very worried during the radio silence but I think him being out there is a step in the right direction🥲

username still can't believe y/n is no longer here... i miss her sm😭

username omg there's a vid on twitter of them playing ball and u can hear their daughter giggling 💕

username I can't find it could you pls send the link?🙏 username dmed u! username me too pls

username it must be so hard to grief y/n while also trying to be strong for their daughter :( sending him all the strength!!

username 😭😭😭

4:44 ────────────ㅇ 4:44

2K notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 23 days ago

Text

stolen entries (m)

airing: fem!Reader x stalker!joshua

Genre: thriller, smut, stalking au

Word count: 10k

tags: PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T FOLLOW IN THE READERS FOOTSTEPS AND STAY SAFE. rated R for life RUINING, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND READ WARNINGS TO AVOID ANY TRIGGERING SUBJECTS, stalking, wrong just very morally black!joshua, dark imagery including but not limited to: implied and mentions of murder/threat, mentions of manipulation, mentions of blood, window sex and implied fear of falling out, possessive!joshua, pet names (angel, darling, ect), hair pulling, spanking, blowjobs/cunnilingus with consumption, face fucking, degradation, praise kink

Summary: Diary entries of a man in love. Joshua knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on you and had to have you, even if it meant enduring the echoes of every intimate detail of every sexual encounter you’d had before him. But he knew you were worth the wait. He was worth the wait.

author note: thank you @diamonddaze01 @wongyuseokie @tomodachiii @miabebe for betareading! mental health is great thank you for asking, im really excited to have been working on this and everyone involved in betaing have been so incredibly helpful. i hope yall enjoy and thank you again for your patience. <3

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae

Entry #3 - November 30th: White suits you.

You look so perfect the way you do. Perfect in white. Perfect in lace. Perfect. Perfect. Forgive me, darling, for being redundant. But that’s all you look to me. Perfect.

What wasn’t perfect was who you had in your room.

How perfectly imperfect.

But what was perfect was those sounds. So lewd. So perfect. Decadent. Enchanting you are, my dear. I wish I had been the reason for those sounds, but for now, I can only live vicariously through November 30th. He will only be known as November 30th. He doesn't deserve a name.

But, in a way, I should thank him. He’s satiating you now. He’s getting you ready for me as I’m getting ready for you.

Be patient, my sweet.

Entry #15 - December 15th: You like how it hurts.

I don’t like this one. He’s rude. Doesn’t even open the door for you. Doesn’t say thank you or please when he asks for something. Just dumps you into bed like you’re a ragdoll.

For some reason, you like that. You like that it hurts. You like it so much you scream his name. I’m forced to learn it.

Seokmin.

Seokmin. Seokmin. Seokmin.

Awful name. Awful on the tongue. I’d be better on the tongue.

But instead, he’s striking you. And I see red. In more ways than one. And you should be in agony, and I’d rescue you. But you’re laughing. You’re begging for more. You’re not fighting him to stop. You enjoy it too much.

So I’m watching again. But I’m not gonna like it. I don't like him.

But you like it. That’s what matters. I despise December 15th—what he does to you, how much you like it, and how much I could do so much better.

Entry #32 - January 1st: You like to teach.

Happy New Year, darling. You started off with someone young. Someone talkative. An amateur. You’re drunk, however, so I'm sure you’ll regret it in the morning.

But for now, you’re enjoying yourself yet again, and by god is it messy. He’s very messy. He touches you like he’s never had experience before, and you let him. I should resent you, but in no way can. You’re precious. My experimental little darling. I’m addicted to you. I must have you, and neither this Chan, Seokmin, nor Jeonghan can stop me.

But for now, I'm grateful the boy cut it short. Like the late bloomer is. How incompetent. But you made it a teaching opportunity. You’re quite good at it. And you made the boy work to your advantage. That’s so sexy. So you. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re also clever. Just like I knew you’d be. January 1st is a good kid. But he should stay in his lane before I push him into one.

Entry #45 January 13th: Dirty talk is a must.

This one is rather peculiar. Overly confident. And rather…annoying. Like a puppy without a leash. Drunk on ego and hard liquor with names I don’t even bother to pronounce. He’s pretentious and it’s clear in the way he undresses himself for you.

He treats you like he’s the only man in the world, and you’re simply beneath him, but I know you’re so much more. Yet, you encourage it. You encourage his… delusion that he’s this outstanding work of art.

You love how he narrates, how he talks to you as if you’re incompetent—degrading even—and you egg him on. “Good girl” this, “bad slut” that. It’s contradictory, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You get off on such obscenity. You’re euphoric from it. Although I hate to do such a thing and call you rancid names, I’ll have to ponder more creative versions.

Nonetheless, you like a bit of chatter, don’t you? Well, January 13th will have nothing on me, my little Angel.

Entry #78 - February 15th: You can keep going until you’re in ruin.

You’ve had a lonely month, and I do apologize, my darling, especially since it’s partially my fault. It is not my time just yet to have you. I must discipline myself first. Condition myself to cater to your every whim. And you have a lot of them.

You’re greedy. This one was utterly restless, I almost felt bad. His stamina had nothing on yours, darling, and I see that you can bite more than you can chew. You’re insatiable. I lost track of the hours that night. My knees, scraped raw and red against the rough concrete floor, as I stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting for you to finish, which you did. Again. Again. Again. Again.

I was starting to abhor this February 15th. What country did he save in his past life that earned him such devoted attention? Was he just that amazing? Did he make you 1000% satisfied? Would I have to kill him for that kind of love? Skin him and string him up like Christmas lights? It would be nice to prepare for the holidays early, wouldn’t it?

I’ll refrain for now. For your sake. But to keep up with you, my condition needs to multiply tenfold. I need to be able to be ready. Do what I need to to make indubitably and utterly mine.

M I N E.

Entry # 124 - April 1st: Toys are for adults too.

The joke was on me thinking you’ve changed your ways. Making love, or should I say primal sex, seemed to be something in the back of your head, but that wasn’t the case.

Instead, you fucked someone. A comedian nonetheless, and after he had finished his stand-up. You sat your pretty ass on the stool beside him, twirling your pretty strands of hair, batting your pretty lashes on that pretty face of yours. Just because it was April Fool's day doesn't mean you had to be the fool, my love. That was reckless.

But I suppose I learned something about you. Something you like in bed that you haven’t exhibited in others is that although you love a good laugh, it wasn’t fit for the bedroom. Sometimes, toys aren’t just a trickster's accessory but a vixen’s too. They are just simply different. Distinctly different.

Though a comedian’s job is to speak, you had him—well—gagged. Ball-gagged, no less. That was... intriguing. Enticing, to say the least, and you turned the whole performance into something far more captivating. There’s always something new I’m learning about you, love. And I can’t wait to show you what I’m capable of when I finally get my hands on you—and your toys.

Entry # 200 - June 14th: You could do it anywhere.

Keeping up with your summer antics wasn’t easy. Considering every precaution I’ve taken and every obstacle I’ve faced, I did everything from double-checking flight numbers to calculating the perfect distance to stay hidden. If only you could appreciate my efforts, love. I had to make sure my hiding place remained undetected—always just far enough to stay out of sight, but close enough to ensure your safety.

And while I thought a vacation with your family was the last place you’d do looking, you wound up somehow in your brother’s best friend’s bed. Seungcheol, was it? You really have no fear, do you? All while your family was all downstairs, you were getting your desserts while everyone was preparing for dinner, wondering where you were.

Or when it was time to go down by the beach and you had a little adventure in the dressing room of ‘Martha’s Swimsuit Boutique.’ The employees blamed the sounds on the old building fixtures or whatever was happening next door, but I knew what was happening in there. Hell, every person with working ears knew what was happening in there.

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to forget you, to stop loving you, to forget you and how much you’ve hurt me. But I can't. No matter how much I want to or how many times I try, you're in my blood now. You're in my head, under my skin, and I can't rip you out. I don’t even want to.

You’re a part of me I can’t remove, like a vital organ. I just want you. I need you. I breathe you. If you want to do so much, I would take you right there on the dining table and wouldn’t care who watched, just to please you. Feel, taste, pound every part of you, from the red in your veins to cum that would flood in between my gums.

I D O N T K N O W H O W M U C H L O N G E R I C A N W A I T.

Entry # 237 - July 20th: At the end of the day, you want love too.

There’s no need to cry. He was never meant to have you is all. I must commend your brother. He beat that boy harder than I expected him to, but then again I would do a lot worse.

He didn’t deserve to have your heart. He was an idiot. I would never be like him. And you’ll realize that soon enough.

I would show you so much more. I can be so much more. I am so much more. My darling, I would travel to the next galaxy to have you, give you all that you desire, and make it so that the only tears you shed are the ones in bed when I prove to you how much you’re mine as much as I am yours.

Entry # 242 - July 25th: Today is the day.

Preemptively, I decided to go with a scent you’re familiar with. You've held out for weeks, even months, since your miraculous escape on July 20th. You’re stronger now, more confident, self-assured. very mindful, very demure. I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist saying it—just like you’ve repeated since locking yourself away. It’s cute, really. This whole ‘recovery’ thing, it suits you.

It’s like you were made to pique my interest and appetite. Even right now, as you’re outside the window of this restaurant, unsure if you want to enter because this was the one you’d frequent so often with him. Your favorite place to be since you were a little one.

I still can’t believe you decided to move back home. As if he hadn’t hurt you enough, you breathe the air he does? Watching him engage with the pretty blonde on his arm will not heal you, my sweet Angel. It is wrecking you. You should’ve left when you had planned to then.

I picked up my life and ran after you because I worried so much. I worried what would happen if I weren’t around to be with you. To make sure you’re okay. But I won’t have to anymore.

Today, I pretended to pick up a book you dropped to make eye contact with you, slipping a secret message I left on a Post-it inside. I hope you read it. I hope you reciprocate. And if you don’t, it had been all for nothing.

I’d be nothing.

Entry # 243 - July 26th: I love you.

You answered back, just like I thought you would.

“Hi :)” you said, with that cute emoji thing you do. How adorable.

For a moment I was worried, you wouldn’t but only a moment I promise. I would never doubt you. I have entire faith in you, you’d realize what this is. The fire I have burning for you.

I’m glad you’re giving us the chance to realize what we’re meant to be. I can’t wait for our first date. I’m so excited, I don’t even know what to write for today. I just want to live in the bliss of knowing that you finally see me. See me.

Entry # 244 - July 27th: You couldn't wait, and I almost gave in.

You tried kissing me. Put your hand on my thigh. Brushing against my–

I can’t be impatient. This journey can’t be rushed. No matter how much I want to push your head into the mattress and split you in half as you’re calling out my name.

The sooner I give in, the easier it is to make me a rebound. And I am no rebound.

I am meant to be your eternal. Your other half. Your perfect opposite.

Sleeping with you as soon as tonight would’ve tainted our beginning. You mean so much more to me than that.

Just know I want you so bad. I want to get to know you. I want to see you. For our future to start, we need to start this off right. You’ve signed up for a slow burn, my darling.

We are worth the wait.

Entry # 255 - August 7th: I love you more than I realize.

We are so good together. Even if the bag boy decides to flirt with you in front of me, and even if you entertain it a little, thinking I wouldn’t see.

You’re trying to punish me for being disciplined. It’s funny. The things I could do to punish you for testing my patience. Don’t pretend to be all innocent when you bend your ass towards me, leaning up against the conveyer belt to show off both your…assets. Give a show to me and that loud vest-wearing scum.

You think you’re so clever. So sneaky. And maybe you are. You’ve made quite the effort to conceal the truth about your previous relations. I like to think you’re doing it for me. For my sake. Because you’re so considerate. But I know the truth my darling. I know all I need to know about you. But I appreciate your efforts.

You really do love me. And somehow, I love you even more.

Entry # 297 - September 18th: You miss him.

You saw him today, and although you hid it, I could see it in your eyes. You miss him still. Like he was a scar etched into you, or a blood stain that was impossible to get out.

Did I have to kill him to rid you of thoughts of him? End your suffering by ending his life. It would be easy. So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so easy.

I just can’t stand the way you look at him. A mere boy when a man like me is beside you.

Making you wait feels almost impossible now. Who the hell am I kidding? I’m the one who's waiting.

I just had to do one last thing before. Just one more thing. By then it would be final. And it would just be us. Forever.

You had been seeing Joshua for just a few months, but he was different from the guys you’ve met before. A genuinely good guy. Gentlemanly, even. You found it cute and maybe hot–absolutely hot. Nothing more attractive than knowing a man can keep his hands to himself.

But now, you found yourself wondering if he had not initiated because of something else. Since you’ve met, he’s always been the perfect gentleman, polite and thoughtful in a refreshing and frustrating way. It’s rare to meet a man who doesn’t leap at the chance to get you into bed, and while you found his restraint enticing and irresistible, it also left you questioning whether he’s just being courteous—or if he’s doing it on purpose to ward you off.

You’ve given Joshua every hint imaginable. The thong peeking out from your jeans when you bent over, the casual unbuttoning of your top whenever his eyes drifted your way—each move deliberate, strategic. You even threw in your signature look, those smoldering eyes that always did the trick, scanning his body as if you could ravage him whole, and you would. It had a flawless track record. Until Joshua, that is.

It made you want him more. Like he was making you wait, beg for his attention. Made you forget for a moment you were crying over Seungcheol some time ago. As if your heart didn’t shatter into a million pieces shortly before meeting Joshua.

Even when you saw Seungcheol briefly–so briefly–a part of you still missed your ex, but you craved being in Joshua’s arms more. Like medicine. Joshua was your medicine.

God, you needed him so fucking viscerally.

That’s when you decided. No more beating around the bush this time. It’s been four months too long. You had to have this man.

You decided to make a surprise appearance at his place–the address you just happened to "discover" on his driver’s license when he wasn’t paying attention. And, of course, you showed up wearing something kind of insane.

You know those movie scenes where the sexy love interest throws on an oversized trench coat with barely anything underneath, or sometimes nothing at all? Yeah, well... you decided to try that. And now you’re waiting outside of his apartment building in the autumn weather–freezing your literal ass off–waiting for him to get home to give him the surprise of his life.

It had been over an hour, and with each exhale, your breath hung in the air, a visible reminder of the cold. You hugged your coat tighter around your body, clutching it like it was the only barrier between you and freezing to death. And honestly, it might as well have been. Standing outside his building in practically nothing had your heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

Here you were trying to be all cutesy, sexy, and fun, and this damn man wasn’t even home. Were you out of your mind?

The anxiety was creeping in. The biting autumn air had found every exposed inch of your skin, and your confidence was sinking fast. Just when you were ready to leave this cringe-fest waiting to happen, and retreat to the warmth of your own home, you heard footsteps approaching from down the street. Your pulse quickened as you glanced up, and there he was, walking towards you in a long dark coat and sweater.

Joshua’s eyes met yours, his expression shifting from confusion to slow realization as registered you from his distance, watching you stand there bundled in your trench coat with something obviously beneath it. His lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed, but there was no judgment—just surprise, and more so curiosity.

You instinctively tightened your grip on the coat, pulling it closer around your nearly bare body as you leaned against the wooden front door that had been stubbornly keeping you outside. “Hey,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling slightly in the cold, watching your breath materialize in the air as a delicate cloud of frost.

“Hi?” His tone was cautious but amused as if he was trying to piece together exactly what was waiting at his doorstep. He shoved his leather-gloved hands into the pockets of his own coat, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “This is...unexpected. What are you doing here?”

You let out a shaky laugh, nerves bubbling up as you shifted on your feet, your bare thighs scraping against one another as they clenched. “Yeah, so... there’s a really good explanation for all of this, but, um...” You glanced down at yourself, then back up at him, feeling more exposed than ever. “Can I come in first?”

His place was disturbingly neat—psychopathically neat. It was the kind of spotless where everything seemed too perfect, like someone with more than a few screws loose needed complete control over their space. Every surface gleamed, not a speck of dust or a misplaced item in sight.

“Want something warm? Tea, maybe?” He politely offered with a warm smile.

You found yourself mirroring his smile, a giddy excitement bubbling inside you like a teenager with a crush. With a light skip, you made your way back toward him, the trench coat swaying around you like an oversized brown paper bag—so tempting to just shed it. “That sounds really nice. Anything would be good.”

“Okay. I’ll put on some Earl Grey for you.” His lingering smilewas the last thing you see before he disappeared in the kitchen, giving you the opportunity to learn more about the owner of the home.

Nothing was out of place. The walls were a sterile beige, devoid of any warmth or personality, while the furniture radiated with an unsettling shine that suggested it had never truly been used. Not a single wrapper marred the coffee table, nor was there a crumb in sight—everything was meticulously arranged as if he harbored an unyielding aversion to disorder. It felt more like a stage set than a home, the kind of place that made you wonder if anyone actually lived here, especially given the spontaneity of your intrusion.

Your blood ran cold. The longer you scanned the room, the more strange it felt to be standing there. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as unease settled in. You suddenly found yourself questioning why he was taking so long with the tea.

Your toes curled in discomfort as you glanced over to where Joshua had disappeared, and just then, he emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of steaming hot tea in either hand. He set them down on the coffee table with a practiced ease and settled onto the pristine couch behind him. “Have a seat. We can wait while the tea steeps.”

You nodded, a tight look on your face, and lowered yourself onto the couch beside him, accepting a cup and sipping on its deeply rich content. “Thank you.”

“Now, what brought you over here? I’m surprised you managed to find out where I lived...considering I never told you,” he said, his expression blank as he nursed his cup in his hands.

“Well,” you began, swallowing hard as the heat from the tea scalded your tongue and burned its way down your throat. “I’m not quite sure how to explain this, but…I found your driver’s license when it fell out of your wallet on one of our dates, and I kind of memorized your address? I thought I’d surprise you.” You paused, a nervous laugh escaping. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

He set his tea at the corner of the coffee table, and clasped his hands together, a teasing glint in his eyes hearing your confession. “Well... I commend you for not only your bravery in the doing and admitting fault, but it’s not that weird, actually. It’s kind of flattering.”

“Really? But I invaded your privacy. That’s invasive—almost illegal, isn’t it?”

For a fleeting moment, you swore you saw his fists clench, but then one of his hands slid over yours, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckle, quickening your heart rate. “But if I say it’s okay, then it’s okay. Right?”

Also, setting your tea aside, your other hand instinctively fell on top of his, the earlier discomfort and worry fading into the background. “I guess so.”

He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. “You look cold. Would you like a hug to warm you up?”

“S-sure,” you managed to stutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you accepted his invitation.

As his arms enveloped you, you felt the raw strength he kept hidden beneath the layers of clothing. The warmth radiated from his body, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he tightened his embrace around you, holding you protectively–possessively even. You breathed in his scent, registering his cologne you were all too familiar with and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. For a moment, every trace of anxiety disappeared. Joshua had a way of making you feel secure again, of restoring that sense of safety you hadn't realized was what you were in search of.

You leaned into it, your breath fanning over the skin of his neck as your hand roamed up his back, eager to peel off his physical and mental layers keeping you from devouring him with reckless abandon. You wanted to pull him closer, to feel the reassuring weight of his body against yours, like your own personal shield. The conflicting urge to consume him entirely, to the point of exhaustion, while simultaneously cherishing every part of him was a dilemma you never anticipated facing—especially so soon after a breakup. Joshua stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t even begin to explain, no matter how hard you tried.

When he let you go, the absence of his warmth was immediate, but the kind smile on his face remained as if reassuring you that everything was fine. “Better?”

“Yeah. That was nice,” you whispered, still holding his hands, both large and perfect.

“Good. Now. What was this surprise that couldn’t wait for a text or phone call?”

Now, a wave of nerves washed over you once more.

Your hands fiddled with the straps keeping your attire in place, and you hesitated before standing before him, mustering up the final bit of courage you had left in place of your dignity. “Well, I wasn’t quite sure if you were just being the polite gentleman who could ‘do no wrong’ or if you’d been completely oblivious to the hints I’ve been throwing your way since our first date. But I’m here making it as clear as possible for you, Joshua Hong.”

With a determined tug, you loosened the tie that held your closure in place, letting it slip from its knot and revealing the reason you felt goosebumps up your legs. Your breasts bulged out of the lacy fabric, leaving almost nothing to the imagination and hugging parts of your body the man before you had only seen in passing through a window. The pillowy flesh spilling from your decorated underwear left him with a sensation that wrapped around Joshua’s throat and clenched.

He couldn’t feel himself breathing, drinking in your exposed skin, admiring the bright white of the lingerie complimenting your skin as it clung on to you seamlessly, while the trench coat finally found itself where it belonged on the ground. He sank the couch behind him as you came closer, wordlessly tracing every curve, dotting every mole, noting every mark or scar as you loomed over him in feigned innocence. The only air he could draw was his ragged breath, his hands aching to touch you.

“I would love nothing more than to have your hands all over me,” You said with a sultry edge, dripping with obvious intent.

Your knee dug into the couch's cushion, the other following and taking residence in Joshua’s lap as he simply watched. His eyes softly blinked back up at you as you settled into him, having him melt under every word you spoke.

“Is that so?” He asked calmly, physically refraining himself, and ignoring the dark thoughts clouding his logic.

You threw your arms around his neck, gazing down at him as you shifted in his lap. “I do. It’s all I can ever think about anymore. Ever since these last four months.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, like steam escaping from a kettle.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“...Am I supposed to say something more?”

“How about–I don’t know. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to say that the whole time,’ or ‘I feel the exact same way, tongue wrestle me until we pass out.’ Give me something,” You begged.

He shrugged, playing up his ignorance. “Doesn’t sound like me? Does it?”

“Is this really all you can talk about? A girl in her best lacy underwear–in white mind you–sitting in your lap like she’s accepting ones in a night club, and you’re fixated on your characterization?”

He shrugged again as if taunting you, the smile on his face growing sinister at your agitation. “I have poor depth perception.”

You groaned, your body feeling heavy as you slumped against him, ready to slide off his lap in defeat. “I give up.”

But just as you were about to peel away from him, you felt a firm pair of hands steady you, anchoring you in place. Joshua’s eyes sharpened as his grip tightened, fitting your body in the curves of his palms. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You blinked back at him, confused yet oddly at home in his touch, despite the rapid beat of your heart suggesting otherwise. “I thought–I kinda thought you wanted nothing to do with me,” you reluctantly answered.

His cool palm slid against your flushed skin, trailing up your body and igniting a path of fire that battled the waves of chills following up your spine. Instinctively, you fell forward, involuntarily pressing your lace-clad chest against the cashmere of his sweater and finding purchase back around his broad shoulders, which looked bigger than usual. A soft squeak passed your lips as he tugged you towards, fitting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” His hands grasped the sides of your thighs as he tucked them around his torso, not once breaking eye contact.

You felt a cold sweat trickle down your skin, your body stiffening as you focused solely on the soothing tenor of Joshua’s voice. “I always see how you look at me, Angel.” His fingers carded through your hair, pushing it to one side and delicately grazing over the fullness of your breast. “And I love how you look at me.”

“Josh,” Your voice emerged softer than you expected, almost tinged with a plea as you drew closer.

“And believe me when I say this, darling, I’ll always want something to do with you. I want everything to do with you…if you let me.”

You felt his hand somewhere you’ve only ever imagined: at the hook of your bra before he slowly started to unlatch it, the straps falling off your shoulders as your support came undone. You were grateful to be pressed so close to him. Otherwise, your entire upper body would be entirely nude. Entirely exposed. You tucked your arm over your chest, gaze dropping at the perceived proximity until Joshua gently moved you by the chin to meet his eyes.

“Don’t.” He quietly demanded, purposefully moving away, and the undergarment fell from your body, your nipples christened by the chill air conditioning. “So perfect.”

His hand hovered over their shape, only ghosting over them but not nearly touching, yet either bud tensed at their mere presence. You exhaled shakily, your breath uneven and impatient, as your eyes suddenly drifted away, overwhelmed by an unexpected rush from his uncharacteristic attention.

“You don’t want to know how much I imagined putting you in my mouth.” His pursed lips landed on your collarbone in an open mouth kiss, gently pulling you between his lips.

You softly moaned, unfurling your digits before they slid up his neck. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t do anything but—you felt his mouth latch onto you, teeth burying into your flesh. You parted your lip in another moan, instinctively reacting to the familiar concoction of pain and pleasure exhibited by previous partners, but this was Joshua. Gentlemanly Joshua.

He bared his hand flat against your back, dipping your body towards the coffee table and pressing urgent kisses to the hollow of your neck, lingering against the pulse of your throat and digging his hips into your pelvis. Your hand roamed over his body, cradling his head and pressing him closer against you as your knee hooked around his waist.

Joshua swung his hand behind you, knocking over the mugs with a loud crash, sending tea spilling everywhere on the ground as the flat surface of the coffee table urgently met your exposed back. It stung how cold it initially was until the weight of his body stunned you, leaving you impervious to everything else. He grabbed your side, wrestling with the skin of your clavicle as his hand ran harshly over your erect buds, grinding them under his palm.

In between your legs, you felt warmth—the kind that makes a show when you could only think of being rammed at 100 miles an hour—and you felt it soak in the fabric of the lace, flossed between your folds when you were desperate for friction. “Joshua, please…” you cried.

He shoved away the useless bra now just hanging off your body before his lips curled around the curve of your breasts, kissing their underside as his thumbs fiddled with their sensitivity. Your knees bent towards you, your hips pulsating against his thigh as his tongue taunted you, flicking over the texture of your nipples and nipping at the tips as he pulled with his teeth. You whimpered, body falling limp on the table as he nursed you between his lips, his eyes piercing back at you lewdly as an occasional moan would leave his lips.

“Tell me how you like it. Teach me.” He spoke with a quiet, commanding authority.

“Y-you seem to be doing a good job so far.”

He smiled, running his hand through your hair before it gripped between his knuckles, sending a rush of ache from your scalp. Your eyes shot up to meet his, a blend of fear and arousal flashing through them, but you were quickly soothed by the gaze he held, sultry and unshakable. “Should I be mean then?” He offered.

You let out a brief yelp after his hand swatted over your plush thigh, your flesh spilling between his fingers as he squeezed. The bridge of your nose touched your speechless expression, lips tracing over your face with a deep exhale. “Give you the kind of things you want? What I learned about you?”

“What have y-you learned?” you hesitated to ask.

His eyes glazed over you, seeing you melt at a simple glance before tenderly pressing his lips to yours, only sampling. You mewled in the depths of your throat, lips falling open as you kissed him for the first time, succumbing to the pillowy texture of his lips. His eyes partially open, he fixed his eyes on your features, how they contorted with his touch, reacting involuntarily to the rocking of his body against you. He was obsessed with the mere image of you.

“What I’ve learned, hmm,” he quietly pondered.

Giving him time to think, your hand cupped over his attached to your thigh, guiding it under you and around your ass, letting his digits outline the curve of your body. He chuckled and brought the other hand parallel, following his carnal urge to clutch you tightly in his grip. A smile melted on your face briefly, enjoying the sensation of his hands before he roughly pulled down your underwear before you could even gasp, leaving you truly naked.

“I’ve learned that when you want something, you take it.” His hands come down to the bottom of his sweater and pull it along with what’s underneath off of him.

His glistening tan reflected back at you, beads of perspiration coating his skin—likely a result of months of tension finally unfolding. As you took him in for the first time, the way the light and shadows sculpted his form accentuated his physique, leaving you stunned and curious about what else he might’ve been hiding from you.

“So take what you want from me, Angel.”

God, you really could swallow him whole in a single gulp.

You repositioned yourself, planted your knees on the table, and tugged him by his belt. Your once pleading eyes became determined as you fixated on tearing off his pants, starting by unbuckling his belt at the waist. Your eyes fluttered, seeing the bulge through his briefs, twitching in your presence while you fit a finger at the top hem. A sigh escaped you; glance briefly up at Joshua’s expression–full of patient anticipation–before wrapping your hands around his aroused girth.

“...You’ve been waiting for me,” you began to realize, seeing the cock firm up in your grasp.

He let out an amused hum, stroking the side of your head. “I wanted to make sure you wanted me.”

“Of course, I wanted you.” Your hand ran along his shaft, veins pulsing on the ball of your palm, and you pressed the head to your lips. “I just wanted you to show me you wanted me.”

Joshua’s groans barely escaped as your lips curved around the tip and more than gently kissed. His hand clasped around your head, moving it so your eyes could face his, seeing him come apart in front of you. From just your teasing. “Darling, if I did that…I’d never know when to stop.”

“Joshua. I’d never ask you to stop.”

His hand cupped your face, and you melted into his palm–absolutely reveling in the blind infatuation on your face before he made you face his arousal, cock grazing your chin before he pressed it past your lips. Your lips stretched around him like a rubber band, expanding to conquer his size but not with ease. Your hand covered his base and enveloping his length as much as you could.

“Angel,” he grunted.

He claimed the back of your head, leading your pace as you took him. Your hands clasped around his hips, fastening yourself to him. You could already feel your drool drip alongside your chin, becoming sloppy as you were fixated on his complexion: blissed with parted lips, looking at you like he’d been touched for the first time.

Your moans vibrated around him as he thrusted into you, momentarily breaching the air of his pelvis before he pulled you back, flicking his hips into your mouth and overcome with ecstasy. “My good little Angel,” he groans, breath hitching in his throat. “Taking my cock like you were made for me.”

He tugged your hair tighter as you felt the hilt hit the back of your throat, and you thought to yourself how much It would’ve hurt if you weren’t otherwise drunk with bliss. You buried him deep inside you, holding him with both hands, sobbing on him with such anguish that people would assume you hadn’t been fed for days.

Joshua’s pretty lips got caught in his pretty teeth, and the darkness in his eyes deepened to a richer, more intense black as a sense of reckless abandon enveloped him. “God…look at you…good little slut like you likes taking cock like mine, doesn’t she?”

The sensation of your mouth massaged him heavenly, having you taste the heady tang of his skin on your tongue while your nose tickled against his groin. He clutched your head, your whimpers and cries pulsating around his girth, fucking your mouth until you hit the base. You looked up, pliant and willing, as tears swelled in your eyes, cheeks hot to the touch, and a thick sheen of slobber over your lips.

You’re precious. And his. All his.

He pried either of your hands off him and restrained them above your head, carrying the weight of his control in his hips, crushing your mouth against his lap. While one hand had stabilized your wrists, the other back fell back in your hair, fucking your pretty mouth until he couldn’t anymore.

Joshua felt his name muffled around his cock, staring back at you as you repeated his name, desperation echoing from your throat, but not to stop–oh no, he recognized this stare. He held you towards him, cutting your airways with hardly a second to breathe. Your eyes fluttered. Pupils began to roll to the back of your head as his cock slid down your throat, bottoming out inside you for the first time.

“You want my cum, don’t you? You’re so damn obvious you do,” he taunted in an unfamiliar tone, foreign to you but nonetheless welcome.

You hummed confirmation around the girth, practically whining with full cheeks.

“Angel, you know what it means when I do, right?” he loomed over you, as your mouth was still pressed against him in an abrupt halt, still tasting all of him. “Do you understand what you’re getting into? The second I cum inside you–mouth or cunt–you’re mine. Are you ready for that responsibility?”

You nodded, impatience singeing your tongue.

“Really?” The fingers threaded through your hair pulled you off, giving you the sharpest intake of oxygen before you fell right back where you belonged with a slam. The pain in your throat caused it to go hoarse, and the tears once swelling in your eyes streamed down your face. “You better mean it, darling. Words aren’t just a promise to me; they’re a vow.”

His final thrusts were steady but harsh, pressing his size inside of you until you gagged, and finally, when he was merciful, you felt his hot stream coat your throat. His hips found their falter, plunging in and out of you–the cum dribbling down your chin until he finally let you go, prying you off him and giving you a moment of rest sprawled on the coffee table.

But only a moment.

His hands wordlessly caressed you, body drained from release, but mind hungry for your essence. Every word he’s ever said in this exchange, he’s meant with every fiber of his being, down to his very core.

“Tired, darling? We’re only getting started.”

You softly chuckled, a tired smile reappearing for the first time in a while. “I’m in for a lot with you, aren’t I?” you asked, strain evident in your voice.

“You’re asking that question far too little too late, Angel.”

His lips puckered to met yours in a gentle kiss, then another, then another. You held him against you, not minding how disheveled you looked with your pulled hair and mascara streaks staining your cheeks, it was your turn.

Joshua found your body easily in your liplock, gliding his hands up and down your body in rushed motions as if memorizing you by touch. Your dips, your curves, your angles. There wasn’t one part of you he dared to miss. And you smiled, you chuckled, so lust blind to see the symptoms forming before your very eyes as if they weren’t already there. He swallowed your laughter, tasting victory on your tongue, and nuzzled in the crook of your lips. “Can I do the things I'm willing to do for you–what I’m willing to do to you?”

You cupped his face, an impish grin on your face. “Stop asking and fuck me like you love me, Joshua.”

Gladly.

He held either of your legs at his side, fingers aligning your folds and splitting in half. If they didn’t already look big, they most certainly felt big. A single digit only traced along your slit, and your hips buckled, fluttering at the sliver of taste.

“I’ve barely grazed you, and you’re like a flood down there,” he quietly teased, pushing in his index halfway.

You clenched around him, then around nothing, and he repeated, effortlessly stealing your breath with every move. You anchored yourself to the edge of the table. “You know exactly why, Josh.” You whimpered.

He then pushes in the full digit–reaching deeper than you expected–and you convulse around him. Your head snapped back, the phantom strings of Joshua’s nasty habits–already acquainted with your body–pulling you in without warning. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so easy to please. As if I know everything about your body without you telling me.” He thrusted his finger, cultivating a rhythm he knew would be perfect for his little darling.

“It’s as if…we’ve known each other forever.” You stated in your countless, staggered breaths.

“Forever…” he plunged another finger, feeling you flutter around him delightfully, “with you?”

His smile, that unsettling perfect smile, pressed a tender kiss against your lips. “I rather like that. Me and you. Forever.”

You quietly laughed before tugging him into a deeper liplock, gently slotting your finger through his hair, not worried about ruining its pristine as you pulled him closer. “I’ll take you and me forever.”

“Now, angel–” you took the hand he had inside you to guide him faster, deeper, your language becoming gasps and moans in a matter of seconds.

He didn’t bother finishing his thought, too enraptured by your demanding hunger, that he pressed on further, feeding you his digits as you swallowed each one by one. His thumb caressed your pulsating bud for extra good measure, taking pleasure at how often you shake when he does, and rammed his fingers deeper in you, finally hearing what his name sounds like in a state of bliss.

He’s overcome with pride–nay–overcome with triumph. The way you look at him with such an utterly lewd expression, your delicious scent a thick film on your body that he couldn’t help but want to lick and devour and engorge. He didn’t need to have another orgasm for another second if it meant seeing you come apart the way you were right now.

“Joshua!” you cried, body shaking as if you were glitching, having an out-of-body experience, and you undid yourself the way he did: utterly and perfectly euphoric.

You creamed his digits with nectar, milky and fair, and he didn’t wait a second for them to enter his mouth, knuckles deep. His eyes fell shut from elation, moaning around his hands, and he caught even the slightest drop down his wrists.

You were fucking–

“Magnificent.” He swallowed your lips once more, hungrily, arousal rushing down to his body again. “Perfect, my sweet little angel.”

“...forever. Me and you.” You repeated, not getting pass the conversation that was interrupted what felt like a millennia ago. “I’ll take you for forever. And that’s a vow for me, too.”

Joshua never expected this, such a scene of ease and pristine, seeing his future lie limp and happy and fucked. You had never looked so beautiful. After all the men you’ve met, all the bodies you’ve collided with, all the dicks you’ve sucked, you always had a glow. It’s why he tolerated such things, but to see that glow after him. It was the most radiating version of you. And to know you’ll have him. He was the happiest man alive.

“Oh, my darling.” He pulled you up from the table to sit you back in his lap, parting away your hair to clearly see your face smiling back at him even with the fatigue. “You are the most perfect thing.” he shook his head in disbelief, unsure how he got so lucky.

“Let me take you to bed, hmm?”

You quietly nodded, admiring him back all the same.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly, before lifting you both up from the ground and walked into his bedroom–just as unnervingly neat as his living room. Or should you say how neat it was. The bedroom presented its same beige aura, hardly a spec of dust in place, but the one extraordinary thing about it was the light casting from the window, beckoning over the entire city.

The second Joshua tossed your naked body on his bed, you immediately got back up, pressing your palms to the window to gaze down upon everyone through it. “You can actually see everything from up here! Wow.”

You heard Joshua chuckle behind you with his footsteps towards you to follow. “You like it, Angel?”

“It’s beautiful.” The glint in your eyes sparkled brighter than any star above you. “I’ve lived here almost my whole life and I’ve never seen it like this. I can even see my house from here! That's crazy.”

Joshua let out an indistinguishable scoff, immediately covering his mouth before coming behind you, his hand settling on your hips. “I got lucky with the lease. Best I’ve ever seen. I never thought to appreciate this view, but now I have a reason to.”

His kiss bloomed a familiar warmth across your face, and you leaned into his embrace, taking his arms around you as you shared the impeccable view. The city lights illuminated the streets, their people, their livelihood, and you never would’ve imagined seeing it if you hadn’t found Joshua’s address.

You belonged here somehow, as if it was meant for you. It truly did feel special. Joshua made it special.

You brushed your backside to his groin, feeling something already prod your side and you swore you felt yourself purr. Bodies still connected, you leaned into the glass, knee digging into the cushions of the window nook. Joshua followed after you knowingly, hand pawing your thigh as his lips drew to your ear, nipping at the tips.

Your moan, deliciously loud, was all the signal Joshua needed to keep going. He mouthed against your neck, one hand crawling over your chest and another reclaiming your sensitive heat. You doubled over slightly, palming and smearing your fingerprints into the flawlessly clear glass, its chill not disrupting the heat festering your body in the slightest.

Joshua had your body thrum in reaction to his fingers, hips wriggling to his touch, and he heightened the strokes on your already throbbing heat. “Josh, please.”

He groaned into the crook of your neck, the outline of his erect cock distinctly recognizable against your lower back. “I want to show whoever’s watching what you’ve done to me, Angel.” he slammed his fingers upright inside you before returning to his regulated pace. “Show what pretty little slut you become when you’re within reach of me.”

“Anything, Josh, anything. Anything for you to fuck me.”

He snickered, an empty darkness echoing inside the tone. “You asked for it.”

His body slammed up against you, hungrily biting along your skin as he nestled his cock between your slit as he entered. You sooner realized how fingers did his size no justice as they filled your cunt with strain. Your ass perked up behind him, not a moment longer before you were forced to adjust to his size with full thrust, holding you by your neck as his other arm cuffed you by your elbows.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, falling and bouncing back against him as his raw cock took you demandingly.

“This pussy,” he growled, his hand striking the full shape of your ass cheek where it still stung, “I’ve dreamt of this pussy.”

He buried himself in you, hitting the hilt deep with your core to the point your vision flickered back to your skull. Your legs parted wide, backing yourself against him until you were accepting every inch. “Fuck that feels so fucking good, don’t fucking stop.”

“Yeah? My slutty angel likes my cock pounding into her pretty pussy?”

“Yes, please, Josh, please give it to me. I love how you give it to me so good.”

“You beg like that,” he gritted his teeth. “I’ll have to properly deliver.”

You looked back at him and smiled, hair falling over your face and his thrusts made you a vision of lust, somehow gracefully breathtaking with his cock buried deep inside you. “You and me forever, right? Don’t stop now.”

Joshua was throbbing, practically beaming at your answer, and before you knew it, your chest was greeted with the frost-bitten window, now flattening against your breasts. Groaning upon impact, the tempered glass tensed your nipples, bringing them both to a hard point, now freezing and pebbling you from your arms to your legs.

Joshua’s body pinned you in place, and you felt his unnerving arousal slide up and down between your cheeks and pushing back up inside you. “I’ll show just how much you’re mine to the world.” His voice was still gentle yet demanding. “Only because you asked for it.”

His flat palm struck you again, pushing up your body and letting the echoes of your collision play in surround sound. Your body, already sore from earlier, knew no rest as you took him deeper, the cold intensifying the pleasure rushing through your body. Your hips swiveled, playing with his cock like a personal toy, and you braced the window in front of you willingly, blasting on an indefinite high.

“Thinking about how someone can see you up here?” He whispered. “Taking my cock like the precious little angel you are? Or letting me fuck you like the nasty fucking slut you are?”

You gingerly nodded, hugging the glass desperately to feel him deeper inside you.“Yes—fuck—I want someone to see us. The thought gets me so wet.”

“So vocal, angel,” he tugged the back of your head, devouring your lips. “My dirty little angel.”

He held your arms behind you, pressing your whole torso against the window, and every snap of his waist had you bending more and more to his will. Every inch of his body had you flushed against him, feeling him present you to the world below like a goddamn masterpiece.

His body slammed again, shaking the glass and flickering fear into your eyes briefly before he reassured you by catching your waist in his hands. “Scared?”

“A little,” you stammered.

“I’ve got you, angel. Just enjoy it.”

And you did, endlessly as his pace picked up again, and by the number of times he’s pushed you, flipped you, rammed you against the window, you were no longer scared of falling through. The fragility of the glass was no longer of concern. You had Joshua to distract you from the life-threatening circumstances with every inch of his being. You had Joshua to protect you from the infinite possibilities of something were to go wrong with the window in front of you shattering. You had Joshua to feel safe no matter how scared and unsure you were. You had Joshua.

Joshua. Joshua. Joshua.

“Joshua, you’re gonna make me cum,” you mewled in his lap. Your ass took its turn to be displayed as your flesh pressed against the thick glass, bouncing on his cock that stiffened up to no bounds inside you.

“Are you? Your pretty pussy is gonna come all over my cock?” His voice now rushed, heightened, signaling how ready he was to burst like fucking dam.

Your nod carried urgency, your hands clasping against his face in desperate pleas, admiring that face you’ve grown fond of, how you could see both light and darkness in them, filling you to the brim with an inexplicable euphoria that you craved with everybody you’ve ever encountered. “I want it. I want to come all over your cock and feel you come inside me too…Make me feel so good so full.”

“Yeah,” he moaned, hand threading through your hair tightly, you hummed in confirmation, bouncing harder as you dared take him by his full length. “This the best cock you ever had? The best one to put my hot cum inside you.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “No one else…no one else can fuck me like you like this. I want you to fill me with all your hot cum.”

“S-shit,” he cried, tugging your back by the wrists, and fucking up into you, the window behind you christened with your sweat and slick arousal.

He ached to cover all his bases, pounding you to malleable dough, he filled your walls with his oozing determination, and his screams of release followed when he shot his promise inside you. His hips faltered in deep, thorough pumps, claiming your body in his hands with intense anguish as he inhaled your skin in his tight, unwavering embrace.

You felt the warmth inside and out of you, like a rapid stream of water—only more viscous and rewarding as your hips bucked, twitching in Joshua’s locking hold, hardly breathing with the way he held you. You wrapped around him just as tight, letting go of him the last thing on your mind and savoring the trembling descent of your peaks.

There are then only sounds of your exchanged breathing, slowly coming down to Earth.

He lowered his forearms, bracing you from your lower back, and carefully lifted you from the nook to carefully lay you against his bed that felt like heaven enveloping your body. He crawled on top of you still, descending lingering kisses all along your body before his lips reached your tired heat, not even thinking of pleasuring you but doing it anyway as he lapped up the final remnants of tonight’s events.

His hums were pleasant vibration, wordlessly tasting every ounce of cum—yours or his, it didn’t matter—and swallowing it like a full meal, gently caressing your swollen clit. He couldn’t have enough of you, letting the brain fog control him until you started screaming in pleasure again.

You had to pull him by threads of his hair to stop, overstimulated by his unwavering hunger, and for a second that darkness was back in his eyes the deepest you had ever seen until they softened in concern, his grip loosening. “You okay?” he wafted in with concern.

“Yeah, it felt good, I just…you’re gonna kill me,” you lightly joked.

He softly laughed, leveraging him up and facing chest to chest with you, devouring your lips with that lingering tang of dominance still on his tongue. “Never…” he whispered with a smile, before he inhaled you for a moment longer, swallowing your moans, caressing your body.

He finally found his self-restraint and let you rest, offering to run a warm bath in the hallway bathroom. You turned to him, taking his hand in gratitude. “That would be really nice.”

“I’ll start one up for you.”

As he leaves, you sink into the bed, reveling in the sheets worn from your presence, and hear the water run in another room, smelling of the clean seat of soap, and nothing has ever felt so right.

“I’ll carry you,” he stated before picking you up from your neck and back to your knees into the bathroom that was another vision of perfection, lit candles marking your path.

You gushed in disbelief, your body finally dipping to the perfect temperature as you were surrounded with rose petals and bubbles. Almost as if he planned this. Like he knew what to do and how to exactly do it.

“How is it?” He asked, hospitality being of second nature. “Warm enough? Water deep enough?”

You gripped the edge of the tub to gaze back at him, bent down to meet your level with a soft, adoring smile as the water splashed against you soothed your aching body. “Who are you, Joshua Hong?”

He snickered, kissing the top of your head without answer. “I’m gonna let you be on your own for a moment, to really give your rest and after I clean up outside, maybe I’ll join you. Just…don’t go anywhere.”

You nodded, initiating a chaste kiss on his lips. “I won't.”

“Good girl.” His smile had never gotten so big, kissing you back with double the force before he got up to leave.

“Leave the door open,” you requested, “just in case you wanted…a nice image welcoming you back.”

“Alright,” he said, eyes lingering on your state before finally taking his leave.

Joshua had his fun in the sun, clinging to every second of this perfect night, but he needed to clean up one more thing before it could truly end perfectly. The kitchen, if you could see it, was clean and pristine as the rest of the house goddamn near was until you helped him wreck it, except one thing just of place.

He glanced at the hunting knife in the sink, carelessly rinsed after he didn’t think he had time to properly clean in your company. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, realizing how long the metal had soaked in the water. He reached into the cabinet for cleaning supplies, his mind racing.

Dousing a rag with isopropyl, he carefully wiped every surface, hoping no streaks were left on the metal, almost failing to notice the blood ironically staining the stainless steel of his sink, to which he scrubbed and scrubbed with conviction. He couldn’t help but be grateful for your lack of awareness, the thought of entering your kitchen not crossing your mind a moment this entire visit. It’s why he loved you. You didn’t ask unnecessary questions. You kept to yourself for the most part despite your rendevous. And you weren’t trouble. he couldn’t wait to return to you. His perfectly oblivious angel.

Meanwhile, you soaked in the water, smelling its essential oil and lathering up the bubbles on your body. In the corner of your eye, a door catches your attention, having not noticed it since entering the apartment. The only door with a keypadlock that seemed to require a code, protecting whatever’s inside or keeping whoever unwanted out. Your thoughts lingered for a moment, wondering what he wanted to keep hidden from plain sight. Hobbies? Priceless items? Murder weapons? Your mind spiraled through every possibility, leaving an itch you couldn’t quite reach to scratch.

But before another second passes, you’re reunited with the man who’s been consuming your thoughts, a smile of relief returning to your face.

“Hi, everything good down there?” You gazed back up at him.

“Yeah, sorry I took so long,” he sighed, the weight on his shoulders palpable until the tension eased away as he slid into the tub beside you.

You moved closer, collapsing into his chest and nuzzling against him, the warmth of his embrace far better than any hot bath. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

His hand gently stroked the back of your head, smoothing the damp tendrils on your shoulders as he glanced down at you, then at the mirror reflecting your intertwined bodies. The image before him was a vision of what the rest of his life would look like. As he correctly foretold. As he meticulously planned. Everything falling into place.

“Me too.”

Your eyes still flickered toward the door with the keypad, curiosity gnawing at you, but you pushed it aside. Whatever was hidden behind that door no longer mattered. Joshua was all that mattered now. You were irrevocably his, as he was irrevocably yours.

Whatever secrets he had, he could keep them.

#thediamondlifenetwork #svthub #seventeen smut #Joshua hong smut #Joshua hong #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo #seventeen joshua #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong x you #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo x you

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sitepathos · 1 month ago

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 6: The Return

A/N: Did this chapter during a slow day in class. Enjoy this mini chapter!

You tried to keep your promise to Alfred about taking regular breaks to stop for food and sleep, but the Megamycete gives you unlimited energy, reducing your need for food and rest and allowing you to focus only driving as much as you can before night because Alfred is no doubt keeping track of when you tell him you’re stopping and resuming your journey.

Finally, after forty hours (you wished you could’ve turned into a giant flying creature and carry your car all the way to Goodsprings, but you’d never be able to explain that to Alfred), you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home and you feel tears swelling up in the corners of your eyes.

(Your feelings for this home are quite profound,) it remarks as you make your way up the driveway. (May we ask a favor?)

“Yeah, of course?”

(Allow us to establish a root system around your house. We promise our roots will not damage anything.)

“Can I ask why?”

(You have longed to return to this house for years. We wish to ensure its protection. With a root system, we will be able to watch over your house and keep out undesirables, be they man or pest.)

“Sure,” you chuckle, bending down and touching the lawn and from your finger, a sliver of mold extends from your skin and disappears into the dirt.

(We thank you. Should anything threaten your home, we will intervene.)

“Thanks, buddy,” you chuckle as you walk up to the front door, pulling out the key that the Clark County Probate Office sent you after you turned eighteen.

As you insert the key into the keyhole, you realize that you’re holding your breath. You’ve dreamed on this moment for years and now that it’s here, you’re worried that the home you’ve wanted to return to won’t bring you the joy you thought it would.

(Do not let your fears stand in your way. This home contains memories of a time of your life that you cherish. You will also be able to walk through the halls of this house without fear. Within these four walls, you will create a new life that will bring you happiness.)

You’re thankful for accepting the Megamycete into your body. Not only has it given you powers and abilities that you could never dream of, but it’s provided you comfort and companionship. It’s been very helpful to have your own Jiminy Chricket, whispering guidance and help from your shoulder.

With that, you turn the key and push the door open, stepping into the small foyer. Sure, the house has that type of smell that says it’s been empty for years and it’s pitch black since the curtains are drawn, but you’re overwhelmed by so many memories all at once. You and your Momma chasing each other down the hall in a game of tag, you sprawled out on the couch in the adjacent living room to watch the latest episode of one of your favorite cartoons, and so many others.

As you make your way through the house and notice every piece of furniture is covered in white sheets, protecting them from being covered in dust. Probably Sheriff Foley, he was the last one here the day your left and from what you remember of the distinguished sheriff, he’d do everything in his power to preserve the house and make sure nothing happened to it.

Finally, you pass throgh the dining room attached to the kitchen, walk down the small hallway and stop at the door on the left.

“Momma’s study,” you say, looking at the door before you.

(A room she spent most of her time. Many hours spent at her desk, working on her books. And you would stay in here to watch her.)

You open the door to see her bookshelves, desk, and chair covered in white tarps and the curtains drawn just like the rest of the house. You walk over to the other side of the desk, pull the tarp off the chair, and plop down on it.

“Feels just like I remember it,” you say, spinning around in it.

(What will you do with this room? Will you keep it as a study, or repurpose it?)

“I can turn it into my own study. With all that money Lex gave me for Bruce’s secrets? I can buy one hell of a PC that’ll be perfect for making games.”

After the study, you head upstairs, which has your old room, your Momma’s room, an upstairs bathroom, and a bedroom she had turned into a storage room. Your old room’s empty since you took most of your belongings when you moved to Gotham, the only things left are a bed that you’ve long since outgrown and a small dresser, so you decide otherwise set up in your Momma’s old room, which has a large bed that’s been covered in a tarp for years, a large dresser perfect for your clothes, and a sizable private bathroom.

(This house seems perfect for your purposes. And your mood has definitely improved since arriving.)

“Yeah, we have the house all to ourselves and there’s no Waynes in sight. This is definitely better than Wayne Manor.” You look around at the dark room and sigh. “We have a lot of work to do.”

And you did. For a week, you worked tirelessly to get the house livable, making calls to utility companies to get power, water, and gas turned back on, airing out the house, taking down the tarps and making everything look presentable, and clearing out your Momma’s belongings. You kept as much of you could, like her books, movies, jewelry, and everything else in between, but her clothes were boxed up and donated, along with appliances that date back to the early 2000s.

You had a lot of shopping to do, replacing the old appliances you donated, groceries for the new refrigerator, and a new mattress for your new room since the thought of sleeping on a decade old mattress made you itch all over. If you could’ve, you would’ve done all the shopping online, but you didn’t want to risk attracting attention to your finances with so many large purchases, so going to stores and paying with cash was your only option.

The best part of all this was converting your old bedroom into your gamer cave, full of your Pokémon plushies, toys, and posters, LED strips lining the corners of the room, and a giant desk and a top-of-the-line gaming PC. As much as you loved your trusty laptop, this PC makes it look like a relic from over a hundred years ago, and you can now play more modern games without any kind of lag. You’re really looking forward to future video game sessions.

After your gamer cave came your office. You boxed up your Momma’s old books and placed them in the storage room, replacing them with a few art books and game guides and bought another top-of-the-line PC full of digital art and video game creation software and placed it on the desk. You also found a fancy pen stand and placed your Momma’s pen on it, retuning the pen to its proper place. Plus, it can give you inspiration while you work.

Thankfully, the Megamycete made this undertaking easier, giving you stamina and energy that allowed you to work for hours on end without getting tired and allowing you to summon tendrils so you can do something upstairs while your body’s downstairs.

“Finally,” you sigh, plopping down on the living room couch after finishing the second coat of paint in the living room. “We’re done.”

(You have turned this house into a place anyone would kill to live in. You should be proud.)

“You helped. Getting this place into shape would’ve a few weeks, probably a month.”

(What is your next course of action?)

“Right now? Rest. Tomorrow? Time to get back to work.”

(That is right, your game. With your new tools, you should create a masterpiece worthy of you in no time.)

“Glad to know you think so highly of me, bud,” you chuckle.

That’s when you hear your phone go off, indicating you have a text. You take the device off the table, which had been playing your playlist of video game soundtracks, and see a message from Alfred.

Alfred: I hope your first week back in Goodsprings and that you’re taking proper care of yourself. I was thinking about you earlier today and decided to make my chocolate chip cookies.

The text is accompanied by a picture of said cookies and you instantly start salivating at the sight of the baked goods.

(Yes, the butler’s treats were very palatable to you.)

That’s a gross understatement.when it comes to any form of cooking, especially baking, the man is a god, able to conjure up food that would bring tears to anyone’s eye. While you’re ecstatic to be back home and away from the Waynes, you miss the man and his cooking. Now, you have to make do with either what little restaurants Goodsprings has or try your hand at cooking your own meals. And while there are many in the Megamycete’s records that were good in the kitchen, none of them held a candle to Alfred.

Me: Looks delicious! Making me drool up a river in my living room.

Alfred: I certainly hope that’s a joke. A young man as respectable as you should never be caught doing something as disgraceful as drooling.

You laugh at the text. Bless him, the poor man really thinks of you as a member of the “prim and proper” Wayne Family instead of the product of a one-night stand. When you first moved in, he tried to teach you all the ways of high society, but none of it ever took. You are who you are and nothing’s going to change that.

Alfred: Is it too early to ask when I can expect a visit from you?

You feel your heart drop a bit. You miss Alfred and would do anything to see him again, but you promised yourself that when you left Gotham, you’d never step foot in that hellhole again. And you know the man’s been trying to get the Waynes to get their shit together and remember the third child brought to live with him, but you hate all of them more than anything and if you never saw them again, it would be too soon.

Of course, you can’t tell him that. It would break his heart and make him feel guilty for not doing more. So, instead, you say:

Me: Sorry, I’m still getting things cleaned up around here and I’m trying to get my game working. Don’t know when I’ll be able to.

Alfred: I understand, my boy. I just ask that you try to carve out a little time to come back to Gotham and visit home when things calm down.

Home and Gotham definitely do not belong in the same sentence. Not for you, at least. Nevertheless:

Me: I promise!

Of course, you have no intention of going back there. You miss Alfred, but that city isn’t a place where good people end up. You were dragged there against your will and if it wasn’t for that drunk driver, you never would’ve lost the best years of your life to it and the Waynes. No matter what, you will never step foot in Gotham again.

You’d rather die.

#male reader #yandere batfamily #batfamily #batfamily x male reader #batman #yandere dc #dc x male reader #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere alfred pennyworth #from gold to mold

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emmyrosee · 1 month ago

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happy birthday samu 🫶🏻

complete credit goes to @nyxprobability for the PRECIOUS idea, much love to you 🥺🩷

———

Tired legs struggle to keep his foot on the gas, and tired eyes struggle to stay open.

Osamu is convinced this is the longest drive he’s ever taken from his restaurant to home, the songs on the radio feel painfully slow and repetitive, and there’s a twisted part of him that wonders if he should just turn around and nap at the restaurant for a bit before coming home.

But you texted him, playfully demanding his presence at 6 sharp, to be at the dinner table, hungry.

It’s 5:55 when he pulls into the driveway.

Very, very hungry.

Heavy feet trudge up the walkway and the small steps in front of the door, and he sighs sleepily as he turns the handle.

The threshold reveals his warm kitchen, decorated with candles and all his favorite dishes, and he could cry.

It smells devine. He feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the idea that he’s able to just relax for the night and only have to worry about doing dishes for you- you’re a heaven sent, and he smiles softly as he hangs his keys on the hook and blinks his sleepy eyes at you.

“What do you think, baby?”

“I think you spoil me,” he chuckles, opening his arms for you to slip into, which you do. Your warm body feels like the perfect remedy to his crazy day, like you’re able to smooth all the frazzled bits of him back together with one soft coo of his name and pet of his hair.

“Well,” you giggle, rubbing your warm hands up and down his big arms, leaning up to catch his lips in a playful kiss, “it’s a special night. I wanted to spoil you.”

Wait.

Is it?

Osamu tenses in your arms, and you start to giggle softly at him, only striking more confusion through his soul. Was it your anniversary? No, surely that was months ago. Was it because of his new hire? No, you probably wouldn’t shower him in affection because of that.

You got a promotion. That had to be it, especially since he wasn’t home last night to celebrate with you. This is why you wanted him home. And he couldn’t be more happy.

He softens and presses a kiss to your head, “I’m so proud of you baby. I knew you could do it,” he says sincerely.

Now, you tense up. You look up at him with a quirked brow and when he matches your confusion, you click your tongue. “Baby… do you really not know what today is?”

Uhh…

“Sssssaaaaturrrrday…?”

“No,” you snicker. “Baby boy, it’s your birthday.”

It is?

“It is?” He asks aloud. He genuinely starts to count the days in his head, his lips moving slightly in thought.

Yeah… October 5.

Sure enough, it’s his birthday. He’s made it another year.

He’s just… surprised. No one wished him a happy birthday, not even his brother, his mother, and-

“Is your phone on do not disturb?” You ask; he assumes he looks saddened at his realization. “Because I did call you three times before you answered me about tonight.”

He smirks. Then, he lets out a flurry of laughter, shoulders shaking as the noise flows out of him, and he almost forgot how good the feeling of laughter is. You join his laughter and wrap your arms tight around him, squeezing him gently as his own arms drape around you.

“Happy Birthday, handsome man.”

“Thank you, babydoll.”

He takes out his phone from his back pocket, shaking his head at indeed, the little moon icon indicating his phone was set to Do Not Disturb. When he turns it off, he’s met with countless messages, from old friends and new, a missed call from his mom, and a flurry of texts from his brother.

A lot from his brother.

atsumu WEVE BEEN HERE FOR AN HOUR

WHERE ARE YOU

THIS WAS YOUR IDEA!

At least now I get a date but STILL!

Huh?

Another wave of realization crashes onto him, and he winces slightly at his mistake.

“Crap…”

“Whats wrong?”

“Atsumu and I were supposed to get brunch today.”

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earthchica · 1 month ago

Text

Right My Wrongs

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: You and Terry had a good co-parenting relationship until he started dating a woman named Olivia who disrupted that dynamic.

warning: ANGST, toxic behavior, foul language, heartbreak, mention of fwb, mention of unexpected pregnancy, complicated situation, co-parenting, six-year-old daughter, name calling &, etc.

note: I was a little nervous about posting this, but here we go. Terry is an asshole in this; I'm sorry, lol. Part 2 will be out tomorrow; please let me know what you think.

series masterlist

You woke up suddenly to the sound of loud, urgent banging on your front door.

You glanced down at your daughter, still peacefully sleeping beside you.

You recall her coming into your bedroom because she had a bad dream.

With a weary groan, you glanced at the clock: it was almost midnight, and another knock reverberated at the front door.

You hurriedly got up, wrapped your robe around yourself, and slipped on your slippers to dash downstairs to the door.

Before opening the door, you looked through the peephole and saw that it was Terry.

He looked very upset; you immediately swung the door open and greeted him with a comforting expression.

"Terry... hey. Is everything alright?" you asked with a furrowed brow, your eyes filled with concern.

He looked up from his position and took a moment to meet your gaze before coming inside.

"She kicked me out." Terry expressed with irritation in his tone.

Oh, that bitch...Olivia.

You didn't know what Terry saw in her. She constantly causes him pain and breaks his heart, leaving you to mend the fragments every single time.

You have longed to express your true feelings to Terry and reveal the love nestled within your heart.

However, you knew it might never happen because Terry never gave you the impression that he saw you that way.

You and Terry were just friends, but your friendship blossomed into something sexual, leading to a complicated entanglement.

One night of unprotected sex resulted in an unexpected pregnancy.

You told Terry the news immediately, and he promised to be there for you and the baby.

Six years later, you two are raising a sweet, beautiful little girl named Jasmine.

She was a great mix of both of you: she inherited your beautiful nose and almond-shaped eyes while having her father's smile and eye color.

You and Terry maintained a strong friendship and a healthy co-parenting relationship until now.

He wasn't the man you once knew; she was transforming him into someone unrecognizable.

It was alarming you more than you'd like.

"Fuck, man. I give her everything she wants, and she always ends up fucking me over. What the fuck did I do to deserve this bullshit" Terry uttered, taking deliberate steps as he advanced toward the inviting comfort of the living room.

You let out a deep sigh, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders, before gently closing the door behind you.

Slowly, you approached him on the couch, ready to offer your comforting presence.

"You did nothing wrong, Terry. She doesn't deserve you; you deserve so much better. Like, for real, T... when will you wake up and see that?" you asked, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"I know....I know....It's just..." he says, his gaze intense as he looks at you with those piercing eyes.

"You love her?" You asked with a frustrated sigh.

"I do. I wish I didn't. I wish I could hate her, but I can't," Terry confessed.

"I'm sorry, Terry, but this isn't love. Love shouldn't hurt and leave you heartbroken. You deserve someone who makes you happy, makes you feel loved, and allows you to be yourself. Does she do that for you?" You asked.

With a deep breath, he shook his head. "No, she doesn't. Maybe you're right. I'm done dealing with her bullshit." He then offered a slight smile in your direction.

"Thanks, baby girl. I'm grateful to have such a great friend like you to lean on. Thanks for dealing with me and bullshit," He says, pulling you into a comforting hug.

"Yup! Let me get you some blankets," you said, quickly getting up to go to the hallway closet.

"Mommy?" You heard the sweet, melodic sound of your daughter's voice echoing from the top of the stairs.

Jasmine descended the stairs, wearing her cute bonnet and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

She looks at you first before turning to Terry, a slight smile growing on her face.

"Daddy!" She rushed over to him and hugged him, which caused Terry to burst into laughter.

"Hey, princess," he whispers softly, leaning in to gently kiss her forehead.

"Hi...daddy! What are you doing here?" she asked curiously, laying her head on his chest.

"What? Aren't you happy to see me?" he asked, a playful glint in his eye as he lightly tickled her side, causing her to erupt into a fit of giggles.

"No," she said emphatically, shaking her head.

"I'm always genuinely happy to see you," she explained with a warm smile, her words clear and sincere.

She was six years old, and always so sweet and expressive when she spoke her thoughts.

"I know, princess, and I'm always happy to see you. Your mom is letting me stay here, right?"

"Really? Mommy, is Daddy really staying over?" She asked, turning her gaze toward you.

"Yeah, sweetie. Just for the night. Now come on, let-" Jasmine excitedly interrupted you.

"Yayyy! Come on...daddy." She tightly grasps his large hand with her delicate, tiny fingers and eagerly pulls him into your bedroom.

You were about to intervene but decided to let it go because you were too tired to make a fuss.

You entered the bedroom to find Jasmine already asleep, cuddled into Terry's chest while his arm caressed her.

"I'm sorry. I hope this is okay. I can leave and sleep on the couch," he said with a tired expression.

"No, we don't want to wake her again. It's fine. Just get some sleep," you said with a yawn, getting into bed and trying to get comfortable in the blankets.

It was morning, and you woke up to find Jasmine sleeping on your arm, but Terry was not there.

You heard your phone ding; look to see that exact text. You were beyond pissed off.

Terry: Good morning! I'm sorry I left you and Jazzy like that. Liv called me, and we talked about everything. We're good again.

You didn't even reply to his text; you were in such disbelief at how he was so pussy whipped over this girl.

You knew you shouldn't be surprised; it was nothing new. Maybe you thought your words would finally reach him, and he would wake up.

You were so wrong.

It's been a few weeks since then, and you were coming to his place to pick up Jasmine after her week with him.

You exited the car and walked to buzz yourself into his apartment building.

You arrived at the fourth floor and knocked on his door. It slowly swung open, and Terry stood on the other side.

His face contorted in irritation, but just as quickly, a sense of ease washed over him when he saw it was you. "Hey, you!"

"Hi," You said coldly, pushing your way into his apartment, catching him off guard.

"Uh...how are you?" Terry asked as he closed the front door, then proceeded to follow you into the inviting living room.

"Good! Where's jazzy?" You responded with a brief answer, glancing around the room in search of your daughter.

"She's taking a nap. You good?" Terry asked, gazing at you with a touch of worry.

"Yup," you replied with a forced smile, concealing your true feelings.

You mistook the sound for Jasmine, but it was actually Olivia, which made you angry.

Terry had previously agreed not to have Olivia over when your daughter stayed with him.

This was it, you were fucking done.

Olivia enthusiastically greets Terry with a sloppy kiss, leaving a glossy on his lips before shooting you an irritated glance.

"Terry, what the hell is she doing here?" With arms crossed and a furious glare, you demanded his answer.

"I'm his girlfriend; I have every right to be," She explains, giving you a little attitude.

"Trick, I'm not fucking talking to you. I'm talking to Terry, the father of my child. Why don't you go, and make some tea while the grown-ups talk, okay?" You said with an intimidating gaze.

"Whatever, Terry will set you straight," She replied, rolling her eyes before heading into the kitchen to make some tea.

Terry gazed at you with a hint of irritation etched on his face and then spoke the words.

"What the fuck was that? You didn't have to talk to her like that," He asked with a frown.

"Why did you have this girl here...around my child when we agreed not to do that."

"It just happened; it's not a big deal. Olivia wanted to meet her, and I know I should've told you. I apologize," Terry said with a shrug.

"I don't give a rat's fucking ass...If she wants to meet her, you come to me first with this. Now go behind my back." You said with a look of intense anger etched on your face.

"Damn, woman. I fucking apologized, can you let it go? This shit ain't that serious," Terry sighed with frustration.

"It is fucking serious, Terry. This bitch got you so pussy whipped; you have lost who you are, your morals, and respect," You yelled, catching him completely off guard.

"What did you call her say?"

"You heard me. You are with a narcissistic, egotistical, manipulative ass bitch who doesn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated. She's changed you to fit her fantasy, and you're too fucking stupid to see it."

"Look...I don't appreciate you coming in here and talking-"

"I'm not done talking. You never seem to listen to me. This thing you think is love between you and her is not Terry. The man I once knew wouldn't tolerate this disrespect," You said, frustrated, uncrossing your arms.

"Look....It's none of your fucking business. You're just my baby mama," Terry said, clenching his jaw.

"Fuck you! You sure did make it my fucking business when you kept running your black ass to me whenever she did something wrong, but you know what? You're right. I'm nothing more than just your baby mama."

You found yourself overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to continue speaking.

"So I'm done with this; I'm done with you. I'm done being the shoulder you cry on, I'm so fucking done being in love with you and knowing I can't have you. I've been wasting my fucking time dreaming about us being a real family. I don't know why I thought you would wake up and see what's right in front of you. I guess that's my own damn fault," you cried.

Terry's heart dropped at your words, and emotion quickly washed over him.

His eyes were outstretched as he uttered your name and approached you, but Olivia stopped him.

"Let her go," Olivia said, wrapping her arms around his waist. You shake your head, rushing to get your daughter from another room.

She was napping, you are glad she didn't hear the yelling coming from the living room.

As you hurriedly gathered Jasmine's belongings, you couldn't help but overhear Terry and Olivia's arguing.

You swiftly picked her up gently without wasting any time and left the room.

Terry sat on the couch, his face in his hands, while Olivia was nowhere to be found, but you didn't care.

His eyes met yours, filled with a deep sense of regret. "I'm sorry...baby girl. I fucked up...I made Olivia leave. Don't leave, Let's talk, please,"

"No...I'm done, Terry. I made up my mind...Our communication will be strictly only about Jasmine, nothing more. Now let me go." You said that in a calmer tone of voice.

He didn't even put up a fight, which hurt a little. You stepped out of the door, making your way down the hall.

You exited the apartment building and went to your car. After securing Jasmine in her car seat, you closed the car door.

You got into the car, started the engine, and drove away with tears in your eyes.

You need to do this for your own well-being.

You couldn't be consumed by stress related to him and the current situation.

It's time to shift your focus towards prioritizing what is most beneficial for you.

It's been a month since you disconnected from Terry and his relationship issues, and you felt a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You still allow him to spend time with his daughter every other week, even after what he said to you.

You were not going to be the type of baby mother to raise hell and prevent him from seeing his child.

Terry was waiting for you to arrive at your house. He knew he had fucked up pretty badly by hurting you and disrespecting you.

His best friend and the mother of his child, out of all people in the world.

You both struggled to communicate feelings, so he was confused and surprised when you revealed your love.

He wasn't sure if he felt the same, but he was determined to apologize and make things right with you.

You were driving home just after dropping Jasmine off at your parents.

You needed some time to yourself, but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen.

You roll your eyes when you see Terry sitting on your porch with a bouquet of flowers.

"What are you doing here, Terry?" You asked, walking towards him with a frown.

"I wanted to check on you, but you haven't answered my calls. I was a little worried. Where's Jazzy?" He inquired, rising from the porch steps."

"She's fine, I'm fine. She's at my parents' house, and you can go now," you explained shortly.

"Baby girl, please don't be like that. I fucked up, I know, and I'm sorry for the way I've been treating you. I broke up with Oliva...she's gone, out of the fucking picture. You were right; you were always right. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," He speaks with genuine sincerity.

You let out a deep sigh and raised your eyes to the sky, feeling a mix of emotions.

"I forgive you, Terry, but...I meant every word I said. I'm done. It's just too painful for me. I'll be cordial with you when Jasmine is around, but outside of that, I'm done."

"I will respect that. I just have to ask why you didn't say anything before," he said, curious.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Terry. All that matters is raising Jazzy," you said coldly.

Terry looks down at the ground, disappointed with himself with an understanding nod.

Before walking away, he handed you the bouquet of your favorite flowers and whispered, "I'm sorry," once more.

You took a deep breath as you walked to the front door. "It's for the best," you thought to yourself.

#rebel ridge #aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond angst #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre x black reader

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slightly-knot-insane · 2 months ago

Note

omfg congrats on your blog! truly deserve it

meanwhile let me get this outta my horny ass

stressed with work, you pray to any god who hears to take your troubles away

demon hears and demon takes

Thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy my little snippet for you.

[m!demon x gn!reader]

New Acolyte

You've never wanted to be a part of a strict religious cult. You were basically sold into it since your parents were too poor to feed and educate you. And now you spend your best years serving gods you don't even believe in. Even worse, you've been promoted to an acolyte and you run around and serve other members like a slave. You're the youngest and most disobedient - there is always work for such as yourself.

You sigh in front of the altar. Every evening you wipe it with a damp cloth and put three candles on top. Candles are sacred and can only be lit by higher members of the clergy. They pray every morning using these precious candles. They apparently have mystical powers and can fulfil wishes. High priests know what is the best for the clergy and what people need the most so only they can ask for favours from gods.

Your mouth twists into a scowl. What about what you need? These gods don't care that you desire so much more than these dark halls and chanting. This is no life to live!

Checking behind yourself to see if you're truly alone, you light the three sacred candles and kneel, saying your personal prayer. A truly blasphemous one. You are willing to do whatever it takes to escape this life. You don't care which god - if they even exist - does this.

"Just get me out of here!" You hit the floor with your fists, staring into the flames. They flicker once, twice, and a strong gust of wind blows them out.

"I hope you don't mind I'm no god." The voice behind you is deep and husky reminding you of lions purring. "But I can help you with your wish."

You don't dare turn around. Cold sweat covers your brows. You are in danger - something truly sinister is one step behind you. A long red arm emerges in front of you and gently takes you by the chin. "Turn around, young acolyte."

You have to obey. You fall on your soft behind because you tremble too much, but now you can see the creature that visits you. A tall, lean, creature. His eyes are fire and charcoal and his toned body a sinful shade of fresh blood. And he is completely naked.

"You said you would do anything to get out of here." His voice is strange, as if multiple people speak and echo. "I have a request." You are still trembling but you nod your head.

The demon's black and red cock (which you tried oh-so-hard not to stare at) erects as if on command. It is bigger than any human you've seen while sneaking around. So shiny and smooth. "Have you done this before?", he asks you.

You blush. "Only in dreams."

Demon smiles and two rows of extremely sharp teeth make you shiver. "Come here, and let me teach you."

You obediently crawl on the floor and reach the demons legs. His cock smells surprisingly nice, something like burnt caramel. You lick it - unfortunately it doesn't taste like any candy but it's not too bad either. Your inexperienced tongue twirls around the tip and you hesitantly plant kisses along the shaft. Demon strokes your head. "Very good. Now lick your palm and use your hand as well."

You nod again and do as instructed. Your hand moves up and down, jerking off the demon, and your pulse speeds up. It's not only excitement; you feel hot, like you have a fever. Your head and chest are burning. "Good little acolyte." Demon's voice is soft and he is towering you, a happy and terrifying grin on his face.

You are too hot! You have to remove all your clothes or you will melt! Without letting delicious demon cock fall out of your mouth, you remove all your robes and underwear. It barely helps - your skin could ignite any second! But it doesn't matter - this cock, this wonderous organ, exquisite limb - is all you can think about. Making it more wet, making it more hard, pleasuring it faster, more skillfully. Demon moans and his voices echo for a long time. "Acolyte..."

Some ethereal invisible hands touch your hot skin. They fondle your neck, back, nipples, stomach, slide between your thighs. You've never been touched like that. You shake from delight, never for a second letting go of that cock, working on that shaft with all your might. Demon's breath hitches and your mouth gets filled with sweet demon seed. Some of it end up on your naked body and you notice it's red like wine. The invisible hands are gone and you are left without release and soiled, excitement rushing through your veins. You need more.

"Please... Please... Take me... Don't leave me here..."

Demon smiles and touches your cheek with his sharp nail. "You are my acolyte now. I promised you new life. I'm not going anywhere without you."

#monster #monster lover #monster fuqqer #monster fucker #demon #demon lover #demon fucker #monster imagine #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #smut #monster x reader #monster x gn reader #x reader #slightlyknotinsane #ski.doc

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probablyintensemuses · 5 months ago

Note

how wwould armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same way, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

Te amo 🌸💗

Wait For Your Love-

Armando Aretas

summary: Armando doesn’t wish you a happy birthday so you’re day is basically ruined, up until it isn’t.

themes: angst, fluff, smut.

warnings: smut 18+

authors note: I know this isn’t exactly like the request, but genuinely I tried. I hope y’all like it 🥹. Not edited btw, I wrote this on my lunch break.

Happy birthday to you,’ kelly sang, walking a candlelight cupcake over to your desk, Dorn, Mike, and Marcus following behind her. “Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday, our sweet girl, happy birthday to you.” Kelly gives you a hug from behind and you lean into her.

“Thanks guys,’ you smile big, blowing out the candle on your cupcake.

“What your young ass wish for?” Mike asks, slinging a birthday girl sash over your shoulders.

Marcus slaps his chest. “You know she can’t tell you, that’ll ruin it.”

Mike smacks his lips. “Man, shut your superstitious ass up. Seriously, what you wish for.”

You laugh. “I wished for the second day at my cafe to run smoothly for my employees.’ Everyone shakes their heads, happily, saying your wish was a great one.

“Speaking of,” you dig into your bag, pulling out pink envelopes with hearts on their seals. “If you guys can make time I’d love to have you over there for small party. It’s nothing big, just a new cake recipe I was working on, some drinks, and food if you guys want to bring any.”

They all accept your invite, taking their cards with them and back to their desks.

You sit back down with a smile and continue to unencrypte the harddrive they’d found at a crime scene. Mike had told you it was very important they get it open with everything on it.

So that was the goal today before your party, so you could get as drunk as you wanted to and cry as much as you wanted too.

Hopefully not the latter, though.

The compound door swings open with a shriek before slamming shut, echoing through the whole place.

You turn and your heart stops in your chest as Armando Aretas makes his way through.

It was no secret, to the team anyway, that you had a mild crush on Armando. Despite knowing the things of his past, some desperate part of your self truly liked him. And corny enough, you saw the goodness and potential within him.

It’s why you went with Mike to the D.A’s office and fought for him to serve out his tenured in AMMO instead of prison. You knew he wasn’t all bad, he could be reformed, you’d seen it multiple times.

Like when he took all those stab wounds for Callie, the daughter of the woman actively hunting him. Or how he tried constantly, despite his past and his own convictions, to have a relationship with Mike. Even how kind he was to you at times, especially when you know it’s hard for him, training his mind to know that kindness isn’t a weakness after years of being a product to the cartel.

So you couldn’t help but smile when you see him walk down the stairs and take a seat at his desk across from yours.

“Armando,’ Mike says. “You’re late, we’re about to start debriefing in ten.”

Armando shrugs, slinging off his leather jacket and exposing his bulging, biceps and veiny forearms.

You check the glare in your computer, checking for drool, before eyeing his torso, the skin tight black shirt doing nothing for your unquenched thirst.

“Had to pick something up.” He says, eyeing you.

You turn, looking over your shoulder. Was he actually staring at you?

Everyone else must have noticed too, because before you know it, you have eight pairs of hungry eyes watching you both.

“Anything you want to say to her?” Kelly practically nudges Armando with her voice.

Armando eyes you up in down, taking in your typical appearance of a cardigan and jeans, your curls pulled high in a puff on your head.

His eyes pull away from you as he stands and walks over to the room where the team debriefs. “Nah,” he says.

You fell your heart crash to your feet.

Did he just?

Now, you could understand if he forgot it was your birthday, but you have a cupcake with a candle on it sitting on your desk not to mention the fucking sash that says “birthday girl,” no way he thought you were just wearing it for convenience.

You thought, just for once, Armando would show you even a slither of the same kind of affections you held for him…especially on your birthday.

But you were wrong.

Your heart chips a little at that realization, you feel pathetic like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles as you ball up the invitation you had stored away for Armando, it yellow and bright unlike the others.

You were pathetic to think the man you liked would even consider you an option, let alone come to some dumb birthday party of yours. He was too busy for that, and you were too desperate.

Another year older, yet never wiser. It was clear in your delusions of Armando as you wait for his love.

###

You’re careful to not drop your cake as you push it through the swinging doors of your new cafe.

You decided to get this cafe as a side shop because you always loved pastries, and making cakes and sweet treats got you through the stress of school and the police force.

So now that you’re older, why not have a cafe for fun and passive income? Was it more stress, yes, but it was totally worth it.

“Wow, that looks amazing!” Dorn’s eyes light up as your bring the cake over to the booths and tables your friends occupy.

“You think so?” You smile.

“Oh hell yeah,’ Marcus likes his lips, clapping his hands together. “You know I’m for anything sweet so.”

You chuckle. “Forewarning. It’s a teramassu cake, so you old dogs might be up all night if you eat too much.”

“Damn! It’s like that!” Mike laughs.

You smile and begin cutting into the cake and passing out pieces. “Yeah, it’s like that.”

“And to think we basically raised you.” Marcus says. “I’m going to let you slide though. One because it’s your birthday. And two, because this cake is fire.”

You clap and squeal. “I’m so glad you like it. I didn’t want to mess it up, but it’s pretty difficult.”

“Mhm,’ kelly says, taking a sip of her wine. “So what’s harder, cake baking? Or admitting your crush to Armando?”

Your smile drops in an instant and you send an icy glare Kelly’s way. “Seriously?”

Kelly hiccups. “I’m sorry, but the way your face looked when he didn’t tell you happy birthday, I mean how can you like a guy like that? No offense, Mike.”

Mikes eyebrows rise. “I mean, it was a jerk move. But it’s Armando. Who knows, he might say happy birthday tomorrow.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, but it won’t be worth anything tomorrow when he knew today. I mean, I’m really pathetic to wish he was here when he couldn’t even do the bare minimum for me.” Your eyes well with tears.

“Hey, no.’ Dorn wipes your eyes. “Don’t cry on your birthday about him. Cry tomorrow, and then come see my therapist.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Sorry, she’s just amazing, I always like to shout her out.”

You sigh. “Thanks, Dorn.”

Even with all this smiling faces around you, you couldn’t shake the anchor pulling at your ankle. You wished Armando would have just told you happy birthday, even pretended to care. That would have meant more to you than what you got.

But here you were, with all your friends who actually cared about you, about to cry over a guy who couldn’t even be bothered.

A tear streaks down your face and you look away. “You guys should go,’ you say. “I’m sorry.”

Mike pats your shoulder. “I’ll try talking to him.”

You grip his wrist. “Don’t. I don’t want him to know about this, he’ll think I’m insane.”

“Don’t sweat it too hard,’ kelly kisses your head. “I know plenty of guys at the department that would fall to their knees right now over you.”

“Thanks,’ you half smile, watching as your friends leave before you break down completely.

Tears streaked into your palm as you cried out. It didn’t hit you until this morning just how deeply you cared for Armando.

You truly liked him, and his blatant rejection had set all your emotions flaring.

Sniffling into your hands, the soft chime of your cafes door catches your attention.

“We’re closed.” You grumble, not bothering to look up.

“Even for me, ¿dulce niña?” Armando says.

Your head shoots up and the air is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you take him in.

He’s dapper in a black button up not all the way buttoned, exposing some of his tone chest and a silver St. Christopher necklace. His pants are the right amount of tightness, highlighting his muscular thighs, and his hair is dark and trimmed, just like his beard.

Armando, as always, is hard to look away from. But still, resist and play it cool, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your hands over your small chest.

Armando walks towards you, hands behind his back as he observes your cafe, like some kind of museum tourist. “The cafe came together nice.” He says, stepping a bit too close to you.

For air, you take a step back, Armando notices and smirks. “Stop avoiding the question. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a party I wasn’t invited to. That’s not very nice, bebita.” He smirks.

“Yeah, it was invite only.”

“I don’t qualify?”

You scoff. “You didn’t even know it was my birthday.”

“I knew.”

“Oh, you knew, so you just didn’t care.”

“I cared.’ Armando gets close, pulling at the tule fabric of your pink mini dress. He lets out a shaky breath. “This is beautiful on you, by the way.”

You push him away at the chest, he hardly moves. “Stop it.” You whine.

“Stop what?”

“Stop acting like you like me!” You shout. “You don’t! And it’s fucking embarrassing, Armando!”

Armando swallows, and even in the darkness you can see the shame painted into the little creases of his face and the fast lifts of his chest.

Armando’s hands finally fall to his sides and you see now what he has done. In his hands are a large bouquet of flowers and a blue bag.

“No,” You say.

He steps forward. “This is why I was late to work, princesa, because I got this for you.”

“Armando.”

“Open it.” He says.

Reluctantly you take the bag from his hands, sharp rods of electricity swirling up your arm when your fingers meet.

Slowly, you open the bag and look inside. There, a small velvet box awaits you. Hesitant, you pick it up and open it.

You gasp at what you see. A necklace, tiny diamonds all the way around. It shimmers in the moonlight that peaks into the cafe as you hold it up.

“You bought this for me?’ You gasp. “How can you even afford this?”

Armando rolls his eyes. “I use to be a drug dealer, baby.”

You sigh and put the necklace, as pretty as it is, back into the box. “I can’t take this.” You hand it back.

Armando frowns. “Why not?”

You turn, holding yourself. “Because how do I know if you even like me?”

Armando’s eyes hidden and he holds the bag on display. “Baby, I just dropped bands on this necklace for you. I think that shows alot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You step back, walking away from him.

He catches your arm, gently pulling you back. “Maybe?” He scoffs offended. “You didn’t even invite me tonight, yet I got you a gift, and you say maybe.”

You snatch out of his grip. “I didn’t invite you tonight because you’re an asshole!”

“I’m not!” Armando shouts back.

“Then prove it,’ you square into his space. “Stop making me wait for your love and tell me what you know I want to hear.”

Armando opens his mouth to speak, but the words are lost when he leans in, his mouth crashing onto yours.

Your shocked, your lips are still against his until something burst inside of you, everything you’ve been craving sealed in this one kiss.

This causes you to moan against his lips. Armando swallows it, slipping his hands into your curls and tilting your head to the side, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, scratching at his faded low cut, deepening your kiss.

Armando’s hands trail down the fluff of your dress until they reach the hem. He flips it upward and finds your underwear, growling as he feels the thin layer of cotton. You shudder at his touch, your pussy throbbing at the thought of him making contact.

“Fuck,’ he moans, slipping two fingers into your thongs, rolling his thick fingers over your clit.

Your head falls back as you let out a low, moan. “Fuck, baby.”

“You like that?’ He strokes his fingers up and down your soaking wet slit. “Tan mojado, maldita sea.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Oh, yes.”

Armando grabs you by your waist flipping you around, the rounds of your ass pressed against the swells of his cock.

You gasp as Armando pushes you against his hard on, you imagine how it will feel once he’s deep inside your soaking, needy cunt.

Armando nibbles at the bottom of your ear. “You feel that baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Y—yes,” you sputter.

He grinds against you, his face deep in your hair, taking a whiff.

“God I need to be inside you.” Armando whines. “I’ve always needed it.”

“Then do it. Stop holding back.” You moan out.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because in a flash Armando’s got your dress up, your thong to the side, and you bent over the counter of your cafe.

God you hoped no one walked past, because if they did, they get an eyeful of your ass and Armando’s bulging cock.

“Fuck,” Armando moans, rubbing the leaking pink tip of his cock against you sleek folds, shuddering as he pulls back, your slick dripping off his tip. “You ready, baby?”

“Yes, oh yes.” You moan, digging your head into the cold marble of the counter.

Armando strokes your entrance one last time before pushing into slowly. You both let out loud, pornagraphic moans finally being full of each other.

The strokes start of slow and deep, each smack creating friction between the top of your dress and your skin. The deeper and harder Armando fucks you, the lower your dress falls until eventually your boobs spill out.

Armando’s pace picks up and he begins to fuck you with speed that causes you to cry out. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your boobs and holding onto them, circling your nipples between his fingers, pounding deeper and harder into you.

“God, mama, you’re incredible.’ Armando growls. “I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

“More!” You moan.

Armando flips you over, lifting you up by your ass and slamming you onto the counter. He waste no time shoving into you and fucking you, your boobs bouncing up and down equivalent to his rhythm.

You reach down, rubbing your clit in circles, you’re desperate to come on Armando’s cock and have him come inside of you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach build and you know you’re close. The sounds of skin slapping and heavy moans echos off the walls of the cafe.

Your pussy leaks, leaving a white ring Armando’s cock as he drills into you, using one lifted leg as leverage.

Your knot builds, expanding, and you know you’re close to the edge.

You pull Armando close. “I want you to finish me, then I need your come inside of me.” You cry out.

Armando doesn’t even question your requests before obliterating you with speed and strokes.

Your knot unfurls and you moan out, shuttering as you

Come on his cock. Armando does the same, pumping all of him inside of you.

Sweaty and breathing hard, he pulls out, lifting you up bridal style.

He carries you to one of the larger booths at the back of the cafe, using his jacket as a blanket for you both.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks.

You shake your head no. “It’s okay. We’re fine. I’ll just get a plan B.”

Armando nods kissing your forehead. “And by the way,’ he pulls you into his strong arms. “Happy birthday.”

You snicker, eyelids heavy. “Thank you.”

#angst #bwwm love #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #armando aretas x reader #armando fic #armando aretas #armando x reader #jacob scipio #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #Armando x black #reader

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months ago

Text

My King

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Aegons Wife) Rating - Sweet + Smut Word Count - 1330

Requested - I submitted a request/idea like this to another writer but I will not keep this like head canon idea type thing to myself........ Aegon is 100% the type to love his girl breastfeeding him... him being all stressed and angry or sad from the council not listening to him and Alicent being cruel and everything and he just wants to lay his head in her lap and latch his mouth onto her nipple and drink in her sweet milk... it makes him feel at peace... makes him feel wanted and loved and special

Writers Notes - I actually loved this idea so much I made two versions of it, cause I couldn't decide which angle I liked better so this is Version one a second will be coming soon.

Y/n sat in the royal chambers, perched softly on the ottoman beside the fire. Wearing her sweet soft green cotton gown with long off-shoulder sleeves. The twilight of the hour cascades purple and gold across the floor and tapestry-lined walls. Maids and guards long since sent away leaving only gentle sounds behind, The sound of the fire's soft crackles and pops, the sounds of gentle sucking, and of sweet heavenly humming.

Y/n hums softly to the baby in her arms, his little body cradled so sweetly and gently as the new prince feeds from his mother's breast.

“There we are, all done my little prince,” She cooed as she pulled the baby from her breast, wiped his lips, kissed his forehead and stroked her fingers softly over his Targaryen silver hair, She chuckled slightly at the baby's milk drunk little face, eyes droopy and sleepy.

“Fuck those cunts!” Erupted from the door as Aegon forced his way into the chamber throwing open the doors, letting them smack into the stone walls to their sides. He turned and slammed the doors in the faces of the guards who followed him, screaming to the ceiling like his own dragon,

Y/n, blinked a few times before she set the baby in the crib, “Is… everything alright my king?” She cooed,

He ran his hand through his silver hair and took a breath, “I wish to burn this infernal castle to the ground.”

“I see.” She nodded, “May I ask why?”

“Everything is why!” He yelled, “My mother is being a pretentious little bitch! Gives me all the power in the world and then forbids me to do anything! My brother is being a self-initiated little prick! Anyone think he thought he was king! This council constantly going round and round in bloody circles! Undermining My AUTHORITY!” He paced,

“I understand Aegon,” She nodded,

“W-what?” He froze up a moment,

“I understand, that must be very hard. Very conflicting emotionally and politically. I’m sorry you have to feel this way,” She cooed,

He scoffed a moment, “How is it… that you are… as angelic as you are?” he leaned his arms on the back of the chair, “You know just what I need.”

“Years of practice,” She chuckled,

He let a laugh slip, “I was expecting you to tell me how foolish I am, for feeling this way.”

“You are not foolish for feeling this way, your feelings are never foolish.” she affirmed, “It is a complicated time, but you have every right to feel disheartened and upset as everyone else does.”

“You’re too sweet. For a man like me.”

“Perhaps that's why you need me,”

“Perhaps it is,” He chuckled finally his eyes meeting his wife, He smiled at her a moment letting out a rather happy and content sigh, but his eyes flicked down to her bare breast and his teeth caught his bottom lip,

“Ohh! Forgive me, my king, I was feeding the prince.” She blushed pulling her dress back up and tying the small ribbon,

“You have no need to apologise Y/n,” He cooed, “How is he? Baby Baelor?” he asked coming to the crib to loom over his son,

“He’s fine, sleeping well.”

“Thank the gods,” He nodded, “And you?”

“I am very well my king,”

He chuckled and sat down in the chair beside her ottoman, “You have no need to still call me that,”

“I know, I just like to,” she smiled,

“You are far too sweet, for me, for Kings Landing … for Westeros,” He said pressing his forehead to hers and caressing her cheek, “Must you love me so strongly?”

“I must,” She nodded,

“Hum…” He smiled rubbing his thumb on her cheek before softly pressing his lips to capture her own,

The two shared a soft and loving kiss for a few moments before he pulled back,

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” she asked,

His eyes trailed down from her lips, down her neck and lingered on her cleavage, he licked his lip and captured it once more in his teeth, “Mhm,” He growled,

Y/n blushed a moment, “Yes my king,” she nodded moving her hands to unlace the top of her dress tugging the dress down and holding it at her waist exposing both of her bare breasts to him,

He smirked a low growl in his throat as he took his time, looking at her. His eyes trail over every single inch of skin with a look of feist desire. After a while, he moves his hands to stroke her skin running his fingers gently across her, “what happened here?” He asked his thumb briefly brushing over the small mark on her tender breast just above her nipple,

“He bit me.”

“Bit you?” He rasied an eyebrow,

“It’s alright little guy just doesn’t know his strength yet,”

“You poor thing,” he cooed, “It’s a crime to bite something so beautiful,” He cooed fully cupping her breasts in his hands his thumbs softly circling her nipples watching with glee as they perked up and hardened for his attention, He gives her a few tender squeezes before his attention fully moves to her nipples brushing his thumbs over them in little clockwise circles around the pointed peak, only so often brushing the peak itself which always made her whimper, “May I, my queen?”

She blushed, “Of course my king,”

He smiled and moved to kneel on the floor his body between her legs, he laid his head softly on her thigh looking up at her with a joyful smile,

She smiled down at him and stroked his silver hair as he began to pepper her breast with kisses,

He made sure to kiss as much as he could before reaching her nipple, he slowly circled the hard peak with his tongue before lapping at the nipple with the side flat edge of his tounge, forcing a giggle from her, “So sensitive Y/n,” He cooed,

“Well they’ve been working hard feeding you both,” She chuckled,

“True,” He smirked, “Come here my angel,” He cooed taking her other breast in his hand and locking his lips around her nipple latching to it, he circled the nipple with his tounge a few more times before he began to gently and softly suckle,

“There we go, does this please you my king?” She cooed as she stroked his hair,

He nodded as he began to gently drink, making sure not to be too hard or too fast on her tender breast as he slowly suckled and drank her milk, as soon as the milk touched his tongue he began to moan and groan his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut completely, his other hand squeezes and rubs her nipple on the other breast while he enjoys her sweet milk.

“Not too much, or there’ll be none left for Baby Baelon,” She chuckled,

“Hummm” He nodded a little dismissively enjoying himself far too much to stop,

She chuckled and rolled her eyes a little petting his silver hair and caressing his cheek as she held him in her lap letting him drink and play for a good while until finally, he pulled back.

Ageon licked her nipple clean and wiped his mouth, “You make me feel… so peaceful my angel,”

“I’m glad I can, I’m just happy you feel better.”

“I feel much better now,” he cooed nuzzling into her lap, “I love you y/n,”

“I love you too Aegon,” She smiled giving his cheek a soft little kiss,

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milla-frenchy · 5 months ago

Text

A summer with the Millers

4k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller | ao3 | Masterlist | series masterlist Summary: you come back to your father's house for summer vacation and want to get closer to your crush (your dad's best friend) and his brother Warnings: 18+ mdni. dubcon (alcohol), mfm, age gap (reader is 21, Tommy and Joel are in their late 30s, early 40s), virgin reader, eager reader, dirty talk, degradation, masturbation, oral (m/f), ball sucking

a/n: dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, love you 💕🫶

It was the beginning of summer, and you were coming back to Austin for vacation. Now you lived in the north of the country for your studies, not too far from your mother, since your parents had divorced several years ago. You hadn't been back in Texas since last summer, and you were delighted to see your father. You couldn't wait to enjoy the heat and the pool. You were about to spend several weeks here, and you had been looking forward to the holidays so much that you almost twirled around as you headed towards the airport parking lot to meet your father.

Your phone buzzed, and you saw the text message.

“Sorry, sweetie, I had a setback at work, I'm really sorry. Tommy is coming to pick you up from the airport. I'll see you home very soon. See you tonight, I can’t wait!"

You were a little disappointed not to see your father right away, but Tommy? He was your dad’s best friend, and you had known him for a long time. You’d had a big crush on him for a couple years, and your disappointment quickly gave way to a slight tightening in your heart.

You reached the parking lot where Tommy was already waiting for you, leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette. He threw it away as soon as he saw you and gave you a big smile before taking you in his arms.

“Hey, darlin’! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

You pulled away from each other, and you weren't sure if your brain was playing tricks, but you felt like you caught his gaze quickly checking out your body.

“Damn, look at you all grown up!”

You smiled at his warm welcome, and your grin reached your ears when he opened the passenger door as a perfect gentleman to let you settle in. When he got behind the wheel and started off, that time you were sure, his eyes lingered for a second or two on your bare legs, which your short skirt barely covered. You smiled. It was going to be a good summer, you were sure of it.

The radio was playing a cool 70s rock song, and you leaned your head against the headrest.

“How old are you now, darlin’? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

"I'm 21. And it hasn’t been that long, I was here last summer,” you replied, laughing.

“Wow, really? Well… you seem like a whole different person now. How are your studies going?”

"Alright! I love studying classic literature. I feel good at my uni but I’m happy to be back in Texas.”

“I bet you do! How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine too. She has a new boyfriend. Well, it's been almost a year now.”

“Alright. I hope he’s not a pain in the ass to ya?”

“No, he’s ok”, you replied.

The trip continued with a really smooth conversation between the two of you. A few times, your eyes dared to linger on his hands placed on the steering wheel. His veins were prominent and his forearms muscular, and you couldn't help but wonder what his hands would feel like on you. “They’d make a perfect collar around my neck…” you giggled softly at the thought. Apparently your crush was stronger than ever. And you were hornier than ever.

You realized Tommy was talking to you and you hadn’t paid attention.

“Mmm, excuse me?” you asked.

“What was your pretty head thinking about?” he asked, looking at you a little longer than usual.

“Oh, nothing special…I’m just glad to be back.”

“I’m glad too, darlin’.” He checked out your legs when you were looking out of the window and couldn't catch him staring, before pulling into your father's driveway and wishing you a good afternoon.

You watched his car back out of the driveway, then he parked in front of his house. The house next to your dad’s. You waved Tommy goodbye when he looked at you before entering his house. You definitely didn't regret that he came to get you instead of your father.

The sun was flooding the dining room. Photos of you and your father adorned the walls. You missed him terribly every year. You called each other often, but of course it wasn't the same as seeing him every day. Like before.

Your bedroom was as you had left it. Everything in its place, every book, every photo, every memory. You lay down on your bed and stroked the soft blanket with your fingertips. For a few moments, your childhood memories came back to you. A bittersweet melancholy of a bygone time.

Quickly you thought about Tommy, and how he had checked you out in the car. It hadn’t been that long since you’d seen each other, but he seemed to like you. Differently. At least you hoped so, and you would soon check if that was indeed the case. As usual, he would often come over to your dad’s house to watch a football game, have a beer, or enjoy the pool. On Sunday, there would be the usual early summer barbecue. You couldn't wait to go through your closet and pick a dress that would make him salivate.

But first you needed to get off. Your fingers slid down your body. Running them from your neck, where you imagined Tommy’s fingers lightly gripping your skin. The warmth of his hand on you. You went down to the hollow between your breasts, brushing them very lightly, before grabbing one of them and twitching the nipple between your fingers until you felt it harden. Your other hand traveled from your navel to your skirt. You brushed against the elastic, then the fabric, until you reached the hem. Pulling your skirt up to your waist, then brushing against your sensitive folds under your panties. For a few minutes, you played with your pleasure. Brushing against your swollen clit with feather light touches. Until impatience gripped you, and you finally slip your hand into your panties. Imagining Tommy’s feverish fingers working their way to reach your soaking pussy. You ran your digits along your soaked folds to wet them, and moved up to your twitching clit, already sensitive. You moaned, softly whispering “Tommy.” Your index finger gently swirled over your little bud of nerves, applying the perfect pressure to make your orgasm build. Your other hand squeezed your breast, and you arched your back as your gasps filled the room. But you needed more. Needed to feel something in your core. Your hand left your breast and slipped into your panties, pushing your middle finger between your folds. Just in time for your pussy to clench on it, a wave hit your trembling body. Imagining Tommy inside you, his face above yours, balls deep in your cunt. His name escaped your lips one last time, with final twitches of your walls against your finger. All you could think about was Tommy, and the sensations he would give you. Sensations you could only imagine, because you were still a virgin.

Your father came back home early in the evening, and you had dinner together, chatted and laughed. You two always had a great relationship. When your parents had divorced, you all had agreed that you would live with your mother, since your father had often been away for work. But you missed him a lot, and summers with him were definitely your favorite time of the year.

Tommy came by your house a few times in the days that followed. But not once did you see his gaze on you like it had happened in his car on the way back from the airport. You were disappointed, but since your father was home every time he visited, you figured that maybe Tommy didn't want to risk something in his presence.

The barbecue day arrived, finally. You had chosen a short summer dress with white and yellow pattern, thin straps, no bra underneath. Black lace panties completed the ensemble.

You were impatiently waiting for Tommy to arrive, and you knew he would be among the first guests. You were busy setting the table when you heard your name. Tommy was approaching you and he wasn't alone. Joel, his brother, was with him. He was slightly older than Tommy, and you hadn't seen him in several years. You didn't remember him being so hot and you lost your breath when you saw him. They hugged you, and If Tommy kept a friendly attitude, Joel looked at you from head to toe and smirked, while your dad was busy with the other guests. Arousal instantly burned you from the inside out.

So you decided to go a little further. You seeped your beer while staring and smiling at Tommy or Joel, played with a lollipop redder than your lips while looking at them, or talking to them. You saw Joel readjust himself twice, and Tommy looked away a few times. But his bulge left no doubt about the effect your little game had on him.

The last guests were leaving, and you wished everyone a good evening. Saving your warmest, playful smile for the Millers. Your father had drunk a little too much, and told you he was going to bed. You walked him to his bedroom, helped him take off his shoes, and covered him with his blanket. Then you went into the garden and sat in one of the deckchairs, a beer in hand. You had drunk more than usual but you felt good, a little dizzy but not too much, and you wanted to end the evening like that, looking at the stars.

“You haven’t gone to bed, darlin’?”, you heard from the aisle. Tommy and Joel were heading back towards you.

“No, not yet, I’m still enjoying the evening,” you added, raising your beer bottle at them. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, my phone. There it is,” Tommy added.

“Wanna join me for another beer?”

“Yeah, sure”, said Joel. They took beers from the cooler, then brought two deck chairs closer to yours. Conversation was easy with them. Both were quite talkative.

As for you, you laughed even more than usual, thanks to the beers you had drunk. The effect of the alcohol seemed much less stronger on Tommy and Joel.

“It’s getting late, I'm gonna put away the leftovers”, you said, getting up.

“Let us help you, sweetheart,” offered Joel.

You took the salad bowls and went down to the basement to put them in the fridge. You found yourself really close to Joel as you walked through the door, and he clung to you wholeheartedly.

“So, baby... what was that little game all evening?”

“You liked it?” you asked, shamelessly.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you sure you know what you’re gettin’ into?”

“What are you doin’, Joel?” asked Tommy.

“Just what she wants. Come on, she’s been hitting on us all day.”

“Her father’s here, Joel. He’s… He’s my best friend.”

“Drank way too much. We heard him snoring from the dining room. And she can fuck whoever she wants, it’s not her father’s problem. She’s 21.”

“I… I don’t know man.. I’ve known her since… forever.”

"Jesus. She's an adult. You wanna have fun, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Come on, Tommy, I wanna play with you too”, you added, flirting openly.

Tommy's remorse quickly dissipated, you weren’t sure if you had to thank the beers for that or not. The two brothers' bodies pressed against yours two seconds later. Tommy's lips sought yours, while Joel's covered your neck with kisses. The four hands caressed your waist and breasts, and you felt their hard cocks pushing against you. Virility and masculinity emanated from them. Strength, too. They were men, not boys or young men, and had a totally different energy than the guys you had dated so far. And even though your desire for the two brothers was soaking your panties, you started to fear that maybe you wouldn’t be able to manage what was going to happen next.

“Wait, wait”, you breathed out suddenly, while your hands were lost in Tommy’s wavy hair. They pulled away from you slightly at the same time, respecting your uncertainty.

“What is it, darlin’?” Tommy asked you gently.

“I… uh. Fuck.” You looked at him with a mixture of different emotions in the eyes. Joel stood in front of you, side by side with his brother.

“I…damn. I’m a virgin”, you finally confessed, looking down at the ground.

“What the…” Joel said with raised eyebrows, pulling away from you and taking a few steps into the basement, hands on hips.

“Well… I played with dildos but… not real dicks.”

“Christ, darlin’ we can't… We can’t do that” said Tommy, shaking his head.

“You’re a virgin? How is it even possible? I mean… You’re screaming for our cocks and you never took one?” added Joel.

“I just… I dated guys but they were jerks. I never wanted to fuck one of them. Plus…”

“Plus what?” asked Joel.

Alcohol gave you some courage, or unconsciousness, and you murmured “I couldn’t get Tommy out of my head.”

“No shit”, chuckled Joel, “my little bro is a crush of his best friend's daughter…”

“Shut up, Joel. Darlin’, what are you talking-”

“Oh come on, Tommy. You saw how I looked at you. And I saw how you looked at me. I’m an adult. And… you’re hot. Both of you. We can have fun, right? I guess you don't fuck virgins every day. I just need you to go slow."

“No. No way. We can’t do that. Not here, not now… we can’t do that Joel. It was one thing to fuck her. But having her first time with us here? With her father upstairs? No way.”

“Alright, alright. What if… We’d do other things?”

“What things?”

“Using our hands and mouths. We could play with her mouth too.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, man. And she drank too much to think clearly”, said Tommy.

“She wasn’t drunk when she was teasing us as soon as we arrived. You want this, baby?” Joel asked, looking at you.

“Yes”, you answered firmly.

“Both of us?”

“Yes.”

Joel moved closer to you, took off your dress, and whistled before looking at his brother.

“We have fun. But we don’t fuck her. Not with our cocks, at least.”

“That’s twisted, Joel”, Tommy murmured, but without being able to take his eyes off your body.

“That’s hot as fuck.”

“Fuck… Ok. Ok...”

A few seconds later, you found yourself on the couch in that basement with Tommy’s shoulders between your thighs.

“Your panties’re soaked, baby, jesus…” he said.

“Told you I wanted it…” you flirted.

“Fuck”, he said, caressing your folds through the fabric, before removing them and spreading your thighs slightly to reveal your pussy. “Damn, look at that, Joel…”

Joel moved closer and Tommy spread you further, so his brother had a perfect view of your bare, dripping pussy.

“What a juicy cunt… Already all swollen up. Can’t wait to taste it. But you go first, man.”

“Yeah”, Tommy breathed out just before he licked a long stripe from your folds to your clit.

You were already moaning at this new sensation. So different from the one you felt when you were making yourself come with your fingers, or even a sex toy. Tommy's tongue ran through your folds, his mustache and beard tickled your fine skin. Then danced at your core, and swirled over your clit, and you didn't know whether to hold on to his hair or his shoulders. Sometimes you would open your eyes and watch Joel, staring where his brother was eating you out, his hand squeezing his crotch to relieve the tension. Tommy pushed one finger in your cunt, and you stared at Joel as you came on Tommy’s finger, his tongue resting on your clit.

“Fuck, that’s hot baby, seeing you all spread like that for my brother…”

Tommy was so pussy drunk from being the first one to lick you that he almost came in his boxers when you clenched on his finger and moaned. He pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you felt slightly embarrassed seeing how his mustache and beard glistened from your wetness. Then he got up and slowly pulled his cock out of his pants, and you saw the red, dripping tip of his thick length.

“You wanna suck my cock, darlin’?”

You nodded enthusiastically, but Joel firmly told you “words, baby.”

“Yes. Yes, I wanna suck your cock, Tommy.”

“You’ve never sucked a cock before either?” Joel asked as he in turn knelt between your thighs.

“No… uh Joel? Are you gonna…?”

“Eat ya? Yeah. Fuck yeah. Ya want it?”

“Yeah…Yeah, I want it.”

“You got it, then.”

He spat on your cunt and you gasped, then he spread it with his thumb, careful not to overstimulate you.

“How many times did you get off thinking about my brother, baby?” he asked before licking your soaking pussy.

“A… a lot”, you whimpered, your hands tightening his curls, as you spread your legs as wide as possible to give him full access.

“Yeah, you got off, thinking of my brother’s tongue in your cunt? His fingers? His cock?”

“Yeah”, you breathed out.

“Damn, little brother. What a good little toy we got here...”

The way he was talking about you made you moan, and he buried his tongue between your folds.

Thinking that his brother was eating your pussy a few minutes before was turning you on like never before.

Thinking that the first time someone went down on you, he did it in front of his brother, before he took his place. And you were already wondering if you could convince Tommy to make them take your virginity, and if Joel would lie down between your thighs after his brother. Filling you both with their cum. The thought, coupled with Joel's tongue, made you cum a second time so quickly that you didn’t feel it coming.

“She’s so sensitive…I wonder how many times we’re gonna make her cum, Tommy.”

Tommy was lazily jerking off while watching his brother eat you out. When your shaking stopped, his eyes darkened and he said “sit down, sweetheart. Will be easier to blow me.”

You obeyed, blushing slightly under their gaze on your bare body, but eager to taste his thick cock.

You had watched tons of porn and knew how to do it. But you wanted to hear Tommy tell you what to do, to be in charge. You let him grab your chin between his fingers, and lift it towards him. Applying a light pressure to it.

“Open up for me, darlin’.”

You parted your lips, and he bent over, dropping his saliva in your mouth, which you swallowed right away.

“Gonna be sloppy for me?”

You nodded, eyes fixed on him.

“Stick out your tongue and lick my slit, baby. Wanna see your pretty throat swallow what I’m givin’ you.”

You darted your tongue out and twirled it around his tip, then swallowed his precum. Tasting it for the first time. He held his cock tightly in his hand while the other was holding the back of your head as he pushed his tip between your lips.

Joel had just finished another beer and was watching you suck his brother while palming his crotch.

“How is she?”, he asked.

“Good. Fuckin’ good. A little shy and unsure. It's fuckin’ hot.”

“Can you imagine, her first time playing naughty for real, she wants not one, but two cocks? What kinda slut does that?”

If Joel thought he was embarrassing you by talking about you like that, he was wrong. You pulled back and your eyes fixed on his brother, as you asked feigning shy tone “you like being sucked by your best friend’s daughter, Tommy?” Batting your long eyelashes at him, making Joel chuckle “well, damn…”

“Fuck… You’re a naughty thing, darlin’, aren’t ya? Naughty things like you don’t keep their mouths empty. Keep suckin’.”

You smiled and took him back in your mouth, applying yourself, attentive to his moans and sucking him according to his sensitivity.

Joel opened two beers and offered one to his brother who took sips regularly, his other hand resting on the back of your head while fucking your mouth and throat. Joel sat on the couch next to you, and took out his cock, wanking slowly while drinking his beer too.

“I think my brother needs some relief, baby. Be a good girl and lie down.”

Once laid down, Joel spread your thighs indecently, exposing your soaking wet pussy.

“Gonna let me play with that little cunt, sweetheart?”

You nodded, just before Tommy slipped his cock back in your mouth. Drinking his beer at the same time. Being used like this was turning you on more and more. Both of them still had their clothes on, and you found it so hot. Making you feel even more used.

“Imagine how tight she must be. How she’d squeeze our cocks, if we fucked her like she begs to be. One day, don’t freak out little brother.”

“I know, fuck, stop talking about that or I’m gonna nut.”

Joel smirked and spread your glistening folds with his thumbs and you felt your wetness flowing down to your asshole. He spat on your cunt and you moaned.

“She just loves that,” Tommy smirked, thrusting deeper in your throat.

Joel hummed, and brushed his beer bottle between your folds, and you tensed noticeably.

“Come on, Joel, don’t be a jerk.”

Joel chuckled again, and said “you know I won’t do that. I’m not gonna split her open with a bottle. At least not for her first time. Just wanted to spice up my beer.”

He took a sip of his beer, covered with your wetness.

“Way better, now.”

“Fuck”, said Tommy, watching him.

Joel rubbed his shaft along your folds, making you moan, mouth full of Tommy’s cock. Feeling his cock against your pussy was an overwhelming sensation. So different from feeling a cold dildo. Your hips rolled against Joel’s shaft and he growled.

“Don’t fuck her, Joel”, Tommy warned.

“Yeah. I know. Fuck, I know, I know. Her cunt is trying to swallow me, man, you see that?”

“Yeah… Our little whore. When did you become such a cockslut, baby? Your father raised you as a good, proper girl, and look at you playing with our fat cocks…not that I'm complaining, takin’ such good care of us, damn.”

Joel’s precum was mixing with your wetness and he rubbed his tip against your clit.

“ ‘m gonna come soon… gonna shoot my load on that pretty pussy, cover her in white, fuck…”

“Suck my balls, baby… gonna come soon too.”

Tommy grabbed his big balls and let them cover your mouth and chin as he started to jerk off. You licked, sucked his balls eagerly, like you've seen dozens of times in porns.

“Look at that Joel, holy shit. Better than your lollipop, uh darlin’?”

“See brother, who gives a shit she’s your best friend's daughter? We could rail her all summer, ruin her pretty holes every fucking day. Teach her how to be a perfect fuck.”

Their dirty talk, the way they were talking about you as if you weren’t even here, made you melt and despite your sore jaw, you couldn’t stop licking Tommy’s balls, still jerking off.

“Fuck, darlin’, yeah just like that. Keep suckin’ my balls. Oh god. Fuck!”

His cum spurted out, white pearls falling onto your hair and face as his hand held your mouth pressed against his balls.

You heard Joel growl and he grabbed your hand, holding it against his shaft sliding along your folds, until he came too, his cum covering your pussy and fingers. His jerks against your clit made you cum one last time, your pussy desperately empty, and you only wished to squeeze their shafts soon enough.

“Jesus… you dried our balls so good, baby.”

They tucked their cocks into their jeans, looking at you still lying on the couch covered in their cum, breathing heavily. Tommy brought you a towel and they helped you up.

“You liked it baby? You liked being a good slut for us?

“Never felt better, actually”, you smiled.

The next morning when you came down for breakfast, your father had already made you coffee and toasts.

“Did you have a good evening, sweetie? I think I passed out… Did you help me in to my bedroom? I can’t remember a thing, I'm sorry sweetie.”

“I did, don’t worry ‘bout that, dad, it’s totally ok!”

“I wasn't a very good host or proper father last night. Wasn't it too much work to put everything back together?”

“No, don’t worry. Tommy and Joel helped me.”

“Oh great. I’m glad they helped you, can’t say I’m surprised they did. They’re good Texans, with proper manners.”

“They really are”, you smiled warmly.

That evening, you knocked on Tommy's door. Joel's figure appeared behind him when he opened it.

“I want more,” you murmured.

Part 2

***********

Thank you for reading 🙏

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thelov3lybookworm · 29 days ago

Text

Replaced

Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

•○●⛦●○•

Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago

Text

Haunting of Riverrun

fancast!bloody ben x widow!tully!reader

Summary: After the death of her childhood love Y/n is left broken. Her parents can take no more of her moping and invite the River Lords to ask for her hand. She never thought she would find such a love again in her life until he walks into her parents hall.

Warnings: 18+ mention of death, grieving, swearing(and i think the only swear word is in my authors note 💀), teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v

Authors Note: fuck if i know why i made her a widow??, guess i wanted some hurt comfort :), soft ben bc why not, this man is down bad fr

Word Count: 4.8k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“You must remarry, I would prefer it to a house that’s close to ours, but above all I just want you to be happy, daughter. You’ve been haunting these halls after your husband’s death for too long.” my father’s words repeatedly slam into me.

“I didn’t know my bereavement had an expiration date.” I say exasperated, shaking my head at a loss.

“It’s been well over a year. War is coming for the crown and I’d like you to have the opportunity to choose your husband rather than being placed into an unhappy marriage pact for alliances and swords.” he looks to me from our house seat and my mother grabs onto his wrist supportively.

“We just wish to see your smile again.” my mother whispers to me with a soft smile.

“It sounds as if I don’t have a choice in the matter.” I shrug my shoulders, looking up at the ceiling to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

“I’ve summoned some of the unmarried Lords of the Riverlands and they’ll be here by the end of the week. Try to keep an open mind daughter.” my father looks to me and then comfortingly to my mother.

“I’ll see you for supper.” I murmur as I turn and leave the hall.

I sequester myself in my chambers for the rest of the night, even refusing to attend supper much to my parents displeasure. I know they mean well but how can I possibly think of remarrying when every time I go to sleep all I can think of is waking in the middle of the night to my husband’s dead body.

The maesters say it was overindulgence mixed with a poor heart. We were only married for one turn of the moon, but I knew him much longer than that. He was in every sense the gentleman and even waited to consummate our marriage not wanting to be presumptuous.

It was a very innocent and young love kind of marriage. I always thought my cheeks were going to split from how much he made me smile. He would whisper sweet nothings in my ear throughout court making my cheeks tint. At night he would cuddle in close and pepper kisses across my face before curling into me and drifting off to bed. I never expected it to end so quickly. So yes, I have been haunting the halls of Riverrun.

One of my maids knocks softly and enters with tea and a sleeping draft should I want it. She brushes through my hair and helps me prepare for bed. I slip under the covers and lay back ready for another fitful night of sleep.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

The rest of the week goes by in a blur as gowns are being fitted and hemmed in haste for the upcoming events. I’m to be paraded around like a prized mare ready for auction. My breath catches in my throat as one of the maids pulls my corset strings tightly.

“Might we loosen it? Even just a bit?” I say trying to calm my nerves.

“Yes, my Lady. I’m sorry.” she says as I breathe out a sigh of relief as I can fully inflate my lungs again.

I’m quickly brought down to the main hall where my mother and father are sitting in the house seat waiting for my arrival. A chair has been brought in for me to sit at their side on display. My mother’s smile spreads across her face as she takes in my new gown.

“You look lovely, Y/n.” my mother coos to me.

“Thank you, mother.” I take my seat without further word.

“Bring them in.” my father calls to his guards.

The doors groan open and in walk four men. I scoff at the first two men who enter as they seem to be older than my father. The two men that follow are finally closer to my age, if not the same age as me. They all stand in a line in front of my father looking to him except one who won’t tear his eyes from me. I look him over from head to toe and roll my eyes when I see the smirk ghosting on his lips.

“Y/n?” my father says getting my attention.

“Yes?” I ask absentmindedly taking in the frustration on my father’s face.

“I asked you to introduce yourself.” he says hushed as he narrows his eyes at me.

“Have they come here not knowing whose hand they’re vying for?” I asked with a clipped tone completely over this already.

“Y/n.” my mother hisses from my father’s side.

“Good morrow, my Lords.” I sigh and look to them. “I’m Lady Y/n Tully. Tell me who you are and what you can offer me.” I tilt my head looking to them all expectantly.

The one who can’t take his eyes off of me lets out a loud laugh as the other men look to me distraught. I raise my hand in motion for them to start telling me their names and houses so we can get this meeting over with. The three men look to my father and mother for help as they fall over their words and each other in the process.

“That’s enough,” I raise my hand with annoyance. “You.” I point to the one who is smiling at me and seems to find this entertaining.

“Me?” he raises his eyebrows as his smile never falters.

“Yes, tell me your name.” I purse my lips looking him over more in depth as he steps closer.

“Lord Benjicot Blackwood, my Lady.” he says his voice smooth like butter.

“And what can you offer me, Lord Benjicot?” I lean forward and raise an eyebrow studying him.

“Anything your heart desires. Say it and it shall be yours.” he says inclining his head to me.

“I’ll have him.” I turn to my father and take in his distressed state.

“My daughter, you still haven’t-“

“No matter,” I wave off my father’s words. “I’ll have Lord Benjicot or no one.” I say with finality.

“Y/n please,” my mother’s voice begging.

“Two of these Lords are older than father and the other is just as bumbling and stuttering as them. You’ve practically made the choice for me.” I blink at them, daring them to go against what they know is true.

“At least enter a courtship first.” my mother pleads.

“I thought you wanted me out of Riverrun so I could stop “haunting the halls” I think was the way you phrased it?” I tilt my head looking to my parents.

“We didn’t mean it like that.” my mother adds with soft, sad eyes.

“Enough, this discussion can wait.” my father stands from his seat, his face red with embarrassment for this conversation in front of his vassals.

“Agreed.” I stand with my father defiantly. “Lord Benjicot, would you like to go for a walk along the river?” I ask holding my arm out for him to grab.

“I would be honored, my Lady.” he smiles and grabs my arm as we exit the main hall.

As we walk out the main doors I can practically feel my parent’s eyes burning into us. What did they expect me to do, wed an old man? I turn to the Lord on my arm and see that he’s already studying me himself. He’s actually quite handsome and I can tell he knows it by the way he carries himself.

“Tell me of your home.” I request tearing my eyes from him to look at the river beside us.

“It’s one of the oldest standing castles, dating back to the first men. We have a massive weirwood that is home to hundreds of ravens, hence the name Raventree Hall. We’re close enough to the coast where if you stand in some of the towers you can see the bay. It’s not too far from Riverrun should you get homesick.” he studies my expression, looking unsure of what to say.

“Very well.” I hum as I lead us to an unoccupied bench. “You truly wish to wed me?” I turn to him as I take a seat.

“I would be honored to have your hand, my Lady. I do not wish to force you into this marriage, should you not want it.” he bites his lip looking almost nervous.

“I must wed again.” say barely audible turning my head back to the river. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Or that I wouldn’t want to wed you. It’s just only been a year since.. It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head wishing I bit my tongue. Of course he wouldn’t want to hear about my dead husband and he’s going to change his mind and-

“Tell me of your first love.” his voice as soft as mine as he interrupts my thoughts.

“What?” my head snaps to him. “Why?” my eyebrows furrow with confusion.

“I can tell you loved him dearly. If you don’t want to you don’t have to. I just wanted to offer a listening ear.” he fidgets with his hands looking at me nervously.

“He was,” I sigh trailing off. “He was very kind and sweet. We grew up together. A young blossoming love like the books tell..” I shake my head unable to continue.

“It’s okay.” he places his hand on mine in comfort. “You can tell me whenever you’re ready or want to. I’ll be here to listen.” he smiles softly to me.

“I shouldn’t be speaking of this to you, it’s uncomely.” my voice is wobbly as my glassy eyes look to him.

“Your feelings are no burden to me. You lost a great love.” his eyes full of promise and patience.

“My parents seem to think it’s excessive. So much so that they’re pushing me off onto someone else.” tears fall down my face and I wipe them away angrily.

“I- May I hug you?” he looks to me with pitiful eyes which would normally enrage me but I could use a genuine hug.

I turn to him and fold into his embrace. His arms wrap around me tightly, protectively. Feelings of safety and comfort wash over me as I melt into him. I cling to him as tears continue to pour down my face. Gods what am I thinking sobbing into him like this.

“I’m sorry.” I sniffle pulling back. “No, I’ve got tears all over your jacket.” my voice cracks as more tears fall as I try to wave my hand to dry off the stain.

“Hey,” he tries to get my attention away from the wet mark. “Y/n it’ll dry.” my name falls off of his tongue stilling me.

“I’m sorry.” I look to him with red cheeks.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” he smiles softly to me.

I scoot closer to him as we look on at the river in front of us. We sit in comfortable silence as he allows me to grieve. Once the sun starts to dip below the horizon he escorts me back to the castle and offers me a goodnight. For the first time in many moons I tuck into bed with hope for the future and sleep restfully.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

It took me all of a week to completely fall for Ben. My ribs hurt from the laughter he’s been able to pull from me daily. My parents look at us with happiness throughout the week and finally relent and accept my leave to go to his home for a fortnight before we wed.

As we approach Raventree Hall my breath escapes me looking on at the large gates painted with moss and life. As we enter through his men greet him happily and offer me warm smiles. He escorts me into his castle and I’m entranced by its architecture and detail.

“You have a beautiful home.” I hum looking around the hall. When I finally turn back to him he’s leaning against the door frame looking at me with a soft smile.

“It’ll be your home as well soon enough.” he pushes off the doorway and walks to me.

“You haven’t decided I’m too crazy for you?” I look up to him as he approaches.

“Not anymore than I am.” a smile pulls across his face as he grabs my hand leading me out of the hall.

He gives me a full tour of Raventree Hall that ends with us in the Godswood. I’m speechless at the massive weirwood that’s a home to all of these ravens. The tree itself stands taller than the entire castle making me crane my neck to see the entirety of it. Ben leads us out of the Godswood and into the castle where we share an intimate dinner alone.

“I must admit something.” he looks to me from across the table once the servants disappear.

“Which is?” I look at him with a raised eyebrow, my interest piqued.

“I first saw you when I was just a boy. We were all summoned to Riverrun for some event I no longer remember,” he trails off, his cheeks turning red. “But I’ll always remember you. You were wearing a billowy pink dress with flowers in your hair and you looked less than pleased to be surrounded by so many people. I thought you were so perfect but I couldn’t work up the nerve to speak to you. It has always been such a regret.” Ben’s eyes look to me as the memory appears in my mind of that scratchy, terrible dress they made me wear and I giggle.

“Was I your first crush, Lord Benjicot?” a wicked smile appears on my face as his cheeks turn a darker shade of red.

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” he groans covering his face, peeking at me through his fingers.

“Not anytime soon.” I hum as I pull his hands away from his face.

“Your parents say you’ve been haunting Riverrun, but you’ve been haunting my dreams for much longer.” he says intertwining our fingers looking to me.

“I’m sorry I’ve caused you so many years of restless sleep.” a smirk plays on my lips as I squeeze his hands.

“You’ll have plenty of restless nights coming up.” he winks at me causing my cheeks to catch on fire.

“Ben,” I gasp scandalously as he chuckles at me.

“I’ll never tire of my name on your tongue.” he smiles and leans back in his chair watching me.

We finish our dinner with palpable tension as we steal glances at one another. He escorts me to my chambers through the silent halls. The castle seems to already be asleep for the night as we linger, not quite ready to leave each other’s company.

“Let your guard know if you need anything. Although, my chambers are right down the hall if you need me.” he looks at me with low lids and a lazy smile.

“Then I’ll know which direction to begin my haunts during the hour of the wolf.” I smile up at him as he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I’ll make sure to leave my doors unlocked for you.” he winks, reaching behind me to open my chambers for me.

“I’ll see you in your dreams.” I whisper before whisking myself into my chambers and sealing myself behind the doors before he can see the extent of my blush.

I take in my chambers and smile at the warmth and new beginnings they carry. I begin to change into my night dress and retire to my bed. I figured it would feel weird sleeping in a home that’s not mine but all I feel is excitement for what the next fortnight will hold. I fall asleep with a smile etched on my face.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

The first week at Raventree Hall was full of innocent glances and hand holding but there seems to be a rise in tension between us in our last week before we wed. We constantly tease each other and seem to always be touching each other whether it be his hand on my back or mine on his arm.

I exit my chambers early this morning to explore the halls and yards on my own. I stop in the Godswood and look upon the ravens that fly about the grounds. I slowly make my way to the training yard to watch Ben work alongside his men. I haven’t had the courage to come down here and watch him but my curiosity is getting the better of me.

As I turn the corner I’m greeted with grunts and clashing swords. My eyes dart around the yard until they land on a shirtless Ben. Gods this is why I never came here to watch him because I know I look like a lovesick puppy. I claim a seat on the outskirts of the circle near Ben and silently watch him train.

He is a true leader to his men and is actively cares about their advancement. I sit with a smile painted across my face as I watch his muscles flex deliciously. His eyes finally land on me and his face lights up as he jogs over to me.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Y/n.” he looks down at me with hungry eyes as I continue to lounge in my chair.

“Am I not allowed to look upon my betrothed?” I blink up to him innocently.

“Shall I remove more layers so you can look upon the rest of me.” he chuckles lowly as my cheeks inflame.

“Benjicot Blackwood.” I hiss as I quickly rise and cover his mouth with my hand. He chuckles into my hand and grabs my wrist to lower my hand.

“You get flustered so easily.” he says lowly, trailing his fingers up my arm causing me to shiver. “Do you enjoy watching me train?” he dips down to whisper in my ear to which I nod not trusting my voice.

His confidence is so exhilarating. I feel my blood thrum in his presence in anticipation for anything he does. I never thought I would feel the life brought back to me. He pulls back much to my quiet displeasure and looks at me with a serpentine smile.

“You can come and watch me whenever you please. I’ll have a chase brought out for you, I wouldn’t want you to get uncomfortable while you fantasize about me.” he teases as I roll my eyes and turn to walk away without another word.

“I’m sorry.” he breathes out as he turns me around to find a smile on my face and he sighs out in relief. “Mm, in that case do you want to share your fantasies with me?” this man is absolutely relentless.

“Maybe when we aren’t around so many eyes.” I shrug him off with a smirk of my own and continue to walk into the case.

As I continue inside the doors I hear his men laugh at him for scaring me away and I can’t help but chuckle myself. I don’t know how I’ll ever get used to his teasing and not turn into such a blushing mess. I’m quite excited to be wed to him because there’s never a dull moment.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

“My wife,” Ben whispers down to me softly before he captures my lips for the first time at our ceremony.

I feel as if my heart is going to burst out of my chest as I sigh into his mouth. He pulls me closer as my arms wrap around his back. I care not of the audience watching us as I allow myself to indulge in my husband. We pull apart and he offers me one more chaste kiss before we turn to the crowd with red cheeks.

I turn to my parents and see my mother all but sobbing and my father with watery eyes standing tall next to her. I chuckle at them as we descend from the alter. Ben twirls me around the open dance floor before bringing me back so we can share our first dance.

My body is buzzing with anticipation as Ben glues me to his body as we begin. I look up at him through my lashes as cups my face. He offers me a soft kiss as we continue to sway to the soft music.

The celebrations go on long into the night. Ben and I try to sneak off a handful of times but got lured into conversations as we tried to make our escape. As the crowd begins to slow we are quick to slip away and rush into the castle.

Ben’s hand grips mine as we run through the front doors trying to stifle our laughter so we don’t draw attention to us. He pulls me up the stairs after him silently. We come to a stop in front of his chambers both of our chests rising and falling rapidly.

“My chambers or yours?” he licks his lips looking down at me.

“I thought your chambers were mine now, husband?” I tilt my head with a smile.

His lips crash into mine causing me to squeak in surprise. He smiles into the kiss before pulling us inside our chambers. He pulls us apart and seals the chambers shut and turns to me with dark eyes. He stalks over to me and his hands pull my closer by my waist.

“This is a beautiful dress. May I take it off?” he whispers as he starts to kiss my neck. His hands trail to my back waiting at the strings for my word.

“Yes,” I breathe out as his fingers begin to unravel my dress. He pulls back to help me step out of it leaving me in my silk slip. He looks at me hungrily as his hands slide back to my waist. I bring trembling hands to his jacket and begin to unbutton it.

“Do I make you nervous?” I can tell he’s smirking without even looking at him. His hands go to mine to steady them before taking over and removing his jacket the rest of the way.

“Don’t tease me.” I pout as I begin to unbutton his shirt.

“So eager to see me shirtless again?” he chuckles as he pulls his shirt over his head quickly.

“I will make you sleep in the guest chambers.” my eyes narrow on him as I push his chest.

“Is that truly what you want?” he tilts his head smugly.

“No.” I cross my arms.

“Oh come here.” he relents and pulls me to him once more.

He dips down and encases my lips with his. He licks along the seam and I open my mouth and his tongue is immediately dancing with mine. I melt into his touch and gasp out in surprise as his hand travels to my thighs and they clench shut. He pulls back breathlessly and looks to me with low lids.

“Have you been touched before?” he asks without his teasing tone for once as his hands return to my waist.

“No.” I shake my head with burning cheeks.

“Would you like to be?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” I answer faster than I would’ve liked.

His lips find mine again as his hand finds its way between my thighs. I whimper into his mouth as his fingers trail through my wetness. He continues with one tortuous finger until he decides to swirl against my clit.

“Ben,” I cry into his mouth as my legs threaten to give out.

“Let’s go to the bed.” his voice laced with desire.

Once we make it to the bed he slowly lifts off my slip and helps me back on the bed. He begins to remove his pants as I gaze up at him with heavy eyes as I take in the rest of his body. My legs squeeze in anticipation looking at him on full display. We shameless drink in each other’s body admiring.

He climbs into bed and hovers above me for a moment before he fiercely kisses me once more. His hand makes its way back between my legs as his teeth nip at my bottom lip. His fingers begin to circle my clit once more causing a moan to tear through me.

“Does that feel good, Y/n?” he whispers before he attaches is mouth to my neck.

“Yes, Ben,” I whine as my legs begin to shake.

His fingers continue to slide through my wetness as his kisses begin to trail down my chest. I suck in a large breath as he takes my nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. He leaves wet kisses across my chest as he makes his way to my other breast. His deft fingers find their way back to my clit as he offers this nipple a playful bite causing me to arch up into his mouth.

He chuckles lowly as he begins to kiss down my torso until he’s watching his hand pull pleasure from body. I moan out in frustration as his finger slips away from my clit once more. I whimper as his tongue begins to lap against my clit as my thighs start to clamp around his head. He chuckles into my core before holding my thighs open to lose himself in me.

“Ben, please,” my hips grind against his face as one of my hands fly to his hair.

A sob tears through me as I explode all over his tongue as he continues his assault. He pulls his mouth back but continues trailing his fingers down my sensitive center. He looks to me and watches me as my legs twitch when his fingers pass over my clit. As his finger slides down it circles my entrance and begins to dip in. My hips lift off the bed wanting more of his fingers as he groans looking at me.

“Gods you’re perfect.” his voice dripping with devotion as he slips his finger the rest of the way in.

He leans down and entangles us in a kiss as his finger begins to pump into me. He teases a second finger and I moan into his mouth as he pushes them both into me. He holds his forehead to mine as I pant while my hips begin to chase his fingers for more. His thumb makes its way to my clit as his begins to move his fingers faster.

“Yes, Ben please,” he groans at my words and kisses me hard.

His fingers begin to curl as he pushes them into me faster. I clench around his fingers as I let go once more, losing myself to all of the pleasure he offers me. He slowly removes his fingers and I whine into his mouth at the loss.

“I need to be in you.” he breathes deeply as he settles between my legs. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him down to me. “Someone’s impatient.” he chuckles against my lips.

“You can still go to the guest chambers.” I scold breathlessly as his length presses against my core.

“I wouldn’t dare leave my wife so needy.” he pecks my lips as he begins to line himself up at my entrance.

He watches my face as he slowly pushes into me. My eyes flutter shut as I feel the burn of his delicious stretch. My hips begin to rock against his and he grinds into me deeply. My hands fly to his back as his continues is slow moments as my nails dig in.

He begins to rock his hips slowly getting faster. Moans fall from my lips freely as his hips snap into mine. Our breathes become one as pleasure washes over us. His hips falter as cry out his name coming around him with tears in my eyes. His hips still as he fills me with my name on his lips.

He kisses me softly as he pulls out and lays next to me. I curl into his side as he smooths my hair. Ben pulls a blanket over us as my eyes get heavier.

“Shall I go to the guest chambers?” he chuckles lowly as I groan in annoyance.

“I should make you go out of spite.” I huff pulling him closer to me anyways.

He kisses my head once more as we slowly begin to drift off.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Masterlist

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