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bratbarzal · 1 month ago

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Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

If you're ready, all I mean is we could go, I've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

General Warnings: an almost unbearable amount of sarcasm and snark, even more idiotic shenanigans, many affectionate empty threats of murder/violence, fluff, mentions of golf 🤢, cursing and I'm pretty sure that's it for this half

A/N: in line with the general consensus lmao this has been split, part two will be posted as soon as it's finished (lol) but it's best read as one whole fic, it isn't a multi-part situation really!! it was originally supposed to be my submission for the eras tour fic challenge (hence the graphic I'm too attached to to change) but took a different direction to the song I was given, and I missed the deadline, and I pretty much listened to the secret of us exclusively while writing this whole thing. also dropping an overwhelmingly summery fic in december might actually be my brand. keep your eyes peeled for a christmas fic in july.

very special shoutout to shea @sleepretreat I made a random comment one day that luke gives seth cohen energy, and she fanned that flame like a full time job. ily shea!! I hope this lives up to any expectations and I owe a lot to your instigating!!

AS ALWAYS!!! never proofread!! I'll probably get around to it when the thought of a spelling mistake keeps me awake at night. and also!! please let me know what you think I am like a teeny tiny little plant that can only thrive under the constant shower of validation and you don't want me to wither and die do you? (I’m kidding) (I’m not)

You kind of, sort of, think you might hate summer.

You haven’t always felt this way, though. Growing up, it had always been your favourite time of the year.

No school? Check.

Going on vacation, sometimes multiple, all expenses covered by your parents? Double check.

Getting to do all the cool things you don’t have time for in the school year with all your friends? Concerts, festivals, beach days, bonfires on the evenings. Check, check and check again.

But 4 years ago, your whole world as you knew it was torn apart, and summers have never been the same, since.

A season that was once filled with light and companionship, never ending plans and joviality, became darker - isolated, getting yourself out of the house even if everyone else was busy, driving just to drive and making the best of your own company.

School ended up becoming your escape, especially since you had started college - your studies and the chaos of Greek life distracting you from the calamitous state of your home life, making new friends that became like family and sticking to them like glue, where possible, clingy and possessive to the point of ruin, almost - and so the lack of it in the summers now actually sends you into some sort of warped spiral.

It’s manageable in the winter and spring, the breaks no longer than a few weeks at a time, but going home for summer is somewhat of a nightmare.

It’s hard to go back, hard to ignore the mess your mind has become when it’s just you and your mother - or, you, your mother and whatever bottle of pinot she’s 3 glasses deep into at any given time of the day - and you’re sat in a house that’s a cold reminder of the warmth that once filled it.

But when Ellie - your best friend since moving to college, the girl who took the sister part of sorority sister to the next level at all possible opportunities over the years - found out you’d put your name down to be the caretaker for your sorority house instead of going home, she had put her foot down on your summertime sadness session.

Which is how you end up moving into her family home - spending the first few weeks integrating yourself into their routine while trying to grip desperately onto some form of your own - trying not to get too used to the feeling of such a big family when you know it won’t be forever.

You braid her little sister’s hair everyday, kick a soccer ball around with her little brother when he needs someone to stand in goal, wash the dishes with her mom, talk sports with her dad, and before long, you blend like a chameleon into their dynamic.

You pick up a summer job at the country club to cling back onto your independence. Your commute provides the solitude and quiet you‘ve grown accustomed to in the years before, a bus journey through town with headphones on, watching the scenery and admiring the greenery until you get to work, donning your navy blue polo and tucking your little notepad into your hip apron as you serve tables at the clubhouse restaurant and bar.

It’s a much needed escape from Ellie, if you’re honest.

You love that girl with all your heart, appreciate her housing you more than you’ll ever be able to say, but if you have to hear her sit and mope about how hopelessly in love she is with Jack Hughes for even a second longer, you’re going to vomit. Or scream. Or both.

Jack and Ellie grew up together - their families close, Ellie’s dad best friends with Jack’s uncle, or something - and she’s been into him since he had teeth missing - a point she loves to hammer home when it comes to you always listing that as one of his (many, if it’s up to you) cons. Considering his job, and the fact he already lost one, not too long ago, a toothless boyfriend seems like a massive ick, if you’re honest.

But Ellie is beyond reason when it comes to him. She worships the ground he walks on - talks about him non-stop, messages him every day, regales you with stories you, awfully, but realistically, couldn’t care less about - and it’s the only real problem about living with her.

Even beyond the summer, you two had shared a room your first two years in college, still live in the same house - and it’s a year round problem.

But being unable to escape, having your days tied to close to hers, and knowing that it’s bound to be worse with proximity, Jack back in Michigan for the summer, himself, she’s starting to drive you up the wall.

It wouldn’t bother you if you had never met Jack, but the two of you don’t exactly get along. He’s rude, and self-absorbed, and had looked down on you the first time he ever laid eyes on you, and you really shouldn’t let it get to you, but you do - the thought that your best friend is in love with an asshole, and that she won’t let you hear the end of it.

Won’t stop whining about how he’ll never feel the same, or that she can’t handle another summer of biting her tongue, of being around him, feeling the way she does, and not being able to do anything about it.

She deserves better.

Ellie has a heart of gold, and she deserves someone who handles it with care. If Jack Hughes doesn’t like her back, that’s his loss - but you’re kind of getting sick of telling her that.

Getting through a whole summer of it is going to be hard, you think, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than being entirely alone. So you put on a brave face, use work as your escape in the same way you usually do with school, and avoid blowing your top for as long as you can, suffering through the late nights and heart to hearts where Jack is the sole topic of discussion, and bask in the good stuff.

In the chaos of her siblings, in the closeness of her family, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms.

This summer could be okay, you’ve just got to give it a chance.

Luke Hughes loves summer.

He loves being back home in Michigan, spending his days out on the lake, or making the trip out to parade around Ann Arbor, catching up with all his college buddies, making the rounds at all the UMich sporting events he now gets a VIP pass to thanks to his last name.

The routine of it all is familiar, and warming, and it restores a sense of normality that playing in the NHL for the past year has so brutally ripped from him, already.

He had enjoyed starting his summer overseas - making the team for the world championships and competing beyond the abysmal end to his rookie season - had enjoyed the time away from his brothers, if he’s honest. Quinn and the Canucks making it a few rounds into the playoffs, and Jack back home recovering from getting surgery on his shoulder - and it’s the latter he needed the reprieve from.

He does love living with his brother.

Jack looks after him in ways he’ll never really be able to make it up to him for. He always has, Quinn has too, but ever since Luke got drafted to the Devils, Jack has helped him adjust to the chaos of his career without much fuss or hardship.

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

Especially when it comes to his infatuation with his best friend, Ellie.

Jack and Ellie have always been close - despite the fact she’s Luke’s age - and grew up thick as thieves, spending summers together, especially when the family moved to Michigan, and Ellie’s family were just on the other side of town.

He’s always been obsessed with her, even if it hasn’t always been love - but these last few years have been different. Like a switch flipped in his head when Jack saw what Ellie was like when he came to visit Luke in his freshman year of college.

A version of Ellie that was no longer just his - no longer exclusive to their summer bubble, and lived in a world beyond lounging by the lake and hanging out with the Hughes family.

A version of Ellie who liked partying, liked schmoozing and charming everybody she came into contact with, liked being the centre of everyone else’s attention, not just Jack’s.

And it’s that version of Ellie that has driven Luke’s brother crazy, which has, in turn, started to drive Luke crazy. He talks about her non-stop, and it was those much needed weeks away in Czechia that almost had Luke forgetting just how stupid his brother has gotten about the whole thing.

Until he came home to Michigan, and Jack, in all the commotion with his shoulder, with ending his season early and starting his summer off alone, has worked himself into such a stupor about the whole thing that merely a week into his return, he has driven Luke up the wall.

He’s grumpy, all the time - which leads to him being snarky, all the time. He huffs and puffs around the house so much Luke is starting to think he might need an inhaler, and he really can’t take any more.

Not when he’s making such a show of his irritation, stomping around with heavy feet and slamming doors that don’t need to be shut in the first place.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Luke frowns as he follows Jack into the kitchen upon his return from therapy, holding out for the doors he swings open with a little too much vigour so that they don’t swing back into his brother’s slinged-shoulder. “I thought the physio is going alright?”

“It is,” Jack huffs, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open, the jars and bottles in the door clanking together in a way that makes Luke cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to all the hinges you’re testing the limits of.”

“Don’t start with me, Luke, I’m not in the mood.”

“You just said you’re fine.” Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to scroll through his group chat with his friends from college, trying to check who said they might be free today to get him out of this vicious circle.

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.” It’s interactions like this that confirm to Luke just how annoying Jack has become - because what reason does he have to be so evasive? Luke is handing him the opportunity to air out his grievances on a silver platter, and he’s rather slam cupboards and create creases in his forehead from frowning 24/7.

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

Luke wishes he never bothered asking, although he has been wondering why he’s been seeing way less of her already this summer. He had figured Ellie was away with family until he saw her at the gas station the other night - had watched from the car as Jack had what seemed like a heated conversation by the entrance.

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

“Has she said why?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t really care. He’s just asking to get it out of the way in the hopes that Jack talking about it might lighten the load, might make his own life a little easier.

It’s the bitter muttering of your name that captures Luke’s full attention, his neck audibly cracking at the speed in which his head shoots up, no longer caring what could possibly be going on with the boys in the group chat.

“She isn’t going back to whatever fiery hell pit it is that she comes from for the summer, and she’s staying with Ellie’s family, therefore Ellie isn’t staying with us.”

Luke hasn’t heard your name in a while. Not since he left college last year, not since he got caught up in the whirlwind life in the NHL, when a schoolboy crush on a girl he interacted with once in his entire college career became the least of his worries.

But one utterance of it has his spine straightening, just like it would have done just over a year ago.

You’re in Michigan. You’re at Ellie’s, on the other side of town. You’re barely two degrees of separation from him.

“Why can’t Ellie bring her here?” Luke asks, throat dry and voice breaking so subtly that he hopes Jack doesn’t notice. That could be fun. Would make up for the hell his brother has been putting him through since he got here.

Maybe a little glorious sunshine might finally get you to notice his existence. He wouldn’t mind third wheeling Jack and Ellie if you were there, too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to prove he’s worthy of your attention - too shy and too scared to do so, back in college, but he’s different, now. Confident, almost. More sure of himself.

“She hates me.” Jack huffs, “Last time we met she was giving me the stink eye all night.”

And of course it would be his brother to ruin his plans, yet again. You’ll probably hate him, too - a hatred so strong for Jack that it seeps through his entire bloodline, because Luke of all people knows he can be annoying like that.

“Trust me, she probably doesn’t care enough to hate you,” Luke scoffs, not realising the spool of information he’s just given Jack to unravel.

“You know her?”

“We had a class together. I know of her.”

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

Luke knows a lot about you. It’s borderline creepy, the observations he can still remember, even after so long.

He knows you like only like coffee if it’s iced, had seen you with too many clear plastic cups to count, had watched plump lips chewing at straws by the time you had finished the drink. He had even, one time, tried to zoom in on a picture of your order printed on the side in one of his many states of delusion where he had been trying to build himself up to ask you out.

He knows you can hold your own in an argument, had watched you debate with the best of them in your business comms class, has watched you shoot down most guys that approach you with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, and has watched you take down a frat guy or two, usually in defence of your sorority sisters - who Luke noticed you’re the most protective of.

He knows you match your perfume to the colour of your outfit, had notice you smelled citrusy like lemons in yellow, floral like roses in pink, sweet like candy in purple, and clean like fresh cotton in blue.

He knows the pieces of hair that frame your face curl when wet from the rain. Knows you used to volunteer at the pool on the weekends it was open to the kids of the community, would teach them how to swim. He knows you listen to Taylor Swift and has heard you humming just about every song of hers he knows.

But he doesn’t really know you - not on the level Jack is assuming, when his eyes widen and hope flashes across his crystal irises.

“You know how I’m your favourite brother?”

“No,”

“And I let you live with me all year?”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

Luke sighs, shoulders heavy and eyes rolling practically to the back of his head. “I already told you, I don’t really know her like that.”

“C’mon, you could at least try! I’m dying here, Luke! She’s hogging all of Ellie’s time, and she won’t give me the time of day if I try!”

If only Jack knew how much time you’d ever given Luke, he wouldn’t be asking him such an absurd request.

You’re so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. He probably couldn’t convince you to light a candle in a power cut, much less to give his annoying brother a shot to prove himself.

“You’re wasting your time, Jack,” Luke responds, “I’m gonna meet Dylan at the club. No, you can’t come.”

And by the time Luke makes it out to his car, he’s relieved to have ditched that conversation, entirely. He knows what’s waiting when he gets home, what his brother is going to be like for the next few months to come, but a temporary relief is all he needs.

He had already been planning on getting a few late morning holes in at the club, and meeting up with Dylan had been a white lie, needing some alone time away from Jack’s incessant whining to think about how he was going to survive the summer - and seeing you on your break, perched on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard by the clubhouse bar, basking in the sun and talking with your co-worker, he feels like he might have just struck gold.

Since when do you work here?

He supposes since you decided to spend your summer with Ellie’s family - it only makes sense. Ellie doesn’t live too far from the club - not as close as the lake house, but closer than Ann Arbor, at least. She’d worked in the club shop last summer, even when Jack insisted he’d pay for whatever she needed while she was staying with them - had said it was nice to pass the time with something else while they all went off doing whatever - and he assumes you’re doing the same.

It’s the first time he’s seen you in a while, outside of coming across your pictures on his Instagram feed occasionally, or the flash of your figure in Ellie’s stories.

He had thought that, after the year he’s had, he’d be over schoolboy crushes like this - would be over the way his breath catches just at the sight of you, over the way the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and stand to attention, over the way his throat goes dry as he watches your eyes crinkle from afar, watches your lips curve up into a heart-stopping grin.

But it’s like he’s picked up straight from where he left off at the end of his college career, pining after you from afar with hearts in his eyes and feet that start to shuffle at just the thought of approaching you.

If he’s going to do this, though, he needs to be clever about it, he thinks.

Approaching you on your break, limited to the amount of time he can use to put his point across, wasting yours, doesn’t seem like something that will work.

Which is how he finds himself bypassing you completely and walking straight into the bar, offering a friendly nod to the guy stood at the front of house, and letting him point him toward the right section to be served in.

It isn’t long before you’re in front of him, sidling up to his booth, and he had almost forgotten how pretty you are up close. Hair clipped up with loose strands framing your face, chewing at your plump bottom lip as you scribble on your notepad to get your pen to work. And your honeyed voice settling deep in the pit of his stomach, warmth spreading throughout as you introduce yourself, like he has no clue who you are, and tell him you’ll be his server, “What can I get for you?”

“Five minutes of your time?”

The Luke that spent his college years obsessing over you might have stuttered - his voice might have broke, squeaked or choked in your presence - but while his throat does feel a little dry, he’s able to maintain his cool now, even when you look up from your scribblings to meet his eye. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he has matured.

His heart might jump in his chest, his mouth might tingle, his spine might stiffen, but he holds your gaze, hoping if you see a reflection of confidence that you might give him the time of day.

He’s seen you interact with guys before, has familiarised himself with the ten-foot walls you have in place, has seen others fold and try find a long way around, but he thinks that maybe matching your energy is the way to break through.

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

Your eyes narrow back at him as pouted lips form around a response, looking him up and down before tilting your head, and coming back with, “I all of a sudden feel the need to inform you we do have security here,” you point the tip of your pen to the entrance, where he was greeted on the way in. “I meant a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” his gaze flickers to the movement of your wrist as you click the other side of your pen, not even writing it down. “Maybe with a side of conversation?”

“I’ll go get your water,” you offer a smile, and the insincerity of it does little to cool his bravado, even if you head off with mutterings of why do I always get the creeps?

He watches you as you make your way over to the bar, not creep-like whatsoever, and he channels the nerves that sneak up on him, now that you’re distanced, through fiddling with his fingers on the table, pinching at the tips of them when you glance back over your shoulder, probably telling the girl behind the bar just how lucky you were to once again get the weirdo in your section.

It surprises him how little he cares, possessing more of your attention now than he ever has before, and if he could tell the Luke from two years ago, who spent every shared Principles of Marketing class ritualistically watching you chew on the end of your pen, that he’d be able to make eye contact without dribbling and breaking out into full body sweats, he’d have lost his mind.

He embodies a strange level of dislocated arrogance that manifests itself in his body language, sinking into the booth with arms outstretched across the back, a dangerous smirk teasing the corner of his mouth when you return, placing a pitcher of water down on the table and a glass with ice.

“I’m Luke,” he tells you, placing a hand on his chest and doing his best to ignore the thudding he feels beneath it. “Hughes. Jack’s brother,” and when you look back over to him with a raised brow, he adds, “Ellie’s Jack.”

“And who’s Ellie?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your voice dripping in teasing sarcasm.

“Funny,” he quips, biting back the urge to call you what he actually means. He can hardly call you cute, you’d probably pour that water straight over him. “I went to UMich, we had a couple classes together.”

Your eyes narrow again, and he knows it’s an intimidation tactic, a way to make him feel smaller than he’s acting, shrinking him down to a version of himself you can stamp your authority on, but he finds himself being resilient for once, carrying on like he isn’t affected.

He is. Massively, in fact. Just not in the way you probably want. Your indifference drives him in a way that presses into his spine, an inner voice pleading, notice me, I’m breaking through!

“Bauman’s class, Business Comms, you sat in the second row, I sat in the third, you dropped your pencil one time and I-,”

“I know who you are.”

So he’s been yapping on at you for no reason? Fantastic.

He can’t let his momentum slip, though, so he forces the corners of his lips into a victorious smile, and counters, “So you know I’m not a creep.”

“You literally memorised my seat in a class from 2 years ago, so…”

“I have a good memory,” he’s quick to defend, fighting the urge to let his eyes linger on your pouted lips.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, “What is it you want, again?”

“I came to talk about Jack and Ellie.” He nods to the other side of the booth, and has to roll his shoulders so that his chest doesn’t inflate with misplaced hubris when you shuffle into the seat with a huff, discarding your notepad to the side as you level him with another raised brow.

“What about ‘em?”

“About how they’re hopelessly in love with each other and doing nothing about it.”

“You got hopeless right. What’s that got to do with us?”

Us. Oh, he likes that.

“I’m thinking they need a little shove in the right direction. And maybe we could be the shovers.”

You presses your lips together in faux-apology, a lopsided, patronising, adorable frown taking over your expression. “No can do, I don’t shove, I’m a pacifist.”

“A nudge, then?”

He isn’t giving up easy, no matter how much sarcasm you try to throw his way. You wouldn’t have sat down if there wasn’t something about this situation that irks you, too.

If Ellie is being only half as annoying as Jack is, he knows that you’re having a bad time of it. And you’re supposed to spending her summer with her - it can’t be easy, having your friend constantly pining over someone and refusing to do anything about it, if anything, making it your problem.

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

“Both,” he smiles, “I just figured a problem shared is a problem solved, and all.”

“How profound.”

“C’mon, you sat down, you at least agree they’re into each other, and I know you’re staying with her this year, so I know you’ve been getting the same grief I have.”

“I’ve been on my feet 4 hours, I wouldn’t look too deep into me sitting down.”

“Jack’s been moping around about her for years, I can’t listen to it anymore, he’s all, she’ll never like me back, this, and, I’ll never find a girl like her, that,” he whines, imitating his brother’s voice in the most annoying, high pitched tone he can muster, “I can’t take one more breakdown of her snap stories, especially not if it’s all summer if she’s not gonna be staying over, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“How supportive,” the sarcasm in your bite does little to hide the beginnings of your smile, your glare softening into what he hopes is the start of some sort of bond, a shared feeling of exasperation. Finding your footfall in common grounds.

“It’s relentless, we can’t go a single conversation anymore without him bringing her up,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, finally giving in to all the ways this is starting to grate on him. “I don’t get why neither of them do anything.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, too, relenting a little. “She talks about him so much it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“How supportive,” he mimics, nerve endings set alight when your eyes meet his over the table, and narrow in a different way, almost appreciative, almost respectable.

“Can it, Hughes,” you scoff, “Me even entertaining this conversation right now is support enough, I’ve had it in my ear for months about how she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through another summer.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If we can get them together this summer, then we’re both better off. No more whining or crying or earaches for either of us.”

“I’d hope you didn’t make your way out here with the mere promise of no more earaches, Luke.” He tries not to preen at the way you say his name. “What’s in it for me?”

“You and Ellie can stay at our lake house.” He suggests, straightening up before he leans onto the table, elbows extending so that he can rest on them, “It’s closer to the club than her family’s place, it’s gotta be better than having her siblings running around you all the time, I can even drive you to work when I’m free, if you want?”

You blink at him slowly, as if to say, and? “So I can stay at your glorified frat house, and you can be my chauffeur?” You ask with an unimpressed raise of your brow, before letting out a humourless scoff of, “What more could a girl want to do with her summer?

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning further forward.

“To go back to work and not worry about strange guys propositioning me, funnily enough.”

Luke laughs, a deep, breathy laugh that rises from the depths of his chest and comes alive in an almost-bark, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to his mouth when it comes out.

This is fun.

There’s no way he’s letting you leave this table without agreeing - just the thought of one more singular interaction keeping him on his toes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting, then?”

“It’s about time you tried.” The quiver of your lip tells him everything he needs to know - and that’s without the entertained glint in your eye that accompanies it. You’re enjoying this, just as much.

“We could make a competition out of it.”

“A competition?” You ask, with a curious tilt of your head.

There it is, he thinks. Interest: piqued. He practically has you in the palm of his hand. Who would ever have thought, the way to a sorority girl’s heart would be a friendly little wager?

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

It’s all he can think of in the moment - petulant and part-planned, but it seems to be enough.

“Wins what?” You lean onto your elbows, your gaze levelling his as he mirrors your positioning, having to slouch a little further forward in his seat to meet your pretty eyes.

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t intend it to come out as low as it does, doesn’t realise how close the two of you have gotten over the table, but he sees the flicker of something cross your features as your head tilts again, eyes still locked on his as yours begin to narrow, still just as pretty even when they’re glaring at him.

“It’s what you want that concerns me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he jibes, watching the way your lips part in preparation of another witty comeback. “What do you say?” He asks, not giving you the chance, seeing the way it makes your skin crawl that you weren’t quick enough, for once. “Are you in?”

You heave out a sigh, shoulders slumping - a tell-tale sign that you’re about to acquiesce - and Luke starts to feel his chest puff out in victory. This feels like a shut-out. It feels like the best performance of his life.

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” he smirks, eyes tracking you as you lean back into the booth, retreating from him in defeat, a hand running through your hair as he promises, “You’ll warm up to me soon enough, though.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“I can,” he shrugs, leaning back too. “I’ve been told I’m inevitable.”

Luke can remember, like it was yesterday, the first time he ever saw you.

Freshman year, the week he moved into his dorm at Michigan, Jack had sent him across campus to check in on how Ellie was getting on. He had arrived with some extravagant gift basket in tow, plastic wrapped, a giant blue bow tied around the top and an assortment of snacks inside, and was left knocking for at least five minutes before you showed up.

“Please tell me you’re not another stripper-gram.”

If his throat hadn’t gone so dry all of a sudden, he thinks he would have had more wits about him to have questioned the use of another - a concept that had stuck in his head for weeks until he caught wind of a story of pledges for Pike being sent around campus and forced to lure girls to their house through way of humiliating song.

But God, you were pretty.

Siren eyes narrowed toward him, glossy lips pouted pensively, long lashes blinking impatiently as you awaited some kind of response that didn’t come in the form of an open, drooling mouth.

“I’m Luke.”

“Right.” You had sighed, pretty eyes rolling at him. “You’re blocking my door."

“Oh, I’m-,” he stuttered, immediately stepping to the side for you to come forward and insert your key into the lock. “Does Ellie live here?” He asked, confusion etched into his features as he watched you swing the door open, turning in your place to look him over again.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

“I’ll make sure she gets it, thanks, Lu!”

And when you had taken the basket from his hands, he had been too distracted by the way your skin brushed against his to properly respond, or worry if you had called him that as a nickname or had already forgotten his name, entirely.

He then spent days thinking about you, looking for you - at parties, in the campus coffee shop, online, despite not knowing your name - trying to commit to memory the way your eyes had sparkled when looking his way, until his first Business Communications class.

He had been a little early, first week nerves playing out and his constant craving for positive validation coming to the forefront, and was watching the door waiting for the professor to arrive. He had been slouched in his seat, chin in the palm of his hand, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor, and he had almost given himself whiplash when you walked in.

He learned your name from there, learned a lot just from watching you in that class, but never really captured your attention.

And if the Luke that has been driving you to work every few days, who has been living with you for the past two weeks - who sits around the same dining table, laughs at the same jokes cracked when you’re all lounging around the house, sits out under the same sun, drinks from the same carton of orange juice in the morning - could tell the Luke that sat pining after you all that time, all the little ways in which he’s captured your attention lately, he’d probably have an aneurysm.

When you and Ellie moved in, Luke had been the only one allowed to touch your stuff - and there’s a part of him that knows it was mainly because you enjoyed watching him work like a packhorse, hauling your cases up the stairs and dropping them in front of you with a huff, but there’s a larger, more delusional part that thinks you preferred him to the others, maybe even trusted him.

He’s taking credit for how quick you’ve adapted to the dynamic of the house, too. Of all the different faces coming in and out - Quinn’s friends, Jack’s friends, his friends, sometimes even his parents. If you’re around, you’re pleasant. You abide by house rules, some of them stupid, but set by the brothers so long ago that they just work now - like no phones outside of your rooms so that you can be more present. You insert yourself comfortably into conversations, you form your own relationships with everyone - you and Quinn trade book recommendations, you and Jack bicker while Ellie mediates. You do your fare share of chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, even.

And he’s so caught up in just sharing space, just being around you, even, that for those first couple weeks, he forgets why you even agreed to be there in the first place.

At least, he forgets the incentive part - because he watches mindlessly as you interfere in Jack and Ellie’s dynamic, without a care in the world for the fact that it means he’s losing.

He watches you push one of them out of the way to claim whatever seat at the table or in the car forces them to sit beside each other. He watches you taunt Jack to just the right point where Ellie interferes, coos at him protectively and he melts into her affections. He watches you agree to plans he knows you wouldn’t in a million years follow along with, just to get them together - and all he can do is admire how easy you make it seem.

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though.

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises.

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now.

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over.

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.”

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises.

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan.

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time.

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them.

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off.

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side.

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour.

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys.

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball.

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one.

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him.

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand.

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections.

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head.

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.”

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth.

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?”

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip.

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new.

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club.

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop.

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants.

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it.

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store.

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.”

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased.

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance.

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius.

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint.

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut.

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it.

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows.

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame.

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening.

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow.

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt.

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car.

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features.

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up.

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere.

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet.

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You��ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely.

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely.

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then.

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest.

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV.

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part.

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about.

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar.

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance.

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other.

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric.

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees.

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #my hearts going pitter patter pitter patter like I could throw up #need to post this before I fall asleep lmao #*writing

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marysfics · 2 months ago

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Whispers of Love

Alexia Putellas x Pregnant!Reader

Long Soft Smut

It had been a long day. The heat hung heavy in the room, making it difficult to breathe as you sat up in bed, staring at the now-darkened TV screen. You turned it off with a soft sigh, already feeling the weight of exhaustion setting in. It had been one of those sweltering days in Barcelona—hot enough to make you feel restless. The heat was one thing, but your little girl inside you was another. She had been particularly active today, kicking you with an almost playful intensity that made it hard to get comfortable.

You ran your hand over your swollen belly, sighing again as you adjusted your position on the bed. The third trimester had been harder than you expected, each day dragging a little longer than the last. But even when it felt like your body was reaching its limits, there was one constant that kept you going—Alexia. Your wife.

You missed her so much. It had been a busy day for her at the club, and although you’d woken up together, you barely had time to say more than a few words before she had to rush out. You smiled softly to yourself, remembering the way she kissed your forehead this morning, the promise in her eyes as she left. She had been your rock through this entire pregnancy, making sure you felt supported even when everything felt overwhelming.

As the heat made it even harder to focus, you shifted on the bed, lifting your arms to pull your t-shirt off. The fabric clung to your skin, the weight of it too much to bear in the sticky air. Once it was off, you settled back against the pillows, leaning against the headboard. The soft, cool feeling of your skin against the cool sheets was a small relief.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself as you looked down, realizing you were now dressed in just Alexia's boxers and your Calvin Klein bra—completely unbothered by the state of your appearance, but somehow feeling at ease in the quiet of the room. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your mind, though the discomfort in your body and the fluttering kicks from your baby made it harder than usual to relax.

The house was peaceful, the only sounds the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the sheets as you shifted on the bed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to find the slightest trace of sleep, but the heat and your little one’s movements kept you from drifting off. It was a restless night, but at least it was quiet.

That was until you heard the faint jingle of keys from downstairs. The soft click of the door unlocking broke the silence, followed by the quiet thud of Alexia’s training bag hitting the floor. You smiled to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sound of her return, even though it had only been a few hours since you’d last seen her this morning.

You heard her footsteps now, light but purposeful, as she probably took off her shoes at the door before tiptoeing through the house. It was a familiar rhythm—the way she moved after a long day, still with that hint of quiet energy that you had come to love so much. You could imagine her smile, the one that she always wore when she came back home to you, even if she was exhausted.

It was late, already past 11 PM, and you knew she must have been thinking you were fast asleep by now. She didn’t want to disturb you, probably thinking you’d been resting all evening. You couldn't help but chuckle softly at the thought of her tiptoeing around, as though her mere presence might wake you.

Despite the quiet of the house, there was an undeniable pull to the sound of her entering. Even from upstairs, you could feel the weight of her presence—the quiet comfort of knowing she was finally home. And, as much as you longed for her touch, you stayed still, content to listen for now, waiting for her to reach you in her own time.

The soft creak of the stairs broke the stillness, signaling that Alexia was making her way upstairs. You could picture her, her movements slower now, the weight of her long day settling into her steps. As much as she always put in her best effort at the club, you knew she must’ve been exhausted, and still, she was careful, tiptoeing as though she didn’t want to wake you.

You closed your eyes, your heart warming at the thought of her trying to be quiet even though you were wide awake. It was a small thing, but it was just one of the many reasons you loved her so much. She was always looking out for you, even when she didn’t need to.

The sound of her footsteps got closer, and soon you could hear her at the top of the stairs. You lay still for a moment, letting her approach, and then you felt it—her presence, even before she entered the room. There was something calming about it, like the air was just different when she was near.

The door creaked open gently, and there she was, standing in the doorway. Alexia paused for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, a faint smile curling on her lips when she saw you still awake. "I'm sorry, Amor. I didn't mean to wake you."

You smiled, a little breathless at the sight of her, despite the day’s tiredness etched across her face. "I’ve been waiting for you," you replied quietly, your voice full of affection, as you reached up with one hand to pat the bed beside you.

Alexia’s smile widened, walking over to the bed and sliding in beside you, her warmth filling the space next to you. She leaned down and kissed your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment, soft and gentle.

Your wife's lips brushed gently against yours, soft and tender, lingering for just a moment longer than usual, as if she couldn’t help but savor the quiet intimacy of the moment. When she pulled back, her eyes softened, and without a word, she bent down to place a kiss on your swollen belly. Her lips were warm against your skin, and you could feel the love she poured into every touch.

She straightened up and reached for the soft bedside lamp, flicking it on with a gentle click. The dim light illuminated the room, casting a calming glow across the space. But as her gaze drifted back to you, her breath caught in her throat.

She had always thought you were beautiful, but now, seeing you like this, her heart fluttered with a new depth of love and desire. The way your body had changed, carrying your child—your daughter—it was as if you were glowing with life itself. The sight of you, pregnant and radiant, made her both fall deeper in love with you and feel a stirring warmth in places she hadn’t expected.

There was a slight pause, and she smiled, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of sincerity. "You look beautiful, mi amor," she murmured, her fingers gently tracing the curve of your belly. "So, so beautiful."

You let out a soft laugh, adjusting slightly on the bed as the heat of the room made it hard to relax fully. "It’s just the pregnancy glow, I swear," you chuckled, your hand lightly brushing over your exposed skin. "It’s hot in here. I had to get rid of the t-shirt."

Her eyes never left you, drinking in the sight of you like she couldn’t get enough, her fingers still caressing your swollen belly. The love in her gaze was undeniable, and even though she had seen you every day, this moment felt new. You were both changing, evolving, and it was in moments like this that she realized just how deeply she was in awe of you.

"How was your day?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with curiosity. You had missed her all day, and you wanted to know how things had gone for her, even though you knew she must have been exhausted.

Alexia sighed, her hand moving from your belly to rest gently on your side. "Long," she said with a smile, but there was a softness in her eyes. "Busy, but… it’s always worth it. It’s always better when I get to come home to you."

Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you could see how much she meant it. You had both come to rely on each other in ways that were difficult to describe—there was a strength in your connection that had only grown since finding out you were expecting.

"It’s always better when we’re together," you murmured, your voice thick with affection as you reached up to touch her cheek, your fingers trailing lightly over her skin.

She leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kissed your palm. "Always, mi amor," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Always."

Alexia leaned down again, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was slow and filled with a quiet longing, the kind that made your heart flutter in your chest. You responded instinctively, parting your lips to let her in, the warmth of her mouth sending a rush of heat through your body. Her kiss deepened, her tongue gentle and deliberate, coaxing a shiver of desire through you.

As she kissed you, one of her hands moved from your side, gliding down to rest on your upper thigh. The touch was light at first, but then her fingers began to knead your skin softly, sending a ripple of pleasure that made you moan quietly, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation was almost enough to make you forget everything else, but Alexia pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes full of tenderness and something deeper—something that made your pulse race.

"Are you tired, mi vida?" she asked, her voice low and filled with concern. She always checked in with you, always made sure you were okay, and you loved her for it. It made you feel safe, loved, cherished.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, and shook your head softly. "Not anymore," you admitted, your voice shy but sincere, your cheeks flushing as you spoke. "I want you."

Even after all these years together, Alexia could still make you blush with just a look, a touch, a single word. It was one of the many things that made your love for her feel so new, so full of wonder. You shifted a little, your heart racing as you met her gaze, waiting for her response.

"What about you?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. You needed to know—her needs, her desires. You had always been in tune with each other, and you wanted to make sure she was okay, that she felt as ready as you did.

Alexia smiled softly, a bashful but sincere smile that made her eyes shine with something playful and warm. "I’m okay," she said, her voice a whisper as she leaned in to kiss your cheek. She pressed another kiss there, then another, each one a gentle, loving promise. "I’ve been wanting you all day."

The admission made your heart skip, and you felt a surge of warmth spread through you. There was no hesitation in her words, just raw, honest desire. She had been thinking about you, wanting you, just as you had been wanting her.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the closeness between you both—how deeply you understood each other, how completely you shared this connection. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, it was spiritual, it was everything. And as Alexia’s lips trailed over your skin, you knew you wanted nothing more than to be close to her in every way possible, to feel her love as deeply as you could.

"You’re mine, mi amor," you whispered, the words slipping out almost without thought. "Always."

Alexia’s smile widened at that, and she kissed you again, this time deeper, more urgent. Her hand found its way back to your thigh, and the fire between you both began to build once more. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your breath, the beating of your hearts, and the quiet, unspoken promise that this moment was yours alone.

Alexia pulled back, her eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was that look again—the one that made your heart race and your cheeks flush. That quiet intensity, a mixture of love and desire, that only she could make you feel. You smiled shyly at her, your gaze dropping for a brief second, unable to hold her stare for too long, though you loved how she made you feel in that moment.

She didn’t say a word, just gently caressed your belly, her fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns over the curve of your bump. Her touch was light, tender—soothing in its familiarity. It was a gesture that had become so natural, a way for her to connect with you and the life growing inside of you.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled her shirt off, the movement graceful and confident. You instinctively tried to help her with the clasp of her bra, but with your growing belly, shifting in the bed was a little more difficult than usual. You tried your best, but Alexia gave you a playful look, the kind that told you not to worry—she had this. You both laughed softly at the exchange, the room filled with a gentle, comforting atmosphere. She didn’t need your help, but you loved how she let you try, even if it was just for a moment.

Her eyes sparkled as she moved to remove your bra next, her fingers grazing your skin. But she paused, caught in the fabric of the bra, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she marveled at the softness of it. The way it felt against her fingers—no cups, just the fabric—seemed to stir something inside her, and you could see it in the way she looked at you. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her gaze lingering.

Her hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them lightly, her touch reverent and gentle. You gasped quietly at the feeling of her hands on you, the sensation sending waves of warmth through your body. Her touch was soft but deliberate, as if she were savoring each moment, each caress. It made you feel so good, the way she moved with you, the way her hands knew exactly where to go to make you feel safe, loved, and desired all at once.

You let out a soft moan at the sensation, your body instinctively reacting to her touch. Alexia’s eyes flickered with satisfaction, her lips curling into a small smile as she heard you. It was always a quiet exchange between you both—one that didn’t need words to be understood. She was there, present and attuned to you, and in return, you gave her everything.

Slowly, she pulled your bra and boxers off, the fabric sliding over your skin with a careful slowness that made every movement feel intimate. She helped you shift, settling you onto your side, and for a moment, you just let yourself breathe. The room was still, the only sounds your quiet breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets.

Alexia slipped in behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist, her body pressing gently against yours. Her presence was grounding, and you felt the weight of her love in the soft pressure she applied, a perfect balance of closeness and comfort. She spooned you from behind, her body fitting perfectly against yours, the heat of her skin against yours soothing in its familiarity.

You sighed contentedly, resting back into her embrace. Her fingers trailed lightly up and down your arm, a calming rhythm that made everything feel right. She held you just the right amount of pressure, enough to make you feel safe, cherished, and loved without being overwhelming. The warmth of her body against yours, the sound of her steady breathing, made the room feel like your own little world—just the two of you, entwined in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," she whispered against the back of your neck, her voice soft, but full of meaning.

You smiled, closing your eyes as you nestled deeper into her arms. "I love you, too," you murmured, feeling the steady beat of her heart against your back, knowing that in this moment, you were exactly where you needed to be.

Alexia’s lips pressed softly against the back of your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she kissed you tenderly. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned into her more, the comfort of her closeness grounding you. Her hands moved with purpose, trailing slowly from your breasts down your body, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you.

Her touch was gentle, careful, and filled with reverence. She moved slowly, savoring the softness of your skin as her fingers dipped lower, finding their way to your most sensitive place. The moment her fingers grazed over your bud, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t help it. Her touch felt like it had all the time in the world to explore you, to make you feel safe and cherished. Your head fell back, resting against her shoulder, as you allowed yourself to melt into her embrace.

She felt safe in this—being with you, loving you. You could tell in the way she moved, in the way she took her time with you. Her hands circled with care, slow and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you felt every part of her love. You could hear the soft moans escaping her lips, the sound of her getting lost in the moment, in the intimacy between you both. You loved it. You always did. It was a reminder that you were not just her partner but her everything.

Her motions were soft but skilled, each movement calculated and perfect. She knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to bring you closer to the edge without rushing. Your body responded instinctively, and without even thinking, you tried to open your legs a little more, giving her more room, trying to adjust your body to the best angle. The weight of your swollen belly made things a little more difficult, but Alexia never faltered. She worked hard, her determination and care evident in the way she positioned herself, adjusting so that she could keep making you feel good.

She didn’t rush, taking her time to make sure you were always at ease, always comfortable. She was patient, never pushing, always focused on you, and that’s what made the experience so tender, so full of love. You felt her move with you, her fingers working in slow, steady circles that made your breath hitch and your body tremble beneath her touch.

"Mi amor," you breathed out softly, your voice thick with affection and need. "You feel so good."

Alexia's response was a soft murmur against your ear, her breath warm and steady. "I just want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice full of love and devotion. "Always."

You smiled, feeling completely enveloped in her warmth, in her love, in the trust that you shared. In this moment, there was no other place you'd rather be—just the two of you, intertwined, making love slowly and tenderly, no rush, just love.

As Alexia’s fingers continued their soft, persistent circles, you felt the pressure building within you, that sweet tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. You could feel your breath quickening, your body responding to her touch with each slow, purposeful stroke. She knew how to push you to the edge, to bring you closer and closer without letting you fall just yet. The sensation of her fingers on you, so skilled and tender, had your body trembling beneath her.

You sighed, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure intensified, the heat pooling low in your belly, spreading through your veins. It was so close now—so close to the release you so desperately craved. Your hips rocked instinctively, pushing into her touch, urging her on, desperate for that final push that would send you over the edge.

Alexia’s lips brushed your ear softly, her voice a low, hushed whisper. “I’ve got you, mi amor,” she murmured, her words wrapped in warmth and promise. Her fingers pressed deeper, moving faster now, pushing you right to that point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

But then, with a small, teasing smile, she withdrew her hand, just enough to leave you hanging, teetering on the edge. You gasped, your body shuddering in protest, desperate for the release that she was expertly denying you. Before you could protest, you heard the soft rustle of her shifting beside you.

You glanced over, confused and intrigued, as she reached into the drawer by the bed. You knew she always had a plan, a way to keep the tension building between you both. She pulled out a small toy, and your breath hitched at the sight. It wasn’t just any toy; it was sleek, smooth, and as she held it in her hand, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rising between you two, the temperature in the room escalating in sync with the growing desire.

Alexia’s gaze met yours, full of quiet confidence, as she slowly trailed the toy down her own body. You could hear the soft sigh that escaped her lips as it pressed against her, her fingers teasing herself in the same way she had been teasing you—deliberate and slow. Watching her, seeing the pleasure flicker in her eyes as she did it for herself, made the heat inside you flare. It was an unexpected, electrifying sight, one that had you aching with desire. The sight of her like this—so beautifully undone, yet still so in control—made your pulse race.

The contrast between the softness of her movements and the growing urgency between you two only fueled the heat that had been steadily building, and now it felt as if the very air between you both was charged. Watching her pleasure herself, seeing the way she writhed and moaned softly with each careful movement, made the desire within you almost unbearable.

Her gaze never left yours, even as she rocked against the toy, the pressure mounting in her own body. "I need you," she whispered, her voice low, rough with need. "But I want you to come first. Let go for me, mi amor. Let me see you fall apart."

The combination of her words and her teasing touch was too much. You could feel your body tightening, ready to burst. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but it only heightened the pleasure that surged through you, pulling you closer to the edge with every second. Your body tensed, your breath shallow, and with one final, skilled movement, Alexia pushed you over that cliff. The release was sudden, intense, as your body shook with pleasure.

The sight of her—of Alexia, lost in the moment as she let the toy press deeper, her own release not far behind—made everything feel hotter, more intense. You could feel her reaching her own high as her body quivered beside you, her moans soft but filled with the same desperate need you’d felt just moments before.

As your breathing slowed, and the aftershocks of pleasure faded, Alexia’s hand returned to you, gently cupping your face as she kissed you softly, lovingly, as if both of you had just shared the most intimate connection.

Your wife’s breath hitched not much later, her movements becoming more frantic as the pressure built, the tightness in her chest and stomach growing. You could see it in her eyes—the way she was teetering on the edge, just like you had been moments before. Her grip on the toy tightened, her body arcing slightly as she gave herself one last push. With a soft moan, she finally succumbed, her body shuddering as she went over the edge, her release washing over her in waves.

Her breath came in shaky gasps, her body trembling as she came down from the high, still holding onto the toy, the sensation lingering as she caught her breath. She leaned into you, her face pressed against your neck as her body melted into yours, the aftershocks of pleasure making her feel weightless.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, letting the warmth of her body calm both of you. There was no rush now—just the soft rhythm of your breathing together as you lay in each other's arms, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a few moments, Alexia gently pulled away, her eyes soft and filled with love. She moved carefully, reaching for some wet wipes in the bedside drawer and cleaning you both up tenderly, her touch gentle as she wiped away the remnants of your shared pleasure. Every motion was slow, deliberate—she took her time, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you felt cared for.

When she was done, she tossed the wipes into the bin and then returned to you, her arms pulling you back into her embrace. She settled against you, her head resting on your chest as you stroked her hair, both of you enjoying the stillness that followed.

"Mi amor," she whispered softly, her voice quiet but full of affection. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you replied, kissing the top of her head, feeling her heart beating steadily against yours. You both stayed like that for a long while—just holding each other, breathing together, letting the closeness wash over you as you drifted into the peaceful silence that came after a perfect moment.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso smut #woso one shot #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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motorsportbarbie13 · 4 months ago

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Zip Me Up?

In which you're getting ready for a night out but you need your boyfriend's help. Or do you?

Warnings: none unless you hate tooth achingly sweet fluff Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

When you heard the front door snick close, your eyes fall straight to your phone. 6:45. Shit. You were going to be late and you weren’t even dressed yet. In your defense, you had spent a few extra hours at the salon that day with Carmen who kept talking you into more and more treatments. ‘It’s a reward for getting through your first F1 season as a WAG!’ she had joked while Lily nodded along in agreement on your other side, which lead to you adding a facial on to the end of your massage Lando had booked for you today.

You were regretting it now because that door closing signaled that your boyfriend was home and you were still sat in front of vanity mirror in the skimpy black lingerie that was supposed to be a surprise for Lando after the FIA awards tonight. You knew he was still salty about losing the championship to Max by 20 points and the bits of lace and silk were supposed to help get his mind off things.

While the season had ended well, with Lando picking up a total of seven wins and McLaren securing their first constructors championship on ages, the sting of losing out to Max in the end was just a bit too much for your boyfriend to handle. You had known him for years, your brother racing the same circuits as Lando as a child, so you knew how competitive he was and how badly it hurt him to come up just short. While your brother had left the sport after he turned 16, he had joined the McLaren racing team as first an engineer before being promoted to strategist.

You had run into Lando at the McLaren Technical Center one afternoon two years back while visiting your brother, a spark that had been present when you both were younger igniting again with one single look. The rest, as they say, was history. It had been a whirlwind really, the timing of it all simply perfect.

“Babe, you almost ready? The car is going to be here in fifteen.” Lando calls from what sounds like the kitchen. He had just popped out to get bottle of whiskey to put in his flask, insisting that being half way drunk was the only way he was going to survive the awards dinner.

In the kitchen, Lando sets the bottle of whiskey down before opening the silver flask you had gotten him for his birthday in November. Engraved on the side was his monogram and a tiny little F1 car under it.

“Almost ready! Be out in five!” You shout back and Lando can’t help but chuckle. Five minutes in your time was actually closer to 15 so he knew he had time for a drink.

Lando busies himself in the kitchen while he waits, knowing he’s going to tease you about taking so long to get ready while not meaning a word of his banter. You scurry about the bedroom, for once glad he hasn’t come looking for you so you can get ready quickly without being distracted. It was Lando’s constant state: Distraction. His curls distracted you. His smile distracted you. The way he said your name distracted you. Everything about your boyfriend caused you to be utterly distracted and while you wouldn’t have it any other way, sometimes a girl just needs 10 minutes alone to focus and get her makeup on.

Minutes pass and the house is quiet, save for the clink of some ice in a glass as Lando enjoys a quick drink before you leave for the night.

“Lan?” You call and God does that do something to him. The nickname you have for him is his favorite word. Not because he likes being called Lan, although he doesn’t mind. No, he loved it because of the way his name fell off your lips like sweet slow drips of honey, sugary coated and thick.

He makes his way down the hall, knowing exactly where to find you: your dressing room. It had been your only demand when you moved in with him 3 months ago. If he got a gaming room, you deserved a dressing room. And Lando, not being one to ever say no to you, had immediately had his workout room converted to the dressing room of your dreams.

He stops once he reaches the doorway, pausing to lean against the frame to take you in. Your hair was done in loose curls, the shiny locks tumbling down over your shoulders made him forget his last name. Your black dress, shimmering under the dim lights you only used after your makeup was finished, was a long column of silk that made Lando’s throat go dry.

When you see him standing there, practically eating you alive with the feral look on his face, a slow grin spreads across your face. “Hi baby.” You coo before gathering your hair up in one hand while spinning around. “Can you zip my dress up for me?”

Truth be told, you could have probably done it yourself but you also wanted to give Lando a sneak at what was under your dress right when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Teasing him with little glimpses of skin was one of your favorite past times. Lando knew that you could have done it yourself too, but he appreciated being needed and would never pass up the opportunity to run his fingers up your bare skin.

“Of course.” He says, crossing the room in a few strides to come stand behind you. Your perfume, a sweet and spicy dream of a fragrance, settled across his skin where it would linger all night, a constant reminder that you were his now. When you had waltzed into the MTC visiting your brother two years ago, he hadn’t recognized you at first. The moment he heard your voice though? He had known he was a goner.

His fingers deftly maneuver the zipper up towards the top of the gown, the pads of his fingers leaving a smattering of goosebumps in their wake. When his job is done and your dress is secure, Lando dips his head to drop an open mouthed kiss in the crook of your neck, a place you can often find him kissing. When he starts to drag his tongue from his favorite spot up the column of your neck, you can’t help the sigh that falls from your lips on a whisper. Here it was, the distraction.

“You look exquisite tonight.” He murmurs when his mouth reaches your ear, breath dusting along the shell of your ear.

“Thank you.” Your voice is embarrassingly breathy but Lando’s fingers digging into your hips says he’s not embarrassed one bit. He didn’t say a word about the lace that was for him, but you know he saw it. “Sorry I’m running behind. Carmen, Lily, and I took longer at the salon today than I anticipated.”

Lando spins you around, shaking his head when your gaze meets his. “It’s fine, we’re not really all that late. I’m glad you’re getting along with the other girls.”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth ticking up at the thought of your friends, also girlfriends of F1 drivers, who had really taken you under your wing this season. Being in the public eye like the WAGs tended to be was not for the faint of heart and there had been several times this season where only the girls were able to understand your struggle to adjust to life with Lando.

The two of you stand there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other. You were able to travel to most of the races so you didn’t often go too long without seeing Lando, but there was something settling about it now being winter break, all work suspended for the time being while everyone decompressed after a hard season. You had made it through, relationship stronger than ever, and the silent conversation that happens while you two reflect on how everything has changed so quickly has your heart fluttering in your chest.

Lando’s the first to break the spell, forced to drop his attention to his phone that was buzzing quietly. “That’s the car.” He says, sounding almost sad that the two of you will have to leave the comfort of your private cocoon tonight and put on your public faces for the evening.

Moments later, Lando is helping you into your jacket before twining his fingers with your own. More kisses are dropped on your cheeks and neck as you both scuttle towards the door, the hired car likely double parked in front of your building. You knew Lando would have rather stayed home tonight, not wanting to have to share you or your attention with anyone but you also knew tonight would serve as a good closing chapter on your first year together and for that, you were forever grateful.

#lando norris #f1 imagine #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #fluff #boyfriend lando #lando x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris x fem!reader #no use of y/n #be nice this is my first fic in a while #should i do a part two with a 'whats under my dress' surprise moment???

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kitten4sannie · 3 months ago

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blood pact

pairing: vampire! wooyoung x human! reader (fem)

genre: vampire society au, a lil bit of angst, smut

summary: living in a city overrun by bloodsuckers is already hard enough on its own, but you’re really put to the test when one of them ends up being your only hope in the face of danger.

w.c: 4.3k

warnings: blood/injury, depictions of violence, death(s)? of a few vampires, hard-ish dom (slight tamer)! wooyoung, subby (tiny bit bratty)! reader, these mfs are nasty alr, some light brat taming, one or two little slaps, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, blood kink obv <3 (includes blood drinking/sharing), kissing, oral (giving), throat fucking, brief breath play, pain kink, mutual masturbation, lotus position but it’s rough !!, creampie

a/n: oh mannn i’m a bit late again 😣 but im excited to share this one with you all !! i wanted to thank my dear lily for beta reading this one for me and giving me lovely feedback that helps me grow as a writer, it truly means the world to me my dear 🩷 once again i do apologize if this fic seems disjointed in any way ,, things have been a bit weird but i won’t let life stop me from sharing nasty smut >:((( lol i hope you enjoy and please lemme know what you thought <33

song rec: dirt - depeche mode (we’re taking it wayyy back with this one <3)

fictober 2024

You were never able to pinpoint exactly when humanity went to shit, as it had always been in a state of constant conflict and disarray, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a raging dumpster fire — one that was close to impossible to put out once it was lit. Unbeknownst to humans, there was a society of vampires that lived in the shadows for centuries, waiting patiently until it was the perfect time to make their existence known and feared. What better time to take over the world than when the humans were too busy being at each other’s throats to even realize they had a common enemy, one that would drain them of their life source within a blink of an eye?

Anyone with a pulse had no choice but to fall in line and succumb to their undead overlords, having to make up their mind about whether they would like to join forces with the enemy by desecrating their DNA and joining those that single-handedly brought upon humanity’s destruction, or grovel at their feet and become a slave, a house pet of sorts whose soul purpose was to feed and entertain their blood-sucking masters.

It was not an easy choice for most, and especially for you, so you simply found another solution — blend in. If you embodied everything a vampire was, even down to their immeasurable sense of pride and entitlement, how could they tell you apart from the others? And when they saw through your ruse, you would drive a stake through their still heart. You would never join their empire, let alone be one of their toys, especially not for some pompous undead prick that would treat you like a glorified juice box.

Yet, here you were, drunk off your ass at a gothic nightclub that welcomed vampiric guests and shunned anyone with a beating heart, unless they were owned and branded.

“Gimme another whiskey, neat,” you slurred, holding your empty shot glass to the poor excuse of a human bartender standing on the other side of the bar. You scoffed at the jeweled collar he wore around his neck, knowing he was owned by whatever undead asshole that ran the nightclub. You had your own collar, of course, but you had taken it from someone that was…no longer in need of it. You did what you had to, to make it through another night in the corrupted world you regretfully called your home.

“I should cut you off, y’know, especially after being such a dick to me all night,” the man mumbled, despite reaching underneath the bar to grab an almost empty bottle of whiskey and filling your glass back up, not wanting to risk angering his superiors.

“But, you won’t. Your vampiric asshole of a boss wouldn’t like that you’re denying a paying customer.” You stuck your tongue out at the man, much to his dismay. You sipped on the whiskey, liking the way it burned as it went down your throat, grateful that you could still feel something, even if it was a drunkenness that would most likely do irreversible damage to your liver. It’s not like your life really mattered, not in this timeline, at least.

You lazily held your glass up in his direction, blowing a few strands of loose hair out of your eyes. The man simply held up the empty bottle and gave you a tight smile. “All out. Now, would you pay your tab?”

“Fineeee, oh my god,” you groaned dramatically, standing up from the barstool and wobbling a bit, fishing for your wallet somewhere inside your worn trench coat. When you opened it up, you came upon the discovery that it was completely empty, looking up to find fear inside the bartender’s eyes. “L-listen, I can replace that bottle, okay? I-I’ll…just need to stop by the local temp agency first.”

“I think you should leave, before they catch wind of this…” the bartender warned you under his breath, unconsciously tugging at his collar.

Swallowing harshly, you glanced around the crowded, dingy club past the collar of your coat, before stumbling your way past many vampire patrons that were drunk off the blood of their human pets who stayed close to them, wishing your blurry surroundings weren’t moving in slow motion. Paranoid that somebody was following you, you looked past your shoulder, only seeing the same crowd of drunken patrons. Temporarily relieved, you swiftly faced forward again, only to accidentally bump into someone face-first, your teeth clinking into the metal of their lip ring, your hands almost getting caught in the many necklaces they were wearing. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, please don’t kill me,” you automatically apologized, already knowing they weren’t human based on the lack of a collar and color in their cheeks.

“If I wanted to, I would,” Wooyoung teased in his own special way, quite aware of the way your heart rate spiked as soon as his light, airy words reached your ears. He enjoyed playing around with his food as much as the next vampire, but lately, it’s grown quite dull, like everything else in his never-ending life.

“O-oh!” you squeaked, letting out a nervous laugh, sticking one hand into your coat pocket to wrap your fingers around the sharp stake you carried with you everywhere.

He brought one manicured finger up to tap against the jewel sitting snugly against your collared neck, leaning in to press his lips against the slope of your ear. “I’d take you right here in front of everyone, drink you dry. Let them all enjoy the pretty sounds you’d make. Does that sound fun?”

“Oh, you can try it, if you want,” you goaded him, looking up at him with your big doe eyes once he pulled back, wondering if he knew just how unhinged you were, just how on the edge you really were. “But, what happens if I’m poisonous? I might not be worth the stomachache.”

Wooyoung chuckled to himself, not used to any human acting so boldly towards him. “Fair point, human.”

“Y/N,” you corrected him, letting go of you weapon in favor of wrapping your finger around one of his silver necklaces, teasing him back in your own way. “You should at least know my name if you’re going to drink from me.”

Wooyoung mused at your actions, studying you with his sly fox eyes, licking at the mole on his lip. He would’ve pursed you if you hadn’t suddenly gotten spooked by something, turning his head to watch you continue making your way out of the club, noticing that the owner quickly followed after you. Things were certainly getting interesting.

By the time you inhaled the cold night air into your lungs, you had already broke out into a sweat. You let your heavy coat hang off past your shoulders and leaned back against a nearby wall, regretting all the alcohol you had subjected your poor body into taking. “Fuck me…” you groaned, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back into the cool concrete behind you, hoping that would make the world stop spinning.

“Is that an invitation…?” asked the very vampire you had been talking shit about to the bartender just a few minutes earlier. “It’s the least you could offer me in exchange for all the whiskey you drank in my club, filthy human.”

Your blood ran cold. “D-don’t you even think about touching me…You aren’t my owner.”

“Oh, because of this little collar you have on? You really don’t have a clue about our kind, do you? There’s no pheromones on you, just your own filthy human scent,” the vampire chided, running his finger along the worn band of your lace collar. It made your skin crawl. You struggled to keep down all the alcohol you had drowned yourself in. Just then, he ripped it from your neck and replaced it with his slender fingers, squeezing around it until your vision grew just that more blurry. “But, don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the lost time that you haven’t been used like a proper toy.”

Blinding rage joined the revulsion you felt for the individual that continued to toy with you as though you were a defenseless child, the culmination of it churning around inside your body like molten hot lava ready to pour out of you. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” you barked, shoving your hands into his shoulders as hard as you could, your feverish anger growing that much more when he hardly moved.

In response, the vampire tugged your coat down and ripped open your top, causing the buttons to fly off. His abhorrent words became nothing more than radio static inside your ringing ears, once you saw red, clutching the wooden stake inside your pocket so tightly that it pierced your fragile skin. You reeled your arm back and drove it straight into the owner’s side, so violently that the wood split into shards, not letting go of it until you knew that it was lodged deeply inside him, wishing, hoping he felt even a fragment of the pain his kind had caused you. “Die,” you muttered, searching his eyes for some sign of shock, regret, grief, anything.

Confusion overtook your flushed features when the man simply laughed directly in your face, as though he were savoring a joke that you weren’t in on, suddenly feeling a white hot burning pain inside your abdomen. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t, not while you were gurgling on your own blood. You looked down to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of your stomach, reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, rendering it impossible to draw in air.

“It never ceases to amuse me when a blood bag thinks they can stop someone like me with something as silly as a wooden stake,” he began, letting out a small hum, as he drove his ritual dagger in as far as it could go. He leaned in close to you, twisting the knife around inside you just to hear the delightful sounds of agony that escaped your red tinted lips. “I’ve been alive longer than your entire bloodline, pathetic human, and I’ll be outliving you tonight.” And with that, the club owner ripped the dagger back out and strolled back into the building, licking the crimson that still ran down the sides of his blade.

You should’ve known this would happen eventually in a world like this. You had no power from the very start. Why had you been blind to the truth until this very moment, when all you could see was your precious blood leaving your body? Regardless, it was far too late to ruminate over trivial things. Death’s gentle whispers were lulling you to sleep, its sweet promises of rest numbing out most of the visceral emotions that coursed through your veins. Slumping against the wall, you held your middle with trembling hands, gazing up at the full moon that loomed over you, wanting to enjoy her beauty one last time — at least, until someone blocked your view.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m dying here? Let me look at the moon in peace…” you murmured, weakly glaring up at the stranger you had met inside that godforsaken club only a couple minutes ago.

“You still got some fire in you, doncha, sweetheart?” Wooyoung mused, crouching down so you were at eye level, reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. “But, you’ll die of blood loss soon…pity.”

“You’re very observant,” you replied snarkily, leaning your head back into the wall, your vision growing darker by the second. You let out a long, defeated sigh, choking a bit on the blood left inside your raw throat. “Are you just here to watch me die? If that’s the case, can you do me a favor and make it quick?”

“You didn’t seem like the type to give up so easily.” He leaned in close to you, his crimson eyes shining that much brighter when he asked, “Don’t you want revenge?”

His question echoed inside your mind, once as a whisper, and eventually as a desperate plea. “And what if I do…? It’s not like I can do much now…”

“Let me turn you.” He bared his fangs. “You’ll live, and you’ll be so much stronger than ever before.” He watched as your eyes widened, then returned to normal, figuring you were weighing your options, though they were vastly limited. “You’ll be free to take his life away, do with it as you please, just like he was going to do to you. Doesn’t that sound delicious?”

A few drops of blood dribbled down the side of your mouth. The sand in your hourglass was about to run out. “What do you get in return?”

Wooyoung’s lips curled up into a sadistic smile, his eyes resembling glowing crescent moons. “I’ll be your Master, of course. It’s only fair, being your savior, and all.”

Though that was the very last thing you wanted, you were far too stubborn to die out in such a pathetic fashion. Not only that, but you were being offered the deal of a lifetime, at the end of your lifetime, to be exact, and in exchange for your mortal soul, you could enact sweet, sweet revenge and have a new tale to tell, one that no man or monster could ever take from you.

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Wooyoung joked slyly, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Alright, deal, but make it quick–” you were barely able to enunciate, before Wooyoung was all over you, one hand holding the side of your head, while the other felt where your artery was, immediately sinking his fangs deep into your neck to start the transformation process.

When you came to, you looked up at your savior, your eyes as red as the blood he had sucked out of you, all of the immense pain that plagued your body gone as quickly as it came, instead replaced by an indescribable thirst.

“How do you feel, pet?” Wooyoung asked, licking remnants of your life source from his manicured fingers.

You bared your new, needle sharp fangs to your Master. “Hungry.”

He smiled at you like a proud father would. “I think I know how we can fix that.”

The last thing the vampiric club owner expected to see when he was sitting inside the comfort of his secluded office was the human woman he had just murdered out of cold blood stomping up to his desk and tossing it out of the way like it wasn’t made of marble.

“H-hey, we can talk about this, right?” he asked nervously, holding his hands up, along with the stacks of cash that were in between his grubby fingers. “You want money? You can have it!”

You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him towards you so violently, he just about broke his neck. “I don’t want money. I want your life.”

When Wooyoung casually strolled into the cush office and pressed his back against the opaque door, the other vampire pleaded at him with his wide eyes. “Wooyoung, baby, this is your favorite club, isn’t it? Haven’t I treated you good here?”

“Y/N will treat you good too, don’t worry,” he reassures sweetly, dragging his tongue across his pointed teeth. He brought his finger up to his chin like he just remembered something, nodding to himself. “Ahh, she does bite, though.”

Just as Wooyoung’s cackles rang out inside the vast room, the club owner shifted his frightened gaze to you just in time to see your jaw open wide, gulping at the sheer size of your fangs. And just like that, you bit down onto the vampire’s neck, getting a good grip on his skin, before swiftly turning your head and causing a fountain of blood to rain over you.

Once you were done feeding, there was hardly anything left of the club owner. Most of him was inside you, and the rest was left splattered across the pedestrian paintings he had up on the walls. Still sitting on the floor near scattered, bloodied hundred dollar bills, you licked up the rest of him from your fingers, your entire body vibrating with pleasure now that your killer was no longer with you, and for other reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it had something to do with your new body and your newfound love for excess.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together with giddy delight, giving the top of your head a few pats as a reward. “What a good girl. Do you feel full?”

Shaking your head, you reached up to Wooyoung’s waistband, undoing the belt buckle and easing his pants down, licking at your red stained lips all the while. The burning, mind-melting desire to consume didn’t leave you, it only multiplied. It clouded your mind, made you feel like you might lose your mind if you didn’t make it stop. “Not enough…my throat…need it filled…”

“Ahh, I see,” Wooyoung sighed knowingly. This always happened with the humans he turned; they turned into insatiable monsters, always driven by their need for more. He could never get tired of it. Leaning his back against the dripping wall, he reached down to slide his fingers into your soft hair, angling your head upwards, cooing softly at you as he pushed his way into your mouth. “Be careful with your fangs, sweetheart.”

Relaxing your throat upon the sudden intrusion, you opened your mouth wider, as to not pierce Wooyoung’s cock with your new fangs, feeling content once the entirety of his twitching length fit snugly inside. It was when the vampire thrusted further into your throat that you made a wet gagging sound, tears forming inside your crimson eyes, closing them.

“Ah, ah,” Wooyoung tutted, giving your cheek a light smack, smiling sweetly down at you when your eyes opened back up. “That’s right, you better look at me with those pretty eyes of yours if you’re going to take me down your throat like this. That’s what a good pet does.”

Once Wooyoung started to fuck your throat, eager to fill it with his cum, his pale fingers pulling tightly at your hair, you did your best not to choke around him, welcoming him in again, over and over, until saliva and pre-cum dripped down your chin and along your bare chest.

“Mmnh….nnnhmm…” you moaned in approval, reaching up to hold onto his bucking hips, digging your nails into his protruding hip bones. You blinked more tears away, wanting to see Wooyoung’s sadistic face without the constant blurriness that plagued your vision. Whether you had a penchant for punishment or you were simply bloodthirsty, it caused you to prod at the vampire’s cock with your fangs, the tangy flavor of iron joining the abundance of precum that lubed up your throat.

“Fuck, you’re a naughty girl, biting me like that,” Wooyoung hissed in between violent thrusts, suddenly holding your head still when the entirety of his cock was inside your throat, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, satisfied with the filthy gurgling noises you couldn’t help but make for him, feeling more of your spit drip down his heavy balls. He smacked his hand against your cheek again, watching it grow rosy, before pinching your nose tightly. “But, you can’t help it, huh? You just want to be put in your place. I can’t blame you for that.”

The sensation was suffocating, the feeling of being used added onto the constant buzz of pleasure that was running through your veins; it was nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It almost made you wish that you had let yourself be turned a long time ago. No one could stop you now, not even him. Maybe your humanity was slipping away from you, much like your sanity with each passing moment.

It wasn’t until you could breathe again and something warm, heavy, was pressing down on the tip of your tongue that you faded back into reality, just in time for Wooyoung to shoot a seemingly never-ending cumshot down the back of your aching throat.

“You’ll swallow, won’t you?” he asked sweetly, giving the bottom of your chin a light tickle with his clawed fingers.

When you stuck out your tongue to show him that nothing was left, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and yanked you towards him, biting the tip of your tongue to draw blood. You watched him suck it off with half-lidded eyes, having to close your thighs together to keep a fresh wave of slick from dripping out of you.

Before you knew it, he was on the floor with you, not even needing to pull you into his lap, groaning into your mouth as you climbed into it yourself, the heated kiss you shared consisting mostly of tongue, pointed teeth, and blood. You swapped red-tinted saliva back and forth, your hands working in tandem to tear off each other’s clothes and grope one another wherever you could, trying to create as much friction between your lower halves as you could, Wooyoung’s stiff cock rubbing deliciously into your clothed cunt.

You broke the kiss when your thirst once again grew too strong to ignore, reaching up to run your index finger over the mole on Wooyoung’s glistening bottom lip, hissing softly when he pierced it with one of his fangs. You both watched the blood slowly trickle down along your skin, sharing a similar look with one another, before you leaned in to lap it up, your tongues meeting in the middle.

As though telepathically connected, you reached to slip your panties off from underneath your skirt the same time Wooyoung undid the buttons of his pants, immediately rubbing at yourselves in order to get off as quickly as possible.

“Look at me when you cum,” Wooyoung demanded between huffs of air, staring you down past his wispy lashes, the speed at which he was stroking his cock producing lewd squelching sounds, his slender fingers slicked up with his abundant pre-cum.

Trembling, you opened up your teary eyes to look at Wooyoung, the indescribable pleasure etched into his face causing you to throb nonstop, curling your fingers up in just the right way to launch you into a world of ecstasy. “C-cumming…”

Wooyoung groaned at the sight and feeling of your release spilling into his lap, squeezing his hand tightly around the base of his cock, hot spurts of cum landing on your abdomen and dripping down your bare cunt, not even caring that you both dirted his designer jeans with your shared arousal. “I’m gonna make you do that again, on my cock this time, you hear me?” he growled at you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you down onto his growing erection.

“Fuck,” you gasped sharply, holding onto his shoulders to keep your composure, your thighs still shaking from your residual pleasure, a low, burning pain present within your core as your hole stretched to accommodate the vampire’s size. “T-too much…”

Wooyoung’s ego just about doubled in that moment, his ringed fingers closing in on your soft waist, suddenly bucking his hips up into you like it was his sole mission to do so in the afterlife. Smiling smugly at the small, broken noises he was punching out of you with his vicious thrusts, he couldn’t help but let out a few crazed giggles. “Can’t take it now that I’m rearranging these pretty guts of yours, huh?” He mirrored your pout, his lower lip jutting out. “But, I thought you were my cum slut, my good little blood whore.”

“I am…! I–fuck, I am, Master…!” you found yourself crying out, tears inside your hazy eyes, tasting dried blood when you wet your dry lips, knowing you wouldn’t even recognize your reflection if you saw it now. You were a new model, remolded, changed for the better.

His hypnotic eyes began to glow. “Be a good sleeve and take it for your Master, yeah?”

You did as he said, taking everything he gave you like a pliant doll, letting him lick, bite, drink from you, and fuck you dumb for as long as his still heart desired, wondering if he was even aware of how much your blood boiled inside you.

Wooyoung was just like the others. They were all the same, treating you like a helpless toy, using you for their enjoyment and tossing you aside when they were bored, viewing your humanity as your downfall, and perhaps they were right. Like two magnets, you couldn’t live without the other, and now, you were a monster like him, one in the same.

Just as you both reached your climax together, holding desperately onto one another, Wooyoung’s bewitching gaze no longer holding captive, you felt a supreme power rise within yourself. You didn’t need him, not when you were now your own Master. The only thing you served now was your endless hunger.

Wooyoung couldn’t get you off once you latched onto his neck, gasping and sputtering, his constant struggles only forcing your fangs just that much deeper into his skin and the artery you had targeted, digging his claws into your back as a last ditch effort. “But, we…we made a pact,” he coughed out, his gravelly voice reflecting the immense pain he felt. He couldn’t fight back any longer, simply slumping back against the wall to accept his fate, holding his hand up to his torn neck, despite it not doing anything to prevent the crimson from flowing through his fingers. “I don’t understand…”

“I recall warning you that I was poisonous,” you replied softly, licking remnants of his precious life source from your stained lips.

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes resembling half-moons. “Fair point, human…”

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#ateez #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfic #kpop smut

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igbylicious · 3 months ago

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt14

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: You and Wooyoung do a little online shopping for a good cause.

wc: 9.3k

ch. warnings: sub Wooyoung, dom San & reader, pegging, anal fingering / sex (Woo receiving), blowjobs, cumming untouched, hairpulling, dirty talk, degradation kink, dacryphilia (ofc), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, light spanking, Woo gets spitroasted — but first he sucks the strap uwu, petnames (‘cockslut’, ‘babygirl’, ‘good boy’ for Wooyoung, ‘baby’ for reader)

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: only the epilogue left 〒▽〒 don’t touch me i’m emotional 〒▽〒

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

The sky is already darkening by the time San gets back to the apartment building after his late afternoon gym visit, and a crisp smell hangs in the air from an autumn shower that recently passed by. It’s invigorating, keeping San bright and alert despite the satisfying ache in his body from his post-workout exhaustion.

He picks up the mail on his way back; including yours, of course. His key chain has been a little heavier for some time now, but he likes the weight and jingle of it in his hand.

San sifts through the mail as he waits for the elevator to come down. It takes a bit longer than usual, but finally the door opens with its familiar ‘ding’ — revealing one of San’s neighbours inside.

Mrs Yoon.

“Oh! Hi, Mrs Yoon,” San says awkwardly, standing aside to let her through. He tries not to think about the last time he talked to the old lady, which only makes him think about it harder, an embarrassed heat burning under his skin.

Mrs Yoon gives him a crinkled smile as she steps out the elevator. “Hello, young man,” she politely greets him back, but there is a cheeky glint in her eyes.

San’s skin burns hotter, and can’t decide if it’s a mercy or a torment that she doesn’t acknowledge their previous conversation, leaving it all unspoken between them. Instead she simply wishes San a pleasant evening and starts to walk past him, going about her business without embarrassing him any further.

She probably intends for it to be a mercy — but something nags at San as Mrs Yoon leaves, and he realises he can’t let her go just yet.

“Ah, Mrs Yoon, could you wait a moment? Please?” he asks. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”

She stops her little shuffle towards the exit, blinking at San in surprise. “Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”

What’s on his mind? You. You are.

Specifically, the jaded resignation on your face when you’d brushed off San’s concern about Mrs Yoon’s boyfriend-comment; when you told him you’re used to it.

He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you need apathy to shield yourself from a world that’s oblivious to your lived experience at best, and at worst believes it’s something to be fixed. San isn’t naive; he knows he can’t take away society’s constant pressure for romantic attachment by himself. But there is something he can do right here and now.

Maybe today, he can be your shield instead.

“Um, Mrs Yoon, when we ran across you the other day… I just wanted to say, she’s not my girlfriend,” San says with calm warmth, a friendly smile on his face. Making it clear as politely as possible that he’s not starting a discussion, just stating a fact.

Mrs Yoon blinks at him in confusion, but then she breaks out in a smile of her own, filled with misplaced understanding.

“Ahhh, I see! And the other young man, he is not your boyfriend then, hm?” she grins slyly, like she’s in on some covert plot of secrecy. “I got it, your secret is safe with me. Though if I can give a piece of advice; a little more discretion wouldn’t hurt if you want to keep it a secret for much longer! If an old biddy like me has figured it out, then I can’t be the only one.”

San sighs a weary chuckle at the further misunderstanding. “No, no there’s no secrets. Wooyoung is my boyfriend,” he says, and Mrs Yoon’s confusion comes back tenfold. “But it’s different with her. We’re… We are friends. Really close friends. She’s very important to me.”

Something softens in Mrs Yoon’s face at San’s simple earnestness. She scratches her chin as she mulls it over, but eventually comes to a decision with a firm nod. “Hmm, well. Nothing wrong with that either, I suppose. Just as long as you three treat each other right.”

The safe politeness in San’s smile melts away, making way for honest happiness. “We do, Mrs. Yoon. Always.”

Grinning, she reaches up to suddenly pinch his cheek. San lets out a tiny ack, more out of surprise than pain, though her grip is surprisingly strong. “Now that I know,” she winks cheekily, then releases him. “Have a nice evening together, young man. She’s very lucky to have a good friend like you.”

Ah, and there Mrs Yoon gets it wrong again. “No, I’m the lucky one here, I reckon,” San grins. She shakes her head with a little reedy laugh, like his answer is exactly what she expected from him.

With that, San parts ways with Mrs Yoon and takes the elevator to the top floor. To you and Wooyoung.

San finds his and Wooyoung’s apartment empty when he drops off his bag — though honestly, he’s stopped thinking of the two spaces as ‘yours’ and ‘theirs’. So he gives Byeol a sweet little kiss on the top of her sweet little head, then goes over next-door without too much thought. Some days San enjoys a bit of alone time, but this is not one of them.

No, San can’t wait to curl up on the couch against one or two of his favourite people, maybe order in some food today so the time can be spent just lazing around in each others’ company.

When he opens the door to your apartment (strictly legally speaking), San hears an animated conversation happening. He perks up in curiosity, heading in closer to make out the words of what seems to be a lively discussion.

He finds you and Wooyoung on the couch, scrolling through something on your phone.

“Oohh, this looks pretty! And affordable too,” you say, looking to Wooyoung for his agreement — until you spot San and give him a little wave. “Hey, welcome back! Had a good workout?”

“Yeah, real good,” San says, a fond smile crinkling his eyes. Sounds like you and Wooyoung are looking at apartment listings again; something that started out as just fun and casual, building little fantasies around the possibilities, but the search is slowly growing more intentional.

But Wooyoung makes a face at your phone screen, shaking his head. “Too small,” he says decisively. “Ah, San! San! Good, you’re here, you can settle this for us!”

“Sure, lay it on me,” San says, naively assuming it’s about one of the listings. Then again, the way you immediately roll your eyes in exasperation…

“Seriously, Woo? You’re still on that?”

Wooyoung ignores you, turning to San with grim determination. “San. Tell her that if I don’t get to fuck other people, then she doesn’t get to either! A closed relationship, that’s what we agreed on.”

“That’s what you agreed on. You and San. I never agreed to any such thing.”

San blinks in baffled confusion. What? “Wait, you want to sleep with others? You barely have the stamina to keep up with us,” he blurts out, unable to fully process the idea that you’d want to open the relationship up.

“Hey,” you pout.

“What, ‘hey’?” he chuckles. “You’re the one who blamed us for that UTI because we are, and I quote, ‘horny demons who thrive on obliterating your poor bladder’s bacterial ecosystem’. Seriously, since when are you looking for more?”

“I’m not! Woo is just making drama over nothing!” you sigh, shooting Wooyoung some heavy side-eye. “I only pointed out that because we kinda winged this whole throuple situation, that technically we never made any rules about me and any hypothetical interest I might have.” Your side-eye deepens at the last part.

“Right,” Wooyoung says, returning your side-eye in equal force. “Hypothetical. Because you totally didn’t bring that up out of nowhere after sniffing around for gossip on San and Yunho’s past… activities.”

Yunho?! Since when is he on your radar?

It throws you too; your side-eye breaks as you look at Wooyoung in surprise. “That’s what this is about? Because I asked about him?” You let out a small, endeared giggle at Wooyoung’s jealous streak. “Woo, I’m just curious about the guy, is all! I finally get to meet him in person next week, I’ve only heard him on voice chat when you guys play that Mile of Mythologies thing together.”

“League of Legends!” San and Wooyoung protest simultaneously like clock-work.

“Yeah yeah,” you grin. “So, can we stop throwing a fuss over nothing or picking on me for having a delicate bladder?”

“Hey, I’m not picking on you for that. Honestly, all things considered it’s kind of a miracle you only got a UTI once. You got a toughie in there!” Wooyoung points out, grinning as he pats your lower stomach.

“Thank you! Now let’s go back to the important things in life, shall we?” You raise up your phone back up to go look at apartment listings again. Or so San thinks, at least.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, San vaguely notes that technically, you still haven’t agreed on a damn thing about the sleeping-with-other-people thing. Not that Wooyoung’s objections were needed; you don’t seem to actually have any serious considerations about Yunho, or anyone else. Well, and even if you did…

San smiles absent-mindedly. It’s not like he has bad memories of those past ‘activities’ with Yunho. The direct opposite, in fact. The idea of teaming up on you or Wooyoung… Wait, what? Hold on, where did that thought come from?)

“You really don’t like this one, Woo?” you ask Wooyoung, tilting the screen to him, completely unaware of the newly sparked scenarios inside San’s head.

“I told you, it’s too small!”

San shakes off whatever the hell is going on with his imagination, and focuses on his curiosity about this apartment. It must be real nice if you’re so set on the place, even if Wooyoung disagrees.

“This is too small?? Damn Woo, never knew you’re that much of a size queen.”

San frowns. Size queen? Again; what?

“Hey, who can blame me? I’ve gotten used to a certain… stretch,” Wooyoung says, a bold grin spreading over his face.

A stretch??? …Okay, maybe San needs to re-examine his assumptions about what you and Wooyoung are looking at.

“God you’re nasty,” you sigh in exasperation, but there’s a laugh hidden in there too. “Fine, fine, let’s see what else they got.”

San has finally reached you, standing behind the couch to look over your shoulder at the screen. His eyes widen as the veil of confusion lifts away, a surprised flush hitting his cheeks.

No, those are not apartment listings on your screen.

Those are sex toys.

Specifically, you and Wooyoung are looking at strap-ons.

“How about this kit?” Wooyoung asks, gesturing at the next one you scrolled to. “That looks promising.”

At first, your face lights up with interest, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace when you notice the cost. “Looks good but… might be a tiny bit out of my price range.”

“Our price range,” Wooyoung counters firmly. “Think of it as an investment for the future! What do you think, Sannie?”

“Um,” is the most eloquence response San can muster at this moment.

“Look look, it even comes with a few different dildos, see! And the harness is backless too,” Wooyoung says, eyebrows wiggling as he zooms in on one of the images.

The picture shows the back-view of a model wearing the harness, held into place by a supple-looking leather waistband and two elegant black straps wrapped around the upper thighs, snugly fitted just below the model’s completely exposed ass.

“…How’s the size? Is it adjustable?” you ask, not entirely convinced yet but slowly swayed by Wooyoung’s sales pitch.

San feels a heat crawl up to his face, and tugs at the neckline of his shirt as unbidden images float up in his mind of your ass in that harness. No, San definitely needs no further swaying. Fuck, his imagination sure is working overtime today. He’ll pay the whole damn thing out of his own pocket if the money is really a concern to you.

You nose through the product specifications, your face brightening at what you find. After that, it’s not long before the kit finds itself dropped into your shopping cart.

“Three days?” Wooyoung groans when he sees the shipping date, falling back into the couch miserably. “How am I supposed to wait that long?”

“Aw, you poor thing,” you coo teasingly, patting Wooyoung’s hair. “What a trial. What a tribulation.”

San grins when Wooyoung scoffs and grabs for your hand to get a bite in on your forearm. You yelp, unsuccessfully trying to fend him off. San lets the chaos entertain him for a moment, then he gently untangles you both. “Woo, I’m sure we can find a way to make the time go by faster,” he chuckles. “Like… how about you take a few days to think about what you’d like to happen once it’s here?”

Like magic, Wooyoung’s face instantly shifts to a thoughtful expression. “Well,” he says, tapping his bottom lip, “I do have a few ideas…”

Never one to be timid about his ideas, you naturally know the deepest, most intimate and depraved depths of Wooyoung’s fantasies by the time you have him on your knees in front of you.

You don’t need to see the hunger in his eyes as he stares up at you to know badly he wants this; don’t need to hear the breathless inhale when your fingers tangle into his hair, how his tongue eagerly darts out to wet his lips when you tug him forward — pushing the tip of your strap right against those plump lips.

Because you already know that is exactly what Wooyoung wants. To take your cock down his throat and choke on it.

The weight of the black, silicone dildo hanging between your legs is unfamiliar, a little awkward even, but the harness is more comfortable than you expected.

You’d stayed a bit concerned about the fit until the discreetly packaged arrived, but after fiddling with some adjustments you could breathe easily. The leather now sits perfectly around your waist, and the black straps don’t dig painfully into your thighs like you’d feared, instead framing your ass in a way that must be extremely flattering to say the least — if the way San’s eyes keep trailing back to them is anything to go by.

However, for now San’s gaze is fixed on Wooyoung.

San sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread lazily and leaned back with his hands resting on the mattress, making no effort to touch Wooyoung even though he is within arm’s reach. Head slightly tilted, he watches intently how Wooyoung’s lips part as the silicone cock is pushed past them.

Wooyoung wastes no time, sinking down with a muffled groan. Messily he sucks and laps at the strap, low moans and wet noises drifting upward. You let out a blissful sigh at the view, his pretty lips stretched around your cock. He blinks up at you as he somehow manages to grin even with his mouth stuffed, his dark eyes shiny with impatience and need.

“Little more, Woo. I know you can give me more,” you hum, running your hand through his hair. “Show me how hungry you are for my cock before I fuck you with it.”

“Mmh—”

Wooyoung eagerly follows your lead when you guide his head up and down, taking you deeper and deeper with minimal encouragement. He never holds back, treating your strap like it’s a real cock; and through his pure unbridled enthusiasm, you sink away into the illusion.

Your breaths grow heavier whenever Wooyoung pulls back to suckle indulgently at the tip, thick wet swipes of his tongue as he groans, his eyes fluttering shut every time you pull his hair to force your length down his throat again. Every pass of his mouth rubs the silicone dick’s rounded base against your cunt, and its strategically placed protrusion sends sparks through your core.

You start to roll your hips into him, chasing those sparks as Wooyoung’s head bobs to meet your shallow thrusts. It’s not long before he gags around you with an obscene gurgle, a thin trail of drool escaping past the corner of his lips. Instinctively you freeze, but Wooyoung shakes his head and whines. His cheeks are flushed, a watery gleam brimming in his eyes as he stares up at you, wordlessly begging you to keep fucking his throat.

“Aw, he’s tearing up already,” San chuckles, leaning forward so he can grasp Wooyoung’s chin. “Looks so pretty with cock between his lips, doesn’t he? That smart mouth stuffed full, working so hard to please you.”

Wooyoung lets out another whine at San’s praise, only more worked up by the edge of condescension in his voice.

“Sweet babygirl,” you grin fondly. “Come, make Sannie feel good too. Can you do that for me?”

Wooyoung makes a noise, immediately reaching for San, who guides Wooyoung’s hand to wrap around his cock. He groans lowly, his back arching ever so slightly at Wooyoung’s practised strokes.

“Good boy,” San sighs, a lazy smile on his lips. “Now, get back to sucking that cock properly, hm? Wanna see you choke on it.”

Wooyoung moans loudly, more drool spilling down his chin. He keens when you pull his hair a little harder; it’s all the reminder he needs to go back to gagging around your cock, meeting the roll of your hips as you fuck his face. He breaths harshly through his nose, struggling to control his breathing but never slowing down, taking your strap down his throat like a champ without ever neglecting San.

San’s chest is starting to heave as Wooyoung jerks him off, lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded. His low whine sears through you, as does the sight of his large hand leading Wooyoung’s to pump his leaking cock. Wooyoung revels in how he’s being used, teary eyes drifting shut as he fades away into a cockdrunk haze.

“San?” you say in a strained voice, more affected by the strap’s base gentle rubbing against your clit than you expected. (Or maybe the growing pressure in your core has more to do with Wooyoung, with seeing him like this.) “I think it’s time.”

Wooyoung’s eyes peek open at the sound of your voice, shimmering wetly with unshed tears. (…Yep, that definitely helps.)

“Yeah, it’s time,” San agrees, his voice equally strained.

He guides Wooyoung’s hand down to the base of his cock, to give it a squeeze just to take the edge off. Then he moves to kneel behind Wooyoung, who almost sobs in anticipation when San grabs two handfuls of his plump ass, spreading the cheeks apart.

Wooyoung whimpers around your cock, his hands grasping at your thighs for something to anchor him while San removes a modestly-sized plug that was warming Wooyoung up for this moment. You pat his hair reassuringly, cooing soft praises at Wooyoung, who groans as San’s lubed up fingers breach his rim to loosen him up a little further. San presses a soft, lingering kiss on Wooyoung’s shoulder and moves his fingers just as gently, gradually picking up speed.

You know San is not avoiding Wooyoung’s prostate when he jerks violently, the strap slipping out of his mouth, no longer muffling his loud whines. “F-fuck, right there, r-right there, Sannie…” he moans weakly, rocking back into San’s fingers.

Clumsily, Wooyoung grabs at the strap to try and stuff it back into his mouth. The tip catches against his cheek first, smearing a thick streak of saliva across his face. You sigh contently when Wooyoung keeps his hand around the silicone cock, rubbing the pleasing protrusion at the base firmly against your cunt as he wraps his swollen lips around its length.

“Still kinda tight… Relax, babe,” San grunts, curling his fingers in a way that has Wooyoung let out a throttled mewl. He runs his free hand soothingly over Wooyoung’s back. “Ahh, no wonder you’re tense,” he purrs. “Gonna be your first time getting fucked by two cocks like this, isn’t it? You’re such a greedy, perfect cockslut that it’s easy to forget you never took more than one at once. Just doesn’t seem right… those pretty holes were made to be used and ruined by some good dick.”

Tears escape Wooyoung’s lashes as he gurgles around your strap, his motions getting shakier with every filthy word from San, trembling harder with every thrust of San’s fingers. His own cock looks achingly hard, flushed a deep red and twitching, precum beading at the tip.

“Careful, Woo,” you gently chide him. “You’re not allowed to cum until I’m fucking you properly.”

Wooyoung whimpers, trimmed nails digging into your thigh as he desperately holds back from reaching down to bring himself relief.

A dangerous grin flashes across San’s lips as he also realises just how close Wooyoung is. “Oh? The cockslut can’t even wait until he’s stuffed full the way he should be? Are you gonna fall apart on just my fingers?”

“Mhh hm—”

Wooyoung can’t get his muffled noises of denial past his obstructed throat. He tries his best to obey your instruction, but San does nothing to make it easier on him.

Instead San’s wrist snaps harshly, the squelch of lube obscenely loud. His eyes are sharp and filled with dark intent, watching how Wooyoung shudders and whines, pushed closer and closer to his limit—

You can see the exact moment Wooyoung realises his efforts to hold back are futile, his eyes going wide a split second before he convulses, inadvertently pushing the strap down the back of his throat again. San’s free hand is on Wooyoung’s cock in a heartbeat, making sure he spills messy splatters of cum on San’s fingers and his own chest.

Wooyoung pants for air, spluttering and coughing when you pull the strap from his mouth. “S-sorry, I didn’t— didn’t mean to—” He babbles a rushed apology, staring up at you with wet eyes, his face red and puffy.

“Shh, it’s alright,” you hush him, going down on your knees so you can cradle his face, brushing your thumbs over tear-streaked cheeks. “Tried so hard, didn’t you?”

“Hm-hm,” he whines in agreement.

“Our pretty babygirl just gets overwhelmed so fast, doesn’t he?” you hum, pressing small pecks on his cock-swollen lips. “So sensitive that a few fingers is all it takes.”

Wooyoung sniffs, nodding weakly. “Y-yeah.”

“Look at that, made a mess all over yourself,” you tease, catching some of the white essence dribbling down Wooyoung’s chest. “Not your fault it’s so easy to wreck you. That’s just who you are, isn’t it? A needy, desperate thing.”

He whines an unintelligible noise. For anyone else, your words might have been humiliating; but for Wooyoung, they set something inside him free. Not his fault; just his nature.

San slowly kisses up Wooyoung’s neck, rubbing his shaky arms. It’d almost be sweet, if not for the satisfied curve of San’s lips. He’s gotten Wooyoung exactly where he wants him. “It’s okay, Woo,” he says, playfully nipping at his earlobe. “You can make it up later.”

Wooyoung’s attempt at answering is smothered by San’s mouth with a sudden, hard kiss. Your breath catches at his intensity, fervid and hungry. Just the sight of San and Wooyoung entangled alone is always enough to make your toes curl; from their shared, sensual passion, to the simple beauty of their contrasted features, the striking delicacy of Wooyoung melting into San’s masculine solidness.

You could watch them forever like this, but San does not allow you to be their spectator for long. Without even breaking the kiss, he reaches out to tug at your arm, pulling you into them. You go willingly.

Wooyoung welcomes you with a soft whine as you nip and suck at his neck, the split-glistened strap pressing against his half-hard cock. He proves himself every bit the desperate, needy thing that you called him, turning his head to switch between kissing you and San, groaning against your lips as he’s engulfed with heated attention from two ends. Breathlessly he gasps between kisses, trembling while you and San slowly leave a tapestry of hickeys and bitemarks over his neck and shoulders.

It’s when he starts to rock his hips, grinding back against San, that you reach for his dick. It’s still partially soft, still sensitive from cumming earlier. Wooyoung jerks into your grasp, his loud, keening whine stifled by San’s tongue down his throat. Fresh tears spill down Wooyoung’s cheeks as he shakes his head, his hand weakly clinging onto your arm — but his body tells a different story entirely, his spine arching as he contorts with overwhelming pleasure.

You are captivated, your tongue dragging over his wet cheek as you chase an instinct to lick up his tears. “Yeah, you can take it,” you murmur by his ear, making sure to keep a steady pace with your hand. “Want you hard and leaking when I finally fuck you. You owe us that much, don’t you think? Or is our babygirl going to disappoint me again?”

Wooyoung whimpers, head falling back against San’s shoulders. “C-can take it,” he slurs, now openly rocking his hips to fuck up into your hand.

San’s eyes blaze as he watches you exert your control over Wooyoung. Once your hand has settled into a rhythm, San firmly pulls you close again, capturing you in a hard kiss this time. Heatedly he explores the familiar crevices of your mouth while Wooyoung squirms and mewls between you, jaw slackening and eyes rolling back.

Your cunt aches at Wooyoung’s noisy writhing, and you press a gentle hand against San’s shoulder to push him back.

He begrudgingly parts from your lips, breathing hard. Focus slowly returns to his eyes as he grins down at Wooyoung’s wrecked state. “He’s ready?”

“I think so,” you hum, gently cradling Wooyoung’s cheeks. “What do you say, Wooyoungie, ready to take my cock?”

Wooyoung nuzzles at your palm, the rise and fall of his chest slowly steadying. “Ready,” he sighs with a languid smile, tinged with anticipatory excitement. “Want it… want your cock so bad, want you to fuck me…”

You giggle, bumping your forehead against his. “Good boy,” you praise, and leave a light peck on his nose. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Almost effortlessly, San lifts a squirmy Wooyoung on his feet, then onto the bed, manoeuvring him onto all fours.

Wooyoung moans when you run a hand over the sweet curve of his ass, peeking over his shoulder to look at you. You knead at his cheeks, staring intently at how lube has has trickled out his stretched hole, down to his thighs. It’s all too tempting to dive in and lap it up, to tease him with your tongue and sink your teeth into that pretty ass, but you doubt Wooyoung has much patience left in him — and neither do you, for that matter.

“San?” you ask, nudging at the container of lube to reapply a fresh layer. San grabs the bottle; but instead of handing it over to you, he just grins and slides up behind you.

Generously he slicks up his own hand, and your breath hitches as San reaches around to lube up the strap for you. There is something unexpectedly sensual about his big hand gliding over the length of your silicone cock, firm strokes that have you instinctively rocking into his touch, like you can feel him.

Wooyoung lets out an impatient whine. “Please…” he begs, wiggling his ass at you, and you decide he’s been forced to wait long enough.

You softly tap San’s arm, at which he retreats to rest his sticky hand on your waist instead. He hums when you press a soft kiss of gratitude on his lips, and then you turn your full attention back to Wooyoung.

He shudders when the silicone cockhead presses at his entrance, then slowly sinks in.

It’s not the biggest dildo that came with the kit, not quite matching San in thickness, but you preferred to start out with a size that you know Wooyoung can handle. Still, it’s girth is satisfying enough with a nice upward curve, and a subtly ribbed shaft that’s already doing a number on Wooyoung, if the way his fingers dig into the sheets is any indication.

“Oh fuck,” he grits out, eyes clenched shut.

You take your time to bottom out, making sure you can do so comfortably, and Wooyoung comes apart further with every slow inch. His arms buckle, falling onto his elbows when your thighs press against his ass, fully buried inside his tight hole. He pants hard, fingers digging into the sheets.

“Please please please,” he babbles, “oh fuck please move, please fuck me already, fuck—”

“Hm, I think he likes taking your cock,” San observes dryly, a mocking lilt in his voice. He reaches around you to give Wooyoung’s ass a light smack, grinning when Wooyoung whines harder in response. “Yeah, he likes it.”

You don’t react with more than a sound of acknowledgement; too focused on the roll of your hips, too taken in by Wooyoung’s choked noises as you finally take mercy, the ribbed strap gliding in and out at a steady pace.

In a way, the rhythmic motion of thrusting into Wooyoung is intimately familiar, yet also entirely new. You’ve fucked Wooyoung with a toy before, sure, but the simple snap of your hand doesn’t compare to the physicality of using almost your entire body to bury your cock into him. Your arms tense as you hold onto his hips to keep him steady, your thighs and core muscles flex to buck against his ass over and over again.

(Already you can tell that you need to conserve your energy, not wanting to wear yourself out before Wooyoung is a sobbing ruin, utterly wrecked and completely sated.)

Wooyoung gasps and whines with every thrust, his fists tightening into the sheets — but despite his obvious pleasure, a tendril of frustration flicks at you; you’ve seen Wooyoung in the throes of depraved passion often enough to know you’re not hitting the spot that will obliterate him, not in the way San can. You try to adjust, searching for his prostate, but it’s trickier when you can’t actually feel inside him, and your efforts only seem to make your thrusts more awkward.

San puts his hand on your waist when he realises you are getting in your own way, squeezing reassuringly. His breath falls on your ear as he guides your motions, easing your hips into a smooth roll that soon has Wooyoung let out a pitched cry, his entire body jolting.

“That’s it,” San rasps in satisfaction, letting you move on your own again, “that’s how you fuck that tight hole. Look at you making such a pretty mess of Wooyoungie, all cockdrunk on you.”

Wooyoung keens at the praise, whimpering every time you hit that sweet spot.

You can’t help a moan of your own, a hot wire thrumming through your core — that only grows sharper when San’s hands wander down to your ass. At first he just lightly squeezes, but soon he takes full advantage of the harness’ open back, spreading your cheeks apart to expose you to the cool air. His thumbs inch inward; one is still covered with a remnant of lube, slowly circling your sensitive rim.

Your breath hitches at the unexpected touch, making you buck harder into Wooyoung. His voice breaks with every snap of your hips, “Hngh, ah ah—” hiccuped moans spilling past his lips.

San grins, his thumb resting against your entrance, never quite pressing inside. “Fucking him so well, baby,” he groans, lazily sucking a wet patch into your neck. “Tell her, Wooyoung. Tell her how well she’s fucking you.”

“S-so well,” Wooyoung sobs, clawing at the sheets. “Fucking me so well…”

His garbled cries burn through you, the heat inside your core stoked by his writhing, desperate state. So pliant, so willing to surrender himself to you.

However, your thighs burn for another reason entirely; muscles straining with the effort of fucking Wooyoung into this mindless stupor. You slow the roll of your hips, giving yourself a breather while enjoying Wooyoung’s pitiful whines of protest maybe a little too much.

“But this is not enough for you, is it?” you hum, rubbing your hand over the small of Wooyoung’s sweat-slicked back. “You want Sannie’s cock too, to have that clever mouth used again like it should be.”

San lets out a raspy chuckle as Wooyoung nods frantically. “I don’t know, baby, our Wooyoungie looks like he might be at his limit. You sure he can take us both?”

Wooyoung squirms in frustration. “I can, Sannie, you know I can,” he snivels. “Please, want it, want it, San-ah—!”

He jolts when San smacks his ass again, whining loudly as he burrows his face into the bed.

With that, San moves away from you, his fingers digging into the curve of your rear as he goes. Wooyoung moans weakly when San sits on his knees in front of him, clasping Wooyoung’s chin between thumb and index finger to lift his head.

“Then prove it,” San says coolly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Show us what a good cockslut you are.”

Wooyoung shivers at the dismissive tone of San’s challenge, like he isn’t expecting all that much. He shakily pushes himself up on his hands, biting down a groan at how your strap rubs up against his insides. One last glance over his shoulder, while he still can, drinking in the sight of you with hungry, tear-filled eyes.

And a glorious sight you are, shiny drops of sweat beading down the valley of your chest, heaving from exertion. Both of you completely enraptured by this new experience, the new sensations that come with it. The ribbed dildo feels amazing, better than Wooyoung dared hope — but far more than that, he is on the brink because it’s you, you fucking that toy into him.

You catch his gaze, biting your lip at the contact. “Remember, Woo,” you say, voice tight, “remember the signal if I’m too rough on you.”

Wooyoung lets out a hoarse chuckle, giving you the widest, dirtiest grin he can muster. Too rough? On him? Fuck, how are you blowing his back out and still manage to be this adorable? “Sure, will do,” he rasps, tapping San’s thigh in demonstration of the nonverbal sign.

San grasps onto Wooyoung’s chin again, yanking him back. He taps the head of his cock against Wooyoung’s cheek, leaving a trail of precum, exactly where your strap smeared saliva across his face earlier.

“C’mon, Woo,” San says, still giving him that unimpressed look, the one that makes Wooyoung squirm without fail, “do you want this cock down your throat or not?”

Wooyoung’s breath instantly shallows, his jaw relaxing on instinct. He groans in bliss as San nudges the flushed tip past his swollen lips, sinking home. Your hips move in a slow roll and Wooyoung lets himself get swept away by the rhythm, taking San deeper inch by inch.

His mind goes blank, lost in the toe-curling slide of your strap, the hefty weight of San on his tongue — fuck, he loves sucking that fat cock. How the thickness of it strains his jaw, but within manageable levels after all the countless practise he’s enjoyed. He’s proud of that, how his gag reflex has faded to a mere afterthought, only brought back to the forefront when he’s caught off guard (and even then, it’s good). Proud of the cracks in San’s unaffected facade that Wooyoung breaks through with nothing but the tightness of his throat and his skilful tongue.

Right now though, you’re making it harder for Wooyoung to use that tongue to its full potential. Every rough thrust jostles him, pushes San’s dick deeper without any room for skill, reducing Wooyoung to nothing but a cocksleeve to be used. (San does not seem to mind, his groans low and breathy.)

He whimpers as you slam into him without mercy, his aching cock slapping against his stomach with a lewd smacking sound, drawing sharp jolts of pleasure. You’ve well and truly honed in on his sweet spot now, pressure building up and up and up until Wooyoung feels like he’s clawing at the ceiling. San’s hand rests on Wooyoung’s throat, squeezing with only a gentle pressure to keep him steady as he’s split open from two ends; an overwhelming barrage of sensations that goes beyond feeling ‘full’. Wooyoung feels whole.

Desperately he moans around San’s cock with a muffled, pathetic sob, the world blurring out of focus. One brush of a hand against his throbbing dick and he’d be done for, he’s sure of it; but despite cumming untouched earlier, now that edge stays just out of reach. Trapping Wooyoung at the height of pleasure with nowhere to come down.

He’s whimpering, body trembling under the unending onslaught. Too much, some might cry out — but not Wooyoung, never Wooyoung.

No, for him it is perfect. He stopped believing in ‘too much’ long ago, after he heard enough of those two words in his life. That he talks too much, wants too much, gives too much, is too much.

But here, between these two hearts, he is exactly right.

Addled memories flood through his dizzied thoughts, physical pleasure blurring into intense emotion.

With San, Wooyoung knew it from the very start; an unshakeable certainty within moments of their first meeting. San has always embraced his chaotic energy, soaking it up like a sponge and giving back to Wooyoung in equal measure. Making it easy for Wooyoung to throw himself into their relationship with what some might call reckless abandon — but San never dropped him. He is never too much for San.

Wooyoung had been too much for you, once. Crashing head-first into your boundaries back when he kissed you; pushing too hard because he did not want to be pushed away. But it only brought you closer, seeking out the places where you can meet each other; where Wooyoung can be himself without compromise without compromising you. Where Wooyoung can taste the word ‘love’ in his mouth and see you light up with joy, the same joy that you and San give him in turn.

No, he’ll never be too much for you either. He knows that now.

Wooyoung lets out a hoarse, garbled cry at a hard hit of your cock against his prostate, breaking him out of his hazy thoughts and right back to the present, back in the middle of your and San’s heated attention and affection. Right where Wooyoung thrives.

Fuck, he’s light-headed. He feels like he’s floating, vaguely hears praise drift to him from both sides. Good boy. Taking it so well. That’s what those pretty holes are good for. He’s drowning in it, barely feeling his body anymore, only the pleasure buzzing through him.

He slowly realises San’s fingers are tangled through his hair, helping his head stay up.

Wooyoung moans indulgently, blinking up at him. He can only imagine what a mess San is looking at; Wooyoung can feel the wetness of spittle and tears trailing down his cheeks, his chin, even his throat. Fuck, he wishes you could see it too, what a fucking pathetic wreck he is for you both.

San makes a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a groan as he looks down on Wooyoung. “Cockdrunk,” he says, his grin sharp. “Completely wasted. Can you even handle my load or are you too fucked out to swallow?”

Immediately Wooyoung whines in protest. He can do it, he can do anything for you and San. Doesn’t want San to pull out, doesn’t want you to stop moving, not yet not now not ever. He swallows around San’s cockhead, messily lavishing his tongue against the twitching shaft.

You giggle breathily at Wooyoung’s enthusiasm, squeezing at his hip. “Now San, don’t underestimate our Wooyoungie,” you playfully admonish him. “This is what he’s made for. He can take it.”

Yes yes yes. Agreement sings through Wooyoung as he humps back against you in gratitude. You get it. You understand.

San grunts at the stifled moans around his cock, Wooyoung’s increased efforts causing him to hiss sharply through gritted teeth. He can’t last much longer, his fingers tightening in Wooyoung’s hair, breath going pitchy as his hips jerk.

Wooyoung groans when San’s cock twitches in his mouth, hot sticky ropes of cum hitting his tongue. Maybe he is a little too fucked out after all, some seed trickling down his chin as he struggles to gulp down every drop with lewd, wet noises.

San pants harshly as he slips out, pumping himself with quick strokes to wrest as much as he can for Wooyoung to take. Finally he wipes the tip on Wooyoung's glossy lips, then nudges him to turn his head and give you a proper view. Your sharp moan lances through Wooyoung's painfully hard cock — but distress takes over when you slow down.

So close, he was so close oh god you can’t stop now. Wooyoung sobs pitifully, wiggling his hips as he babbles his wretched pleas.

Your cunt throbs at his desperation, his face flushed red and shiny with bodily fluids. Equal parts guilt and arousal sear through you at the unintentional denial, but fuck your thighs are burning. (Today has given you a whole new appreciation for San's muscle strength.)

“Shh, it’s okay, just want you to ride me,” you hum, stroking his quivering thigh. “Wanna see that beautiful face when you cum, can you do that for me, Wooyoungie?”

He lets out another choked up sob but nods frantically, whimpering when you pull out to lay down. Shakily he moves to sit in your lap, helped by San’s steady hold. Wooyoung whines in relief when you fill him up again, after a fresh coating of lube. He groans at the new angle, throwing his head back.

You rub your hands up and down his thighs, letting your eyes wander over him; his sweat-slicked torso, the veins pulsing in his shaky arms, cock leaking against his stomach. You lightly wrap your fingers around it, causing Wooyoung to stutter out a surprised “Ah—!”

“Go ahead, Woo. Show me,” you tell him breathily, bucking your hips up. “Show me how badly you want to cum on my cock.”

Wooyoung does not need to be told twice. He leans back to brace his hands on your legs, arching his back. The roll of his hips starts slow, easing himself into it, but soon you can see his lithe muscles rippling as he bounces in your lap. There is no restraint in him, his face contorted with pleasure as he whines, gasping every time you buck your hips to meet his. He looks utterly deprived. He is perfect.

San curls up next to you on his side, sluggish in the wake of his own orgasm. He pecks at your shoulder, tracing lazy circles on your stomach, close to where Wooyoung fucks into your hand as he moves. “You haven’t cum yet, have you?” San murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

“N-not yet,” you admit, “but—”

But fuck, you are getting close.

It’s been a long, slow build-up with the base of the strap rubbing against your cunt; not always catching your clit just right, but you have a bit more control now that you’re laying down, to wiggle or guide Wooyoung’s hips. More than that, you are so deeply mesmerised by Wooyoung that his pleasure might as well be your own. Fucking himself seemingly tireless even though he’s gasping for breath, surely reaching his limit. His whiny sobs sear through you, your own breath catching in your throat as you slowly, inevitably, begin to tilt over.

San lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, and slings an arm over you to leisurely play with one of your tits. The light pecks on your shoulder turn to insistent, open-mouthed kisses as San sucks wet bruises into your skin. You bite down a whine as he thumbs at your nipple, your hips bucking up harder into Wooyoung. You move your hand quicker, stubborn to drag Wooyoung right down with you.

“God, look at you,” you groan, straining to get the words out, “look so pretty, crying on my cock.”

Wooyoung makes a strangled noise. “’Cause— ‘cause it feels so good,” he chokes out. “Y-you—” but whatever else he wants to say is drowned out by breathless, high-pitched moans.

You use your last shreds of energy to piston the strap harder into Wooyoung, jostling him in your lap. His body bows forward, hands scrambling to grab onto your shoulders, almost knocking San in the face. San nips at Wooyoung’s wrist, but easily readjusts by latching his mouth onto your breast instead.

You tense up, hips stuttering as you curse under your breath — and then San’s teeth sink into the soft, sensitive flesh, biting down. The pain jolts through you like a catalyst, your peak rushing at you; you try to stave it off, try to get Wooyoung there first, but that only makes it chase you faster. The force of it rips through your nerve endings, your nails digging into Wooyoung’s waist as you finally topple over with a ragged cry. Your toes curl almost painfully, body trembling as white-hot sparks fray your senses.

Your eyes try to squeeze shut but you force them open, gasping breathless moans as you stare up at Wooyoung; intent on seeing him succumb before you can fully come down from your own high.

His abdominal muscles flex with tension, his thighs clenching as he threatens to lose his rhythm. You shakily pick up the pace with your hand, sliding over the slick length of his cock. Wooyoung keens and weakly ruts against your strap, keeping constant pressure on your still-twitching cunt. San’s fingers wrap around yours, helping you to keep moving while you squirm from the relentless waves rippling through you.

Wooyoung lets out a throttled whine, doubling over as he unravels, spilling a hot and sticky mess all over your fingers and stomach. Your grip on him weakens, but San forces you to keep moving, milking Wooyoung for everything he’s got until he’s shaking uncontrollably on top of you, sobbing out pathetic whimpers.

When San finally takes mercy and lets go, Wooyoung crumples on top of you with a tired moan. The dildo slips out as he burrows himself in your arms, uncaring for the watery strings of cum smeared between your bodies.

“Oh fuck… that was… ‘s was fucking amazing…” he mumbles, nuzzling against your chest.

You giggle tiredly, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yes? Did we make a good investment into our future with this one?”

“Mhn…” Wooyoung makes a vague noise of affirmation. He seems about ready to pass out, but there’s still a dazed smile on his face when San tips up his chin. “Good, yeah…”

San’s lips curl into a fond smile, chuckling when Wooyoung grouses at being manoeuvred just enough so San can take the harness off of you. He sets the glistening dildo aside for later cleaning, then gives your worn-out cunt an affectionate pat. You whine even at the light touch, but sigh contently when his warm hands massage your sore thighs. Fuck, you’re going to have one hell of a muscle-ache tomorrow.

San grins at your pained expression. “Wanted to see Wooyoung ride you, hm?” he teases. “No other reason for changing that up, I’m sure.”

“What are you insinuating, Choi San?” you grumble, half-heartedly rolling your eyes.

He laughs, continuing to work your aching muscles. “Nothing, nothing! Just… are you sure you don’t want to join me at the gym sometime?”

You make a face at him, at the same time that Wooyoung pipes up, “Nu-uh. If you need an extra workout, you can just fuck me some more.”

“…That does sound like a lot more fun than a gym membership,” you accede. “Sorry, San.”

San chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t argue with that. C’mon, let’s get that mess cleaned up,” he says, nudging Wooyoung to roll off of from you with a groan.

You take the wet-wipes that San offer you, and clean the dried crusts of cum on Wooyoung’s stomach. His eyes are half-lidded and he hums weakly when you stroke his cheek; you suspect he’ll doze off for real soon.

“Hm, would be nice if we could find a place that has a bathtube,” you sigh wistfully as you start to clean yourself, yearning for the comfort of a warm soak right now. “Though I guess it’d be hard to find one that fits all three of us.”

“I like that,” San smiles while he tugs a blanket over Wooyoung to make sure he doesn’t get cold. “We’ll make it work somehow. We always do.”

“Stacked on top of each other?” you suggest playfully.

San pouts. “I’d feel bad for whoever is at the bottom,” he says, utterly earnest — and you’d tease him for it, if your heart didn’t burst with affection at his simple, straightforward consideration.

Wooyoung, however, has no such hangups. “Then it has to be you, I guess,” he mumbles with a tired grin.

San’s pout intensifies into a sulk, but his face instantly softens when Wooyoung tugs at his and your wrists, wanting you closer. Soon Wooyoung is snuggled up in the middle, embraced from both sides. He groans happily at the gentle kisses San presses against his neck, the featherlight brush of your fingertips over his cheek, your arm slung lazily around him.

You catch San’s eyes while Wooyoung dozes off, warmth glowing in your chest at his dimpled smile. He reaches over Wooyoung to rest his hand on your waist, always in need of those little physical threads of connection. You shift your leg to weave another thread, hooking your ankle around his shin. The three of you fitting together perfectly.

“Come on, go talk to him then,” Wooyoung sighs at you in exasperation, one hand on his hip, the other holding a spatula as he waves you off. “You’ve been nosy about him for ages, now you got your chance and you’re in here distracting me instead? No ma’am, get your fine ass out there.”

“But—”

Wooyoung gives you no time for excuses, grabbing your shoulders from behind and forcibly ushering you out of the kitchen, to the living area. To San, and to the guy San’s talking to.

The ever-illusive, long awaited friend, finally back in town.

Jeong Yunho.

Honestly, you don’t even know why you’re nervous about this. It’s not like Yunho is the first close friend of San and Wooyoung that you’ve met; you’ve even talked to him before! Just over voice chat, saying ‘hi’ when San or Wooyoung are gaming with him, but still!

Wooyoung’s photographs have even prepared you for his ridiculously handsome face (seriously, why are all of their friends like this?!), but you’re still caught off guard by his physical presence. It’s not just his height, though that’s definitely a factor. Just something about the way he stands in the room, his posture relaxed with an easy confidence. Really, Yunho shouldn’t be intimidating; he oozes kindness and reliability, the type of guy who personally makes sure you get home safe after having one drink too many at the bar.

Maybe it’s the glances he’s been casting your way. Something in his thoughtful expression makes you feel like he’s carefully taking your measure. Seizing up if you’re right for his friends.

…Or maybe it’s not that deep, and you simply are anxious about making a good impression. After all, this is the guy who helped San to work through his insecurities, and even introduced him to Wooyoung. Without him, you’d never have ended up in this cosy arrangement with them.

While you cautiously go up to him and San, Wooyoung calls out from the kitchenette.

“Oi, Sannie, can you help me out with something!”

Oh, that bastard.

You look over your shoulder to fire a glare at Wooyoung, but he just grins back at you. You roll your eyes, sigh out those nerves, and go over to Yunho. San gives you a wink as he walks past, and also gives your ass a light smack. Yeah. Figures.

Yunho’s big brown eyes shine with curiosity as you approach him.

“So. You’re San and Wooyoung’s… friend, right?” he says, with the slightly hesitant tone of someone who knows he’s dealing with a square hole but only has round pegs to try and fit in there. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Yeah, same,” you smile back at him, internally cursing Wooyoung into the special circle of hell reserved for backstabbing traitors. “And ‘friend’ is not inaccurate, no,” you allow, trying for a shy grin. “We’re still workshopping it out! The latest idea was that I call the guys my ‘umbrellas’, but… yeah. Maybe a little more time in the workshop for that one.”

“Umbrellas?” Yunho blinks in confusion, but it only takes a split second before understanding breaks out on his face. “Ahh, got it — ‘Woosan’.” He giggles, hiding his mouth behind his hand. You can’t lie; it’s pretty dang cute. “San came up with that one, didn’t he?”

“He did!” you giggle with Yunho, the shared laugh helping you to relax. “Was real proud of it too!”

With the discovery of a common ground between you (a penchant for lovingly poking fun at San and Wooyoung), you loosen up and fall into light conversation. His laugh is easy and his jokes are playful, and it’s soon obvious to you why the guys are so attached to him.

Apparently Yunho is coming to a similar conclusion about you, eyeing you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know, to be honest I was surprised to hear San and Wooyoung wanted to try something with a third. Really surprised,” he chuckles awkwardly, scratching his cheek. “San was pretty clear he wanted a closed relationship. But… yeah. I can see it. Makes sense.”

He nods, and something has softened in his eyes while he talked. Suddenly you have the distinct impression that you weren’t wrong for feeling like Yunho was taking your measure.

A small smile curves around your lips at Yunho’s simple observation, your eyes glancing to the kitchenette where San is ‘helping’ Wooyoung by stealing food and getting in his way. “I mean, none of us really planned for me to stick around like this,” you point out, feeling oddly timid. “We didn’t plan for any of this to shake out this way. It just… did.”

Yunho hums in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s just how things go sometimes, isn’t it,” he says, his smile crooked. “Well, whatever you end up calling this, they seem real happy with how it’s going. If they’re your umbrellas, what’d that make you? Their parka?” he teases.

“Oh hell no!” you splutter. “Veto, veto! Don’t you dare put that idea into their heads, I’d rather make do without any labels at all, thankyouverymuch!”

“Alright, I won’t!” Yunho giggles again at your indigence, round cheeks lifted by his laugh. “Label or no label, whichever way works for you, right? And clearly this works.”

You glance at San and Wooyoung again, bubbles of warmth popping in your chest at the sight of them. San has abandoned all pretence at being helpful, his chest pressed against Wooyoung’s back and arms wrapped around his waist, trying to smooch him while Wooyoung is completely focused on the food.

San is the one who sees you watching them first, his cheeks dimpling at you in a soft smile. Wooyoung quickly notices San’s attention wandering, but his vaguely offended expression fades when he catches your eye, replaced by a cheeky grin. (Ugh fine, yes his stupid little plan worked.)

“Yeah, it works,” you say quietly to Yunho, feeling San and Wooyoung’s affection wrap around you even all the way from the other side of the room. It really does.

#igby’s writing #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan smut #woosan x reader #san smut #san x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #san imagines #wooyoung imagines #san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios

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builtbybrokenbells · 9 months ago

Text

Heartbreak Hot Seat | JTK

After seeking refuge at her best friends house, Y/N can’t seem to open up enough to let Josh help her with her troubles. In a twisted turn of events, it appears that his twin brother Jake has the perfect remedy for a broken heart.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), body worshipping, sir kink, impact play, praise, degradation, biting, nipple play, lots (and I mean lots) of dirty talk, lots (can’t stress that enough) of foreplay, body shots, softer sex (compared to what I usually write), overstimulation, multiple orgasm, (sort of) forced orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, begging, very brief and inadvertent mentions of free use kink, slight dom/sub, name calling, touch of angst, mentions of cheating/bad past relationships, breakups, sadness/depression (due to breakups), crying, long emotional talks, drinking, parting, Jake being too sweet for his own good, soft Jake, fluff, swearing, sorry if i miss any!!

hi guys ☺️ i miss writing Jake so much I had to hit you with back to back fics. this is literally porn w plot (over 2/3 of this is just smut I think), so I hope you enjoy this as much as I liked writing it! As always, enjoy, be kind, don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🤍 (I’m so, so happy to be back) (lightly edited 🥰)

“Here, you want to try this?” Josh asked, nudging your arm in hopes of breaking you from your solemn state. You blinked a few times, feeling his elbow on your skin, but his words were far away. They seemed like an echo in an empty room, like you had walked into the place only after he stopped speaking. Breathing seemed like a treacherous task, your bones aching every time your lungs inflated. You stared blankly at his hand, holding a fork in his grasp as he kindly offered you a taste of whatever he was eating. “Jake made it, it’s good.”

Jake made it.

You were sure whatever he made would be good, but the thought of food was worse than sickening to you. You wanted to be kind, to try the meal your friend (even if by extension) had made, especially after he offered you the hospitality for an afternoon hangout his home, but you couldn’t seem to accept the gracious offer. The crowd in the living room was overwhelming, despite only a few bodies being present. The chatter was loud and pulsing against your already busy brain, and Josh’s leg resting against yours was nice, but much more than you could handle in the moment.

Josh knew there was something wrong, but unlike usual, he could not seem to pry it from you. Over the last three nights you had spent crashing in his spare room, he used every ounce of energy to comfort you despite being unaware of what exactly your troubles were. You knew you could reach out to him anytime, talk to him about anything, but right now, it seemed impossible to speak the words aloud.

You had been friends with the boy for what seemed like a lifetime, surviving off his constant company and thriving off his eccentric personality. He stuck by your side through college graduations, career changes, and every challenge life seemed to throw your way. You were a busy woman, and he a busy man, and neither of you had much time for social lives outside of your demanding work schedules. Even so, that fact made your friendship all the stronger, because despite your lack of free time, you always made time for each other.

So when you showed up at his doorstep, 3am and crying while spewing absolute nonsense, he guided you to his spare bedroom and told you that it was yours for as long as you needed. The next morning, he came to check on you only to find you hadn’t slept at all. Hours spent sitting beside you attempting to cheer you up only resulted in further confusion and frustration. Despite his busy life, he cleared his schedule and made it a priority to be with you until you felt better. That afternoon, you managed some small talk, but avoided the elephant in the room. The next day, things felt a little more normal between the two of you. A few jokes were shared, and you even had a movie night in the living room with him and his partner. By then, Josh had vowed to let you speak on your own terms, but was doing everything he could to brighten your mood.

Today, when you woke from a broken and nightmare filled sleep, Josh knocked at your door to ask if you would like to get out of the house. After some internal debate, you decided it might be good for you, it might help you forget the only thing you could seem to think about, even if it was temporary. You showered (with Josh talking through the door and stressing the importance of self-care, of course), changed into some clothes you stuffed into a duffel bag during your quick escape, and the three of you hit the road.

After a short drive, you landed at the door of his twin brother’s house, where you would spend your afternoon. Jake, who you had heard loads of things about, was still a mystery to you. Between conflicting schedules and trying (and failing, sometimes) to find time to hang out with Josh, you never got much of an opportunity to get to know Jake, or even Sam for that matter. You knew he was quieter, a little more reserved than Josh, but was funny and had a heart of gold. You chalked up his praise to being his brother, but you never knew Josh to be a liar about anything. You trusted all he had to say about his brothers, and despite your sadness, you were excited to finally meet them properly, rather than just in passing.

You said a brief hello to Jake at times, mostly when you were leaving Josh’s house and he was heading in. You remembered him to be on the shorter side, but with a breathtaking smile and long, brown hair. When you stepped foot into the house and finally had time to appreciate the man standing in front of you, you understood Jake was a lot more than a pretty smile and long hair. He was stunning, and despite your broken heart, you couldn’t help but stare.

Not long after your brief introduction, the rest of the crowd begin to filter in. Sam and his girlfriend both seemed lovely, and Daniel and the friend he brought with him were just as nice. Jake had made lunch, and whatever it was smelled heavenly even if the thought of food sickened you. After a few hours of laughing and talking, the boys went back for seconds, clearing out the last of the food in the kitchen. The day was dwindling into evening, and you still hadn’t managed to break from your solemn state. You sat, listening to all of the conversations and laughing along to jokes, but didn’t find yourself with enough energy to contribute much.

Josh, clearly picking up on your lack of involvement, was doing all he could to help. Offering food was just another failed attempt of many.

“I’m okay, Josh. Thank you though.” You forced a smile, feeling guilty for your constant rejection. You wanted to tell him so badly, but every time you worked up enough courage to explain it, your words failed you and you thought you might be sick. His sad eyes seemed to be staring into your soul, and it was becoming too much to bear. “I’m, uh, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” You cleared your throat, asking for permission in hopes of changing the subject.

“F’course it is, mama.” He assured you. “You want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay.” You assured him, sliding forward and rising to your feet.

“Grab anything in the fridge. I know Jake won’t care.” He said, making sure you didn’t feel bad about taking anything.

“Okay.” You smiled, small but genuine. You didn’t feel deserving of Josh’s kindness, but you were still grateful he cared for you so much. If not for him, you would have nobody to lean on.

Quietly, you walked out of the living room and in the direction of the kitchen Jake had lead you to earlier in the day. When you were alone, you let out a long sigh. The kitchen was decorated nicely, simple but tasteful, and the sweet smell of whatever Jake had cooked was still lingering in the air. Instead of walking to the refrigerator, you took a seat at one of the kitchen chairs pulled out from the table, deciding a minute alone was more important than a glass of water.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back on your shoulders. The chatter floating in from the next room was much less overwhelming, and you finally felt like you could breathe without the constant ache in your chest. Just when you felt like you were getting your bearings back, you heard soft footsteps puttering through the hallway. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the same one that was constantly bothering you since you showed up at Josh’s house, and prepared for another round of questions from your best friend. You didn’t turn to face him, figuring he would make himself known in due time.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” The voice was not as familiar to you, and definitely not the voice you thought it would be. You looked over your shoulder, curious as to who was talking. Your eyes landed on Jake, a sheepish smile on his face as he stood by the door.

“Hey, yeah.” You nodded, trying to make yourself friendlier than you felt. It was not Jake making you miserable, or anyone for that matter. You wanted to be having fun, to be getting to know the people most important to your best friend, but the weight on your shoulders made it so hard to enjoy the moment.

“I saw you sneak out, thought I’d come and check in on you.” He explained, careful with his words. “Mind if I sit?” You gave a chuckle, and genuine smile as you listened to his words.

“It’s your kitchen, Jake, f’course you can sit.”

“Right,” he nodded, stepping towards you. “Guess I was wondering if you were up for company, or if you just needed a minute alone. I know it can be a lot to handle when we’re all together.”

“No! You guys are great, guess I’m just not in it today.” You said, knowing he hit the nail straight on the head but you were too nice to admit it. “Come sit, please.” He did as you said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. He was in perfect view and facing you, giving you ample opportunity to soak in his features as he thought about how to continue the conversation.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Josh mentioned you were going through a tough time when I called him this morning. We were kinda hoping it would take your mind off whatever’s going on.” You wanted to recoil at the idea of Josh sharing your sorrows with a man you did not know, but the intent was sweet, and you knew Josh would never do anything to harm you. He was just a concerned friend looking for a way to cheer you up. Jake, despite being a near stranger, had enough kindness in his heart to want to help too.

And sweetheart.

You didn’t know the man, nor much about him, but you definitely wouldn’t mind if he called you that again.

“Thank you,” your lips twitched into another smile as you looked down at your hands on the table. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Josh?” Jake asked for clarification that he heard right, raising his eyebrow at you. You gave a small nod, almost wanting to laugh at his incredulous tone. “Yeah, I mean I guess. I kind of have to agree, cause he’s my brother and all.” At that, a genuine laugh filled the air, the first one that left your lips in days. Jake was hung on your laugh the minute it left your lips, finding the sound addicting despite just having heard it for the first time. The smile on his face made it apparent he only came to cheer you up, and he was happy he could do it even for a moment. “No, he is pretty great, even if I do hate him by times.”

“It’s a sibling thing, I think.” You said, looking back up at his face. “Love them, even when you hate them.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “He’s my best friend, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill him sometimes. Has a great heart, but he can be a bit… annoying.”

“Josh? No.” You scoffed, playing into the bit as clear sarcasm dripped from your tone. At that, Jake let out a laugh of his own. You watched, in amazement at how beautiful such a simple sound could be. “Seriously though, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Yeah, you guys have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?” He asked, leaning forward and into the conversation. It was your turn to nod, finding years of memories flash before your eyes when you thought of it for too long.

“Yeah, I met him as I was finishing up my graduate program in university. He’d just moved here, and I guess he was looking for some friends. Right place right time, I suppose.”

“Funny how things like that work out.” He said, listening intently to every word.

“For sure.” You hummed, pursing your lips slightly at the memory of how you met. “Ran into him at a bar, drunk off tequila and singing a terrible rendition of… oh, fuck, what was it?” You racked your brain, trying so hard to find the name of the song in the mess of your mind. “It was Neil Young, I remember that much.” You sighed, shaking your head at your spotty memory.

“Don’t Let It Bring You Down.” He finished for you, a sparkle shining in his eye as he saw your expression light up.

“Yes! How did you know?” You asked, shocked he knew before you did.

“I was there that night, and I definitely made fun of him just as much as you did.” He explained, chuckling at the thought.

“You were there?” You asked, even more surprised at that fact.

“Yeah, think I was playing pool with Sam. Josh sucks at pool, so he was trying to find a thrill elsewhere. He told us he met someone, he really liked their ‘energy’. Guess he was talking about you.” He continued, nodding at himself as he recollected the night from so long ago. “That, and he sings that damn song every time he drinks tequila.”

“Huh,” you huffed, wondering how you managed to miss him that night. “I guess I was out the door pretty fast. I don’t even think I talked to Josh for very long. Got his number and we were off to the next bar. We loved to party back then.”

“Shame, cause he’s been keeping you an awful secret for the last few years.” Jake let out a disapproving tsk at the end of his statement.

“No, it’s not him.” You promised, shutting down the notion. “Life’s crazy. I’m either always stuck at work, or at home—“ you cut yourself off, hearing the sound of the word fall from your lips. It was wrong, and so much so that it twisted your stomach with nausea. “Stuck at work.” You doubled back, feeling a frown start to form again. The word home felt like a sour taste in your mouth that you couldn’t swallow back.

Jake watched you for a moment, curious about your sudden change of heart, but understanding it might not be the best time to venture into it.

“Did you want a drink, sweetheart?” Jake asked, his eyes flickering to the fridge. “Maybe something to take your mind off it?” You debated, wondering if it would better or worsen your mental state. Before you could decline, he spoke again. “I was gonna have one anyway, so it’s no trouble at all. Be nice to have someone to drink with, anyway.”

“Fuck it, why not?” You breathed, watching as another breathtaking smile blossomed on his lips. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great.” He stood, taking two steps past you as he approached a cabinet by the refrigerator. “Want to come have a look?” He offered, looking back over his shoulder at you. You shrugged, nodding as you stood to join him. He opened the doors, revealing a plethora of bottles that all looked a little more expensive than you were used to. “Whatever you want.”

You noticed how close he was standing, how sweet his cologne smelled as it wafted in your direction. It was musky, ambery even, with sandalwood standing strong against the undertones. He had his finger resting against his chin as his eyes scanned the labels, clearly unsure of what he wanted, too. You couldn’t help but study the intricacies of his face, the bridge of his nose and how it casted a shadow over his soft cheeks, the unintentional pout of his bottom lip, and the enchanting colour of his irises. He was stunning, and it was hard not to notice it.

‘Stop it, Y/N. You’re in no position to think anyone is attractive, let alone your best friends brother.’ Your thoughts were right, full of warnings you knew you should listen to, yet there was something so enchanting about Jake that made it difficult to listen. ‘Thinking he’s attractive is only bad if I plan to act on it, which I’m definitely not. It’s okay to admire him, as long as that’s all it is.’ You felt the devil weigh in on the matter, and for some reason, that train of thought was much easier to go along with.

So you did. Simple as that, you decided to allow yourself the pleasure. It was almost as simple as acknowledging how beautiful Jake was.

“Anything catching your eye?” He asked, looking over at you. You knew he was aware of your staring, and when your eyes caught his, your cheeks tinged red. He gave you a smile, silently telling you all was well.

“There’s so much to choose from.” You said, forcing yourself to look back at the liquor cabinet.

“Do you like it straight, or do you prefer something sweet?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you once again. Although the question was innocent and clearly pertaining to the topic at hand, you couldn’t help but feel your heart speed. Your body was encased in goosebumps at the simple thought of him meaning it in any other way.

“Usually sweet, but I think today I could handle it straight.” You replied, having to tear your eyes away from him again. Had you looked for a moment longer, you might have noticed the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“This is my favourite.” He said, reaching out and grabbing an expensive looking bottle. He brought it down to your level, leaning into you slightly as he let you read the label for yourself. As his arm brushed against yours, you felt the same pull of your heart as you did when he first sat across from you.

“I’ll try it out.” You mumbled, a little breathless as he looked over your face.

“Good taste,” he hummed. “You’ll like it, I promise.” He assured you, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip ever so slightly.

“I trust you.” You said, feeling like you were coercing your tongue to speak the words.

“You should.” He responded, waiting for you to step away first. It felt like an eternity before you stepped backwards towards the table, but when you did, you missed the closeness of him almost immediately. The warmth of his body against yours was memorable, and definitely something you wanted to feel again.

You returned to your seat at the table, followed closely behind by Jake. Before he sat, he grabbed two glasses and the ice tray from the freezer. Carefully, he poured yours first before adding a few ice cubes to the cup. Then, he nudged it in your direction before fixing his own drink.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asked, swirling his ice around his cup before bringing it to his lips. As he sipped at the amber liquid, his eyes never left your face.

“Oh, nothing important.” You shook your head, averting your gaze to the glass in your hand. You did the same, raising the crystal to your lips and drinking down the alcohol like it was water.

“You’re drinking that awfully fast for someone who’s got ‘nothing important’ going on.” He noted, cocking his head to the side for a moment, as if he was trying to figure you out. “I’ve got an ear to lend, if you want to talk.” He offered, but opted not to press any further. He didn’t want to force you if you weren’t willing, but he did want you to know that the floor was yours if you needed.

“I wouldn’t want to bore you.” You chuckled, watching the condensation of the glass drip onto your fingers. The chill of the liquid distracted you from the severity of the topic. “You’ve been kind enough already, Jake. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for inviting me.”

“No thanks needed, y/n. Seriously, Josh talks about you enough that I feel like I already know you, and trust me when I say, I like you just as much as he does.” He promised, taking another small sip of his drink. “And I offered, sweetheart. I want to listen, even if you don’t think I do.”

“What is with you two?” You chuckled, shaking your head at his staggering kindness. “Too nice for your own good, both of you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” He grinned, finding your exasperation amusing.

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head, feeling your heart warm with gratitude for the two brothers. You barely knew Jake, but you agreed with what he said. Josh spoke about him enough that you felt like you were friends already, and by all of the nice things Josh had to say, you definitely liked him. Since stepping foot into the kitchen, you had come to greatly appreciate him for other reasons, too.

“That’s the heartbreak chair.” He explained, running a hand through his hair as he pushed it away from his face. “Something about it draws people in.” Your eyes flickered up to his face, shocked that he made such an assumption, and even more surprised that it was right. He barely knew you, but he could tell without you having to say a word.

“It’s that obvious?” You asked. He shook his head, rubbing his chin in his hand for a moment before he spoke again.

“No,” he cleared his throat, taking in a long breath before he continued. “Like I said, there’s something about that fuckin’ chair.”

“How so?”

“Two years ago, Sam sat there when his girlfriend broke up with him. Must’ve spent the whole night sitting there, drinking away the pain.” He said, thinking back on the event. “And Daniel, a few months back when him and his girlfriend went separate ways. Even Josh, a long time ago when we first moved here.” He explained. “Whatever it is, when people get their heart broken, they sit there. I usually sit here, but it’s not always me they’re talking to. Sometimes it’s Josh, or another friend, or anyone really.” You thought about his words, carefully considering your next question before asking it.

“Have you sat here?” Your eyes were showing the sadness you tried so hard to hide. You didn’t know why, but you were comfortable with Jake. You wanted to talk, to tell him all about the sadness plaguing you. Something about him made you believe that your sorrows were safe with him, and that he was the key to feeling better.

It was an invasive question, something personal and maybe too complicated for him to answer. You regretted asking, but hearing about his brother's sorrows didn’t sit right with you. If you were giving him a piece of you, you wanted a piece of him. He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your face and the whiskey in his cup. Eventually, he gave a slow nod.

“More than anyone else, I think.” His honesty was sobering, and it was admirable. Because of his willingness to share his sadness with you, you felt even better about opening up to him. “I’ve never been lucky in love. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” He shrugged, the joke rolling off his tongue effortlessly despite the hidden pain in his eyes. “About six months ago, I was doing the same as you. Came home, she was gone without a trace. I stayed a few nights at Josh’s house, just ‘till I was strong enough to come back here, and I drank it all away. I’ve sat in that chair, sweetheart. You’re not the only broken heart this house has seen. Trust me.”

“It’s hard to open up to Josh about it.” You said, forcing your hand to hold the glass to the table. The burn of the alcohol in your chest was much preferred to the ache in your heart, but you persevered. “‘Specially when I watch how happy and in love he is. He’s got everything, you know? Nice house, kind heart, beautiful face, and a wonderful boyfriend. It’s intimidating talking about my mess of a life to someone who always seems to have their shit together.”

“I can see what you mean.” He nodded along, agreeing to an extent. “You know, he’d never think differently of you. He loves you a whole hell of a lot.”

“I know that, but I think when you’re this miserable, it’s hard to believe anyone cares that much.”

“For sure.” He said, swallowing down another mouthful of whiskey.

Just as he placed his cup down on the table, the distant chatter in the living room began to move closer. Both of you turned to the entryway to the kitchen, wondering what the disturbance was. Soon enough, the crowd filled the doorway, but only Sam and Josh were visible.

“Think we’re gonna head to the bar, you two in?” Sam asked, oblivious to the situation in front of him.

“I’m good.” Jake said, his tone firm and certain of his answer. Josh looked at you, curiosity in his eyes as he waited for a response.

“Y/N?” Josh asked, wondering if you were joining them. You looked between the twins, your eyes lingering a bit too long over Jake. When you looked back at Josh, you shook your head slightly.

“Think I might hang out here a bit longer, if that’s okay?”

“F’course it is.” Jake chimed in. “You go, I’ll get her back to your place safe and sound.” Josh looked to you once more, making sure you were alright. You gave him a smile, nodding your head in agreement with Jake.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Love you, mama.”

“Love you too, Josh.” You smiled again, wider and with more warmth than ever.

With that, the group moved towards the door, and they were out in the yard within seconds. The silence hung heavy between you and Jake, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. So far, despite you being a stranger, your talk with Jake had been nothing but comfortable.

“So, does that mean you don’t think I have my life together?” Jake continued where you left off, clearly teasing. The smile on his face gave him away as he pulled his chair a little closer to you.

“‘Spose I don’t know you well enough to know, yet. From what I see, looks like you do, if that counts?” He let out a laugh, finding your humor despite the pain beautiful.

“You hungry?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Noticed you didn’t eat earlier.”

“Think I missed the draw on that one.” You said, looking at the empty dish on the stove. He stood, wordless as he walked to the refrigerator. He searched for a few seconds before pulling out a plate, flashing it in your direction.

“Put some away for you, just in case. I knew they would eat it all, so I just wanted to make sure there was some left.” He explained. The sound of his words made your heart ache, but it wasn’t in a bad way; the simple action, especially coming from someone who barely knew you, made the whole world seem a little bit brighter. You understood Josh’s constant talk of how big of a heart Jake had now that you had the chance to see it for yourself.

“Thank you, Jake.” You mustered the strength to speak, in awe of his attention to detail. He stuck it in the microwave, waiting for it to beep before placing it in front of you with a fork. Without mentioning it again, he sat back in the same spot, as if the last few minutes had never happened at all.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked again, more direct this time now that he felt he had some kind of leverage. Clearly he made a good enough impression on you, considering you hadn’t run out the door when the opportunity arose. Before responding, you took a few bites of the meal he’d made in preparation for his company. Your eyes fluttered closed in bliss, the taste something you had never experienced before. You weren’t sure if it was just because he was a good cook, or if it was because it had been days since you had a proper meal. Maybe, it was a combination of both.

For such a simple looking pasta dish, it was beyond anything you had ever eaten before.

“This is so fucking good, Jake.” You commended him for his efforts. He let out another laugh, happy that you were enjoying it.

“Good to know,” he nodded. “I’ll have to make it for you again sometime.”

“You’ll never get rid of me.” You joked, placing the fork down for a moment, wanting to make the meal last.

“Not the worst idea in the world.” He shrugged. You felt your cheeks dust with redness, his words almost too sweet for you to handle. You washed down the pleasant feeling of his compliments with another sip of whiskey, settling back in your seat as you prepared to confess.

“I think I’ve always been too blind to see the bad side of people,” you started, simple and easy to kick off the topic. “I like to see the best in everyone, ‘till the very end.”

“Admirable.” He responded quickly, shocking you with his interest in your sorrows.

“I dated this guy for a while, a few years at least. Guess it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but I loved him, or the idea of him, more so. He moved in with me not long after we met, and it was nice. Things seemed real good for a long time, but a couple months ago, he kinda pulled back a bit. I didn’t think much of it, ‘cause I was working all the time anyway, but I probably should have.” You sighed. “I started noticing he was gone when I came home at night, or when he went out, he stayed out far too late for a couple drinks with friends. Found some… suspicious things around the house, but chalked it up to a bad memory.” You laughed, shaking your head at your own stupidity. “I went home after work on Friday, and he was in bed with another girl. Mutual friend, real pretty, sweet on the surface… everything that I’m not.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart.” He shook his head, stopping that thought before it could go any further.

“Think we were long overdue for a breakup, but I thought it would be more decent than that.” You shuddered, recalling the moment that had been plaguing you for days. “I’m less heartbroken over him than I am for the whole thing. It’s just… dehumanizing, I guess. How many times did we… you know, after they started? And in my bed? Where I sleep at night?” You continued, watching the ice circle the bottom of your cup as the liquid neared the end. Jake reached out for the bottle, popping the cork and refilling your glass for you. You smiled, a silent thank you for everything he was doing.

“There wasn’t really a fight, or anything. I mean, I yelled for a little while, but it wasn’t worth my time. I told him to pack his shit and get out, and I assume he did. I haven’t been back, but I haven’t heard from him, either. Guess I just… don’t want to be in that place right now, alone, with that memory.”

“Don’t know the guy, but I can tell you he’s a fucking idiot.” He said, throwing back the last of his drink and refilling his own cup. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be home. Like I said, I stayed at Josh’s for a while too. Sometimes it’s nice to get out of the place full of stuff that reminds you of them.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You gave a somber nod, blinking away tears threatening your eyes. “Think it always circles back to the same thing at the end of the day… hard not to think it’s me, that I wasn’t enough, or if I could have done more. That’s the hardest part of it, really. Not like he was the boyfriend of the year or anything, but I never would have done that to him.” You took another long swig of whiskey, feeling your head begin to swirl with intoxication.

“It’s not you, Y/N. You know better than that.” He said, furrowing his brow as he thought over your story. “So what is it? What do you need?”

“What?” You asked, unsure of what he meant.

“He got what he wanted, so what do you need, sweetheart? To scream? Cry? To get so drunk that you don’t know where you are?” He listed the offers, as if they were all completely reasonable and understandable. He didn’t want to speak empty words, or give you reassurances that would wash right off your shoulders once he was done speaking. He wanted to help you feel better, however he could. “We could even key his car, if you know where to find it.”

You let out a laugh, one that shook your shoulders and made your stomach ache. While you laughed, tears slipped on to your cheeks, but they did not phase you. Jake’s company was so fantastic that the hurt didn’t even seem to bother you anymore.

“You’re too beautiful to be crying over someone like that, sweetheart.” He leaned over, using his thumb to brush away the teardrops staining your cheeks. Once he finished, he cupped your cheek in his palm, ensuring you knew he was being truthful.

“No idea how you’ve never been the bride, Jacob.” You said, exhaling a long breath as you melted into his touch. It felt nice to be touched at all, and even better to be touched by someone who cared. It felt like it had been an eternity since you had experienced that in particular.

“My day will come, just like yours will.” He promised. “I know it hurts, but with time, you’ll thank him for it, because a girl like you shouldn’t end up with a guy like that.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You said, the utmost sincerity in your voice.

“Don’t mention it.” He brushed off the thanks, smiling over at you. “Now what is it? What will make you feel better, right now? ‘Cause I’ll be damned if I send you out the door before you feel better.”

“I just want to stop.” You sighed, rubbing your face in your hands. “I want to stop hurting, to stop thinking about him, to stop feeling like a different person. I want to feel like me. I want to feel good, instead of being miserable.” Jake leaned back in his chair, watching your face carefully as he thought about your request. You looked over at him, chuckling at yourself. “I know, steep request. Probably not much in the world we can do about that. Yet, anyway.”

“No, there is.” He cleared his throat, pursing his lips together slightly. You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his response.

“Go on.” You urged him, curious about his idea.

“I don’t know if I can help you feel exactly like yourself again,” he started, looking up at the ceiling while he tried to word his response. “But I definitely have a quick solution for some of those problems.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” He smirked at your eagerness to feel better. Before he continued, he threw back the last of his drink for a second time. You could tell he was feeling it now, too. His cheeks were tinged pink and his eyes grew heavier the longer he sipped away.

“You’re open to any suggestions?”

“Well, most.” You huffed, almost annoyed by how long he was dragging this out. “Maybe not murder or armed robbery.” He laughed at your exuberance, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, sweetheart…” he sighed. “You want to stop thinking about him, and you want to feel good.” He listed, waiting to see if he was correct. You nodded in response, still not seeming to piece the two together. “If you’re open to trying it, I’m sure I could solve both of those problems at once.”

“Okay, Jake, this is not helping. Can you just—“ you cut yourself off, your eyes widening in shock as the puzzle finally clicked in place. You swallowed hard, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. As you looked at his expression, your cheeks burned red and your throat went dry. “Just to clarify, are you offering what I think you are?”

“Depends, beautiful.” He said, his tone soft and his eyes trained to your face. “What do you think I’m saying?”

“Are you offering to fuck me?” You wanted to be repulsed by the idea, but you were far from it. If anything, the feeling burning in the pit of your stomach told you the exact opposite, imploring you to fall into his arms and let him do as he pleased with you.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that would get your mind off him.” He argued his point, playful and calm so you knew rejection was more than allowed. “And if you’ll let me, I know I could help with that other part, too.” He let out a small huff of breath, as if he was excited just by the prospect of the opportunity.

“You offer that to every heartbroken girl who sits in this chair?” You asked, ensuring he knew you weren’t denying the offer.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’d be the first, and the only one, I think.”

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Never know what the future brings.” He shrugged, trying to keep his composure. As soon as he saw your bewildered face, he doubled over in laughter. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, but when he did, he did not seem to retract his statement. When he realized you took his words seriously, he stood from his chair, stepping towards you as he spoke.

“Yes, sweetheart. The only one. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asked, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Yes, maybe? I don’t know.” You said, your eyes darting around the kitchen to avoid his heavy stare. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this situation, so I’m not sure how to react.”

“Only if you want to, of course, but the offer is on the table.” He said, retracting his hand so as not to pressure you into it. You took a drink from your cup, finding your chest burning as you did so. Difference was, you knew it was not because of the liquor. As you sat the cup back on the table, you looked up at him, inspecting him closely.

He was attractive, and that was undeniable. You had been thinking about it since the minute you saw him, and you couldn’t seem to get the thought out of your head. Just half an hour ago, you were shivering from the closeness of his body when you were standing by the liquor cabinet, and now you were quivering just from the thought of his hands on your body. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but in the moment, what he was saying made sense to you.

He was hot, you were desperate to forget, and he was offering a quick solution.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Why not?” He watched you for another moment, standing still while you decided for certain that’s what you wanted to do. “Uhm, we won’t tell Josh about this, right?” You asked, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over you.

“Definitely not.” He laughed.

“And it’s just that? Just sex?”

“Just sex, just tonight, if that’s what you want.” He assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded again, more confident this time around. “Just sex, just tonight, with a guy I just met, who happens to be my best friend's twin brother?”

“It sounds better my way.” He said, taking a step towards you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Sex with someone who is happy to make you feel better.” He spoke quietly, kneeling down so he was eye level with you. His face was closer than it had been all night, and if it were even possible, he was even more stunning up close.

“Yeah, that does sound better.” You agreed, smiling slightly as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Jake seemed to prompt more of a physical reaction in you just by looking at you than your ex did in the entire time you’d been with him.

You weren’t sure if it was the whiskey combining with the heartbreak forcing you to make a deadly decision, or if it was just the fact you were attracted to him. Either way, you knew you couldn’t leave his house without a taste of what he was offering, because he had excited you just by mentioning it. You felt like leaving him without knowing what he could do for you would cause more grief than your breakup had in the last few days.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?” He asked, reaching forward and brushing his knuckle over your burning cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, but you tried not to let it phase you too much. “You want me to help you forget about him?”

“Think you already have.” You mustered the strength to speak, but not the strength to look him in the eyes. You were sure if you did, you would turn to putty in his hands.

“So you’re saying you don’t need anything else?” He pried, finding the teasing amusing now that he knew you were okay with his actions.

“No, I definitely do.” You corrected him, finally opening your eyes to look over his face. “I really do.”

“Tell me what you need, angel.” He said, flattening his palm against your cheek again. His fingers were tangled in the loose strands of hair hanging over your neck, the action more telling than the last time he touched you. It was firm, more reassuring, and meant to solidify his feelings about the situation.

“You,” you bit the inside of your lip, almost embarrassed about your need for him.

“Don’t be shy, beautiful. Think we’re long past that.” He said, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Although he had full intent to follow through with his earlier promise, he wanted you to be in charge of the matter.

“Kiss me, please.” With that, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours as he held your face in his hand.

His lips still tasted like the alcohol he was sipping on, and his skin was still cold from the ice in his cup. Even so, the chill of his skin was quickly offset by the warmth of his tongue as it glided past your lips. The feeling was addicting, much more intense than you thought it might be. Your hands reached out for him, desperate for more. His fingers seemed to be burning into your skin, the touch electric and the sensation ten times more powerful than anything you had ever felt before. The emotion flowing through you from such a simple action was immeasurable, and you already needed more.

“Like that, sweetheart?” He asked, his lips still ghosting over yours as he presented the question. You were breathless, your head spinning and your mind completely free of the painful thoughts that previously seemed permanently attached to you.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice quiet. You could feel him smiling, cocky enough to know his plan was already working. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Come with me.” He said, moving away from you and rising back to his feet. Although you were sad he pulled away at all, you knew it was for a better reason. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and his own cup, waiting for you as you tried to bring yourself back to earth. You took your own from the table, waiting for him to make the next move.

He outstretched his arm, still holding the bottle tightly in his hand as he loosely wrapped the appendage around you. Carefully, he guided you to the hallway. Without any further words shared, he led the way to his bedroom with intent to finish what he started. As soon as you stepped inside, you were surrounded by him. His cologne lingered in the air, and his clothes littered the floor. His bed was messy, but in the most inviting way possible. Patch cords and guitar picks littered the surface of his dresser, and an acoustic guitar took post in the corner of the room.

Although the stipulations of your entanglement did not extend beyond a single night, curiousity got the best of you. With your heart singing a song curated specifically for him, it was hard not to want to know more about him. Seeing his life so intimately made you crave more substance from him, even if it was ridiculous for you to think.

“What’s on your mind now?” He asked, placing the liquor down on his bedside table.

“Nothing bad,” you assured him, still trying to soak in all the room had to offer. “Guess I’m just curious about you now, is all.”

“All you have to do is ask.” He said, taking a few steps towards you. “Later, though, because talking isn’t my top priority right now.” You watched him as he closed in on you, your stomach twisting with excitement at his words. Before he could place his lips on yours again, you swallowed back the last of your drink and placed the empty cup on the top of his dresser, freeing your hands so you only had to focus on him.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you as your hand landed on his bicep. Now, with the opportune position, he had the luxury to touch you as he pleased with nothing standing in his way. One of his hands fell to your hip, his grip firm as he pulled your body into his own. He leaned down, placing his other hand on the back of your neck as he guided your head towards his. He started slow, fearful he might have come on too strong, but you weren’t willing to take your time with him.

It had been a long time since you had been excited by the prospect of sex, and despite knowing you should not be feeling such a way about anyone, let alone Jake in particular, he had elicited that response from you easier than anyone who came before. Even though his kindness was the most abundant of all his traits, you caught a few glimpses of what lie beneath, and if you were being completely honest, that was what held your attention.

The way his arm felt resting against yours at the liquor cabinet, the sly smile after his ambiguous questions, his heavy stare when he thought you weren’t looking, and the sparkle in his eye when you laughed. That was what drew you in, and everything else was just a cherry on top.

When you first sat with Jake, you almost felt guilty that you were so willing to tell him about your troubles, especially after shutting Josh out. Now, with his lips on yours and his hands exploring your body, it made sense that you felt such a way. Jake was offering much more than Josh could, and he could help in ways that Josh could not begin to imagine. He gave you an easy pass to forgetting, a quick solution to feeling good, and a simple way to move on, even if it were only for a short time. Jake was the perfect fit for what you needed, and you were happy that he was so eager to help.

Time was the only true healer, but Jake was a catalyst to speed the process up, and a very pleasurable one at that.

As the kiss continued, the two of you grew much more comfortable with each other. Your body had relaxed and your hands were more courageous as they travelled over the parts of him you were desperate to know. Your entire body was ablaze with excitement, and your mind was completely free of all the previous fears and feelings you were plagued with. His hand on your hip had drifted to your ass, pulling your hips forward into his as he became familiar with the taste of you on his lips.

If you had any fear about his willingness to sleep with you, it was destroyed within seconds of stepping into his bedroom. You could feel his own excitement, through his actions and other, more obvious signs. As he continued to kiss you, you could feel his erection against your leg, straining against the zipper of his jeans. As much as he wanted to take your mind off of things, you were just as happy to relieve him of the problem you had so easily caused.

When he parted from the kiss, his lips were pink and swollen, glistening with spit under the low light flowing in through his window. His hair was messy from your fingers running through it, and his eyes were darker than they were in the kitchen.

If you thought he was beautiful before, it had nothing on how he looked now.

His hands drifted under the hem of your shirt as he looked over your face, ensuring you were comfortable with continuing. When he was met with pleading eyes and a hopeful expression, his lips quirked up into a smile as he lifted your shirt over your head. As he tossed it to the floor, his gaze traveled downward, allowing himself to admire the parts of you that were usually kept hidden. He sucked in a sharp breath, as if the sight knocked the air from him completely and he was trying to recover from the shock.

“So fucking beautiful, angel.” He hummed, his hands finding you again as he spoke. The feeling of his calloused fingertips against the smooth skin was exhilarating, and even more enticing than anything he’d done before. He dropped his head to the crook of your neck, bringing his lips back to your skin as if he was already missing the feeling of kissing you.

He focused on your neck for a moment, curiously exploring as he tried to find the sweet spots. When his tongue settled below your ear, a whine fell from your lips, so quiet he nearly missed it. The sound reached his ears, sending his skin tingling as it wrapped around his spine and made home there. He kept his attention in the same spot, desperate to hear more. Your hand raised to his arm, holding yourself steady as your stomach swirled with emotion. His mouth continued lower, and courage flooded him as his hands continued to familiarize themselves with you.

He unhooked your bra, brushing the straps from your shoulders as his mouth landed on your collarbone. You felt his teeth graze the skin, the action gentle but purposeful as your bra fell to the ground with your shirt. Now, without anything standing between the two of you, his hand landed on your breast. His thumb drifted over your nipple, moving in a slow circular motion as he felt it harden under his touch. The small sensation only furthered the ache between your legs, and you could feel the wetness begin to soak through the fabric of your underwear.

As he continued his work, you felt your thighs squeeze together in a shameless attempt to ease the discomfort. You didn’t want to rush him, because everything he was doing was phenomenal, but it was growing increasingly difficult to bite your tongue when you so badly needed more from him.

Eventually, his head dropped low enough for his tongue to graze your already sensitive nipple. The warmth of his mouth paired with the precision of his tongue was deadly. You felt a shaky breath rattle your chest as you tried to keep yourself calm, but it was growing increasingly difficult to do so. You needed him more than you needed anything in your entire life; your body craved him in a way you never knew to be possible, and he had promoted more pleasures than anyone before without even needing to take all of your clothes off.

Something about Jake was otherworldly, and his promises to help you forget were not empty. He was doing exactly as he intended, better than you ever thought he could.

He seemed to be enjoying the moment just as much as you were, completely content with pleasing you and never worrying about his own needs. You had never, in your entire life, met someone who was concerned with your needs first.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his eyes fluttering up to your face as he took a few seconds to sort out his thoughts. His eyes were blackened, his pupils completely consuming his irises as he thought about all of the possibilities the night could have.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he muttered, hooking his fingers through the back belt loop on your jeans.

He pulled the fabric away from your skin, letting it snap back to form as he pulled his hand away. The thud of the material against your skin sent another rush of arousal through you, and you found yourself complying to the request without a second thought. He brought one hand to the button, undoing it with ease as he dropped to his knees once again. He pulled down the zipper, tugging on the fabric so they fell down past your hips. As soon as the denim was out of his way, he brought his lips to your stomach, focusing his attention there for a moment before going any further.

You were aching for relief as his tongue drifted over the exposed skin, and you were nearly brought to your knees as he took the time to leave a trail of pink marks where his lips landed. It would be a reminder of the night for days to come, darkening further with time, and you were thrilled at the idea of having a physical memory of his touch when not in his company. He pulled your jeans further down your legs, his lips now ghosting over your hips as he tapped your leg. You lifted one foot from the ground, allowing him to free you from the jeans entirely. You repeated the process with the other leg, and eventually, the jeans were strewn across the floor and gone from your memory completely.

“Jake, I need you.” You huffed, looking down at him, watching carefully where his lips met your skin. He did not respond right away, seemingly wanting to finish what he started before moving on to something new.

Then, his lips pulled away from you, but did not stray too far from their original position. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense as he comprehended the raw emotion behind your words.

“You need me?” He repeated, his voice husky and his eyes heavy as he bargained with the fact.

“Please,” you whispered, breathless as you tried to recover from the constant stimulation he was providing. “So bad, baby.” He drew in a long breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he heard the pet name fall from your lips.

“How could I say no to you when you sound so pretty?” He asked, the question without need of an answer. With that, he used his arm to push you towards the foot of the bed, only stopping when the backs of your knees collided with the mattress.

Then, he rose to his feet, finding himself at eye level with you once again. “What do you want me to do, angel?”

“Anything; just touch me, please.” Your voice was weak, his effect still strong over you even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Anything I want?” He asked, stepping closer and bringing his hand to your side again. He let his fingers trail down until they met the hug of the elastic band of your underwear on your hip. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” You gave a single nod, showcasing your certainty on the matter. He chuckled at your eager nature, looking you over once while he thought of what to do next.

“Lay down for me, sweetheart.” He said, nodding his head towards the bed behind you. “Don’t be shy, get comfortable.” He continued, watching as you turned towards the mattress, unsure if it was possible to climb in and be uncomfortable. The blankets looked soft, and warm, even if they were strewn messily across the surface. The pillows looked like clouds, and there definitely wasn’t a lack of them. More than that, it smelled like him, even from afar. Although you’d only known him for a short time, it had already become a comforting scent for you.

You did as he asked, climbing into the bed and rearranging a few of the pillows. Once you were satisfied, you laid on your back, looking up for him as you awaited further instructions. He gave you a small smile, unable to refute how much he liked the sight of you in his bed, even if it was under strange circumstances.

It was never like Jake to dislike the sight of any girl in his bed, but you seemed to tug on his heart just a little more than others that came before.

“This is a sight I could get used to.” He hummed, adjusting himself in his jeans as he let his eyes trail every bit of exposed skin you had to offer.

“Thought this was a one time thing, Jacob?” He chuckled at your question, unbuttoning the few buttons holding his shirt together. As he slid the fabric from his shoulders, he responded to your inquiries.

“I said if that’s what you want,” he reminded you, dropping the shirt to the floor. Your eyes drifted to his body, drinking in every inch of him. The way the columns of his neck blended perfectly into his collarbones. You studied the structure of his shoulders, focusing intently on his biceps as your eyes trailed down his arms. Then, your gaze moved to his chest, the tan skin decorated with necklaces hanging from his neck. Your admiration ended when your eyes met the buckle of his belt, and you realized he was watching you watch him. “For some reason, I don’t think you’ll be able to stay away.” He sent a wink in your direction to follow his words.

His ego was taking up every spare inch of space in the room, and he was completely different than he was when you were sitting with him in the kitchen. The sweetness still lingered underneath the surface, but his desire had turned him wicked and he was doing everything he could to keep you on his hook. You couldn’t find a single complaint about it, because you loved this version of him even more than the kind hearted man who opened his home and his liquor cabinet to you.

“I think I want another drink,” he started, looking at the bottle decorating his nightstand. His gaze flickered back to you, wanting to ensure you were still watching him. “How about you?” You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach, wishing that he would just go back to touching you. The banter was fun, and you loved talking to him, but you had needs far more pressing than conversing with him. “Don’t look so disappointed, Angel.” He hummed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “I promised to make you feel good, and I’m going to…” he trailed off, popping the cork from the bottle as he kneeled on the bed beside you. “But I have to have my fun, too.”

With that, he brought the spout of the bottle to your navel, carefully letting the trickle of cool liquid fall to your skin. A few droplets trickled down the side of you, landing on the mattress below, but he didn’t care. With great gentleness, he reached out and placed the bottle back on the stand. Without breaking your stare, he settled himself between your legs, his head hovering over your belly as he leaned down a little closer.

With his eyes still settled on your face, he let his tongue glide over your stomach just above your panty line. The skin was already dampened from the spill of liquid from the bottle, cold from the air hitting the wet surface. His tongue warmed the skin, but did much more than just that. The gentleness of his touch cause a plethora of emotions to course through you all at once, and you couldn’t seem to keep your mind straight. The disarray only seemed to worsen as he trailed upwards, drinking up the whiskey like he was a professional on the matter.

When the alcohol was consumed, he did not stop his tyrant. Instead, he continued all the way up until his tongue met your breast once again, circling around your nipple before suctioning his lips to you completely. The warmth and wetness of his mouth was otherworldly, and the new position allowed for his hips to meet yours while he continued teasing you. You shifted down on the mattress, not enough to break his focus, but just enough for your aching core to meet with his cock, strained against his jeans. The contact was minuscule, but enough to elicit a sharp intake of breath from him.

He used his free hand to hold your hips in place, grinding himself down on you ever so slight to give you a bit of relief. The friction was good, even if it wasn’t enough. Paired with the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive nipple, it was enough to pry a moan from your lips.

“Jake, please touch me. Need it so bad.” You whined, feeling your hips raise from the mattress despite his hand holding you down. He pulled his mouth away from you, a small popping sound ringing through the air as he lost the suction of his cheeks.

“You want me to touch you, beautiful?” He asked, shimmying to the side so he could do as you asked. He brought one hand between your legs, resting beside you on his knees as he held himself up with his other arm. His fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your aching core, noticing the wetness before he even pushed the fabric to the side. “Fuck,” he hissed, looking down at his hand. “All of this for me, angel?”

“Just for you, baby.” You whimpered, feeling his finger drift over your covered clit. Although you wished that the barrier did not exist, you would settle for what you could get.

“And what’s got you so worked up? It can’t be me, I’m just getting started.” He teased, pushing the fabric to the side. Before he continued, he waited for you to respond.

“It’s you, Jake.” You assured him, almost sheepish of the fact. He was right, he was just getting started, and you were far too worked up for just a few minutes of foreplay. You couldn’t help it, though; between his sinful touches and your own lack of sexual pleasure over the previous few years, you were ready to come undone before he even touched you.

“Don’t tell me he was that bad of a guy.” Jake let out a murmur of discontent at the thought. “Couldn’t think about anything other than himself, even with a girl as pretty as you in his bed?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, embarrassed at the thought of him being correct. “You know I won’t do that to you, angel.” He promised, finally letting his fingers get a feel for the wetness pooling between your legs. “From here on out, it’s all about you. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding in agreement with his idea. To you, it sounded more than good. It sounded fantastic.

With that, he gathered your arousal on his fingers, slowly trailing it up to your clit. He traced slow circles into the already sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your face so he did not miss a single second of your reaction. Your gaze flickered to his face, taking in all of the details while he did the same for you. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and his lips were still slightly swollen from earlier. The muscles in his jaw were tense, and his eyes told you just how happy he was to be pleasing you.

“You know, I was hoping to get you in my bed, even before you sat in that chair.” He confessed, his voice quiet as a sheepish smile crossed his face.

“Y-yeah?” You asked, the word breathy as you felt the pull of pleasure begin to build in the pit of your stomach. You were intrigued by his statement, so much so that it took your mind away from the burning desire for a moment.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, smirking at your obvious curiosity. “Been thinking about it since the first time I saw you at Josh’s house.” He continued, carefully letting himself move closer. He propped himself up on his forearm, moving his body down towards yours. “You walked out, all dolled up in a pretty little dress. Blue, if I remember right. I wasn’t really looking at the dress.”

He was right, and you could remember the scene just as well as him. It was the only blue dress you owned, and you were on your way to lunch with a potential client, which was why you were so eager to get out the door. He was carrying his guitar, in a cutoff t-shirt and jeans that hugged his legs just right. You were both younger, a little more naive and much more childish. You could remember being stunned by his long brown hair, tousled by the wind, and the sunglasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He was beautiful then, just the same as he was now, but you were too afraid to introduce yourself. You managed a small greeting as you passed by him, and spent the whole drive to the restaurant with the picture of him stuck in your head.

“Been waiting that long, Jacob?” You asked, finding a bit of strength to tease him back.

“I wouldn’t say waiting,” he chuckled. “But definitely thinking about it. Prettiest girl to ever walk out of his house, and the prettiest girl to ever step foot in mine.” He continued with the flattery, sliding his middle and index finger to your entrance. Before he continued, he slipped his fingers inside of you. As he began to pump his fingers, he let his thumb drift over your clit. The combination of the two sensations was overwhelming in the best possible way. “If I had it my way, I would have fucked you right there on his porch.” The vulgarity of his words may have been off putting in any other context, but as he said it, your walls fluttered around his fingers and another intense wave of arousal washed over you. “And you would have let me, wouldn’t you?”

You were nearly delirious from the pleasure steadily growing in the pit of your stomach. Your skin was ablaze, the sensation growing stronger with every word he spoke and every touch he gave you. You were willing to tell him anything and everything he wanted to hear as long as it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“God, yes. I would have.” You whined, moving your hips down on his hand as his fingers curled upwards, hitting the sweet spot inside of you.

You weren’t lying, either; had you known at that time he could make you feel so good, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. At the sound of your tone filled with need for him, he made it a point to curl his fingers upwards again as he pumped them into you. As his fingertips brushed over the sensitive spot he’d found with ease, a moan filled the air, loud and desperate for him to keep going. “Oh, fuck me.” You groaned, gripping at the sheets below you.

“I intend to, sweetheart.” He replied. Although he knew you did not direct the message to him, he felt the need to interject his own thoughts anyway. As the words left his mouth, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. He couldn’t help himself; he was compelled to kiss you, feeling that he might not be able to survive without the taste of you on his tongue.

His fingers continued to move with intent, eager to pry an orgasm from you. The knot in your belly was tightening further by the second, your skin tingling with pleasure as another moan tore through your chest. He drank in the sound like a man dying of thirst, feeling lucky to be the one experiencing such intimacy with you, even if it was under strange circumstances.

He broke from the kiss as he felt your walls clench around him again, knowing that you were closer to a climax than you would ever admit. He increased the pressure of his thumb, watching you carefully so he did not miss the moment he’d been patiently waiting for.

“That’s it, gorgeous.” He crooned, drunk of the pleasure twisted amongst your features. The praise washed over you like summer rain, settling deep in your stomach and furthering the intensity of the feeling. Your brow was furrowed, your eyes squeezed shut and your lips parted ever so slightly, allowing the most beautiful sounds to cross them. “You’re so fucking hot.” He muttered, propping himself up a bit further for a better view. As much as he wanted to focus on your face, he felt his eyes trail down to his hand, unable to resist the only other sight that could compare to your pretty face.

He sucked his bottom teeth between his lips, biting down on it as he watched his fingers disappear into your cunt.

Your eyes cracked open, desperate to catch a glimpse of him before you descended into the organ that was quickly approaching. When you caught sight of his face, you noticed his eyes were not looking at you like they had been moments before. When you followed his gaze, seeing what he was so fixated on, you felt a whole different type of emotion wash over you. He did not notice your stare, too caught up in the sight to even care about anything else. You were enthralled in him, watching him admire you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

You bit down on your lip, feeling the warmth in your stomach begin to spread to the rest of your body. You were so close, so ready to give in to the temptation of the feeling, but you weren’t ready for the moment to come to an end.

Within a second, that train of thought was completely disregarded, unimportant and needless.

A low groan, resembling more like a growl sounded through the room, coming from deep in his chest. His eyes turned dark, almost animalistic as he was taken by his desire for you. It was a simple thing, so unimportant in comparison to everything else he was doing to you, but it was everything to you. To know you could drive such a beautiful man to such desperate feelings made you weak, and knowing he was just as taken by you as you were with him sent you over the edge.

The orgasm that took hold was stronger than any you had ever had before. Your entire body was immersed in euphoria, from the very tips of your toes to the muscles in your face. Not one part of you was spared from his wicked power, and as your legs trembled, you came to terms with the fact he was right; heartbroken or not, you were hooked on him. Walking away would be ridiculous, and coming back for more was a given. You could not comprehend the idea of never feeling such a way again, and that made it all the harder to equate your solution for heartbreak to a single night.

“That’s it, angel. Doing so good for me.” His words seemed far away, but the sentiment behind them stuck with you indefinitely. He continued pumping his fingers into you, coaxing you through the climax with his hand and his words. You had never felt more important, more cared about than you did with him, like your enjoyment was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He pulled his fingers out of you, his gaze flickering to your face as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched as he slipped his middle finger past his lips, glistening with your release as it landed on his tongue and his mouth closed around it. As the taste filled his senses, his eyes fluttered closed and a low groan rattled his chest. Your face flushed, your stomach pulling with another bout of pleasure as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. He pulled his finger from his mouth, a slight popping sound filling your ears as the digit slid off his lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, the sight nearly pornographic, and hotter than anything you had ever witnessed before.

“Taste so fucking sweet, baby. Just like I thought you would.” His words were soft, gentle as they filled the air around you. You couldn’t look at him, fearful that if you caught his eye, you would descend into another orgasm without him even touching you at all.

Your knuckles ached as you released your iron grip on the sheets, your body relaxing against the mattress as you came down from the high. Your lungs ached for a full breath of air, and your skin was still tingling with the ghost of pleasure. You looked down at Jake, expecting him to be watching you, waiting for your next move, but he was doing none of those things. He was tossing his belt to the floor, sliding out of his jeans and boxers at once and tossing them in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You noticed his frantic nature, taking a second to discard your underwear and toss them to the floor as well. He didn’t say a word, making a move to shift downwards on the mattress. He settled between your legs, his hands on your hips as he pulled you down towards his face.

He guided your legs over his shoulders, settling his palms on the tops of your thighs as his lips dusted light kisses over the inside of them. As you both grew more comfortable with the new position, you felt his confidence grow, too. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin, his tongue following the path to sooth any irritation that might occur. Goosebumps littered your entire body, and every nerve was aflame with desire for the boy who made home between your legs. You watched him, a wondrous sparkle in your eye as you inspected his every move.

Was it normal for someone to be this attentive, to be so concerned with making you feel good? Had you been missing out on such a fantastic experience, wasting your time with someone who was only concerned with himself? Or was Jake just so phenomenal that he made everything a million times more fun?

You did not know, and you did not care; the only important thing to you was him, and he was doing well in making you forget about all of your other worldly troubles. The only thoughts in your mind were pertaining to him and his ability to please you. He was like poison, infiltrating every thought and every emotion, completely taking over without you even thinking twice about it.

His eyes flickered upwards, meeting yours in a silent inquiry. The trail of love bites on your thigh was darkening by the second, and his gaze was burning into you.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He ordered, but it was hard to comply to his wishes when it felt like his fingers were searing into your skin.

“I-I just… sex has never been like this before.” You breathed, wondering how he knew something was wrong despite you not saying a word. He was effortlessly in tune with you, feeling every emotion coursing through you as if it were his own. “It’s never been so good, and I’ve never been so… taken care of.” You squeaked out the last few words, embarrassed to admit it to him.

“Oh, don’t tell me that, angel.” He muttered, almost pained at the thought. “If I had known he wasn’t taking care of you, I would have done it myself, a long time ago.” The sincerity in his tone made your head spin, and you were almost regretful that you had been so caught up on a man who wasn’t worth your time, when you could have been spending your time indulging in someone like Jake. “You mean to tell me he wasn’t doing this?” He asked, obviously referring to the act he was about to commit. Your cheeks burned red as you shook your head, silently answering him. “What a fucking idiot.” He muttered, clearly to himself.

Instead of continuing the conversation, he pulled your hips down a little further, letting his actions speak louder than his words. He lowered his head, and you held your breath as his mouth connected with your core. His tongue slowly ran through your folds, starting at your entrance and ending at your clit. He let his focus remain there for a moment, circling around the sensitive bundle of nerves as your hands snaked down your body, tangling themselves in the long locks of his hair. Your felt his tongue dip down to your entrance again, flattening against you as he repeated the same process from earlier, savouring every drop of arousal you had to offer him.

As his tongue reached your clit again, he let out a long hum of satisfaction, like the moment had curbed every craving he had for you in an instant. He pulled away from you for a moment, looking up as he listened closely to your shallow breathing. “I could stay between your legs for the rest of my life, and I’d be fucking happy to do it.” He said, his tone gruff as some residual anger remained in his mind. “Now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t think you’ll be able to get rid of me.”

A whimper fell from your lips, completely uncontrollable as you tried to sear the memory of him between your legs into your brain for eternity. He returned his mouth to you, using the sound as encouragement while he continued on with his work.

Jake was a force you were not familiar with, yet you feared you may never fully grasp his power. You met him at the perfect time, and he offered his services when you needed them most. It was supposed to be a quick fix, a simple solution to stop the pain from tearing you in two, but it quickly grew into something much more than that. Now that you had a chance to experience pleasure at his hands, you weren’t ready to give it up.

Calling Jake a rebound would be ridiculous, because he was the furthest thing from it; in just an hour, he gave more to you than your ex did in years.

Like you said earlier, you were mourning the situation more than you were mourning the person or the relationship itself. The picture of betrayal had been seared in your mind, the self-doubt and self-hatred was abundant, and maybe there was a hint of sadness over the loss of routine, but most of your ailments were not caused by the man himself. With Jake’s help, that became incredibly apparent, and the rest of the sadness and anger seemed to fade away the longer his hands were on you.

“A-ah, fuck.” You hissed, your fingers tightening in his hair as an intense wave of pleasure took hold. “Feels so good, Jake.” Instead of pulling away to respond, he hummed against you, the vibration of the sound furthering the sensation he was already giving you. He wanted to hear how good you were feeling, how good he was making you feel. His ego hadn’t gone away, and your compliments only fed it further. You would be uncomfortable with his cockiness if it were not warranted, but from everything he’d done so far, you understood that he was the only man you had been with who had a right to be so self-assured.

His hands inched up your legs, his grip loosening as he moved his fingers. The light tickle sent a shiver down your spine, and your head was spinning as his grasp slowly settled on your hips. His tongue continued to circle around your clit as he pulled you a little further down on his face. A moan filled the air, much more desperate than the last and the vulgarity immediately categorizing it as pornography. You weren’t sure if such a sound ever left your lips before, but you did not have time to focus on the fact before another one followed up the last.

Your cheeks were burning to the touch, your skin blotchy with redness and glistening with sweat. Your hands were anchored in the roots of his hair, and his tongue was driving you so crazy that you couldn’t help the automatic roll of your hips against his tongue. You were bordering the edge once again, and he seemed to have no intent to slow. One of his hands remained on your hip as the other began to explore, dusting over your stomach with great gentleness. It was a staggering difference between the hand on your hip, which was holding you tightly, as if he was scared he would lose you if he let go.

You were lost in the movements of his tongue, no other thoughts existing within your mind as he continued with his precise actions. The warmth of his mouth was heavenly, the wetness of his tongue making every move all the more remarkable. His hand raised to your chest, finally finding what he had been blindly searching for as his palm cupped your breast. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting your head fall back onto the pillow as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, his fingers found your nipple, brushing over it and sending jolts of pleasure through you. The sensation combined with the feeling of his tongue was indescribable, addicting, and intoxicating. You felt drunk off of him alone, and you never wanted to sober up.

Just when you thought you were accustom to the multiple sensations all at once, he moved his hand, taking your nipple between his thumb and his forefinger and giving one hard pinch. You let out a gasp, your hips bucking forward into his mouth even further. You could see the shake of his shoulders, showcasing his silent laughter at your reaction.

Even if you wanted to be upset at him, you had no idea how to be. Being angry with Jake seemed like an oxymoron, two things that could not coexist together. If anything, all you wanted to do was praise him for all he had done to help you.

He retracted his hand from your chest, snaking it back down your body. He brought it underneath your leg, bringing his middle and ring finger to your entrance. He pushed them inside of you, with the same curl to his fingers as earlier. The added stimulation was heavenly, and a sure apology for his earlier action. He barely had to pump his fingers at all before your back was arching off the mattress, desperate and shameless for more.

“Jake, baby.” You warned, the words coming out hastily and jumbled together. “M’gonna cum.” You forced the rest of the sentence out, the fire in your belly blazing and threatening to take hold.

He hummed against you again, encouraging you to give in and let go. With one last curl of his fingers paired with the flick of his tongue, your second orgasm took over. Your legs trembled with the intensity of the feeling, your hands holding his hair as if you were afraid of floating away if you let go. The air was filled with obscenities, curses and praise for his work as you descended into the pleasure. If his mouth wasn’t occupied, you knew the praises and encouragement would be the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. He coaxed you through the moment, and your heart rate began to slow and your muscles started to relax from the tension.

Difference was, this time he didn’t slow.

His tongue continued to trace your clit with more intent than before, as if he wanted to see how far he could take it before you gave in. At first, the feeling was uncomfortable, but the idea of stopping was more troublesome than the sting of overstimulation. Instinctively, your body tried to pull away from him, but he used his hand on your hip to hold you in place. Your hands remained in his hair, but did not try and pull his head away from you. You wanted him, and the orgasm he had just given you was inexplicably addictive. You wanted to feel that way again so bad that you could spare the few moments of discomfort in exchange for something so fantastic.

The noises falling from your lips had upped in intensity, and definitely felt more dramatic. You were loud enough that you feared the neighbours might hear you had they stepped outside. He was living in the moment, driven near insane from the desperation in your voice. You looked down, and despite your blurred vision, did the best you could to admire him while you had him like such. His hair was a mess, still knotted around your fingers. The muscles in his back were tight, flexing with every move of his arms. His knuckles were locked in place around your hip, decorating it so nicely that you dreaded the moment he had to let go.

Although beautiful, those were not the things that held your attention. Instead, you were drawn in by the sight of his hips grinding into the mattress below. Pleasing you had worked him up so badly that he himself was aching for relief, unable to control how badly he needed to be touched. The thought was maddening, and the sight drove you over the edge.

Before the overstimulation even began to wear off, your body was forced into another climax that put the previous ones to shame. Your throat was raw from crying his name, your entire body aching from the violence of the feeling. For a moment, you thought you might die at the hands of his sin, but not even that thought could force you away from him. Your lungs burned and your head swam with thoughts of nothing and everything, all at once.

You had never felt such a way in your entire existence, and even when your body began to recover from the effects of his tongue, your mind had fallen far behind. You were barely holding on to reality as he finally withdrew his fingers from you, and your head was completely elsewhere when his head moved away, too.

“Could listen to you scream my name like that every fucking night.” He growled, pressing his wet lips to your thighs so he did not have to give up contact with you entirely. “God you’re a fucking masterpiece. Can’t believe it took so long for me to have you like this.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead wiping away your release from his chin and moving upwards so he could kiss you. As his hips landed on yours, you felt his cock press against your soaking core, the warmth of bare skin against skin nearly driving you into another orgasm. You were floored at his ability to make you feel good, and amazed that nobody else could make you feel such things. As his tongue glided across yours, you could taste yourself on him, only making the moment even more remarkable. It made him even more addicting, and you were certain you could get used to having him in such a way.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” He slurred, drunk off of you. He pulled away from you, sliding out from between your legs and climbing out of bed. You watched him, breathless and stunned at the picture of him completely naked in front of you. It was the first moment thus far that you had the chance to admire him fully, and you never wanted to stop.

He was painfully hard, the tip of his dick red with irritation from the rough threads of the sheets and glistening with wetness from where he was resting against you. The sight sent you mad, your mouth watering and your need for him growing tenfold. He turned to his bedside table, rummaging around in the drawer in search of a condom. When his fingers landed on the box, stuffed way in the back and hidden under a pile of junk. He looked over at you, smiling shyly as he pulled one from the box.

“Don’t really need these all that often.” He chuckled, an inadvertent way of telling you he was being truthful when he said you were the only one he offered his services to.

“Wait,” you uttered, watching as he raised the package to his mouth to tear it with his teeth. He froze in place, worried that you might have changed your mind.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, ready to discard the foil square in his hand and dress himself if you were uncomfortable. “Do you want to stop, or slow down?”

“No!” You shook your head, feeling bad that the thought even crossed his mind. Instead of letting his anxiety get the best of him, you sat up from your laying position. Carefully, ensuring you had your balance, you shifted so you were resting on your knees, facing him. You looked up, giving a small smile as you beckoned him closer. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he stepped towards you anyway.

Only when you reached out for him did he understand your intentions. He sucked in a sharp breath, watching as you grabbed his hand and guided him closer to the edge of the bed.

“Tonight is supposed to be about you, angel.” He muttered, a weak protest against your actions.

“I want to, Jake.” You assured him, unable to refute your desire to please him, too. “Please?” You looked up at him, doe-eyed with faux innocence written over your features.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, unable to resist the temptation. “I had no idea you were such a whore.” Even if his words were venomous, his tone did not match. He had such a way with words that even his insults sounded like praise. “Go ahead then, if you want it so fuckin’ bad.”

You debated thanking him for his kindness, but you opted to do it with your actions, instead. You leaned toward, bringing your mouth to him. You parted your lips slightly, letting your tongue glide over the head of his cock. The saltiness of the pre-cum staining his skin lingered on your lips as you took him in your mouth. You bobbed your head down slowly, allowing spit to accumulate on your tongue as you let it glide over the underside of his cock.

As you moved your head down on him, your eyes fluttered closed in concentration. His size was something you weren’t used to, but you had enough confidence to follow through with your efforts. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat, your eyes watered as you fought back a gag. Desperate to impress, you relaxed your throat as you took him all the way. You felt him twitch in your mouth, letting you know that he was enjoying the moment just as much as you hoped. A string of curses fell from his lips, followed by a long groan. The sound only worsened the persistent ache between your legs, but you carried on, knowing that he would take care of that once you took care of him.

He raised his hand to your hair, gathering it in his hand and holding it away from your face. His eyes were permanently fixated on you, terrified of missing even a second of the view in front of him. You sat there for a moment, allowing yourself to grow comfortable with the feeling before forcing yourself to swallow, despite the momentary discomfort. As your throat constricted around him, he took in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. Another groan tried to force it’s way from his chest, but he tried to hold it back, resulting in the sound coming out more similar to a whine.

Even if it was unintentional, it drove you fucking crazy.

You pulled back in one swift motion, inhaling a breath of air as his cock fell from your lips. Trails of spit covered your chin, but it did not phase you. Before he could recover from the loss, your mouth was on him again.

“Ah, fuck, sweetheart.” He growled, his grip in your hair tightening. “Full of fucking surprises tonight.” Your eyes flickered upwards, catching his stare as you bobbed your head down on him. You longed to sear the picture in your mind forever. His hair was disheveled, his jaw-hard set and his eyes crazed as he studied your every move. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you were certain of that. You felt lucky to be able to please him in any way, and grateful to have caught his eye all those years ago.

As you drew your head upward, you let his cock leave your mouth completely, deciding to give him a show. You circled your tongue around his tip, pursing your lips as you placed them on the side of his dick. You pushed your tongue flat against him, suctioning your cheeks just a bit to add some pressure. As you moved your mouth down his cock, you made sure to keep eye contact with him the whole time. When you reached the base, you slowly ran your tongue over him as you brought your head back to the tip. Without breaking the momentum, you took him back in your mouth and bobbed your head back down until his tip hit the back of your throat again.

You started a steady pace, listening intently to every sound that passed his lips. It wear encouraging, and it was hot. If you had to say, it was the most attractive thing you had ever heard. As you felt him slide down your throat again, you let out a moan. The vibration amplified the already intense feeling, causing his head to fall back on his shoulders as he hissed out a long string of curses. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, desperate for a release but unwilling to give in to it just yet.

In truth, you would not have minded. He had been beyond generous already, and to do him a kindness was the only way you thought fitting to repay him. Even if you would miss out on fucking him, you were happy to be used by him in any way.

As you continued at the same pace, you could feel him begin to lose himself to the pleasure. As your head came down on him, his hips involuntarily moved too meet with you. The constant pressure in the back of your throat was making it difficult to keep calm, but you persevered until he pulled away first. A particularly sharp thrust of his hips sent you over the edge, and the gag you tried so hard to stop finally forced its way out. Your throat constricted around him again and your eyes welled with tears. Hastily, he pulled away from you, his chest heaving as his concerned eyes looked over your face.

“M’sorry, angel. You okay?” He asked, crouching down so he was eye level with you.

“Yeah, I’m good, it’s okay.” You promised, nodding you head. He raised his hand to your cheek, swiping away tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“We can take a break if you need it,” he assured you, holding your gaze. “Don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m going too fast or if it’s too much.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” You gave him a soft smile, well recovered from the moment of slight tension. He watched you for a moment longer, wanting to be certain. When he realized you weren’t going to change your mind, he leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss. The softness of the action was all you needed to feel better again. “Can you fuck me? Please?” You muttered the words against his lips, unable to wait until he was finished to ask the question.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” He asked, intrigued by your excitement.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, needing it like you needed air. The desire you had for him was nearly debilitating, and since he’d stopped touching you, there was no relief for the grating need.

“Turn around for me, Angel.” He said, rising to his feet. He was in no position to deny you anything, because he wanted it just as bad.

You did as he asked, noticing he was reaching for the foil wrapper on the nightstand again. You couldn’t comprehend the grief that washed over you as you saw it, and the words rushed out faster than you could stop them.

“I’m on the pill,” you said, hearing him freeze in place. “I’m clean, too.” You were telling the truth, because before him, unprotected sex wasn’t even a thought in your mind. Whatever he had done to you that night seemed to permanently alter your mind, and the simple thought of not having him completely was sickening.

“Me too.” He hummed, almost relieved that you told him. He tossed the condom back on the table, the dull clatter of the impact prompted a smile on your face.

You backed up closer to him, your knees resting near the edge of the mattress and your feet dangling off the edge. He stepped towards you, his hands reaching for your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. His touch drifted over your ass, appreciating you while he had you in such a way.

“You have no fucking idea how good you look like this.” He praised your beauty, his voice deep and laced with desire. One of his hand fell from your hip, and seconds later, you felt his cock rest against your cunt. Slowly, he ran the tip through the wetness that was worsening by the second. “You want it, sweetheart?” The husky tone settled deep in your bones as you dropped to your forearms, bringing your top half lower to the mattress. You pushed your hips back towards him, adding a little more pressure to your clit, which he was resting against.

“So bad, Jake.” You pleaded, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“What was that, Angel?” He asked, sliding himself back down to your entrance. “Couldn’t quite hear you.” There was a smirk on his lips, cute enough to help him get away with the teasing, but irritating enough to bother you.

“Please, baby.” You whined, trying again.

“Please what?” He pressed further, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly. The miniscule change was agonizing, but it still made your head spin. “I want to hear how bad you want me, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me, Jake.” You finished your broken sentence, your tone stronger than it had been all night. “I need to feel you, please.” With that, you pushed your hips back again, testing your limits.

Unlucky for you, at the same time, he thrusted forward with force, causing the impact to be so much more intense.

“A-ah, fuck!” You yelped, the size of him something brand new to you. The way he filled you was enough to bring you to your knees, but the painful sensation of his cock hitting your cervix amplified the pleasure even further.

“There you go, baby.” He crooned, completely disregarding your response as he drew his hips back and slammed back into you with the same energy. “How does that feel?” The slight sneer in his tone was aggravating, but you had to admit that it looked really good on him. The sudden change in attitude made you realize that what had come before that moment was not typical for Jake. He was snarky, arrogant, and he liked to be in charge. You could tell by his fingers bruising your hips and his tone talking down to you.

Although you thoroughly enjoyed the time you already spent with Jake, it almost made you sad when you realized what exactly you missed out on.

As you were stuck on the thought, you felt a sharp sting across your ass. The sensation on your skin combined with the pleasure of him inside of you, making you quiver under the touch. “Answer me when I fucking speak.” He barked, letting his fingers gently caressed the reddening skin where his hand made contact. You weren’t sure if it was purposeful or absentminded, but the sweet touch after the harsh words felt good, reassuring that he was only putting on an act.

Then, you decided if he wanted to push you, you could do the same to him. The worst that could happen was a punishment, and the idea of punishment at Jake’s hands was nothing but thrilling.

“Feels so good, sir.” You exaggerated your tone in hopes of getting under his skin, but the term of endearment seemed to short circuit his brain. His hips stuttered and his hands tightened their grip.

“Such a fucking whore,” he spat, his words quiet as he regained his composure. Even if his words were harsh, you could tell by his voice alone how much he enjoyed your attitude. “I love it.” He muttered the words to himself, but you heard it despite his efforts to keep it to himself. He felt your walls flutter around him, drawing him in further and deeper, encouraging his antics even further.

One of his hands raised to your hair, gathering it in his fist and knotting it around his hand. He tightened his hold, pulling your head back ever so slightly as his hips continued at the same, bruising pace. You arched your back even further, your chest nearly brushing against the mattress now as your ass raised to meet his hips.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed, holding your hips as he upped the strength in which he was thrusting into you. “Take it so fucking good.”

The knot in your belly was tightening further by the second, threatening to snap with every move. You were crying his name, praising him for his hard work as he pushed you closer to a climax. You were sure his bedroom would never recover from the pornographic display the two of you found yourselves in, and the thought served as a comfort. You wanted him to think about you every time his bedroom door closed, remembering how you looked in his bed as he fucked you from behind. You wanted him to picture the way your ass met his hips every time he closed his eyes, and you never wanted him to forget the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Although he intended to solve your problems, you wanted to create a new, constant one for him; one that plagued him every night and haunting him during the day. You wanted Jake to succumb to the need of you, and you wanted your number to be a constant call in his phone, begging you to come over so he could curb the urge for a little while. You wanted to infiltrate every thought that crossed his mind, because you could not stand the idea of him giving this to anyone else.

“You want to cum already?” He asked, recognizing the tremble of your legs and the desperation of your high-pitched moans. “So fucking needy you can’t even enjoy it for a while?” He chastised you, but both of you knew there was zero malice behind his behavior. He was living for the way you moved against him, surviving off the sound of your pleasure. He was thrilled to drive you to such a state so easily, and he would give you whatever you wanted, so long as you asked nicely.

“Please, sir. I want it so bad. I need it.” You stressed the importance of the topic, feeling the burn begin to overtake your entire body. The urge was impossible to stave off, and you knew there was no use in trying. After all he’d done to you so far, you were long past self-control.

“Fine, but you better not hold back. I want to hear every one of those filthy fucking noises.” He growled, pulling your head back with a little bit of force. “Put on a good show, sweetheart, or I might not be so nice next time.” He warned, holding your head in place with one hand and your hip with his other. He pulled you back on him, making the impact even more powerful. The painful pleasure pulsed through your entire body, so intense that you could feel it behind your eyes. With every thrust of his hips, you grew closer to the release you so desperately needed.

In exchange for him giving you what you needed, you gave him exactly what he asked for.

“Oh, god, Jake.” You whined, upping the dramatics for the sake of his request. “You feel so good, baby. Please don’t stop.” You pleaded, feeling your head spin with the threat of your climax. You could hear his shaky breaths, the sound of your words hitting him harder than he anticipated. His hips remained steady, though, never faltering as he continued on exactly as you asked him to.

“Come on, angel.” He huffed, looking down at the curve of your ass, watching himself as he fucked into you. The permissive statement sent you spiralling, pushing you over the edge with little thought.

“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, feeling your stomach burn with pleasure. Your hands were balled into fists, knuckles white as you gripped the sheets. Your arms and legs felt like they would give out from under you as they trembled. Jake seemed to notice the same thing, and the hand holding your hip slipped under you, holding you up so you did not have to worry about anything other than feeling good.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.” He crooned, never letting up on his pace as he continued to fuck you through the climax. Even as you came down, your body did not relax. Your skin was ablaze and your forehead was glistening with sweat. You were tired, and the feeling of him inside of you became less pleasant and more intense as he continued to thrust into you. Your noises became less angelic and more desperate, as if they served as a warning for him to slow down. Overstimulation was threatening your exhausted mind, driving you closer to insanity by the second as the burn of irritation began to spread.

“Jake,” You wheezed his name out, trying to bargain with him as he increased the speed of his hips. “Jake, please.” You pleaded, now for an entirely different reason.

“What, you wanted it so bad and now you can’t take it?” He growled, his hips still moving at a relentless pace. “You can take it sweetheart, I know you can. Be good for me, baby. Just a little longer.”

“I don’t know if I can.” You cried, your throat raw from the desperation of your moans. Both of you knew he would stop if you really needed it, but he would be damned if he gave up before you truly needed him to.

“You can, beautiful. Being so good for me.” He rushed out, clearly growing close to his own climax. “Don’t you love being a good girl for me?” He asked, easing up on you ever so slightly.

“I do,” you whimpered, feeling his hand in your hair push your head towards the mattress. The strength of his thrusts had lessened, and the overwhelming sensation started to become pleasurable again. “I love it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He whispered, desperation beginning to set in for him, too. He loosened his hold around your hips, knowing you were much steadier, now. He moved his hand between your legs, his middle finger finding your clit with ease. “Just a little while longer, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh, fuck.” You groaned, his words giving you the strength to keep going. You clenched around him, amplifying the sensation for both of you as his finger continued to trace around your clit.

“So fucking tight.” He praised, saying it mostly to himself. “Give me one more angel. I know you have it in you.” He was right, the orgasm was already building at a rapid pace. You could feel the tingle of euphoria in the tips of your fingers and toes. You were too strung out on him to answer, but he knew that you would give him what he wanted.

Nobody in their right mind would ever deny Jake anything he asked for, anyway.

“Jake, fuck, m’gonna cum.” You rushed out, the urgency something you had never experienced before in your life. He let out a low chuckle at your state despite feeling the same desperation.

“That’s my girl.” He said again, the statement still hitting as hard as it did the first time he said it. With one last thrust of his hips, you came undone, all of the pleasure from the night coming to one final climax.

Your mind was blank, no thoughts or worries left to bother you. You wanted to scream his name, but nothing was coming out. Your chest ached and your lungs were in dire need of air, but you could not even seem to do something as simple as breathing. Jakes hand pushed your head further into the mattress, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric of the sheets as he started to lose his composure, too. His movements were sloppy, his hips stuttering every time he fucked into you. The finger that was once tracing perfect circles on your clit seemed to forget how to do so, and he had his turn to utter profanities that only solidified the moment in your minds forever.

His grip on your hair loosened as he reached his peak, spilling his release inside you as his hips began to slow. He used his arm to pull you back on him one last time, holding you there while he recovered from the intensity of the moment. He let out a long breath, looking down once more where his hips rested against yours. He drew back, slowly thrusting forward a few more times as he fucked his release back into you. A low growl sounded from his chest, the sight alone nearly working him up all over again.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked, his loving and catering tone returning as he withdrew from you completely.

“Yeah, m’okay.” You nodded, feeling the pressure in your skull lessen as he loosened his hold on your hair. “Fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, excited at the idea. “You feel better?”

“Jake, you have no idea.” You breathed, slowly moving from your position. You were sore, tired, but you felt better than you ever had. “I don’t think I’ve ever… no, I’ve never had sex like that.” You confessed, rolling on to your back to let your body rest for a moment.

“I’m glad I could help, beautiful.” He said, laying down beside you. “Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clean it up later.” He said, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, his skin warm and soothing as the sound of his heartbeat thudded in your ears.

“I should probably call a cab, get back to Josh’s place before the bar rush starts.” You sighed, saddened by the thought alone. You wished to stay wrapped up in Jake’s arms for the rest of the night, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You were going through a breakup, and dating was not on the table (or shouldn’t be, at least), but there was something special about Jake, something so different that it made it impossible to want to walk away from him.

“Are you crazy?” He scoffed, his tone light as he looked down at you.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head up as you awaited an answer.

“Like I’d ever make you take a cab.” He rolled his eyes. “But, you’re not going back to Josh’s place, sweetheart.”

“What if I want to?” You shot back.

“Do you?” He asked, seemingly staring into your soul. You bit the inside of your lip, fighting back a smile as you gave a small shake of your head. “Didn’t think so. I’ll just tell him we drank a little too much and you crashed in the spare room.” Your stomach sank at the thought of a spare room, but he could see it in your eyes before you had the chance to address it. “You’re not actually staying in the spare room, gorgeous.”

“Okay, good.” You breathed, chuckling at your own stupidity. “‘Cause I’d much rather stay here, with you.”

“That was never even a question.” He assured you, letting his fingers gently trail over your back. The light tickle was addicting, comforting and soft. It was exactly what you needed after such a high energy evening. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.” He said the second part, quieter this time, but you could still sense the truth behind his words.

“No?” You giggled, smiling up at his pretty face.

“Mmm,” he hummed to himself, the sound vibrating his chest. He seemed like he was thinking about all of the possibilities the night held, everything he could do with you (or to you, for that matter), and more importantly, what positions he could put you in. “No, definitely not.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You let out a sigh of content, already dreaming of the same things. A silence fell between you for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With Jake, it never was. After a while, you felt the urge to speak again, to show your gratitude for his kindness. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.” You whispered. “It really helped.” His lips quirked into a smile as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m glad I could help, sweetheart.” He muttered, his lips still pressed against your hair. “And please, if you ever need help forgetting about anything at all, just give me a call. I’d love to help you out.”

692 notes · View notes

jeonstudios · 7 months ago

Text

dextrocardia | 13

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: descriptions of and talk about sa!!

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 13/?

It keeps raining, and two hours later when it’s hitting the roof in a calm rhythm, you enter the garage through the open door. Rock music sounds from a speaker but it’s overshadowed by the powerful hits of Jeongguk’s gloved hands against the sandbag hanging from the mount. He’s foregone a shirt, his sweat-covered muscles glistening.

“You call that ‘taking it easy?’” you call out, notifying him of your presence.

He stops his punches, turning to face you with his hand steadying the bag.

“Huh?” he questions, chest heaving.

“I said: ‘you call that taking it easy?’”

He smiles, very out of breath. “I didn’t say ‘easy,’ just easier than what I’m used to.”

You shake your head, venturing further into the garage and reaching the bike.

“How do you even get on this thing? It’s so tall?” you wonder skeptically out loud as you trace the black leather seat with your fingers. It’s definitely a lot taller and wider than just an ordinary bicycle.

Jeongguk steps away from the sandbag, loosening the gloves with his teeth as he heads your way, heavy breaths echoing. You follow him with your eyes as he approaches, but instead of demonstrating like you thought he would, he stops behind you.

“Here,” he places his hands under your armpits.

“Oh, no, no, no,” you try to protest, but it’s too late, and you’re already being lifted onto the seat like a three-year-old.

You definitely also feel like a three-year-old because you don’t even try to reach for the handlebars, instead holding onto the little hill in front of the seat. It probably goes without saying that your feet don’t wholly touch the ground.

“We could go for a ride someday if you want?”

You turn your head to look at his grinning face.

“Uh... no.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

You see the realization of what he just asked flash across his face, but you know it wasn’t how he meant it.

“You don’t seem to value your life very much, no,” you argue, hinting at how he almost died for you.

His face turns relieved, a small smile decorating his lips. “I do. But sometimes, there might be risks I’m willing to take.”

It’s your turn to not know exactly what to say, so you're quick to ask something else instead. You lean forward, actually managing to grab the handlebars somewhat correctly. “Do I look cool?”

Jeongguk’s smile widens, “Absolutely. Even more so if you had the appropriate gear.”

“So… highway patrol? Car or one of these things?”

“One of these things,” he chuckles. “It was exciting, especially car chases really got your blood pumping. Although I think my mom was in a constant state of a heart attack. And the chases didn’t happen that often; most of the time, it was just writing tickets, and I wanted to make more of a difference.”

“Understandable. Your mom, I mean.”

“Yeah. Also, who told you?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“Jimin. He told me absolutely everything there is to know about you. All your secrets.”

“Nice try; I don’t have any secrets.”

You wonder to yourself how true that really is.

You’ve managed to keep your mind busy and occupied during the day, but when night time rolls around and the rain has only increased, you’re feeling a little anxious.

Standing outside the door to your room and staring at the handle, you don’t notice Jeongguk.

“You know, I don’t mind you sleeping with me.”

You lift your head, meeting his eyes. He’s shirtless again, looking as if he just came from the kitchen. Should you? Last night was very cozy, and if you're being honest with yourself, you liked it a lot. Probably more than you should. You felt… safer.

You hesitate.

“It’s up to you, but I’ll leave the door open.”

He prepares to leave, but you’re quick to make up your mind.

“No, I, um… I’ll just go and change, first?”

Giving you a soft nod, he leaves for his bedroom.

It takes you five minutes to change into a large t-shirt and some shorts and to wash up, and when you enter through the open door, closing it behind you, Jeongguk is folding a pair of pants to hang over a chair. You won’t pretend that you don’t let your eyes quickly skim over his shirtless body as he moves, your heart skipping a beat or maybe two.

“Is that the ring you wore during the mission?” you ask, watching him turn, first to face you and then to look at the object in question on his nightstand.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you keep it?”

He shrugs as he approaches the other side of the bed, the same side he slept on yesterday. “I don’t know. I wore it, then the hospital put it in one of those bags with my other belongings while they took me into surgery. Took the whole bag home, put the ring there. Didn’t wear it because… well, we’re not married, but I didn’t want to get rid of it.”

“Hm, okay,” you accept what sounds like a reasonable explanation.

Jeongguk lifts the duvet, getting into the bed while watching you. “You didn’t keep yours?”

“Don’t know what happened to it, but it was fake and pretty much worthless, so…”

“Ouch,” Jeongguk says, clutching his chest.

“Okay, first of all, you just said we weren’t married. And there was no material worth to it. Second, your heart is on the other side.”

Smoothly–and definitely making you giggle while you follow his lead and get into bed–he switches hands to hold the right side of his chest instead. You guess it’s a learning curve.

“Ouch,” he repeats, “Just tell me if you want a divorce.”

It’s with a big smile that you get comfortable, pulling the white duvet up to your chin as you lay on your side, facing the nightstand.

You feel Jeongguk move around a bit too.

“I think the rain’s gonna let up tomorrow,” he mumbles. “It’s been a while since it was this… persistent.”

“Yeah… Thank you for letting me sleep here. It feels… better to not be alone.”

“It’s no problem; I don’t mind.”

Silence falls after that. You listen to the rhythmic beat of raindrops hitting the roof, trying to slow your breaths and heartbeat enough to fall asleep. Although you don’t feel as anxious anymore, it still doesn’t happen.

Minute by minute ticks by, and you don’t know if Jeongguk is asleep or not.

“It was raining,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “That night when we followed a suspect into a hotel bar.”

You take a breath, listening to the silence of the room, half expecting Jeongguk to stop you. But he doesn’t; maybe because he’s asleep? So you continue quietly, revisiting a memory.

“He stayed there for quite a few hours, so we did as well. We were hoping he’d lead us to his brother so we could arrest both of them for arms trafficking. Hoseong ordered us beer, more so for appearances, but still, and we talked while we kept an eye on the man and waited for him to leave. I remember that we talked about another case we’d just solved, and Hoseong was going on and on about how smart he thought I was and how glad he was to have me as his partner. I was smiling ear to ear, thinking that I was so incredibly lucky, getting to work with and learn from someone who truly saw me. When the suspect instead got a room there for the night, we did as well, figuring it would be more comfortable than sitting in the car all night.”

It’s still quiet, but it feels cathartic to get it out, regardless if Jeongguk is awake to hear it or not. While you've unfortunately noticed more similarities between him and Hoseong than you'd like--like their dark, expressive eyes--Jeongguk feels... different.

“We were meant to do shifts, always have the door open just a sliver so we’d notice if he left. We took our jackets off and Hoseong placed his stuff on the bedside table. Since it was summer, I was wearing a t-shirt and a skirt with my gun strapped to my thigh under it, and so I put the gun in the pocket of my jacket. When I turned around… he kissed me. I was caught by surprise, but I… I kissed him back at first because… Well, I loved him. But then I tried to step back to tell him that we really shouldn’t, that we needed to be alert and ready to follow if the suspect left. But he didn’t listen.”

You pause, feeling the pain and the fear from that day all over again, your skin turning cold. There’s movement behind you, and an arm is slowly and gently draped across your middle, grasping your freezing hand. It makes you feel something, peering down at his hand and the tattoos covering his skin. He’s very warm, and he feels like he’s… stable. Like he has roots growing into the ground that makes him unshakeable. Meanwhile, you’re a leaf; at the mercy of everyone and everything. Easy to blow away, to rip to shreds, to stomp flat to the sound of your bones crunching.

“He held my jaw so tight, I couldn’t speak, and he told me that I’d been teasing him all day in the skirt and that I should be happy because he knew that I loved him. Said I should just suck it up and put out. He… ” you go quiet, unsure of how many details you’re willing to relive.

Does Jeongguk need to know every step you were pushed toward the bed, how he threw you onto it and got on top of you while you fought? How he unzipped his pants and how he violated you? He probably doesn’t.

“He used his handcuffs and cuffed my hands around the metal bed frame. I tried to…. He said he’d kill me if I screamed.” You remember his hushed yet furious voice in your ear, remember knowing how it was going to end, how he’d kill you right then and there.

“I don’t know if he did it at first because he enjoyed it or if he realized right away that he would need to get rid of me, but he put both his hands around my neck and squeezed as hard as he could. I pulled my hands so violently that I dislocated a thumb, but… I got one out. So I tried to stop him, but he was too strong, using all his body weight. My nails on his skin didn’t faze him, and I was losing consciousness. At the very last second–while my vision was turning spotty–I managed to grab the gun from his holster. I aimed it for his thigh and pulled the trigger. He let go. Somehow, I managed to get him off me, and… out of me… but I could barely see or breathe, and there was blood everywhere.

“He swore at me, and I think he tried to get up but couldn’t, so he reached for his phone, and I ran for the door as best I could. But what was I supposed to do? Call the cops? What do you think he was doing? I heard him ask our coworkers for help, and I knew. They were coming to help him. So I stood there, in the hall of a shitty hotel, with no car keys, no phone, and nowhere to go, while his back-up was mere minutes away.

“Then, someone down the hall opened their door. It was a young woman, and she peeked out, looked at me where I stood, a shaky, bloody, wheezy mess, and she came and pulled me inside right before the police exited the elevator. I managed to say that we were all law enforcement, but I didn’t need to tell her that they’d kill me off if they found me because we heard Ryung’s voice through the door, telling the rest to find me and make me… pay.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been as scared as I was when they knocked on her door. She gestured for me to get inside the bathroom, and I did, watching as she pulled a bathrobe around her body, turning most of the lights off and opening the door to pretend like she’d just woken up. I heard them ask for me, and I heard her politely tell them that no, she hadn’t seen a woman or noticed any commotion. But I saw how her hand trembled behind the door, and I thought the whole time that they knew and were just waiting to push their way inside to get me. But they didn’t. Instead, they left. Shaken, she sat with me on the bathroom floor as I cried, and she helped me clean up a bit and loaned me some of her clothes before she helped me to the hospital across the city border. I stayed the night to have my injuries tended to and documented and a kit done, and the next day, I went to that city’s station to file a report. A female officer helped me, and she’s the only one I’ve told most of this stuff to. Well, except for you now, but I take it you read the report? And the station… you weren’t working that day, but it was your station, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” comes a strained mumble, and you feel him hug you just a bit tighter.

You stare at the wall, feeling both anxious and numb. “It changes you, having someone do that to you. All my life, I’ve known, theoretically speaking, that there’s a risk. A man, anywho, anywhere, anytime, can decide that I don’t get to live anymore. But to experience it, to see the intentions in his eyes, and how he’s… deciding… and not being able to do anything about it. It changes you. It’s always there, the feeling of helplessness.” “I…” Sounding like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, Jeongguk lets silence fall again.

“You don’t know what to say, do you?” you smile a sad smile to yourself. “No.” “It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything, I just thought I’d tell you.”

You feel him move closer while also gently pulling you back toward him. You roll back, finding yourself inches away from him where he lies, head supported by his hand and looking down at you. “I’m just… furious, and frustrated, and I wish so badly that I’d been there to help you. If I had just transferred earlier… maybe I could’ve prevented it, or stopped it, or even just caught him and helped you get your justice. Instead, I came along and made it worse.”

You find yourself so lost in him. In the warmth of his body that’s thawing the entirety of yours, and in his kind brown eyes. You can’t believe he’s the same person who took every chance he could to hurt you as recently as a few months ago. He just… looks so sweet.

“You know, you look like a little kid when you’re sleeping” you smile, watching Jeongguk slowly open his eyes, looking a little confused. “You’re also always up before me, so I’ve rarely seen you asleep. I’m not really a morning person.”

The moment he comes to properly, he smiles lazily and rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “I’m not a morning person either, actually,” he explains, his voice lower and raspier than usual.

“Then why are you always awake so early?”

He looks at you as if he’s not sure what to say. “Cause… I have… stuff to do?”

“Okay…”

Jeongguk doesn’t address the suspicion in your voice, instead, he stretches his arms over his head. The duvet moves, exposing his chest and the scar to your eyes.

Letting your fingertip hover just above it, you look back at his still very sleepy face. “Did you really never know about your organs being mirrored?”

“No,” he yawns.

“But… how? Didn’t you ever have your heart and lungs listened to?”

“I did, but apparently, it’s not too much of a different sound. Sure, my heart beat would have sounded a bit fainter from my left side but it’s such a rare condition that there was no real use investigating further. I had a heart that beat in the right rhythm and no other symptoms so that was enough, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Can I listen?” you bite your lip hopefully.

He raises his eyebrows, “To my heart?”

You nod enthusiastically

“Buy me dinner first, why don’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you feel warm. You meet his gaze and slowly lower your head to his chest while moving your hair out of your face.

His skin feels nice against the side of your face, his chest moving up and down under you slowly, and you hear it. It’s strong, rhythmic, but…

“Are you sure you’re fine, though?” you ask, turning a little more serious, “It’s beating kinda… fast?”

Surely a fit guy like Jeongguk has a slower resting heart rate?

“You’re also, you know, listening to my heart,” he says, like it’s supposed to mean something?

Wait. Is he… Is he implying that you listening to his heart is making it race? That can’t be true, can it?

You lift your face off of his chest, and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other softly, curiously. His black hair is a little messy, but he looks so warm, and you–.

His phone rings.

Jeongguk sighs but reaches for it where it lies on his nightstand, his eyes widening when he reads the screen. “Shit, I gotta take this.”

He throws the duvet off of him and gets up as he answers the call, and you see him in just his shorts as he disappears out of the room with the phone to his ear.

Following his lead, you rise from the bed, but instead of going wherever Jeongguk disappeared to, you head into your room to throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. While alone, you take a moment to think about last night. You weren’t actually planning on talking about it. You never have, not in that much detail, although you definitely left some things out. And while it feels… hard, it also feels… better? Or, like you’re at least not too scared of him looking at you weirdly or saying it was your fault. Or even worse, like you opened his eyes how easy it was to render you entirely helpless…

Quietly, you enter the kitchen, spotting Jeongguk standing at the counter with the tray of cupcakes you made together in front of him. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt now.

He places the phone between his raised shoulder and ear as he peels a wrapper off, “can you ask them to mail copies of the documents to the station? And how did it go, did you manage to reach the mechanic?”

You watch him as he listens to whoever’s on the other side, putting half a cupcake in his mouth. “Mhm, no, no, just book whatever time she’s available. We can meet at the station if she wants to come in or I can go to her. Same for the hotel staff.”

Is he… looking into your case again? Like, thoroughly following up on all leads and with all possible witnesses? You definitely know it’s not because of what you told him last night; he must’ve decided to do it priorly.

His eyes find you as he listens intently to what the voice has to say. You take a few steps, coming to stand next to him, smiling softly at how cute he looks when he’s multitasking. With one hand, he lifts the other end of the cupcake to you. You take it, watching him as he looks off into the distance absentmindedly. “Alright, thank you.”

You pop the piece into your mouth, chewing it while making a note to definitely bake more.

He ends the call and puts the phone down on the counter. “These are actually really good,” he says, putting his frosting-covered fingertip to his mouth.

You smile, admiring him and all he’s done and is doing for you. A little overcome with emotions, you place your hand on his shirt, pulling it down slowly at the collar and him toward you. He looks curious, but you focus on his lips. Biting your own, you try not to let the fear of rejection win, and you stand on your toes, and you kiss him carefully.

It’s brief, and it’s sweet, and you can’t help but smile when your heels touch the floor again.

“Thank you.”

He blinks, looking happy but surprised.

“What?” you chuckle a little nervously when he doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing. I just… wasn’t sure you actually liked me. Like, at all.”

You tilt your head, listening to him as he continues.

“I know that we kissed that time on the hammock, but we probably weren’t on the same page then, were we? Cause I thought we were, that we were alone and that we had something, but you… you played along because there were people watching, right? You were still acting while I wasn’t.”

You haven’t thought a lot about that moment, embarrassed about what happened and how you reacted, but he’s right. You were acting. You weren’t sure he was, but if he really wasn’t… What were his motives that night?

“Yeah, but you kinda literally took a sword to the heart for me later, and you’ve been really, really kind and sweet to me ever since.”

He grabs another cupcake, chewing a piece of it with a look on his face that tells you he’s… planning something. You wait, expecting him to say something but he just smiles and lifts the other piece to your mouth. Before you can even decide whether to take a bite or not, he nudges the cupcake against your mouth, getting streaks of frosting across your lips.

“What the…”

But he grins, puts the cupcake down, and smiles in a way that lets you know this was exactly what he wanted. Putting his fingers under your chin to lift your head, he leans down to kiss you. You hold your breath, feeling his soft lips against yours again.

He tastes of frosting and racing heart beats, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are warmer than usual.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

And you feel warm, almost ecstatic, but also like you’ve… forgotten something.

The day after, Jeongguk receives a call that has him hurriedly looking through the house for the keys to his bike, rushing off somewhere after telling you that he’ll probably be back in a few hours. ‘A few hours’ is too vague to really tell you anything, and you’re so used to not asking questions that you don’t think to.

While he’s gone, you decide to start the dishwasher, and you’ve come to learn that Jeongguk always has at least one mug in his office that he’ll keep refilling with coffee way too many times without washing.

Approaching the office, you’re not surprised to see the door to it ajar. It’s rarely closed, and it’s almost like it signifies the transparency between you. Jeongguk doesn’t say much about the case, but it’s not because you can’t know; it’s because he knows you don’t want to know.

Or didn’t want to know. As you’re standing in the quiet room, his blue mug in your hand, you see a disheveled stack of papers. Usually, you would’ve walked past it, or maybe even re-stacked it neatly before walking past it.

This time, Hoseong’s name catches your eye. Of course, it’s not weird considering it’s Jeongguk’s main case, but you still find yourself staring at the printed letters.

Three hours after he left, Jeongguk unlocks his front door, opening it and stepping inside. He sighs at how the people he despises most on the planet always just seem to slip out of his grasp. But when inside, he finds himself easily letting go of that thought and instead thinking about something that has him smiling to himself.

With his shoes and jacket off, he begins his search, expecting to find you either in the living room or your bedroom and getting confused when you aren’t. He peers inside the kitchen and even puts his head into his own bedroom, almost starting to get worried when you’re nowhere to be seen.

He’s about to visit the second bathroom when he passes his office, seeing movement from within the small sliver in the doorway.

“There you are,” he comments happily as he opens the door wider, looking around and taking a moment to process what he’s seeing. “I almost thought you’d evaporated.”

You look up from the floor, where you’re sitting with a bunch of papers spread out in front of you, Jeongguk’s empty cup beside you.

“These are the ones you’re observing?” you ask, lifting a paper toward him, a pen wedged between your index and middle finger.

He takes it from you, quickly reading a summary of months of hard work. “Mhm.”

“Okay,” you say, looking at another paper in your hand, twirling the pen absentmindedly in your other, “I think I have some suggestions.”

After spending hours and hours with Jeongguk, having him explain the progress they’ve made and who they’re investigating, you take a step back to look at the post-its on the living room wall. It has all the fugitives’ relatives, their friends, coworkers, neighbors…. everyone. Since neither of the four men have used their card nor phone, they must’ve almost certainly gotten help, but from who?

You sink down onto the soft cushions of Jeongguk’s couch with a tired sigh, reaching for the remote and smiling when there’s a rerun of a zombie movie.

Jeongguk follows your lead, spreading out as well. “You wanna like… hold hands or something? Cause I could do with a good hand-holding.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, feeling your chest warm from the inside. It’s so easy for him to make you all giddy, forgetting about all of your pains and worries. Or almost all of them, at least.

Still, you nod, and your smile grows when he scoots closer to you and takes your hand in his warm one.

Even as he directs his focus toward the TV, you keep yours on him. On his tired yet still bright, dark eyes, his nose, the faint hollowness under his cheekbones, and his mouth. His hair is just calling out for you to run your fingers through, but you stand your ground, settling for getting to hold his hand.

“What?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you.

“You asked to hold my hand?” you remind, moving his hand between the two of yours, tracing the veins on the back of it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. You buy flowers and hold hands and open doors.”

Surely, a guy like him can’t exist, right?

“I do. Which reminds me, you were just giving my flowers away?”

He looks at you, faking hurt. Slowly, and with your heart beating hard to nourish the butterflies growing in your stomach, you intertwine your fingers with his. “I didn’t know they were from you; there was never a card or anything.”

“Fine.”

Seemingly accepting your short answer, Jeongguk watches the movie with you for a while in silence, your head coming to rest against the top of his arm. You keep his hand between yours, trying to stay cool despite how being this close to him affects you. There are definitely some sort of butterflies.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about as well?” he mumbles quietly after a while.

“No?”

“At the barbeque, the guy that you were talking to? Who was that? And what did he say?”

You search your mind for a second before it comes back to you; the tall, handsome man who approached you. “I don’t know. He said his name was Haneul, but I don’t think he lived there. I think I heard something about someone having their cousin over or something like that, so I think that was him. Don’t think I saw him again.”

“And what did he say to you? You didn’t look…. very happy.”

You recall the way he felt… off and how he wasted absolutely no time, insulting your husband and offering to take his place. You definitely remember the unfunny feeling of actually wanting to have a rude Jeongguk around just to keep Haneul away.

“Uh, he hit on me.”

“Did you say you were married?”

You scoff. “Yeah, but he didn’t seem to mind. Basically accused you of lacking in bed and offering to take your place in secret.”

“What?” Jeongguk asks, sounding surprised. “He didn’t look that ballsy to me?”

“It was before he saw how intimidating you are.”

“I’m glad it seemed like I scared him off then. If he was bothering you?”

“Yeah…”

“So why didn’t you tell me? When I asked about him? I would’ve kept an even closer eye on you.”

That, you don’t have to search your mind for. You remember very clearly how scared you were that Jeongguk would laugh. Or that he wouldn’t even believe you because after all, why would anyone hit on someone like you? Especially a man who looked like Haneul because creep or not, he was handsome. Like so often, you fill with shame. Embarrassment for who you are and how you look. It’s been surprisingly easy to not focus as much on it, but it will always be at the back of your mind, and this is just a painful reminder.

“I… didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He squeezes your hand, and you hear and feel him sigh sadly. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you and for being such an overall disappointment. I want to think that I sensed that you were scared and that’s why I kept an eye on you after and asked you about it. But I couldn’t even tell that you were afraid of me as well, so I don’t know, honestly.”

“It’s fine…”

“No, it’s not. I guess I hope your future real husband will be better than your fake one,” he jokes in an attempt to lift the mood.

“Oh. I’m not… I don’t think the possibilities of me getting married are very big.”

“Oh? Because you don’t like… men?”

You nearly snort. Honestly, yeah, all of your problems and issues could be summarized into that short sentence.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in marrying a woman, but I’m not… I’ve never had a relationship of any kind with a man–that went deeper than acquaintances–which didn't leave me hurt in one way or another. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“I know you said your dad’s an ass, and I know what happened with Hoseong and us guys at the station, but what… If you want to talk about it, what else…?”

“Who else has hurt me, you mean? It’s complicated, I guess.”

You look down at your intertwined hands, how Jeongguk’s looks so big between yours.

You sigh at the memory of how… non mind-blowing your relationships have been so far. Most guys you’ve dated haven’t made even the slightest of efforts for your birthday–if they even remembered it–or to plan dates of any kind after the first honeymoon months. You’ve tried, but with many men, it feels more like they want a live-in maid, who provides sex. It's definitely a conscious effort, how you try not to match Jeongguk to what your younger self dreamed of in a man.

“You remember… at the house? When you said you loved your ex, and I laughed because you’re a man and not capable of love?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that sums it up. My dad didn’t care for my mom or me, he only returned when his new, younger girlfriends–whose bodies weren’t ruined by childbearing–grew tired of his disrespectful, old ass. He knew that she still loved him, and he took advantage of that. I guess I was a little weary around men from a young age after that, but still hopeful that there could be good men out there too. Then I started dating and noticed pretty quickly that… I wasn’t really important like I’d hoped. I wanted dates–even just a picnic in the park occasionally–and I guess I took birthday celebrations–of any kind–for granted. One guy got me a bunch of candy he knew I didn’t like, so he could eat it himself, and another guy entirely forgot it was my birthday even though his was ten days before, and I got him a relatively expensive watch he’d been wanting. One guy did take me out to eat at a pretty nice restaurant, but he was also shamelessly checking out the waitress right in front of me. I saw my friends be treated the same way, and we all just… kept trying. One of my friends was in a relationship for four years, and he was a real sweetheart; made time for her, got her flowers, gave her compliments, all that. Then she discovered he’d been cheating since day one. It wasn’t until Hoseong that I truly decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“You shouldn’t give up hope.”

“It’s easy for you to say, Jeongguk. You’re a man. Your fellow men look out for you and women still care for you. And to be honest… like I said, what happened to me… it’s not something you just move past. Wherever I go, I know that practically every man I meet on the street could decide to hurt me just because he wants to. And it would be up to him, the fate of my entire life is in the hands of every random guy I pass. If he wanted to kill me, there isn’t much I could do. Not only do I know that theoretically speaking, most of them are stronger than me and don’t care what happens to me, but I know the feeling of having it happen.”

“I understand,” he assures softly, squeezing your hand, “I didn’t mean it in a ‘get over it’ way, just that I know there are men out there who would treat you like an equal partner and who would like to do those things you described that you used to want.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, it just isn’t worth the risk for me. Romantic love isn’t everything.”

There is still a trace of pity in the look he gives you when you smile sadly at him.

After brushing your teeth and changing into your sleepwear, you find yourself outside the door to your bedroom. The storm has passed, so you definitely should go back to sleeping in your own room.

As if he could read your mind, Jeongguk, on his way to his bedroom, slows down as he passes you. He turns, looks at you and smiles gently as he continues to back toward his door. “You don’t need an excuse, you know? If you want to sleep in your room, that’s fine, but I can’t say I’m not hoping you’ll sleep with me.”

You lift your eyebrows at him, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ He should definitely stop saying ‘sleep with me.’

He shrugs, “I like having you close.”

For half a second, you shut your eyes, realizing you have no defense against him. So you open them, sighing and dropping your shoulders before following him with some species of critter in your stomach. He chuckles.

author's note: please let me know if you like it! i feel like this part was really important and it was definitely hard to write because fortunately(!!!) i have not experienced what reader has and while i did my best to portray it how i think someone could react and deal with stuff like this, at the end of the day, i don't actually know and i'd hate if it comes off as wrong or glamorizing in any way. if it does, that is 1000% not my intention. on a lighter note; this is very much a calm before a storm lol

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lovelettersfromluna · 7 months ago

Text

Champagne Coast

Summary: Ellie’s a dickhead that knows exactly how to make you feel good….go figure.

an: this one is a little short, but I have lots planned for the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy regardless 🤍

Warnings: MDNI!! 18+ ONLY, smut!, angst!, Ellie is…she’s really bad at the beginning of this one I’m sorry, mean!Ellie, reader has a brother (he’s a sweetheart but also a moron), new girl in town who is very mean to reader, jealousy, slight sub!Ellie if you squint, needy!Ellie, tribbing? (Idek if what they do is considered tribbing you let me know if it is), lazy make out, mentions of weed and alcohol, Ellie is TIPSY not fucked up during the sex scene I promise, Ellie sucks on readers nipple, please lmk if I missed anything!

Taglist: @elliessgfsstuff @gaylittleellie @quinnister @hopelesssheaven @beelzcutiie @luvrluvrr @mikaaj @lasmirabels

You can read part one here!

If you thought the events that took place at the party last weekend was going to change yours and Ellie’s dynamic in any way shape or form…

You were sorely mistaken.

You weren’t entirely sure what would happen after that night with Ellie, or why it even happened to begin with. It hurt your head to even think about it, any attempt at trying to figure out why the hell Ellie of all people would ever want to do those things to you was headache inducing. You even questioned your own sanity for a bit, wondering if it was all a hazy dream as a result of your drunken state, because surly that made more sense than Ellie following you up to your room to eat your pussy until you saw stars.

But no, not even you had an imagination strong enough to create a feeling like the one Ellie gave you that night.

So if she did come up to your room to kiss you like that, and touch you like that, and make you feel like that then…

Surly things would change, right?

Wrong

You didn’t even look too deep into things, even though the circumstances called for it. You didn’t think this meant something more than it truly was, like it was Ellie’s sick and twisted way of dangling you by a thread for nearly your entire life just to blow your mind one night at a random party to admit that she has a crush on you or something, there was no way that was the case. Ellie was a lot of things, but she wasn’t that good at hiding her feelings.

Which was why you knew that wasn’t this. You knew Ellie didn’t like you, you knew that you’ve been nothing more than a constant bump in the road that stopped her and your brother from doing all the things they wanted, she had made that clear to you from the moment she met you.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to at least talk to her about things.

Talking to Ellie became nearly impossible after that night.

Sure, her and your brother were never really at home. They had very busy schedules being who they were, they were almost always invited to different outings or parties that people around town had, so their presence was rather scarce almost all the time.

But that didn’t mean that they weren’t ever home, there would be ‘rest days’ where they would rot on your couch playing video games and eating left over pizza, nursing a nasty hangover or hiding away from a particularly hot summer sun. There would be at least two days out of the week where you weren’t all alone in the big house.

It had been almost three weeks since the party, and you hadn’t seen Ellie or your brother since.

You got small glimpses of Ellie dragging your brother out to his car early in the morning when you were just waking up, or pulling in to the driveway late at night long after you’d gone to sleep, giving up on trying to wait up on them to watch a movie or something.

And you weren’t an idiot, you caught onto the sudden disappearance of the two very quickly, and it was clear to see that this wasn’t along the lines of their usual summer festivities.

No, Ellie was avoiding you.

Which made things all the more confusing. You weren’t sure if she was doing it for you, or for her own comfort, or if she was just embarrassed that it had even happened, regretting the events so much that it was driving her away from the place that she was staying at.

But it had gone past even wanting to talk to her about it. You still did, and you’d take the first chance that you got to do it, but you missed them, Ellie and your brother. Even just knowing they were both downstairs brought you comfort, allowing you to know you weren’t falling asleep in the giant house by yourself. Despite the taunting and the teasing, it was nice simply having them around.

It felt like you were being punished for something you didn’t even do.

Alas, you were spending another night alone, one you could have been spending out in the city with your friends, hopping from one moody bar to the next before you all inevitably trudged back to your cozy apartment to keep the party going until you all passed out in your living room while watching Star Wars.

Instead you were carrying out the familiar routine you had set up for yourself. You found a new recipe you wanted to try earlier in the day, drove out into town to grab a few groceries and a bottle of wine, came back and cooked, ate dinner and showered, putting yourself in your comfy pajamas before retreating to the living room to finish your glass while watching a movie to fill up the thick silence that filled your house.

You let out a gentle sigh as your eyes drifted over to the large clock on the wall, seeing that it was already almost midnight. You had long since given up on wishful thinking, hoping you’d at least catch a glimpse of your brother before you went to bed. They wouldn’t be arriving until anywhere between two and four am.

After washing up the last bit of your dishes and turning off all the lights (all except the patio light, a silent gesture to the two of them that acted a bit as a ‘goodnight’ from your end) you made your way up to your bedroom, went about your night time routine and tucked yourself into bed for another night of rest.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, allowing the warm glow to lull you to sleep and fill your brain with nonsense in a way that made it easy not to think, when you heard the sound of your brothers Jeep roaring into the driveway, paired with his sound system blasting whatever dumb song he was obsessed with this week.

It made you frown, surly you hadn’t scrolled for that long. Derek and Ellie wouldn’t be home for another three hours, you had to exit out of the app you were using to check the time-

It was only 12:03

This was very unlike Ellie and Derek, so much so that the first thing you felt at their sudden arrival was worry. Was something wrong? Did one of them get sick? Did they suddenly have a change of heart and wanted to spend some time with you?

You needed to go downstairs and check

Your sock cladded feet padded along the wooden stairs as you made your way down, hearing as the front door creaked open, allowing the sounds of your brother and Ellie’s voices to fill up the space, paired with the sound of a few unfamiliar ones.

Now, did you at all think this through? No. Did you even stay at your window long enough to see who exactly was coming out of your brother’s car? Of course not.

Did you see that it wasn’t just Ellie and Derek coming into your house?

Unfortunately, no.

Before you can think any of this through, you’re standing at the bottom of your stairs, arms crossed over your chest as Derek and Ellie lead in about eight other people into your house, their chatter filling up the room and nearly distracting them from seeing you.

But you can’t worry about that right now.

“Derek?” You call out softly, your brows gently furrowed in soft confusion as your hands cup your bare arms from the chill of the air conditioning.

He’s mid laugh when he hears you, his smile slowly dropping once he turns around, his eyes finding you at the bottom of the stairs, the image of worry clear on your face.

Your brother would never admit it, but his heart tugs over the fact that this is his first time seeing your face in almost three weeks, and the only emotion you’re expressing is worry over him.

He clears his throat, his lips tugging into a lazy smile before he lets out a slight chuckle. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” He chuckles out, causing the group of people to snicker behind him, which only makes you frown further.

You ignore them though, instead looking at your brother.

“Are you…okay? You’re never home this early” you question, the look of concern still on your face.

Derek opens his mouth to respond, but he’s quickly cut off by an unfamiliar voice.

“Didn’t know you had a second mom, Derek” a low and sultry voice calls out from behind him. When your eyes trail to where the sound comes from, you finally notice the girl that it belongs to.

She captivates you almost instantly. Her flawless complexion, her perfect hair, her glossy lips that are pulled into a taunting smirk as she watches you, eyes filled with judgment raking down your body, taking in the little fruits printed onto your pajama set.

Perfect legs settled on Ellie’s lap.

Your eyes shift from that, to the way Ellie’s hands caress her hip, fingers toying with the exposed skin where her top ends and her designer denim jeans begin.

When you finally look up at Ellie, shes resting against the couch, bottom lip tugged beneath her perfect teeth as she practically bites back a smile, watching you as the girl in her lap presses her fingers against her lips to push back her giggles.

Your attention is forced away from your brother, now shifted over to Ellie. You have to ignore the pretty girl on her lap and her intense stare. Her eyes smolder in a way that makes your insides flip, and it makes you wanna run away and hide for the rest of your life. But you promised yourself that the next time you saw Ellie, you’d take the first chance you had to speak to her.

No matter how embarrassing it was doing this in front of all these people.

You inhaled deeply before you cleared your throat, making your way over to Ellie and the girl on the couch.

“Can I…talk to you in private…please?” You ask quickly, your voice low as you practically mumble out the words.

Both Ellie and the girl on her lap laugh softly together, and you watch as Ellie tries to muffle the noise by pressing her face to the girls back.

“Anything you need to say can be said here…so what is it?” She practically spits out, her tone making you frown deeply as you try to swallow back the nasty words you have for her.

“Seriously Ellie I just need like five minutes-“ your quickly cut off by the girl in her lap, pretty eyes staring up at you from her spot on top of Ellie as she juts out her bottom lip in a fake pout, one that she’s using to clearly mock you.

“Awe…does the little baby wanna confess her crush? That’s so cute…go on, you can tell her” she mocks you as she pours her words out, her words followed by a soft giggle, which only makes Ellie laugh with her.

You scoff at her, your arms crossing over your chest as you finally look over at her. “Who even are you?” You challenge her, which only makes her raise her eyebrows in surprise before she giggles softly.

“So she does speak…I’m Hazel it’s nice to meet you princess” she drawls out, her tone making you frown further.

“Is that all you needed? I’m dying to hear what’s so important for you to take Ellie from me…” she hums out, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Ellie’s neck.

Ellie hums softly, her lips creeping up to work against Hazel’s neck as she pulls her close to her chest.

“As if she could ever…” Ellie mumbles against her skin.

Her words send a shiver down your spine.

It makes you want to say things that you’ll regret, because Ellie didn’t feel that way when she was settled between your legs, her mouth working against your cunt as if it were her last meal, as if her fucking life depended on it.

But you know that no one in the room would believe you.

You inhale deeply before you let out a gentle sigh, shaking your head. “Forget about it…it was nothing” you mumble out before you turn around, your eyes drifting over to your brother and giving him the biggest ‘fuck you’ stare of all time before you make your way up the stairs.

“Cute pjs by the way!” You can hear Hazel call out when you’re halfway up, followed by a plethora of laughs that follow, all of which belonging to your brothers idiot friends.

Ellie being the loudest of course.

You make sure to lock your door when you’re in your bedroom, your throat burning with the familiar feeling of tears as you shove your face into your pillow, embarrassed at the fact that Ellie even had the power to make you feel so low, so fucking cheap that she used you for a night before going back to her cruel ways.

You knew one thing was for sure. You were completely done with her.

You weren’t exactly sure what Ellie was up to, but you knew that it was pissing you off.

You would give anything for the quiet and empty house you had when Ellie was avoiding you. It was lonely and honestly kind of scary at times but you were alone! And you didn’t have to deal with anyone or anything that you didn’t want to.

Now you couldn’t remember the last time you were alone.

Because ever since that night with Hazel, Ellie had been bringing her over almost every single day. It was like she was fucking moving in for the summer.

And it wasn’t like there was a problem with that. There were many times your brother and Ellie would bring girls over, using each other as a wing man to hype the other up. Sure, you’d feel bad for those poor girls because they picked the two dumbest people your town had to offer, but there was nothing wrong with it.

But Hazel was a fucking bitch.

She wasn’t nice at all. You didn’t need her to dote on you and put on some show to make her seem nicer than she actually was, your opinion didn’t fucking matter, but it was like every time she saw you roaming around the house she made sure to clock in with another one of her snarky remarks about either your appearance or your overall presence.

She was even worse than Ellie.

And god, it was like every single time they were together they were making soft core porn on your couch. You had already lost count of the amount of times you’d walked in on Hazel straddling Ellie’s lap as she practically dry humped her while they made out. You always scoffed at the image, only to be followed by Hazels annoying giggle and Ellie’s encouraging chuckle.

You’d become a permanent resident of your bedroom, since it was the only corner of your home that wasn’t plagued by Ellie and her disgusting little summer fling. It allowed you to sulk in your room without either one of the morons commenting about how much you were pouting.

It wasn’t at all because of the tinge of jealousy you felt when seeing it.

But was it even jealousy? Or was it the fact that she was pretending like everything between the two of you didn’t even happen. You should have known from the moment she left you there to simply eat you out and go back downstairs to whoever she needed that you didn’t mean anything more to her than a quick fix.

You couldn’t think about it any longer, because you weren’t going to allow Ellie to give you any more headaches.

The sun had already set, and it was getting closer and closer to your usual time of getting ready for bed, and you hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. You sighed softly as you grabbed your phone and left your bedroom.

You knew that your house was once again occupied with at least your brother, Ellie, Hazel, and probably more of their idiot friends, so you knew that you had limited time to go downstairs and grab something to fill your stomach before you slept. So you quickly rushed downstairs in an attempt to slip passed them all without being noticed.

You hoped they were doing something that required their focus, like watching a movie or playing video games, something that would make it easier for you to slip into the kitchen and slip out quickly without having any nasty remarks hurled your way.

But of course, life wasn’t so easy.

You frowned softly when you made your way at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone was dressed up like they were about to go out. Loud music was playing as they sat around the living room, some of them in the kitchen getting more drinks, all of them laughing and chatting with one another. It wasn’t enough of them to be a party, and your brother didn’t bring out the speakers for it either.

Your lips were set in a near permanent frown as you watched him call your name, only bringing the attention of everyone else to you as well.

“Hi?…” you mumbled out softly before you moved to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and bringing it to your lips.

He practically hurdled over the couch to get to you in the kitchen, the older man clearly excited to see you after you’d been ignoring him for the past week or so.

“Hey…are you coming tonight?” He breaths out, which only makes you frown further before you shake your head, closing the fridge as you make your way to the pantry instead.

“I sure hope not…” you hear Hazel quip from behind him, which is only followed by the snickers and laughter of the other people there. It makes Derek huff softly as he turns around to glare at Ellie, which makes her chuckle softly with the girl and give her hip a gentle tap to quiet her down.

You sigh softly before you shake your head. “Definitely not…I didn’t even know you were going out” you hum out softly before you reach out to grab some crackers and a bag of chips. You turn around and give Derek and unamused look.

“Can I go now?” You question in soft annoyance, your tone making your brother frown deeply.

He feels bad, and you can see it clearly on his face that he feels bad. He’s supposed to be your big brother yet he’s simply sat back and watched as his best friend continued to torment you.

You didn’t blame him for it either, and that made him feel even worse. You were too fucking understanding, and it made him feel sick to his stomach that his little sister was being more of an adult than he was.

“I’m sorry Ellie’s being such an ass she just-“ his words are cut off by the music stopping, followed by the rustling of the group behind him.

“Bro c’mon! We’re gonna miss the party” you hear an annoyed male voice call out, the rest of the group groaning in agreement as they stand and wait for your brother.

You don’t miss the way Ellie’s arm drapes over Hazel’s neck, keeping the girl close, her eyes refusing to drift anywhere near you as she lets the girl litter her throat with kisses.

Hazel looks at you though, a taunting look in her eyes as her perfectly manicured fingers wiggle in your direction, giving you a cheeky wave.

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite princess!” She calls out, Ellie snickering quietly as she leads her outside with the rest of the group.

Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch them before you let out a soft sigh, shutting the door to the pantry and gesturing towards the door. “Your friends are waiting for you…” you mumble out softly before you slip past your brother to make your way upstairs.

You’re halfway up when you stop and turn around to face him, an expression that could only be described as conflicted written all over his face.

“And please don’t make too much noise when you get back…some of us actually sleep” you huff out softly before you trudge your way back up before he could get a response in, closing your door behind you and flopping down into your bed.

You try your hardest not to let images of Hazel and Ellie linger on in your head, or think about what the actual fuck her motives were (Ellie and Hazel…you couldn’t crack either one of them) because frankly, it’ll just keep you from sleeping.

And you’ll be damned if you end up losing sleep over anyone, especially those two.

A bag of chips and a few episodes of Girlfriends later, and you could feel the familiar feeling of fatigue taking over your body. You quickly take advantage of it, going about your nightly routine as quickly as possible, tugging on an old sleep shirt of yours and hopping into bed, allowing sleep to fill the spaces of your brain that were once plagued by thoughts of Ellie.

It’s the middle of the night when Ellie and your brother come home. It’s just the two of them, having dropped off or left everyone else at the party when they were ready to go.

Your brother was sober, knowing he was titled with designated driver for the night, on top of feeling guilty about the situation with you, he couldn’t really bring himself to drink, especially if you ended up texting him needing anything. He wanted to be in the right state of mind for it.

Ellie on the other hand? Not so much.

She wasn’t belligerent by any means, she could still carry out conversations and she’d definitely remember everything in the morning, but she was much softer, a slight sway in her stance as drunk giggles passed her lips whenever your brother would say something to her.

She felt nice. She also felt needy.

So needy in fact, that after she and your brother stumble in through the front door, your brother quickly grabbing a bottle of water before bidding Ellie a goodnight, that her mind begins to drift off to a particular girl that had been plaguing her mind from the moment that she left the house.

And maybe these thoughts are what drive her up to her room, stumbling inside and tugging her jeans off, switching them out for a pair of shorts and a t shirt, then making her way to the bathroom to clumsily gargle some mouthwash to clean out the smell of smoke and liquor on her breath….

And peak her head into your bedroom to see your sleeping form.

She tiptoes towards your bed once she closes the door behind her, silently thanking you for not locking your bedroom door as you usually did.

Soon she’s standing over you, taking a moment to simply watch you sleep. Your face is pressed into your pillow, forcing your lips into a pout that makes Ellie want to kiss you until you can’t breathe. Your hair is messy, sticking in every which way which makes you look all the more endearing. You look so fucking serene and soft and…

God…had you always been this pretty?

It makes Ellie pout softly, mimicking the form of your lips as her hand comes down to brush a bit of your hair out of your face. The touch of her cold hand on your warm skin makes you groan softly, your unconscious form shifting a bit as you try to push her hand away, shying away from the cold feeling.

When you do this, it gives Ellie just enough space to slide into bed with you. Your bedroom is cold and she knows it’s nice and toasting under there with you, and she’s drunk and she’s needy and…

All she could ever want right now is you.

Another drunk giggle bubbled past her pretty lips, her hand coming down to tug your plush blanket up as she crawls into bed next to you, cold hands instantly slipping under your t shirt to rest against your naked hips, pulling you against her chest.

“Mmm…so warm…so pretty…” she mumbles mindlessly against your hair, her lips coming down to press against your neck as her thumbs rub small circles into your skin.

The foreign feeling of someone pressed up against your back paired with the cold hands running along your skin is quick to make you stir out of your sleep. Your mind is foggy and the heavy affects of sleep still weigh in on your body, making it hard to fully register what was actually going on.

Your hands trail down to rest atop of the ones splayed against your hips, it’s then that you’re able to make out the feeling of plump lips working against your neck, making you frown deeply.

“There she is…hey baby…” Ellie hums lazily against your neck once she feels your hands laying on top of hers.

The sound of her voice has you blinking your eyes open, your brows furrowed in confusion. Was this a dream? Were you seriously fucking dreaming about Ellie now? Was your brain really betraying you by filling your mind with thoughts of her even when you were in sleep?

You feel her grip your hips a bit tighter, forcing your body to turn around and face her. It’s then that you realize the usual hazy fog and dull feeling that comes with dreams isn’t present.

Ellie is there, in your bed, with her arms wrapped around your waist.

You bring your hand up to rub your eyes, your brows still knit together as you try to focus on the girls face in the dim light of your bedroom. You see her crack a smile, her eyes low as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. One of her hands go down to grip your thigh before tugging it up to hook over her own hip, a low hum of approval leaving her lips at the feeling of you so close.

“Ellie? What…what the hell are you doing?” You groan out softly, yet with no attempts at stopping her from moving you about as she pleased.

She hummed softly, leaning in to press her lips against the base of your neck. You can feel her tongue swipe across your skin before she begins biting and sucking, the feeling making you gasp softly as your hands reach down to grip her t shirt.

“Missed you…wanted to see you…play with you a little bit…” she hums softly against your skin, soft moans leaving her lips at the sounds you make.

When she’s this close, you can smell the faint scent of liquor and weed swirling around the both of you. And it suddenly all starts to click.

Ellie was drunk.

You frown deeply as you try pulling away from her, which makes her whine softly, hands still tugging at your hips to keep you close.

“You’re drunk…not to mention how much of a fucking dick you’ve been to me” you huff out softly.

She whines again as she desperately pulls you closer. You catch the image of her lips forming a pout, an honest to god pout that you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen Ellie do before.

“Took like…two shots and I barely smoked…m’just…feelin’ nice that’s all” she explains before she leans in again, her hands slipping under your shirt and pulling you closer.

You roll your eyes at her explanation. “Cool…then go get Hazel…you’ve been very occupied with her lately” your voice has a tone of bitterness that even shocks you, not fully realizing how upset you sounded until you hear Ellie chuckle softly before she pulls back a bit to look up at you.

It almost takes your breath away, how fucking pretty she looks. Her pretty green eyes are low and gleaming up at you, a pretty pink blush covering her freckled cheeks, plump lips tugging into a smirk as she watches you.

It makes it so much harder to fucking resist her.

“Awe…you jealous baby? Upset I haven’t given you any attention since that night?” She teases you gently, her words making you frown down at her as she giggles softly before she leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Gimme a kiss baby…I’ll make it up to you…I promise” she sighs out against you.

Her warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in just how fucking good her hands feel pawing at your hips. She hums softly before she parts her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your bottom lip before she tugs it into her mouth, sucking on it.

It makes you moan softly, which has her nodding in approval as she begins working her lips against yours.

“That’s it baby…lemme take care of you…lemme apologize” she sighs out against you before she presses her mouth against yours.

Your eyes flutter shut when she does this, melting and giving in to the girl as your mind clouds with want and need so strong, you feel like you might explode.

The kiss is slow and sensual, her tongue rubbing and lapping against your own as you enter a steamy make out session that has arousal pooling in your panties.

“Fuck…taste so good baby…missed you so much” she groans out against you, her hand slipping under the covers to tug at your panties, pulling them down your legs. You help her by kicking them off once they’re around your ankles.

Her words confused you, because if you remember correctly, Ellie was laughing in your face with Hazel on her lap a few hours ago, and now she’s in your bed, moaning about how much she’s missed you, and how she wants to apologize for it?

You can’t even dwell on it for long, because you let out a soft gasp when you feel Ellie’s fingers press against your clit, a soft hiss leaving her lips at the feeling of your slick coating her fingers.

“So wet already…been dreaming about this pussy baby…fuck…c’mere” she moans softly as she tugs her own shorts and panties off, leaving both of you only in your shirts.

You feel her tug one of your legs between her legs, the feeling of her wet pussy pressing against your thigh makes you moan softly, because you can feel just how desperate she is for it to, just how needy she is for you as you are her.

“Ellie…fuck…” you moan softly, the girl nodding as she tugs your other leg over her hip so your pussy was pressed against her upper thigh.

“I know baby…I need it too…here…like this” she moans out as she grips your hip, tugging them up and down to find a good rhythm, one that she quickly matches with her own hips.

Soon you’re both moving in unison, Ellie fucking her pussy down onto your leg and yours onto hers. The feeling makes you moan softly, your hands going down to tug at the hair at the nape of Ellie’s neck, keeping her close as you chase your high.

“Fuck…feels so good baby..I…” she moans out loudly, her hands feverishly pushing your shirt up before she presses her lips to one of your boobs, catching your nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, sucking on it as if her life depended on it.

Your skin muffles her needy moans, and it’s a side of Ellie you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen before. She’s rutting against your thigh desperately, pretty eyes staring up into yours as she moans and whines against your nipple, silently begging not only to cum, but for you to cum with her.

“H-huh…want you…to cum all over my leg Ellie…need it…mmm…fuck!” You manage to make out between loud moans and gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as she nods eagerly, sucking harshly on your nipple as she moves her hips faster, slick covering your thigh.

Her other hand reaches down to grip your hip as she forces you to go faster, matching her pace as you feel your orgasm grow closer and closer.

Her lips unlatch from your nipple with a loud pop, the sound of her moans working in harmony with yours as she too feels her orgasm growing closer with your own.

“M’so close…I…fuck….im gonna cum baby…you’re gonna make me-“ her words are cut off with a loud moan. It’s high pitched and whiny and so fucking pretty, nothing compared to her usual deep voice that she speaks in with your brother, or when she’s insulting you.

The sound makes you moan loudly, your back arching as you cum hard on Ellie’s thigh. Your hips slow down, your pussy slowly growing with the familiar feeling of sensitivity as you ride out your orgasm, Ellie matching the slowing motions that you carry out as well.

It ends with the both of you gasping softly, chests rising and falling as you trying to catch your breath. Ellie takes the opportunity to press sloppy kisses against your lips, tongue lazily working against yours as she moans and whines into your mouth.

But if this is anything like last time, you know what’s coming.

So you’d rather it happen now than later, especially when Ellie has the power to rip away the beautiful feeling of her lips against yours. So as she’s kissing you, you silently break away, pull your t shirt down, turn over so your back is facing her, and tug your blankets further over your shoulder as you settle into your pillow.

“Close the door on your way out” you mumble out as you close your eyes, thankful that the orgasm Ellie just gave you tires you out so much that it’s easy for you to simply shut your eyes and go to sleep before you can overthink things, or sit with the sinking feeling that settles in your stomach over the fact that you let Ellie waltz into your room and played with you as she pleased.

Again.

You especially don’t catch the shocked expression on Ellie’s face when she hears the words the fall from your lips.

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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ssahotchnerr · 9 months ago

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRT74Paw/ i feel like this is so aaron bf core i would love a drabble or fic about this <33 in desperate need of aaron fluff comfort rn

tranquility

i think we all need some aaron comfort right now 😣 cw; gn!reader, established relationship, fluff <3 the tik tok context is that one busy audio but then it turns to a peaceful quiet (y'all know the one)

you flinched slightly as the door shut behind you, the sharp sound disrupting your clouded brain.

you couldn't stop thinking; your mind wouldn't stop racing. all day, you were unable to shake the uneasy, frantic mindset. nothing was particularly wrong, but it was just one of those days where you couldn't tone it down, or shut it off, despite how hard you tried. attempt after attempt was made in terms of a distraction, none of which were successful.

it wasn't shocking, you knew there was only one solution; only one way to ease your thoughts and feel like you again.

aaron.

he had been working late recently, but at the reason being so, he planned accordingly to be home at an early, reasonable hour. even if that meant completing his caseload and paperwork for the day at home.

luckily the intention was made for today - he was already in his home office upon your arrival. you walked in silently, a deep contrast from the hurriedness of your brain.

"hey." aaron's head perked up, a smile on his face as he saw you approaching. he was still in his suit - apart from the tie and suit jacket, sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone - but a slight frown soon developed instead: not only observant of your state, but also due to the absence of your usual grin whenever you laid eyes on him.

you were on autopilot, determined on one thing and one thing only; as you neared, he rolled back his desk chair, allowing both the room and the invitation for you to come close.

you didn't hesitate, straddling his thighs and settling yourself onto his lap.

the armrest of the chair dug into your leg, and the overall obstacle of the chair made your position somewhat uncomfortable. but you pushed that aside; your chest to his, your face pressed into and nosing against his neck, your arms wrapping around his middle as much as they could with his back to his seat.

and the change was immediate. the second your body made contact with his, did it instantly relax. your breathing wasn't as stressed, the constant tension in the middle of your torso dissolved, but most importantly, those loud thoughts circling in your head eased, as if they hadn't existed in the first place. you entered an almost meditative state, finding peace and solitude at long last.

even aaron could sense the change, feeling your body mold against his own; one of his hands sprawled across your lower back while the other began to trace random designs, holding you as close as he possibly could.

"you okay?" he mumbled gently after a few minutes. his lips were at your ear, allowing you to focus on nothing but his soothing voice.

you exhaled deeply, aaron pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"i am now."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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queenofterrasen418 · 8 months ago

Text

Cruel Fates (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst (I don't think I can ever stop myself from writing angst.)

Based on this ask.

4.1K words

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

You found yourself aimlessly wandering along the banks of Sidra after storming out on Rhys. The ambient noise enveloped you—the rhythmic splashes of the river against rocks, the bustling chatter of the market, birds chirping in the background. Everything felt mundane, yet strangely comforting. Ignoring your problems wasn’t a solution, as Rhys had pointed out, but it was undeniably easier than facing or even acknowledging them. Nevertheless, you had resigned yourself to the current state of affairs.

Using distraction as your shield, you returned home burdened with bags filled with new books, clothes, and other unnecessary items. As you entered the elegant two-story building you called home, a sense of familiarity and solace washed over you. This palace had become a sanctuary, a reflection of your own essence.

Closing the door behind you with a soft thud, you were greeted by the familiar scent of citrus and jasmine. Setting down the bags, you kicked off your shoes. The silence of the house stood in stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the market. Just as thoughts of Azriel slipped from your mind, your senses sharpened, recognizing the subtle hum of shadows.

"Ah, the shadow singer. Ever heard of knocking or privacy?" you quipped, though you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"I'm a spymaster; it's not in my nature," he replied with his customary soft smile.

Refusing to let your gaze linger on him for too long, you busied yourself by fetching a glass of water.

"How can I assist you, Azriel?" you inquired as you filled the glass in the kitchen beyond the hall where he stood. You still felt a distance from him, not quite comfortable enough to address him as Az like your sisters, Feyre or Elain, did.

"Can't I simply enjoy your company?" he teased, his voice gentle.

Turning away, you closed your eyes for a moment, mentally reminding yourself to compartmentalize. "He's just being polite," you repeated to yourself, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that reminded you of Elain's constant talk about him. "He treats Elain the same."

You scoffed, hoping it didn’t come across as too rude. "Yeah, sure. Now, what brings you here?"

"We're expecting Eris to arrive in a few hours, around sunset. Rhys wanted me to ask if you've changed your mind."

Ah, you had forgotten about the impending meeting with the prince. You sighed. "And Rhys couldn’t ask me himself because?" It was a rhetorical question, but Azriel seemed unaware.

"He mentioned that you two had a disagreement, and he wasn’t sure if you'd be open to talking."

"Of course, I'll talk to him. I’m not a child," you replied, your brows furrowing. "And yes, I still intend to attend that meeting."

Azriel nodded, his expression unreadable as always. "Good to know. In that case, he asked me to inform you that you’ll have to deal with this meeting on your own, there are some crises with an Illyrian camp that he had to attend to, and he is running late.”

“Oh,” A part of you was glad that Rhys let you handle this, “It’ll just be me then?”

The spymaster shook his head, “Of course not, I’ll accompany you.”

You nodded as you were unsure of the right response, “Is there anything else I should know before I meet Eris?”

Azriel paused and started slowly, “My shadows tell me he wishes to overthrow his father. But it’s difficult to know what’s the truth.”

“Ahh, that’s why Rhys put me on this.” you realized as Azriel nodded in response.

You wondered why Rhys requested you accompany him to a meeting with Eris. The powers you got from the cauldron were unique. Your ability ranges from slowing a person's pulse to snatching the air from their lungs as long as the target must be in your line of sight. You can command human organs and regulate emotions by releasing certain chemicals in the body. This allows you to induce suffocation by removing air from someone's lungs, controlling blood flow, causing heart attacks, dictating heart rhythm, and slowing healing. Aside from being extremely valuable in a battle, you can also act as a living lie detector, by monitoring a person’s physiological response.

“Alright, I’ll be there, is there anything else?”

Azriel looked like he was about to say something before he muttered a no.

“You know better than to lie to me, what is it?”

He signed before he finally asked, “I knew that you and Rhys got close in a short time but I didn’t realise you were close enough that he trusted you to handle a meeting alone. That too with Eris.”

“Honestly, I didn't know either.” you said, “Rhys and I connected so quickly that it felt like I had known him for years, he is the older brother I never had. I am glad that he trusts me to handle this.”

You noticed a strange emotion flash in his eyes for a quick second before he gave a soft smile “I am happy for him, I am glad he found a friend in you, y/n. Cassian and I may be his brothers but he still doesn't confide in us completely, he is too afraid to burden us. Feyre and you are good for him.”

You returned his smile, “We all need someone to lean on.”

“Well, Is there anything you need assistance with before then?", he asked.

You shook your head, dismissing any further conversation. "No, I'll manage. Thank you, Azriel."

He lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say something else, but ultimately turned to leave without another word.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. It wasn’t directed at Azriel, but rather at yourself for the walls you had built, preventing anyone from getting too close. Yet, at the same time, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those walls crumble, leaving you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection. Aside from that, even if he did feel the same way, how long will it last? That too with your newly immortal lifespan? You have witnessed true love fall apart in a short time in the human lands. How would it not end in anything but pain in the life of an immortal? If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that to love, is to destroy. Not telling Azriel was the best option for yourself, you were not going to invite pain to your doorstep.

With a heavy heart, you retreated to your room. You knew that sooner or later, Azriel would find out but for now, you allowed yourself the temporary respite of distraction.

Later that day, the anticipation of Eris's arrival hung heavy in the air as you prepared for the meeting. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, thoughts of Azriel and the unresolved tension between you lingered at the edges of your mind.

As the sun began its descent, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, a knock at the door signalled Eris's arrival. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest.

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Eris standing tall and imposing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a striking shade of amber, sparkled with mischief as he took in your appearance.

If you were to describe him, you'd call him the living embodiment of fire.

He was the light to Azriel's dark, they were opposite in every way possible.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Y/N," he drawled, his voice smooth like silk. "I must say, you're even more captivating in person."

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, though you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that his words stirred within you. "Save the charm, Eris. It won’t work on me."

He chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, the air between felt charged, "You wound me, darling. I assure you, my intentions are nothing but genuine."

Before you could retort, Azriel appeared beside you, his presence like a sudden gust of wind that left you breathless. Though his expression remained neutral, you couldn’t shake the feeling of tension radiating from him.

You did miss how Azriel's heart rate was unusually increased, while Eris' remained stable calm and genuine, just like he mentioned before.

“Eris," Azriel greeted with a nod, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Az," Eris replied, his smirk widening as he used Azriel's nickname. "Always a pleasure."

The air crackled with unspoken tension as the three of you made your way to the meeting room. Eris's gaze lingered on you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and desire that sent a shiver down your spine as you all took your seats.

“Imagine how surprised I was when my high lord told me that you had requested a meeting with the night court.” you began holding the prince’s eyes.

“I had requested to meet Rhysand but I am not complaining. You are far better to look at.” Eris said with a smirk that never seemed to leave his face.

“I'll inform him that you were pleased by the arrangement.” you replied with an earnest smile.

Maybe this could be fun, you thought.

Maybe you found Eris fun.

As Eris seemed to give another flirty retort, Azriel spoke.

“Why are you here?

“Ugh! You are no fun Azriel. It’s not like you don't know already.”

You raise your brows at him, asking him to elaborate.

Eris obliged, “I want to…” he seemed to pause choosing his words carefully, “relieve my father from his duties and be the high lord of Autumn court.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his words, “‘relieve my father of his duties’? My, my, whatever happened to daddy's loyal boy?”

You caught the slight upper tilt of Azriel's lips just as your powers detected the slight rise in the pulse of Eris before it slowed down again.

“Apparently he's not as loyal as you thought.”

“How can we trust you?”

“Who are you kidding, princess? I'd be a fool not to know about your interesting powers.”

“Fair enough, what does the night court have to do with this?”

“Help me, to get rid of my father, support my claim as the high lord.”

“Why would we do that? We’d then be replacing one monster for another.” you shot back.

If your words affected him, he showed no signs of it, physically at least, but the small spike in his cortisol levels and the drop in his pulse told you your words hit their mark.

Eris's smile tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure, leaning back in his chair with an air of practised ease. "I can see why you might think that, but I assure you, I'm not my father. Unlike Beron, I see the value in alliances and mutual benefit."

Azriel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Convincing words, Eris, but words are cheap. What do you have to offer in return for our support?"

You couldn’t honestly remember when was the last time you had heard him speak this much, or if you had ever interacted with him for more than a few words.

Eris's gaze flickered to Azriel, then back to you. "Information. My father is planning something that could have catastrophic consequences for all of us. He's been working with a human queen—one who has a vested interest in starting a new war between our realms."

Your heart skipped a beat, a sense of dread settling over you. "Which queen?"

Eris's expression grew grave. "Queen Briallyn. She's amassed a formidable army and is working with my father to create a weapon that could tip the scales in her favour."

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, whose stoic expression betrayed a flicker of concern. "What kind of weapon?"

"One that can manipulate the very fabric of magic itself," Eris replied, his voice low and serious. "It could render even the most powerful High Lords and their courts defenceless."

Azriel's eyes darkened. "And you have proof of this?"

Eris reached into his coat and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. He placed it on the table and opened it to reveal a collection of documents and maps. "These are the plans and correspondences between my father and Queen Briallyn. Everything you need to verify my claims is right here."

You leaned forward, scrutinizing the documents. The meticulous detail and undeniable authenticity left little room for doubt.

You sighed passing the letters to the shadowsinger. "Just when we thought Prythian had a moment of rest."

Eris met your gaze, his expression was earnest. "Our courts need to work together."

You considered his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was a risk, but the potential consequences of inaction were too dire to ignore. "Assuming we agree to help, how do you propose we go about it?"

Eris's smirk returned, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "We can meet regularly and update eachother with what we know and proceed from there."

Azriel's gaze remained fixed on Eris, his expression unreadable. "And what guarantees do we have that you won't betray us once you have what you want?"

Eris leaned forward, his amber eyes burning with intensity. "You have my word and the knowledge that if I betray you, I'll be signing my own death warrant. Beron would kill me in a heartbeat. I need this alliance as much as you do."

You took a deep breath, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, you nodded. "Alright, Eris. We'll discuss this with our high lord and get back to you. But know this—if you betray us, there will be nowhere in this world you can hide."

Eris inclined his head, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Understood. Now, I've always been curious about your powers," he began, his tone light but laced with genuine interest. "I've heard rumours, but I find that firsthand accounts are always more... enlightening."

You arched an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression. "Have you now, Eris? And I’m not in the habit of revealing my secrets to just anyone." Your powers were not publicized much, you and Rhys decided it was more advantageous to keep it quiet. But they weren’t a secret either.

Eris chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Ah, but I'm not just anyone, am I? People talk about you being able to control the very essence of life itself. Now, that sounds rather impressive, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, crossing your arms. "Rumours tend to exaggerate. I'm sure the truth is far less exciting."

Eris took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so? From what I understand, you can manipulate the body on a molecular level. Imagine the possibilities... and the danger."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Dangerous, perhaps, but only to those who give me a reason to use it."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Fair enough. But tell me, how does it work? Do you just think about it and—poof—someone's heart stops beating?"

You gave him a sly smile. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Or at least give you a nasty headache."

Eris laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room.

Eris's expression grew more serious, though his smile remained. "You know, Y/N, there's something else I've been thinking about.”

You looked at Azriel and joked, “Look at that! You have certainly been thinking a lot recently, haven’t you Eris? Looks like you’ve been having a lot of thoughts.” You were surprised that Azriel gave a small smile from the way he had tensed this entire meeting, waiting for a chance to pounce on the Autumn prince.

Eris widened his smile at your comment as he continued, “Here’s my proposal, this alliance between us... it could be more than just a political arrangement."

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what exactly are you suggesting, Eris?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm suggesting a union between our courts, a marriage of sorts. Think about it—together, we’d hold so much power."

Azriel lost all his self-control as he whispered in a deadly calm tone, “You have gone insane.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Your powers silently rush to soothe Azriel before he does something reckless, "You certainly don't lack ambition, I'll give you that. But why on earth would I consider such an arrangement?"

Eris's gaze softened, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. "Because I believe we could be unstoppable together. You're powerful, intelligent, and, if I may be so bold, quite captivating. With your abilities and my resources, there's no limit to what we could achieve."

You felt a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest hint of intrigue.

“Too bad you were already mated, if only he knew”, you thought to yourself.

A slow thought crept into your mind, “So what if you were mated? Nothing was going to come out of it anyway.”

"Captivating, am I? You do know how to charm, Eris. But you'll have to do better than that to convince me."

Eris's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Consider it, Y/N. Imagine what we could accomplish together. The Autumn Court and the Night Court united as one. We could bring peace, prosperity, and a new era of cooperation to our people."

You studied him for a long moment, weighing his words. There was no denying the potential benefits of such a union, but there were also risks—trusting Eris was a gamble, and one you weren't sure you were ready to take. Thoughts of what he did to Mor screamed in your head.

“I didn’t forget your past with Morrigan, Eris. You still expect me to agree to this?”

His eyes narrowed at that, “Morrigan knows the truth of what happened that day. Ask her for the entire truth.”

Confusion bloomed inside you at his words but you did not have time to sort through lies now, Azriel was too agitated and you were left with an important choice to make.

"I'll think about it," you finally said, your tone careful. "But don't get your hopes up, Eris. I'm not so easily won over." you slipped a mask of playfulness again.

Eris chuckled, rising from his seat with a graceful fluidity. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Y/N. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll keep an open mind. But remember, Eris—if you cross me, you'll regret it."

He inclined his head, his expression earnest. "I wouldn't dream of it. Until next time, Y/N."

With that, Eris turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of a union with Eris was both tempting and daunting, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you—and for your courts.

The room settled into an uneasy silence. You could feel the tension radiating from Azriel beside you, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanour. His jaw was clenched, and his shadows seemed to writhe and twist around him with a life of their own.

You turned to face him, concern etched into your features. "Azriel, what's wrong? If I hadn’t calmed you Mother knows what you’d have done to him!"

Azriel’s eyes, usually a cool and controlled shade of hazel, now burned with a fierce intensity. "What's wrong? Are you seriously considering his proposal, Y/N?"

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, you have never seen this side of him.

"It's not as simple as that, Azriel. We have to consider all options if we want to ensure the safety of Prythian."

He took a step closer, his voice low and filled with barely suppressed anger. "Eris is playing a dangerous game. A union with him? You can't seriously think that's a good idea."

You met his gaze, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not saying I'm going to marry him tomorrow, Azriel. But we can't dismiss his proposal outright. There’s the potential benefit—"

Azriel cut you off, his voice rising. "Potential benefit? He's manipulating you, Y/N! He wants power, and he’ll use you to get it. Do you really believe he has anyone's interests at heart other than his own?"

You felt a surge of defensiveness, your own anger flaring in response. "And what if he does? What if this alliance could actually bring about the change we need? We can’t afford to let personal grudges cloud our judgment. He meant everything he said today, not a single ill-intended thought!"

Azriel’s expression darkened, his shadows growing more agitated. "This isn't about personal grudges. This is about trust, about loyalty. Eris has proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted. And now he's proposing a union with you? He’s trying to bind you to him, Y/N. To control you."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know it’s risky, Azriel. But we need allies. We need every advantage we can get if we're going to take down Beron and stop this war."

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what about your own safety? What about the risk to you? I can't stand by and watch you put yourself in danger for a power-hungry prince who will betray you the first chance he gets."

Your heart ached at the raw concern in his voice, hope threatened to manifest in you but you shoved it aside and held your ground. "Why do you care, Azriel? I can take care of myself. I’m not making any decisions lightly. I just need to consider every option."

Your words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and for a moment, Azriel seemed taken aback by your response. His gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you are like Rhys’s little sister, you are one of us. Because I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Though a part of you was glad he cared but you scoffed in disbelief, “Right. Because I am important to Rhys. Well, this decision is mine to make and I will discuss it with Rhys as it concerns his court. I’ll be sure to take what you feel into consideration. Thank you for your input, Azriel.”

His gaze hardened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Fine. If that's how you want it. But have you ever stopped to consider the possibility that you might have a mate, Y/N?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, the implication sinking in with a sickening certainty. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the blood draining from your face as you struggled to comprehend his words.

"What if you have a mate out there, waiting for you?" Azriel continued, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of pain. "What then?"

You recoiled as if struck, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. The truth, the painful, unbearable truth, threatened to drown you in its depths. A dry, joyless laugh came out of you.

"I don't have a mate," you spat out, your voice trembling with rage. You lied without a second thought. The ease of it scared you. "And even if I did, it's none of your damn business, Azriel. Stay out of my life."

With that final, venomous retort, you turned on your heel and winnowed out of the room, leaving Azriel behind in a cloud of anguish and regret.

As you fled down the empty corridors of the townhouse, your heart ached with a pain you couldn't name.

You opened Rhys’s study door without a second thought and sighed in relief as you found Feyre and him.

Realization of what truly happened spread through you like a bolt of lightning hit you. Both of them were quickly at your side, worried and asking you questions. A single tear slipped as your voice broke,

“Not telling him was one thing, but lying to him? Oh cauldron, what have I done?”

Next Part

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