#when our flat is already cold as fuck as it is

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Shot Down - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

He hates being told 'No'...

tw: codependency, manipulation.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Sevika nods, once. But the sorrow lingers in her eyes.

"What about you?" she asks. "Will you be—?"

"I'll be here."

"Doing what?"

"There are a few threads to tie up. A handful of meetings with the chem-barons. Then a trip to the Terrarium. As soon as I'm done, I'll join Jinx and Viktor in the Aerie. By then, I anticipate the glyph will be in their crosshairs. And Violet, already cold. By the time her body's found at the Abattoir, Zaun will have a brand-new power source under wraps. One that will transform the city. Rewrite the past. Reshape our future."

From beneath his half-lidded eye, he watches Sevika absorb the words. Her face is immovable, but there are undercurrents of conflict in her forehead and jaw. Her mouth—kiss-swollen—parts, then shuts.

She can sense the charge or of excitement in him. The resolute sense of purpose. It compels her, as it always has.

But that sorrow—that strange, inexplicable sorrow—won't fade. Her hand, in his, won't let go.

Like she cannot shake the feeling he is gone for good.

Yielding to rare impulse, Silco kisses her. A kiss that goes from claiming to paying court with the same thread of savoring slowness.

She shivers, but doesn't answer.

"This is it, Sevika," he breathes. "After all these years. The moment we've been waiting for."

"I know." She swallows. "I know."

"What is it?"

"I guess—I didn't realize that today was the day."

"Neither did I. Not until last night. Jinx dispatched a message by crow."

"And you came here."

"To prepare you."

"You could've radioed."

"And start my day without a proper legover?"

The levity falls flat. Her expression doesn't alter. No low-slung smirk. No sly quirk of the brow. Just the sorrow, and a hand in his.

Again, he kisses her. Her eyes fall shut. The crude Shimmer veins on her cheekbone pulse like a wound seeping blood. He traces them with the folded fingers of his free hand, down to the curve of her throat.

The heat of her fresh-fucked body exerts an irresistible pull. Her skin is so richly scented. So electrifyingly sweet.

The countdown's in motion: six bells and a schedule from hell.

But need's got no use for a timepiece.

It's why, the past few weeks, he's sought her out, again and again. Home can always be leveraged against you. But a steadfast tether is the surest bulwark in a storm. And that storm's inside him: a restless cage of teeth and hunger and howling rage.

It's been that way since the blood game began. He's plotted every square; the pieces are in place. The checkmate is close.

Sevika's closer still. Her heat, her pulse, her body—all within reach.

All his.

Slowly, Silco eases her back across the rumpled sheets. Kisses her again, his hand roaming from her throat down to the bisecting line of breasts and belly and the damp vee of thighs. But when his palm delves between them, ready to begin preliminaries, he meets resistance. The solid muscles of her thighs flex shut, keeping his questing fingers out.

Frowning, Silco stops.

"Sevika?"

Her stare holds his, the way it's always done. But the light in her eyes has gone strange.

"You should go," she says. "Big day ahead."

"No chance of a victory lap?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Oh, I don't know." Silco insinuates his fingers an inch deeper. Her body gives a telltale tremor. "I've been in front, below, behind. But inside's where the real payoff is."

"You can't afford the distraction."

"It's a small one. Indulge me."

He dips his head, kissing the hollow of her breastbone. Tongues the groove of muscle down to the pucker of navel. There is salt caught in the fine hairs of her skin. Life, at its strongest, radiating under his lips.

"Don't," she says, but with a catch in her breath.

"You don't want to?"

"Not now."

"I can change your mind." He nuzzles the dense pooch of curls at her mons. Breathes in the heady musk of her. The faint quiver of her belly is a dead giveaway. "Just say the word."

Her cybernetic hand catches him by the nape. Gunmetal eyes lock with his own.

"The word's Kill It," she says.

The safeword—non-negotiable—stops him short.

He doesn't let go, but his hand slips away. He still wants her, so badly it hurts, except the hurt's now something he cannot put a name to. Conflict; self-doubt. Reflexively, his mouth seeks hers, an anchor amid the alienness.

This time, she lets the kiss linger: a simple contact of flesh-on-flesh. But a moment later, she gently, firmly, withdraws. Her good hand squeezes his, letting go before he has a chance to lock his fingers into hers.

Their clasp falls apart.

The tether's gone.

Sitting up, Sevika reaches, not for the vodka, but her smokes. Lipping a cigarette from the pack, she sparks up. Her hair—past her shoulders now, and growing ravishingly long with each week—falls forward, shielding her expression.

The smoke's a shield too. Behind it, he senses a strategic retreat.

"Go," she repeats, and it's not a tone that invites persuasion.

"You're turning me down."

"I am."

She is rifling through her drawer. Finding what she wants—an old horsehair brush that once belonged to Nandi—she leans over and begins brushing vigorously from the nape. He cannot see her face at all, and half-expects her to set fire to the glossy black locks with her cigarette.

He half-expects the flat to go up in flames, and engulf his pride with it.

"Sevika—"

She preempts whatever spiel he's preparing to spin. "Nothing personal. But a lot's riding on today. Especially with Jinx at the helm."

"She's not at the helm. I am."

"You've given her the tools. The gem. The runes. The map."

"I trust her to succeed."

"And I trust her to blow us sky-high. So, on the off-chance it happens, I'm prepping in advance." Silco watches the gliding play of muscles along her spine. The brushstrokes slow. Tossing her hair back, she takes one last drag, then grinds the butt into the ashtray. The smoke dispels, but her shield holds. "You're the brains, Silco. I'm just the muscle. And I'd rather those muscles be ready to roll. For Zaun's sake."

"Is that why I'm being evicted? Out of patriotic duty?"

"Partly."

"And the rest?"

"The rest's between me and mine."

"Sevika—"

"Next time, sir, I'd suggest starting your day with a cold shower."

Silco stares. The snark is vintage Sevika. But there's something oddly forced to it. A blistering bite that goes beyond her usual repertoire.

It unsettles him. As does the bluntness of the brush-off. She's been at his beck and call for years. Never refused his advances. Never once held back. Hell, half the time, he never even has to ask. It's simply a matter of when.

Now her distance is a drawbridge, impassable.

And Silco realizes: he's forgotten what it is to be denied. To be made to heel.

To feel human.

Inexorably, the rage cuts through. At himself, for wanting. At her, for withholding.

And rage, he can work with.

"If you insist," he says mildly. "Though I was going to share the rest."

"The rest?"

"The game-plan after Vi's out of the picture." A beat. "And how Noxus enters into it."

That gets her attention.

Her head swivels, just a fraction. Her slitted eyes seek his. Silco says nothing. He only smiles. A smile that is the equivalent of a card leveled across a poker table. On its surface, stenciled in bold black print: an ace of spades. On its flipside, a handwritten scrawl: Fuck You.

She had her chance, and she's squandered it.

Now, they'll play it his way.

"So," she says quietly, "you're still holding out on me."

"We can't always get what we want."

"Except for you, huh?"

"My wants are Zaun's wants." Lazily, he rises. "Zaun's wants are mine."

"And the rest?"

"In time."

His clothes are a heaped mess across the floorboards. He'd allowed himself a spot of spontaneity, where ordinarily he'd fold them first. Now it strikes him as a warning sign. Trust: creeping from the corners of his control. Tempting him to let it bleed all the way through.

He'll never make the same mistake twice.

Methodically, he dresses. Trousers, shirt, socks. Shrugging on his waistcoat, he adjusts the lapels, and begins tying the cravat. In the mirror, Sevika's stare roams. There is a bit of a voyeur in her. She's always liked to watch him slinking into his clothes, same way Nandi enjoyed watching him slither out of them. Something about the way the movements limn his scarred musculature, his fingertips spidering across buttons and fastenings, puts her into a dark-eyed reverie.

Silco's never minded. It's no different from when he watches her kill at his command.

Today, it's different. Something in her eyes—in their raw steeliness—is telling. It's not her old look: the one from when he'd just been smooth-talking Sil, and she was just a girl with a good right hook. The way she'd look at him then: an unguarded stare that saw past the layers of charm and calculation he put on for the rest of the world. That saw the man inside.

All the parts of him, dark and light, laid bare.

Now, it's a look that sees too much. And, seeing, understands that there's nothing left.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

So uh, tfw your pretty sure at this point the flat is activitely damaging you and your moms health.

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐬 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐦 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ zach maclaren

playing: 𝟏𝟖 by one direction 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! every winter break, you and your childhood best friend zach’s families plan the annual trip to your family’s cabin in the mountains. but when an accident happens, a guilt-ridden zach is willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.

paring: zach maclaren x fem!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers , zach accidentally hurts reader , mentions of bruising , angst , lots of fluff (zach is so hopelessly in love with you it hurts) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 8.2k

notes: today’s post is a long one but bear w me pls i had to edit so much of it :(

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“can you grab the spare?” zach calls from the back of the range rover, tugging the luggage out of the trunk.

stepping out of the car, the icy air hits your face like a slap, the sudden chill turning your nose pink and making your cheeks tingle.

“fuck, it’s freezing,” you mutter under your breath, hurrying over to the pile of rocks near the cabin door. your fingers, already stiff and trembling from the cold, fumble as you dig through the stones, searching for the fake rock with the hidden spare key.

finally, you find it and unlock the door. you and zach waste no time rushing inside, flipping on the furnace and switching on the electric fireplace. warm air begins to spill into the room, cutting through the biting chill.

“jesus, it’s brutal out there,” zach says with a laugh, dropping the suitcases by the front door.

“i know,” you reply, rubbing your hands together for warmth. “i don’t get how our parents do it when they get here first.”

your gaze sweeps over the cabin, familiar and cozy even in its current state of disarray. a small smile creeps onto your face as memories flood back. by the time your family usually arrives, the maclarens have already set everything up—lights twinkling, garlands hung, the whole place transformed for the holidays.

but not this year. this year, you and zach got here first. being in college has made it easier for the two of you to make the trip, especially since it’s only a short drive from campus. with your parents tied up at work, they won’t arrive for another two days, leaving you and zach to settle in and prepare the cabin yourselves

zach seems to read your mind as he heads toward the storage closet under the staircase. “the moms mentioned something about the decorations being in here,” he says, pulling open the door.

he starts rummaging through the piles, expecting to find boxes labeled xmas. instead, his hand lands on a stack labeled snowboarding gear. a small smile tugs at his lips.

“guess the decorations can wait,” he says, pulling out the boxes. turning to you, he raises an eyebrow, and you meet his look with a knowing nod. “get dressed.”

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you glide across the flat, powdery snow after hopping off the ski lift. the cold air nips at your cheeks, leaving them rosy and warm beneath your baby pink goggles. when you finally stop at the edge of the slope, you tug the goggles up onto your helmet, panting softly as mist forms in the cold air.

zach approaches behind you, stopping at your side. you look up at him, your eyes bright with excitement. “hi,” you say, your breath still catching from the climb.

“hey,” he replies, chuckling softly, his voice warm and steady. he feels something tighten in his chest—your voice, your smile, the way you look at him. if only you knew how effortlessly you could bring him to his knees.

but he would never say it. not to you. not when it could risk the friendship you’ve built over years.

you’ve been inseparable since second grade, when zach worked up the courage to ask for your help mastering the monkey bars. you were the only one who could make it all the way across without falling, and he’d admired you ever since. now, here you are—still together, still tangled in a friendship that means everything, even if it sometimes feels like it could be so much more.

zach isn’t sure when his feelings for you started to shift, turning into something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. maybe it was that afternoon when he was twelve, bedridden with a nasty cold, and you showed up unannounced with a thermos of homemade chicken soup. the soup had been borderline inedible—too salty, with mushy noodles—but the gesture had warmed him in a way he’d never forget. of course, he’d eaten every last bite and told you it was perfect.

or maybe it was on his fifteenth birthday. he’d always treated his birthday like any other day, never one to make a big deal of it, but you didn’t see it that way. while he was out, you snuck into his room and filled it with many presents and blue and black balloons—his favorite colors. he’d walked in, startled by the effort you’d put in just to make him smile, and something about it stuck with him.

or maybe it was the night he ended things with his first long-term girlfriend at seventeen. her problem had been you—the closeness you and zach shared, the bond she couldn’t understand. she’d wanted him to choose, and it wasn’t even a question. when you found out, you didn’t say “i told you so” or press him for details. instead, you showed up with a bag of junk food and a stack of movies. you stayed the whole weekend, laughing, crying over sappy scenes, and talking until the early hours of the morning about your dreams and futures.

in every timeline, in every version of his life, zach knows he’d choose you. over a girlfriend, over a best friend, over anyone.

a soft click pulls zach from his thoughts. glancing down, he sees you already strapped to your snowboard, your goggles perched perfectly on your face. you reach up, offering your hand for help. with barely any effort, zach pulls you to your feet, earning a giggle that tugs at his chest more than he cares to admit.

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this view,” you say softly, taking in the snow-draped mountains and the endless horizon of white and blue.

zach crouches down, fumbling slightly as he straps himself into his board. his fingers falter when he glances up at you. the way your smile glows as you take in the scenery—it’s more breathtaking to him than the view itself.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice quiet. “me either.”

you turn to him with a playful glint in your eye. “race you down?”

zach chuckles, shaking his head as he secures his last buckle. “no.”

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “why not?”

“because,” he says, standing and stretching, a smug grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll smoke you so fast it’ll almost be sad.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes at the playful jab, but the spark of competition ignites instantly. zach knows you well enough to see it too. before he can say another word, you tug your goggles down, lean forward, and launch yourself down the slope, your speed kicking up a flurry of snow in your wake.

“cheater!” zach yells after you, his voice echoing through the mountain air.

your laughter rings out, light and carefree, as you pull your face cover up to shield yourself from the biting cold. with a determined grin, zach pulls down his goggles and takes off after you, the race already on.

the descent starts smoothly, the rush of cold air whipping past your face as you carve through the snow, the thrill of the slope igniting your competitive streak. you glance over your shoulder, spotting zach gaining on you. he’s fast—faster than you expected—and his determined grin sends a surge of adrenaline through you.

you try to pick up speed, leaning into the next turn, but your edge catches an icy patch. it happens so quickly—a sharp jolt, your balance slipping, and suddenly, you’re tumbling. the world tilts, snow sprays into the air, and before you can even react, you collide with something solid.

or rather, someone.

zach.

the two of you go down in a tangled heap, his snowboard slicing awkwardly into the snow as he tries (and fails) to stop in time. his arms instinctively wrap around you as you both slide a few more feet before finally coming to a stop in a soft bank of powder.

for a moment, everything is still.

you blink up at him, stunned and breathless, your goggles slightly askew. zach’s face hovers inches above yours, his cheeks flushed—not just from the cold.

“you good?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his lips twitch into a small smile.

you can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the moment catching up to you. “yeah… i think so. you?”

he nods, chuckling now too. “well, i wasn’t planning on eating snow, but at least i cushioned your fall.”

you roll your eyes, shoving at his chest lightly as he helps you sit up. “cushioned my fall? you practically tackled me.”

“only because you fell first,” he counters, his grin widening.

despite the snow seeping into your clothes and the ache of your tumble, you find yourself laughing again. zach stands, brushing snow off himself before offering you his hand. as he pulls you up, you notice his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual, his smile softer now.

just as the rush of laughter and adrenaline starts to fade, a sharp, sudden pain slices through your side, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp, instinctively clutching your side. “ouch.”

zach’s smile vanishes, his brows knitting together in concern. “what? what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know, i—” another sharp pang makes you wince, doubling over slightly as you shuffle off to the side of the slope, out of the way of other snowboarders. your hands fumble to tug off your gloves, urgency overriding the cold.

you shove the gloves into zach’s hands without a word and begin unzipping your snow jacket, pulling up your thermal layer to investigate. you crane your neck to look, but the angle makes it impossible to see what’s wrong. the pain is sharp and unrelenting, leaving you wincing as you try to figure it out.

“can you see anything?” you ask, your voice tight.

but zach’s expression answers before he says a word. his eyes widen, his face draining of color as he steps closer, urgency in every movement.

“oh shit,” he mutters, already crouching down to get a better look.

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“intercostal muscle strain,” the doctor says, her tone calm but firm as you sit up with a wince. “you’re very lucky—it could’ve been a fractured or broken rib, and that would’ve been far more painful than what you’re feeling now.”

you nod slowly, wincing again as you pull your clothes back down over your bare torso.

“it’s nothing serious, thankfully,” she continues, scribbling something onto a notepad. “but you’ll need to take it easy—no snowboarding for at least a week.”

you groan dramatically, throwing your arm over your eyes in exasperation, only to regret it instantly as the ache in your side flares. you hiss through your teeth, lowering your arm gingerly.

the doctor hides a small smile at your frustration. “get plenty of rest, and take two 500mg Tylenol every 4–6 hours to help with the pain,” she advises. “for the bruising, you can pick up some arnica gel or aloe vera at a pharmacy—it’ll help with the inflammation.”

zach, who’s been quietly standing at your side the whole time, finally speaks up. “so no snowboarding at all?”

“none,” the doctor confirms, looking at you pointedly.

zach lets out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful nothing was broken, though the guilt still gnaws at him. that tumble had cost you a week of your vacation, and the thought that he played a part in it made his chest ache.

his hand rests idly on the edge of your pillow, his mind clouded with regret, when he suddenly feels your fingers brush against his. his gaze shifts to yours, and he knows immediately that you’ve read him like a book.

the doctor steps out, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. she’s seen the unspoken bond between the two of you—something that everyone else seems to notice, even if you and zach haven’t admitted it to yourselves.

“i’m so sorry—” zach starts, his voice heavy with remorse, but you cut him off with a gentle shake of your head.

“it wasn’t your fault, zach,” you say firmly, your voice soft yet steady. your fingers trace small patterns on the back of his hand, grounding him. “there was no way to stop that fall from happening, or for you to avoid crashing into me. it was just… one of those things.”

zach looks down at your intertwined fingers, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

you smile, swinging your legs carefully over the edge of the bed to stand. “though i do wish you hadn’t elbowed me so hard in the process.”

your playful jab makes him groan, dropping his head into his hand. “you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“not a chance,” you tease, grinning as you test your balance on your feet.

his guilty expression softens into something lighter, his lips quirking into a small smile as he watches you. “fair enough,” he murmurs, his tone filled with a mix of relief and something deeper he doesn’t quite let himself say.

as per the doctor’s advice, you and zach stopped at a nearby pharmacy on the way back to the cabin, picking up some arnica gel for the swelling and a bottle of tylenol. zach had insisted on carrying everything, even as you rolled your eyes and tried to insist you were fine.

back at the cabin, he’d gone into full caretaker mode. now, you were nestled on the couch in your favorite pajamas, surrounded by fluffed pillows, a warm blanket, and fuzzy socks. zach had even turned on your favorite comfort show, leaving no detail overlooked.

in the kitchen, you could hear him speaking quietly with your parents on the phone. the tone of his voice was calm and reassuring, though you caught a few words here and there about “keeping an eye on her” and “following doctor’s orders.”

“yeah, I will. alright—yeah, sounds good, I’ll let her know. oh- okay. bye.”

zach ended the call, setting his phone down on the kitchen island before heading over to you with a water bottle, a couple of tylenol pills, and a snack bowl balanced in his hands. he plopped onto the couch next to you, a small laugh escaping as he handed you the items.

“let me guess,” you started, mockingly, “make sure she’s actually taking the pain meds and don’t let her go snowboarding no matter how much she begs.”

zach laughed, shaking his head. “pretty much. they’re just worried about you. it took a lot of convincing to stop them from dropping everything at work and driving straight to the hospital.”

you took the water bottle and pills, rolling your eyes as you scanned the label. “this is bullshit. i feel fine. it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.”

zach raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “don’t lie. i can hear you cursing under your breath every time you move too fast.”

he twisted open the water bottle and popped open the tylenol, handing them back to you with an air of exaggerated patience.

“i can open my own stuff, you know,” you grumbled, though you took both from him.

“sure, you can,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. “but this way, i get to feel useful. so, humor me.”

you roll your eyes but oblige, popping the pills into your mouth and washing them down with a gulp of water. for the rest of the afternoon, you and zach fully embraced the art of laziness. you binged several episodes of your comfort show, made your way through the entire snack bowl, and eventually ordered pizza, which arrived just as the last crumbs of chips were devoured—all within four hours.

the warmth of the blanket, the soft hum of the TV, and the exhaustion from the day caught up with you. before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut, the drowsiness overpowering. when you woke, it was to the gentle sensation of zach’s fingers absentmindedly scratching your scalp, the rhythm soothing and familiar.

blinking groggily, you realized your head was resting on his chest. you froze for a split second, then relaxed as the memory of shifting there for comfort came back to you. his chest was sturdy, warm, and—well—perfectly positioned to avoid putting pressure on your sore side. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“hi,” you croaked, voice raspy with sleep.

“hey,” zach replied softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. his hand paused in your hair briefly before he added, “you need to put the arnica gel on your bruise.”

you groaned in protest, burying your face further into his chest like a stubborn child. the vibration of his laugh rumbled beneath you, warm and familiar.

“c’mon,” he coaxed, leaning forward carefully so you weren’t jostled, reaching for the small container of arnica on the coffee table. his other arm stayed around you, steadying you as he sat back.

with a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off him, grumbling as you lifted your pajama shirt just enough to expose the bruised area. even with the pain dulled from the meds, the stretch made you wince, and you let the shirt drop again with a frustrated groan.

“can you help me put it on?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

zach hesitated for a beat, the question catching him off guard. you didn’t notice, but his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the proximity and intimacy of the request making his pulse quicken.

“yeah, of course,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart raced. he unscrewed the lid, squeezing a small amount of the gel onto his fingers before looking at you. when you nodded, he shifted closer, his movements gentle and deliberate as he applied the gel to your side.

his touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid of hurting you. “let me know if it stings,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual.

“it’s fine,” you replied softly, your eyes closing again as the soothing coolness of the gel and his careful touch eased the ache.

zach’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he worked the now-warmed gel into your skin. the rhythmic motion of his fingers was steady, but inside, his composure was unraveling. there was something undeniably intimate about this moment—your quiet, fluttering reactions every time his fingers brushed a new spot, the way your breath hitched when he applied just the right amount of pressure.

his fingers moved instinctively, lifting your shirt a little higher to cover the edges of the bruise, and that’s when he saw it. the small, delicate tattoo just below the curve of your breast.

divine feminine.

the words seemed to stare back at him, burning into his mind as his breath hitched. he swallowed hard, his hand pausing briefly before continuing, slower this time. zach could feel his body reacting in ways he knew it shouldn’t. his chest tightened, and he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself grounded as warmth pooled low in his stomach.

then you let out a soft, unintentional moan—a mix of pain and relief as his fingers brushed over a particularly tender spot. the sound, quiet and fleeting, sent a chill through him. he froze, inhaling sharply, his hands momentarily still against your side.

your eyes fluttered open, hazy with the remnants of drowsiness. “i’m sorry,” zach murmured, his voice tight.

concern crosses your features as you began to sit up. “zach, it’s fine,” you said, misinterpreting his sudden apology. “it didn’t hurt. i promise.”

but that wasn’t it. not at all.

no, zach wasn’t thinking about the gel, the bruise, or even the fact that he might’ve applied too much pressure. his thoughts had plunged into dangerous territory, spiraling with images he couldn’t suppress.

he was imagining you making that sound again—but for entirely different reasons. how your breathless moans might sound against his ear as you writhed beneath him, your body arching into his as you begged for him to let you cum.

how you might look with your face pressed into the pillows, gripping the sheets, gasping his name in broken cries as he pounded relentlessly inside you from behind, squeezing tightly around him, his hands gripping your hips firmly but gently, guiding you to him.

zach blinked, forcing himself back to the present, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he dragged a hand through his hair, quickly standing up and mumbling something about needing a drink of water, leaving you puzzled and slightly concerned as he practically fled to the kitchen.

you stood up, muttering a low curse under your breath as the ache in your side flared. despite the pain, you followed him into the kitchen, determined to figure out what was wrong.

“zach,” you called softly, your voice breaking the quiet. he didn’t turn, his back to you, shoulders tense as he stared down at the empty glass in his hands.

stepping closer, you positioned yourself in front of him, standing just beneath his gaze. even then, he refused to look at you, his jaw clenched tightly.

“zach,” you repeated, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, cupping it to force his eyes to meet yours. the warmth of your touch was almost unbearable for him.

“don’t—” he mumbled, voice low and strained, his gaze flickering to the side as if avoiding yours could somehow mask the turmoil written all over his face.

but you saw it anyway—guilt. raw and unfiltered, pooling in his dark eyes and spilling over in the form of unshed tears.

“zach, what is it?” you asked, your voice soft, barely above a whisper in the still air.

he blinked hard, his breathing uneven as he struggled to hold himself together. the weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on his chest. you trusted him, leaned on him when you were in pain, and here he was, betraying that trust in the worst way—fantasizing about you.

the images haunted him. he couldn’t stop the shameful loop of memories from late nights in his dorm, where he would close his eyes and imagine you in ways he couldn’t admit aloud. he would picture you on top of him, trying to adjust to his size, your brows furrowed and lips parted in quiet gasps. how you might bite your lip to stifle your moans, only to collapse onto his chest when you came undone, breathless and trembling.

but those were just fantasies, fleeting and far removed from reality. they weren’t supposed to bleed into a moment like this—when you were hurt, vulnerable, and looking at him with those wide, concerned eyes.

he squeezed his eyes shut, his voice barely audible. “you were hurt because of me, and i—i can’t stop thinking about…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to physically dispel the thoughts. “it’s not right. i’m not right.”

you frowned, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a soothing gesture. “zach, talk to me. what’s going on?”

he hesitated, his chest rising and falling as he wrestled with himself, unsure if he could say the words that would change everything.

“hey.” your voice was firm yet gentle, cutting through the silence. zach’s eyes opened, hesitantly meeting yours.

“it’s me,” you said, your tone softening. “you can tell me anything, zach. you know that.”

he chewed the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening as he tried to muster the courage to speak. “i’m so sorry, y/n,” he began, voice heavy with guilt. “i feel awful about what happened today—about you getting hurt. and then you’re here, trusting me to help you, and i’m…” he trailed off, sighing deeply as he covered his eyes with his hand. “i’m trying so hard to control myself, and it’s not okay.”

your brows furrowed as you processed his words, trying to piece together what he meant. the hesitation in his voice, the way he avoided your gaze—it all felt so unlike him.

then, as your eyes flickered downward, you noticed it. the unmistakable bulge in the fabric of his sweats. your breath hitched in realization, a soft gasp escaping your lips before you could stop it.

zach’s hand remained firmly over his eyes, his posture rigid as if bracing himself for your reaction. the room felt impossibly still, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

you reached up, your fingers wrapping gently around his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. zach resisted for a moment, but when he finally let you guide him, his eyes met yours—hesitant, filled with embarrassment.

you offered him a small, reassuring smile, one that melted the tension in his features ever so slightly. without a word, you leaned in, your lips brushing softly against his in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate.

his brows furrowed, his body frozen for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden boldness. but then, as if a switch flipped, he responded, his hands instinctively finding your face. his touch was firm yet gentle, cradling you as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

it was tender and charged all at once, a silent confession spilling between you both without the need for words. the kitchen, the guilt, the tension—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in the moment you hadn’t realized both been waiting for.

your small hands gripped the sides of his sweater near his waist, anchoring yourself to him as his tongue slipped into your mouth without warning. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a soft gasp escaping your lips. every movement—every stroke of his tongue against yours, every firm tug of your hair—set your senses on fire, unraveling emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

of course you liked zach.

you always had.

the realization hit you like a flood, overwhelming and undeniable. you had tucked those feelings deep into the corners of your heart, afraid of what would happen if zach ever found out. you couldn’t bear the thought of ruining what you had. but the truth was simple: your heart had always been his.

you loved him.

zach pulled back suddenly, breaking the kiss as both of you panted for air. his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and ragged. “wait, wait—” he murmured, his voice low and unsteady.

you whimpered softly, a needy sound you didn’t mean to let out and his cock twitched at it. “zach, please,” you whispered, desperate to feel his lips on yours again, the taste of him still lingering.

he smiled softly, brushing a quick kiss against your lips that left you craving more. “i know, m’sorry, baby,” he murmured.

the nickname made your stomach flutter, sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cozy cabin. you sighed, tilting your head to look up at him, waiting for the words that you knew were coming.

zach’s face was conflicted, his brows drawn together as he avoided your gaze for a moment. “i can’t believe i’m saying this… but we can’t tonight,” he admitted, chewing on his bottom lip in that pained way he did when he was struggling with something.

you groaned softly, the disappointment evident in your expression. your eyes softened as you saw the genuine concern etched into his face.

“i don’t want to hurt you even more,” he continued, his hand brushing lightly against your side. “and it could make your injury worse.”

“zach,” you whined, leaning your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “we’ll be careful,” you pleaded, your voice soft and hopeful.

you tilted your head back up, your big, pleading eyes locking with his. you knew exactly the effect they had on him, and for a second, you saw him falter. his jaw tightened as he exhaled a shaky breath, clearly battling with himself.

zach let out a defeated sigh, his resolve crumbling as he crouched down and effortlessly lifted your legs around his waist. the sudden motion made you giggle, clinging to him instinctively. “i win,” you teased breathlessly, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

his only response was a sly smirk before pinching your ass, making you squeal in surprise. “careful, or i might change my mind,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he carried you to the bed.

the soft mattress welcomed you as he laid you down gently, the warm glow of the electric fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. the heat of the moment mirrored the cozy warmth surrounding you both.

zach slid between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he settled there, his aching length pressing against you in a way that made your heart race. neither of you hesitated—your lips collided in a fervent kiss, all hunger and passion, as if this moment had been years in the making. which it was.

your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer. his lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, each kiss deeper, more intoxicating, than the last. it felt as if the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in the crackling warmth of the cabin.

“god, you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” zach murmurs against your lips, his voice a mix of hunger and longing. your response is a soft moan, quiet but fervent, that makes him press even closer.

he trails a series of slow, teasing kisses down your neck, each nip and suck prompting a sweet, aching arch from your body—until a sudden twinge in your side makes you wince. zach notices immediately, pulling back, concern flooding his eyes. “you okay?”

you nod, forcing a soft smile while trying to mask the lingering pain. you’ve waited too long for this moment and the last thing you want is for him to stop.

he studies you for a second, as if assessing whether you’re truly good, then sits back on his legs. “alright,” he says, voice calm but resolute, “this is how it’s gonna go, then. you can’t move. at all.”

your brows draw together, half-expecting him to crack a grin. but he doesn’t. he’s serious, his gaze unwavering.

“if you move,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “or try to, i’ll stop.”

you swallow, the weight of his words and the gentle authority in his tone sending a surge of arousal low into your belly. you bite the inside of your cheek, eyes fixed on him, already imagining how you’ll manage to keep still under his touch.

“okay,” you whisper, voice steady but laced with anticipation.

zach’s fingertips skimmed over the outside of your closed thighs, his touch feather-light yet deliberate, as if savoring the moment before taking it further. you watched him through half-lidded eyes, heart thrumming in your chest. with patient care, he began to slide your pajama pants down, revealing your baby blue lace underwear.

his throat worked over a hard swallow as he took you in, jaw clenching and pulse thrumming hot beneath his skin. he could feel himself respond immediately—his cock straining against the softness of his sweats. you saw the way his eyes darkened, how that gentle composure threatened to unravel.

without a word, he eased the lace down as well, leaving you bare before him. instinctively, you kept your thighs pressed together, a final barrier of modesty even as your cheeks warmed. he paused, taking in the sight—the subtle flush on your skin—letting the tension in the air stretch taut.

his gaze flickered up to yours, intense and wordless, the warm glow of the fireplace painting both of you in golden hues that made everything feel dreamy and far removed from the outside world.

“perfect,” he whispered, the single word washing over you, making your skin prickle with a delicious heat. it was as if he saw you in a new light—something delicate and cherished. you felt the flush rise all the way from your chest to your cheeks.

he worked on the buttons of your top with gentle care, careful not to brush too roughly near your bruise. his eyes softened the moment the fabric parted, revealing the tender, discolored skin along your ribs. it was more than just concern written in his features—there was affection, regret, and a silent promise to be gentle.

before you could protest or reassure him, his head dipped down, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses to the bruise as he eased the top off you, leaving you bare. you shivered under the weight of his tenderness, the careful attention making you feel impossibly close to him.

his fingers drifted lower along your navel, the sensitive skin prickling under his touch. he nuzzled his head beneath your jaw, encouraging you to tilt your head and grant him better access as he breathed slowly, evenly, his warm breath fanning over your throat. just as you began to surrender to the sensation of his lips on your neck, he slipped his hand further down, exploring the softness between your legs.

the first gentle slide of his fingertips through your slick folds made your jaw slacken, a quiet gasp escaping. gathering your wetness, he began to trace slow, deliberate shapes over your clit, drawing you into a heady rhythm that set every nerve alight. your body instinctively wanted to rise to meet his touch, but each time your hips started to rock forward, he’d slow his pace, lifting his gaze to give you a knowing, pointed look—reminding you of your earlier agreement.

the unspoken rule was clear: no moving. you had to let him lead, to trust him completely. caught between sweet frustration and delicious anticipation, you let out a shaky breath and let him guide your pleasure, your heart pounding in your ears.

“shit—you’re soaking,” zach groaned, voice low and strained as he picked up the pace of his fingers. each curl and slide drew out soft, breathy whimpers that spilled from your parted lips. he wore a look of intense concentration, as though memorizing every sound you made.

without warning, his middle finger pressed at your entrance before slowly sinking in, earning a strangled moan that made him nuzzle deeper into your neck. “god,” he breathed, voice muffled against your skin, “you feel so good.” you tightened around him reflexively, and he groaned, the vibration of his voice sending sparks along your spine.

straightening up, he shifted to sit back on his legs, changing the angle and giving himself a better view. he guided your knee down flat against the mattress, not just for his eyes but to ensure you couldn’t easily arch into his touch. a high, keening moan tore from your throat as he curled his finger inside you, hitting that perfect spot that sent tremors through your thighs.

you fought the urge to lift your hips, remembering his warning. still, your body trembled with the need to move, to push deeper into that intoxicating sensation. zach noticed—how could he not?—and it fueled the dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. he knew you were on the edge, knew how badly you wanted to give in.

meanwhile, his own restraint was wearing thin. he was hard—achingly so—and the slow, deliberate way you clenched around his finger nearly did him in. but he held back and added a second finger, pulling a sharp moan from you. if you couldn’t keep still now, how could you handle all of him inside you? this was a test of sorts, a delicious torment, and he was savoring every second.

he felt the way you clenched around his fingers, each flutter and squeeze like a plea for release. your hand gripped his wrist, desperate and trembling, but his pace never wavered. “gonna cum for me, angel?” he asked, voice heavy with anticipation.

you nodded frantically, wordless cries tumbling past your lips as he kept hitting that perfect spot inside you. the pressure built swiftly, stealing your breath, until you shattered around him. your vision went white, the world narrowing down to nothing but the pleasure he wrung from your body.

he guided you through it, not stopping until your muscles started to twitch with the first hints of overstimulation. finally, he slowed, easing you down until your body relaxed beneath him, trembling and sated.

with deliberate slowness, he withdrew his fingers, eyes locked on yours. you watched as he brought them to his mouth, his gaze never leaving your face. he sucked on the digits, tasting you the way he’d imagined a thousand times, letting out a deep, appreciative groan. the warmth of his breath on your skin, the soft glow around you both—everything felt charged and intimate, humming with the understanding that nothing would be the same between you again.

zach tugged his sweatshirt off in one smooth, hurried motion, the fabric barely brushing his skin before it landed somewhere on the floor. the urgency in his movements was unmistakable—he was desperate to feel you against him again. every nerve in his body was alight, the ache of wanting you growing more intense by the second.

with a quick push, he lowered his sweatpants and boxers together, freeing himself in one swift motion. the sight of him made your pulse stumble. he was huge—imposingly so—and the thought of taking him in had your breath catching in your throat. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the widening of your eyes gave you away.

zach noticed. a hint of a smirk ghosted his lips as he settled himself between your thighs, his length resting hot and heavy against your abdomen. leaning down, he caught your mouth in a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming, as if he needed to show you how much he wanted you, how badly he craved this moment with you.

“it’s okay, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and reassuring. “we’ll make it fit.” he pulled back slightly, just enough to watch your face as he guided his tip to your entrance. he gave himself a few slow pumps, as though trying to ease the ache and calm the racing of his own heartbeat.

your breath caught again, excitement and nervous anticipation mingling as he hovered there, every second swelling with tension and promise.

he pressed forward slowly, a careful, deliberate push that drew a ragged gasp from both of you. his forehead hovered just above yours, the soft brush of your lips more an exchange of breath than a kiss, and you tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping gently as he eased himself deeper. small, shallow strokes let you stretch around him, adjusting inch by inch.

your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the dull ache that signaled your body opening to him. he paused when he was fully sheathed, giving you time to accommodate his size. your breath caught as his pelvis brushed against your clit, sparking a low moan from your chest. then he pulled back just enough, pushing forward again to repeat the motion, sending soft ripples of pleasure through you. each gentle thrust replaced pain with gathering warmth, and you felt your body relaxing, welcoming him fully as a quiet whimper escaped your throat.

soon, the discomfort faded entirely, leaving only the sweet, humming pleasure of his movements. once he sensed the tension melt from your muscles, he began a steady, more confident rhythm. a subtle shift in angle, and before long, he had your legs wrapped around his waist, granting him deeper access. the pace picked up, each thrust punctuated by the soft slap of skin and echoed moans that drifted through the room.

you couldn’t hold back a curse at the intensity of it all—his body pressed to yours, filling you so completely, his breathing mixing with yours in frantic, needy staccato. it was raw and intoxicating, the two of you lost in the moment, in each other.

“mm, s’ so deep,” you whimpered, voice catching as you glanced down between your bodies. the sight of him disappearing into you with each thrust made your stomach flutter, your walls gripping him tightly.

zach’s breathing turned ragged, trying to maintain enough control to keep you safe and comfortable. but the temptation was too strong, and he gave a particularly sharp thrust, testing your reaction. you yelped, not in pain but in startled pleasure, and he felt you clench around him in response. encouraged, he repeated it until you were left hiccuping between sobs of bliss, every stroke drawing you closer to that sweet oblivion.

“i know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with need. leaning down, he braced himself and brought his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. he stroked firm, fast circles, determined to send you over the edge first. your nails raked along his shoulders, your breath hitching with each spiral of sensation. the coil in your belly tightened, ready to snap, as he coaxed you closer and closer toward that shattering release.

“—zach,” you warned, voice thin and strained. his response was a low, desperate moan, fingers and hips working in tandem, never giving you a moment’s respite. every thrust felt deeper than the last, his fingertips circling that swollen, sensitive spot until you were on the verge of unraveling completely.

“c’mon, baby,” he coaxed, voice rough and urgent. “soak me. i wanna feel it.” his pace quickened, hips snapping forward, and you gasped as a wave of pleasure hit you hard and fast. your walls clamped down around him, body arching, a silent scream caught in your throat as you were hurled headfirst into bliss.

zach kept moving, guiding you through the aftershocks, his cock dragging through your pulsing muscles as you trembled beneath him. your moans tumbled into whimpers, every nerve still singing with overstimulation. your fingers curled into his shoulders, breath coming in ragged gasps. “please cum inside me,” you begged, voice shaky and raw, desperate to feel him follow you into that world of sensation.

you felt him stiffen, his rhythm faltering as he pressed closer, every breath hot against your ear. with a low, guttural moan, he finally let go, hips rolling gently as he filled you, warmth spreading with each soft pulse. you could feel it, the tension draining from his body, leaving both of you weightless and sated.

his forehead dipped into the crook of your neck, lips pressing languid, grateful kisses against your skin. he was careful with his weight, mindful of your injury and the tenderness in your body, as both of you lingered in the lingering glow. your breaths intermingled, still coming in soft, uneven gasps as you drifted down from that blissful high.

after a moment, he slowly pulled out, making you both hiss quietly at the sensitivity. he rolled onto his side, immediately reaching for you and covering both of your cooling bodies with the duvet. you shifted to face him, still a little breathless, your eyes meeting as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“hi,” you managed, voice husky and soft, a small, contented smile curving your lips.

a quiet laugh escaped him, his arm moving soothingly up and down your back. “hey,” he replied, voice deep and warm, as if speaking in a secret language only the two of you understood.

“i don’t think i told you this earlier but…” you begin, voice soft and cautious as you search for the right words. “i’m all in, zach.” your heart is pounding in your ears, and you’re pretty sure he can feel it where he’s pressed close to you under the duvet.

zach’s eyes soften, a gentle smile curving his lips. the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes gives away his relief. you draw a shaky breath, forging ahead. “i feel like you know you’ve always been it for me. or even if you didn’t, i did. you’re my endgame.”

you’re watching him carefully, looking for any flicker of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is the same warmth and affection you’ve been craving for years.

he doesn’t say a word at first, just leans in and kisses you—slow and deliberate, a silent promise pressed softly into your lips. then he moves along your cheek, brushing your skin with tender pecks, and keeps going until you’re giggling, trying to squirm away from his playful assault of affection.

when he finally pulls back, both of you breathless with laughter, he meets your gaze head-on. “i’ve always loved you, y/n,” he says, voice steady and sure. “you’re it for me.”

your heart swells, and you think you’ve never been happier than in this very moment, wrapped up in his arms, secure in the certainty of what comes next.

for the rest of the night, you and zach drifted in and out of conversation—those familiar, meandering chats that never really needed a point—punctuated by soft laughter and sweet nothings murmured into the darkness. in the quiet spaces, you made love again and again, as if making up for all the time lost.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

the next morning, you woke to find the bed empty. you stretched, the slight ache in your side a warm reminder of the day before. slipping into zach’s sweater and a pair of sleep shorts, you followed the glow of holiday lights out of the bedroom. as you reached the upstairs landing, your eyes widened at the transformation: the entire cabin, from the top floor down, was strung with festive garlands, sparkling ornaments, and twinkling lights.

a fond smile curved on your lips as you descended the stairs, drawn toward the kitchen by soft clinks and muffled curses. rounding the corner, you spotted zach at the stove, his back to you, clearly wrestling with some culinary experiment. “morning,” you said, leaning your elbows on the island.

he turned quickly, an anxious frown on his face. “did i wake you?” he asked, only to relax when you shook your head. you slipped behind the island to join him, his arms sliding around your waist as you took in the sight of eggs and batter, a haphazard attempt at breakfast. “wanted to surprise you,” he murmured into your hair. you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

“good morning, baby,” zach said softly, smiling down at you.

just then, the front door swung open. in came both sets of parents and a handful of siblings, chatter and laughter echoing off the wood-paneled walls. “hello, hello!” your mom’s voice rang out. before you and zach could step apart or even explain yourselves, she rounded the corner into the kitchen. the scene she found: zach nuzzling your neck, you murmuring about how sweet he was being, both of you bathed in the soft glow of holiday lights.

you froze, cheeks flushing, while zach’s arms tightened protectively around you. your families, already grinning from the doorway, seemed more than pleased to discover the truth you’d both been too shy to admit—until now.

“alright, i called it! everyone cough it up!” avery, zach’s little sister, crowed triumphantly. your families groaned in unison, each one reluctantly digging into their pockets to hand over five dollars. avery quickly amassed thirty bucks in her palm, grinning from ear to ear.

you and zach exchanged a look, trying and failing to stifle your laughter before pulling apart and greeting everyone properly. you embraced each of them in turn, still a bit stunned to see them all here a day early. the cabin brimmed with the scent of pine, hot chocolate, and something baking in the oven—warmth and comfort encapsulated in one cozy scene.

for the remainder of your winter break, you and zach reveled in that feeling of family and togetherness. your days filled with laughter echoing off the wooden walls, good-natured bickering with siblings over board games, and playful teasing from your parents that had both of you blushing more than once. above all, there was the gentle thrill of reaching for zach’s hand under the table, catching his eye across the room, and feeling love wrapped around you like a warm blanket against the cold outside.

© aerialmirrorss

[aceday]

Agatha Harkness x Reader and Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: you’re but an innocent young actor slightly in over your head filming a movie opposite rio vidal, directed by milf extraordinaire agatha harkness. what could possibly go wrong and what could possibly go right?

warnings: age gap, slight dub/non!con themes, fingering, oral, slight exhibitionist themes, public sex

*afab gender neutral reader

@covenofagatha @d-z20

i guess i straight fucking lied when i said i don’t do this last time bc here we are again whoop de fucking doo

The Director’s Cut

With a satisfying pop, Rio Vidal’s fingers slip out of your mouth. The fingers of her other hand tighten around your throat, wrangling a strangled moan from your lips, and she pushes you back onto the mattress. Your fingertips scratch desperately at her forearm, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fight for breath, and Rio’s knee shoves your legs open.

“Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head fervently, a plea in your eyes. Rio releases your throat and you gasp, only for her mouth to be on yours immediately, smothering you, her hands greedily grabbing at your hips, sides, ribs. Her mouth detaches from yours only to find itself immediately at your neck, her hands now attempting to tear your shirt off of you.

“Professor,” you gasp out, voice strained with blissed pain, with velvet panic. With some frantic struggle the shirt is wrenched off of you and the air nips at your skin. The hair on the back of your neck lifts. Rio finally stills for one cold, heavy moment, to stare at you under her, her face contorted in a cool sort of snarl, her eyes sharp.

“You act up, you play by my rules.” Her hand grabs your face, squeezing your jaw painfully. “Understood?”

“I-”

“CUT.”

A scatter of voices and murmurs arise immediately. Rio lets you go and heaves a barely-restrained sigh.

“Cut!” The voice of the director demands again, and both you and your co-star sit up on the mattress. You scratch awkwardly at your throat and look around for your costume shirt somewhere in the sheets.

“It’s wrong, really. Wrong. Fuck.” Agatha Harkness steps onto the set. You squint against the spotlights, feeling your face burn. You and Rio exchange a glance. “The energy, the dynamics. We’re going to have to totally rework this.” She paces furiously. Rio stands from the bed and grabs your shirt, which had apparently been tossed off in the heat of the scene. She hands it to you and you nod gratefully, pulling it back over your head. Agatha has been in an awful mood all day. “We’re going to take twenty. I want everybody to go splash cold water on themselves and get their heads out of their asses.”

You can’t conceal your exhausted sigh as you wriggle awkwardly off the bed. You’re about to go get some water when Agatha snaps her fingers at you, freezing you in your place. With an inward groan and your heart going a million miles a minute, you turn dejectedly to your director.

“Not you. You’re going to meet me in my trailer, asap.” You stare at her for a moment with bald-faced shock, but she’s already turned to her assistant director and is complaining her ear off. You swallow your… so many things, your pride, shame, embarrassment, fury, and stomp off set to the trailer lot.

You don’t bother waiting for Agatha to catch up to throw open the door and walk inside, toeing off your shoes. You’ve never been in her trailer before. It’s not as sterile as you would have imagined; there’s stacks of books and papers and binders and folders and a whole bunch of other boring shit on every flat surface, along with more than a few half-full mugs of what seems to be black coffee.

You slouch doggedly onto her couch, rubbing your eyes. It hasn’t been your best work, you know, but you’re certain you haven’t been bad enough to quite warrant getting chewed out in private. You stare out the small square window. It could be worse, you suppose, she could be chewing you out in public. This is easier to manage, even though you hate the thought of your director being unimpressed with you, but you might as well cut your losses now and move on.

As you sit and stew, the door flies open. Agatha marches in, doused in all black, the sleeves of her button up pushed up to her elbows and her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She seems to have calmed down a little, a very little amount, well, maybe not at all, actually, maybe she looks angrier than she did before-

The door slams shut and knocks you out of your thoughts. There’s a sizzling silence. A huge knot forms in your throat.

“What was that back there, hmm?”

You don’t know what to say. You cried that take. “I cried that take.” It’s impossible to hide the desperate edge to your voice.

Agatha holds out a finger and your mouth snaps shut. “No excuses,” she hisses, “your face is fine, more than fine, but you act like you’ve never been fucked before.” A huge, violent, and deep blush spreads immediately from your collarbones up. You look away quickly. “You’re simultaneously stiff as a board and loose like a slinky. You wanna look like a slinky out there?”

Agatha has such a way with words. You shake your head. “No, I do not want to look like a slinky out there.”

Agatha doesn’t seem to notice nor care that you’ve spoken. The heat in your face burns brighter as she paces exasperatedly in front of you. Your fingers begin to scratch anxiously at your jeans. “Rio Vidal is a hot young woman. I can’t imagine that she’s not your type. And yet- hours of intimacy coordination later and we’re still at square one.” That’s firstly not true and secondly a bewilderingly unfair thing to say. The rejection stings. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away furiously, adamant on keeping a tough front for your director. She paces furiously, dizzyingly, back and forth and back and forth. “Seriously, kid. Hours of intimacy coordination and talking and talking and going over the movements step by step. I could do your part in my sleep by now. And maybe I will!” She whirls on you, then pauses. You can’t imagine what you look like right now, your body unnaturally still to keep your leg from bouncing, feeling neon you’re blushing so hard, your jaw clenched, your eyes narrowed and wet.

Agatha has always had a way of being four steps ahead of you, always in the know before there’s even anything to know, so you shouldn’t be surprised when she takes one look at you and suddenly declares, “You’re a virgin,” as if it is the most obvious truth in the world. You look away, trying hard, desperately hard, to maintain your composure. But what can you do? She’s right, for the most part.

Agatha’s eyes narrow when you don’t reply. The manic air about her stills, and you’re suddenly wishing for her fiery temper instead of the cold, calculating dread that suddenly sits heavy between you two. She crosses her arms and continues pacing, but slowly this time, less like she’s being whipped around by her own anger and more like she’s a shark circling something tender and bloody.

“Well,” she says, gesturing lazily in the air, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” You sound defensive. It’s because you are.

Agatha appears to be lost in thought, “No, no,” she hums. “Nothing bad about a little prude ruining my film, hmm?”

Well. That shuts you up. Your mouth is closed, your eyes are a little wide in disbelief, you’re pretty sure this kind of talk violates some sort of workers rights something, and upon seeing your speechless state, the ghost of a smirk tugs at Agatha’s lips. A shiver runs down your spine.

In stunned silence you flounder, opening and closing your mouth like a fish, while Agatha waits, leveling you with her knowing stare, sizing you up, her eyes tracing up and down your frigid form, for you to say something.

“I’m sorry?”

Are you apologizing or asking “Excuse me?” - you hardly know. Agatha steps in closer to you, your knees almost touching her legs, what is she thinking? Really, what could she possibly be thinking?

“Are you?” Maybe? Agatha sighs and sits next to you on the couch, an arm slung behind you. “How about I propose something for you, for us, hmm?” She turns to look at you, and you’re suddenly caught in the narrowed ice of her eyes as if under a blinding spotlight. She’s always had one of those absolutely shriveling stares that you can’t tear away from. You nod for her to continue, and a smile crawls on her lips. Something brushes your arm and you flinch, only to realize that her fingertips are floating lightly up and down your bicep.

“Tell you what, kid. I’m having a shit day, I’m definitely making it your shit day, and you’re a little prig that needs to loosen up.” She leans in closer to you, far enough away, but you can feel the heat of her breath, can see each delicate flick of her eyes around your face. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Why don’t I fuck you silly here in my trailer, blow a little steam, and teach you what it looks like to feel so, so, impossibly good?”

You blanch. A terrifying expanse of heat sears down your stomach, not out of embarrassment this time. “E-Excuse me?”

“Tell me, kid. What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Agatha, I-”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t sneak glances down my shirt every chance you get. I see the way you look at me. The way you’ve been looking at me.”

“No, no, I-”

“Then I’m wrong?”

She’s so close to you now, her mouth hovering just above yours, eyes drifting lazily across your face. The worst part, the worst part about it, is that she’s not wrong, she’s not, you do stare, you do imagine, and even now you can feel sharp tendrils of lust unfurling inside of you, dampening your underwear.

“Come on, kid,” a low whisper, her voice like the trembling string dangling the carrot of her offer in front of your face. “Tell me what you want.”

Breathless: “I…” you shake your head, “I want-” to your infinite surprise, you cut yourself off, pushing your mouth against Agatha’s, your body propelling forward almost as if of its own accord. Agatha hums in delight. She wastes no time.

She climbs on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch and straddling your hips. Her tongue slides between your lips and, hesitant, your mouth opens, and the kiss grows sloppy, wet, Agatha’s tongue and teeth and lips on and against and in you. You whimper, your hands finding her ribs, your hips bucking involuntarily as her knee slides between your thighs. Your muted breaths melt into a high pitched moan as her knee presses against your cunt.

“I knew it,” Agatha whispers when her mouth breaks from yours, and her head dips down to the soft space between your neck and shoulder. She bites, hard and fast, not enough to leave a mark but enough to send a pained spasm through your body. You tense and dig your fingertips into her sides, and Agatha chuckles.

“Come on, kid,” Agatha says, pushing up on her palms to look down at you. Your lips sting, your chest rising and falling heavily, your breathing audible, not quite gasping, but stuttering. “Pay attention, okay?”

You nod, and Agatha pushes your shirt to your collarbones. She kisses down your naval, down your stomach, her thumbs brushing your nipples and mouth hot beneath your belly button. She looks up at you, eyelashes dark, eyes pale and sharp.

“Are you watching?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Agatha’s fingers undo your jeans. Your heart clenches at the soft snap of the button being released from its denim hold, a cold sweat at the back of your neck as you hear the zipper being pulled down. Agatha looks slowly up and down, between your eyes and each new inch of skin revealed underneath your clothes.

She tugs your jeans off of you, your underwear going with it, the bits of your costume being shed from your body. Agatha sighs, relieved, the way a dog does curling up in a warm patch of sunlight, and your skin dances at the gust of breath crawling up your body.

“I needed this, kid. Let me tell you.” She leans close to your cunt, you already know you’re dripping, you’ve been dripping, but Agatha doesn’t remark on your pathetic state. Instead she hovers close and inhales deeply. “Fuck,” she whispers, barely audible, and your head falls back, a whimper dislodging from your throat.

Her tensed tongue licks slowly through your folds, the tip circling carefully around your clit, and the shudder you release grips your entire body. Your hands, which had, up until this point, been white knuckling the cushions of the couch, fly to your mouth, and Agatha is suddenly on you, lips and tongue breathing pleasure into you like a gust of wind, like fire from a dragon’s belly, and it’s intense, intense. You’ve been fingered a few lackluster times by lackluster people, but Agatha runs hot, runs feverish, and everything feels scalding, your pleasure, your — Agatha scratches down your sides — your pain, and you want more and more and more.

“Agatha,” you mutter. Your voice sounds like it’s being forcefully pulled from your throat. “Agatha.”

Agatha’s fingers play against your folds, joined with her tongue, and your hands thread through her hair. She lifts her head to look at you, and you can see the glisten of yourself on her chin. Her fingers work you, slowly, in tidal beckoning motions. Your pleasure, vague, dazzling waves, suddenly straightens, taut and defined, and you can feel your orgasm inching into you. Your breath becomes shallow.

“Let’s see,” Agatha murmurs, “how did the coordinator do this? Rio has you pinned, she’s being a little violent, there are tears in your eyes, and when she fucks you, she fucks you rough.” Agatha stuffs three fingers into you, setting a brutally slow and violently deep pace. Your yelp sounds more like a cry and Agatha narrows a cold glare at you. “Shut it, kid, I don’t want to have to do it myself.” You bring a hand to your mouth, stifling each staccato whimper to the tune of Agatha’s thrusts. “And I’m sure you don’t want that either.”

Strung with pain, your skin shivering, your heels digging into the cushions, Agatha’s pace finally relents, slows, and she studies you maliciously. “In the next sex scene, our Professor acquiesces, takes pity on her disobedient but young student,” she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. Her fingers slip out of you, and though your body aches with relief, the wavering string of your pleasure keens for more. Agatha chuckles. “This is my favorite part.” She licks a broad stripe against you. You shiver. “You should see the way Rio looks at you when we film this part. It’s perfect every time.”

Agatha crawls up, your knees still hooked around her shoulders, and you whimper, feeling impossibly small as two of her fingers bury gently into you, stroking gently against your walls, her thumb brushing a light touch against your clit. The beaten, puppeted orgasm you’ve been chasing swells once more against you, rearing, an animal about to pounce.

Agatha kisses you, and you’re ready, your lips parted and waiting for her tongue, which slips eagerly between your teeth. You taste yourself. You think of Rio, stripping you on that damn bed, all hard touches and stinging words and dark, velvet eyes, and Agatha behind the camera, in her all black outfit, blending into the shadows behind the key light like a predator, biting the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching and watching. Fuck. It’s hot. It’s so hot. Agatha’s fingertips curl against what you can only imagine is your g-spot and you gasp against her mouth, earning a quick nip of your bottom lip in response.

“You gonna come for me, kid? It’s about time. Just like you do for Rio right about now, hmm?” Your body teeters slowly, achingly slowly, into an orgasm, its golden edges fizzing like a pot about to boil over. You thrash against Agatha, your hands clawing desperately at her back but your body still trapped in the curled contortion she has you pinned in. “Good, good. Much better, right? You’ll be perfect in front of that camera. Just like that, kid. Perfect.”

The thread snaps. Your orgasm douses you. You throw your head back, the cry in your throat wrangled out of you, unbidden, until Agatha slaps a hand over your mouth. “Don’t ruin your pretty voice, kid,” she purrs wickedly, “Save it for the camera.”

Agatha holds you while you shudder through your orgasm, your vision blurred at the edges, eyes unfocused, and she gently frees your legs from her shoulders, kissing you softly. Your hard panting mellows, evening out steadily. Agatha checks her watch and clucks her tongue.

“You made good time, kid. Are you going to remember this?” You nod, running your fingers through your hair. Agatha rights your jeans and helps straighten your shirt, pressing a kiss to your head as you wriggle into your costume.

“Good, because we’re getting right in it. Be ready to run the scene in ten.” A knot of shock flashes through you. Director Agatha is still director Agatha.

“But don’t I…”

“Don’t you what? Smell like sex? Still sensitive in your cunt and legs? That’s the goal, kid. Now get out of my trailer.” She waves you off. You gulp, cursing silently in your head but undeniably relishing in the hot flush at your cheeks. You stuff your feet into your shoes and let the door swing shut loudly behind you.

The team is in motion, cameras adjusting, the boom guy talking with Rio, who has her arms crossed. She casts her gaze briefly to the side and catches sight of you. She pauses. Her eyes narrow. Your stomach flips, but before you can think of what that look could possibly mean, someone grabs your arm. You whip around and face your makeup designer.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I-” she cuts herself off. You must look a little like a mess, flushed, wet-eyed. If you had to guess, you probably look like Agatha spent the entire break chewing you out. Chewing, no. Eating, on the other hand…

You chuckle dryly, and your designer takes a step back. “Nevermind,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “You look perfect. Break a leg.”

“Alright everybody. Places.” Agatha’s voice cuts like a knife over the noisy bustle. There’s immediate quiet as everyone hustles to their designated spots. “We’re starting from ‘Got something to say now’.”

You situate yourself on the bed. Rio climbs on top of you. A shudder runs unprompted down your spine. With horror, you realize that you are still sensitive. Violently sensitive. Above you, Rio’s eyes narrow. She inhales deeply. You think she’s sighing, but a treacherous thought flickers through your mind that maybe she smells you, smells Agatha, smells you on Agatha on you. Rio’s eyes trace down your body, seeming to clock every unfortunate and incriminating detail. Your messed up hair, your hot skin, your shaking legs.

You’re not sure if it’s to your relief or distress, but Rio chuckles lowly. “Extra lesson, hmm?”

You swallow. “S-Sorry?”

She leans down close to your ear. Her hands wrap slowly around your wrists, pressing them above your head. This wasn’t in the intimacy coordination. “That’s fine. If you’re going to get a little extra help, maybe we can have a little fun, right?”

A knot forms in your throat. Your ears feel hot. “I think-”

Agatha’s voice, booming, as if from heaven. “Scene 30. Take 7. And… action!”

Rio grabs quickly at your throat. You feel dazed, but vaguely remember your blocking and shakily hold onto her forearm. Rio flashes you a toothy smile, a creepy, toothy smile that hollows out your chest. “Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head quickly, and to your surprise, instead of releasing your throat, Rio shoves a knee between your legs, knocking against your clit. You gasp out your next line, “Professor-” and Rio’s fingertips dig harder into the sides of your throat. Her other hand finds your wrist, slamming it above your head, her grip tight. “Professor,” you choke out again, finding Rio’s gaze, the wild, manic look in her eyes shooting guilty sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Please,” you beg, off-script, and this time, Rio relents.

She releases your neck. Your hand flies up to it, your breath scraping down your throat, heavy, but Rio catches your other wrist and shoves it down with the other. “You act up,” she hisses, “you play by my rules.” She gathers both wrists with one hand and strokes a manicured nail down your jaw. You strain your face away, breath light and fluttering.

“Understood?”

At the word, she grabs your jaw sharply, forcing you to meet her eyes. There’s something of a challenge in her gaze. You’d probably break if you weren’t so fucking turned on, but your own arousal dampens your underwear. You feel hot everywhere.

“I understand, Professor,” you whisper. A well timed tear traces from the corner of your eye down your temple. “Please, don’t go too hard.” You blink pathetically up at her. “I didn’t mean to.”

The double meaning is more than received. Rio laughs loudly. “Didn’t mean to? Yeah right.” Her knee pushes up into your hot cunt and you whimper loudly, your eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your jaw drops down between your legs. You whine and buck your hips. Rio scoffs, shaking her head. It’s miserably clear to her that you’re not acting anymore.

“Pathetic,” she sneers. Her hand quickly unbuttons your jeans and sinks beneath your waistband. Usually, she doesn’t come close to touching you. The jeans are low-rise and loose, but this time, Rio has no qualms about pressing her fingertips against your underwear, no doubt feeling the hot, soaked cloth. She groans and curses.

“Professor,” you gasp, choked. Your tears flow freely now. Her fingertips dig blindly against your cunt, feeling through the fabric your folds, your clit, warm and sensitive. You feel raw from the orgasm you just had, so violently raw, and even the lightest touch sends a dark pleasure scattering through you. You jerk uncontrollably, writhing beneath Rio, feeling an orgasm, a fucking orgasm, climbing panicked below your stomach.

Rio’s mouth crashes down onto yours, as if trying, and failing, to mute each desperate noise that crawls from your throat. The result is you moaning wildly into the kiss, choking around her tongue, her fingers kneading into the cloth and sending you sputtering into a lingering orgasm that you’re not sure ever fully evaporated - a fact Rio seems to be well aware of.

Your body tenses and you careen through the waves of pleasure splashing in you, swallowing you whole. Rio pulls her mouth off of yours to watch the bliss bloom across your face and the cry that erupts from your throat is somehow both a whimper and a howl.

“Much better,” Rio whispers, pulling her hand from your jeans, kissing down your neck and stroking your cheek with her thumb. You can smell yourself on her fingers. You lay there dumbly, shivering through the dregs of your orgasm, sighing into an exhaustion you’ve never known. “That was good, that was really good,” Rio hums, pleased.

When your eyes meet, there’s a bit of tentativeness. This got out of hand. The smile you give her is, you hope, both wayward and reassuring.

“Did I-” you’ve started your line while still out of breath, and interrupt yourself to take a deep breath, “Did I do okay, Professor?” A phrase carrying a triple meaning, at this point. You’d give anything to look at Agatha right now, but manage to stay in character, keep your gaze trained on Rio’s glazed eyes.

“You were amazing,” she whispers, kissing you softly.

“Cut!”

Both Rio and you jolt in surprise. She peels off of you, lightly intertwining your fingers with hers, and you sit up, looking towards Agatha. You only see the camera, and in the darkness, her dark form slides from behind it. Her outline becomes slowly visible as she takes a few steps closer towards you two, though shadows still cut across her. You can see a smile stretch across her face.

“Now that,” she says. “Was perfect.” Agatha turns to face the crew. “On that note, that’s a wrap for today. Everybody go take a cold shower.” Agatha then steps fully into the light. The look on her face is indescribably malicious, a smile that could be angry or just evil, pale eyes glinting. You exchange a glance with Rio and notice a soft heat on her cheeks. “You two, meet me in my trailer first.” Agatha’s eyes narrow. “I want to discuss some notes with you.”

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t. 

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state. 

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot. 

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.” 

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip. 

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you. 

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in. 

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds. 

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering. 

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step. 

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window. 

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening. 

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in. 

The  next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans. 

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could. 

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission. 

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake. 

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep. 

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.” 

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in. 

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you. 

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission. 

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee. 

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?” 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” 

“Yes?” 

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.” 

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back. 

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together. 

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering. 

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.” 

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent. 

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together. 

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat. 

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark. 

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work. 

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage. 

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him. 

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it. 

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?” 

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms. 

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing. 

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it. 

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much. 

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick. 

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding. 

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone. 

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him. 

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you. 

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk. 

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -” 

“Absolute embarrassment -” 

“Can’t believe they let her in -” 

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him. 

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear. 

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music. 

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!” 

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost. 

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk. 

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-” 

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.” 

Was he still here? Fucking asshole. 

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist. 

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music. 

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it. 

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?” 

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose. 

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?” 

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away. 

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it? 

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut. 

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door. 

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step. 

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.” 

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop. 

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control. 

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?” 

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?” 

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs. 

“Sure.” He sighed. 

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed. 

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.” 

“I’ll be right outside if you need-” 

“Stay.” 

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt. 

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place. 

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene 

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?” 

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water. 

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast. 

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” 

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water. 

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.” 

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something. 

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it? 

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.” 

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway. 

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break. 

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch. 

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow. 

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.” 

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring. 

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-” 

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised. 

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food. 

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled. 

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first. 

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him. 

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -” 

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -” 

“You’ll share with me, right doll?” 

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.” 

“Bucky -” Sam started. 

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-” 

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose. 

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping. 

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted. 

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest. 

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you. 

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t. 

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds. 

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone. 

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you. 

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed? 

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room. 

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip. 

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible. 

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see. 

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky. 

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.” 

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone. 

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver. 

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered. 

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did. 

“I miss you too.” 

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -” 

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” 

“What if I want to?” 

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter. 

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek. 

“You do?” 

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him. 

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.” 

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips. 

“Uh huh, I did,” 

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling. 

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.” 

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss. 

“How long?” 

“How long, what?” 

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses. 

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start. 

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you. 

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

“I guess we do, doll.” 

[wanders-in-wonderland]

My Roommate

It’s a typical Friday night, I’d made plans to go to a new club opening with some friends after work and I’m getting ready to leave.

Dressed in a short, skintight dress and heels, I’m just about to head out when I hear the front door open and see my roommate walk into our living room. His eyes sweep over me and I think I see his jaw twitch before he raises an eyebrow at me, “Going out?”

I smile brightly, grabbing my clutch and sliding past him to grab the door handle he’d just let go of. “Don’t wait up!” I cheerfully say as I spin out the door.

I catch him murmur something under his breath but I’m too far gone to notice. I spend the next few hours dancing, drinking, and partying with friends before I finally make my way back home, still a little tipsy and high on a wild night.

I stumble into the apartment, kicking my heels off as I step through the door. I’d been expecting darkness but instead, the lights are on and my roommate is sitting in the armchair in the living room, facing the door. I smile at him and walk into our kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“What are you still doing up?” My words are mostly clear but I can still feel the fuzziness in my head from all the alcohol I’d consumed tonight.

“I was waiting for you,” his voice is flat, with none of the friendly inflection I’m used to. “Hm?” I stare at him in confusion as I bring the glass to my lips, drawing thirstily from it.

I watch as he rises from his seat, walking towards me with purpose. I stare as he approaches, my lack of shoes making our already significant height difference even more pronounced as I tilt my head back to maintain eye contact as he draws closer.

“Did you get tired of prancing around in that outfit like a slut?” His words cut through me, dousing me like ice cold water. I’m slack-jawed for a moment as I stare over the rim of my water glass.

“What?” My voice trembles as my alcohol-addled brain comprehends what he just said. His eyes narrow into an anger-filled glare that makes me shrink and take a step back. He doesn’t stop advancing and my legs carry me backwards instinctively, only stopping when I feel my back hit the kitchen counter.

His voice is dark and biting when he speaks again, “Did you like it when all those men at the club gave you their attention while you whored yourself out? Did that make your cunt wet?”

My heart stutters in fear as I take in how angry he looks and how close he is to me. “I- I don’t know what you mean…” my voice is small and seems to be swallowed up by the room.

“Don’t play dumb. I know how whores like you act,” he sneers and he towers over me, caging me as he plucks the glass from my frozen fingers and sets it down.

“Desperate little whore who lives for the attention and validation that you get from men. That’s what you are. All you want is for someone to own you and possess you and treat you like the worthless piece of pussy you are.” His voice ends in a harsh hiss as he bends down to hold my gaze.

I can feel my heartbeat echoing in my ears and despite the fear, the alcohol, and the indignation that wells up inside of me, I feel my body clench in response to his words.

His hands settle on my waist, his fingers spanning across my back as his thumbs dig into my hips harshly. I whimper softly at the pinch of pain but I feel my pussy throb.

“And I’m tired of watching you run around like a bitch in heat,” he spits the last few words at me before he leans down and captures my lips in a punishing, bruising kiss. I whine into his mouth as I feel his tongue dominate mine, my hands coming up to rest on his chest briefly before my brain catches up to my body and I push away from him.

“What the fuck?” It’s anger now that fills my body and mind, “You have no right to treat me like that or say that about me! What I do is my business, not yours!”

He glares down at me, “It is my fucking business when you’re doing it all under my roof. And I have every right because I’m about to own every part of you.”

I splutter in disbelief, “Who the hell do you think you are, you freak? I don’t fucking belong-“ His hand cracks across my face as he backhands me.

I cry out as my head snaps to the side, my cheek immediately flaring in pain and fear settles into my stomach.

“Don’t fucking disrespect me.” His voice is ice as he stares me down. My eyes fill with tears but I blink them away furiously. My arm comes up to retaliate but before I can, his hand snatches my wrist and in one smooth movement, he pulls me around, pining my arm behind my back while pushing me down against the kitchen counter.

I struggle fruitlessly against him and expletives spew out of my mouth. I hear the sound of his hand cracking against my ass before I even feel it.

The force jolts my entire body and the sharp burn of pain makes me cry out. I twist and try to squirm away from him but he lands several more blows against me, each one drawing a cry from my lips as my thin dress does nothing to dampen the force of his blows.

“You’re fucking mine.” Every word is punctuated with a hit. I feel the tears spill over my lashes as the pain and panic bombards me.

“No, please stop, please let me go!” My voice is desperate and small as he overwhelms my every sense.

“Shut the fuck up,” his tone is cold yet heated with anger and possession as he grabs the bottom of my dress and wrenches it upwards, bunching it around my hips.

He lets out a mocking laugh, “You fucking whore, you didn’t even wear panties out.” I close my eyes as if that would block out what’s happening. He lands a few more harsh slaps to my bare skin, making me whine and cry out again.

I feel his fingers against my core and feel my heart stop. “Fuck, you worthless little cunt, you’re dripping,” his voice is gravelly as his fingers slide against me, collecting the slick that betrays me.

“Being punished like a whore really does turn you on huh?” He laughs with derision. “No, no please stop!” My voice shakes and I feel shame heating my cheeks simultaneous to the desire that heats my blood.

“Don’t lie to me, whore, I can feel how badly you want this.” He slams two fingers into my dripping pussy as he snarls his words into my ear. A strangled moan erupts out of my mouth as I shudder from the pleasure. His fingers don’t stop as they piston into me, the sound of my wetness filling the room with my cries.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve,” his words barely reach me as the beating of my heart roars in my ears.

He curls his fingers inside of me, making my breath stutter as I feel my orgasm fast approaching. His fingers brush against my clit and I let out a broken wail as pleasure washes over me and I come undone on his fingers, splayed out on our kitchen counter.

“Fucking whore,” he growls in my ear as he works me through the orgasm, making me shake and writhe.

I gasp breathlessly as my body comes down from the high and he pulls his hand away from me. He grabs me and spins me around swiftly, the move making my head dizzy as I look into his eyes. He doesn’t even look winded while I know I’m flushed and panting like a bitch in heat.

Before I can get my bearings, his arm shoots out and his fingers wrap around my throat. I let out a strangled whine as he tightens his grip before pulling me out of the kitchen, toward his room.

I stumble slightly, my legs trembling from the orgasm that shook me. He yanks me by my throat before effortlessly tossing me onto the bed. The movement stuns me but I’d be lying if I said his show of strength didn’t make my core clench a little. I stare up at him as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops his pants, revealing his long, hard cock. The harsh movement makes it bounce slightly against the hard lines of his stomach and I let out of small whimper as I take in his size.

He smirks as he catches my eye, “I’m going to make sure you never want another man after tonight.” I shake my head in response, too overwhelmed to formulate a response.

He’s on me a second later, grabbing my arms to lock them above my head in his hand as his body covers mine. His lips attach to my neck and I moan softly when I feel his teeth scrap my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I feel him mouth me harshly, in a way that I know will leave a deep bruise to show the world who owns me. I whimper softly and squirm against him, unsure if I should arch into him or away from him, not that he’s giving me much space to do either.

He pulls away slightly to run a free hand down my body, ghosting over my skin like I’m something precious he doesn’t want to break. But his next movement dispels that notion when he roughly spreads my legs and lands a stinging slap against my dripping pussy. A cry escapes from my lips as my body jolts sharply.

“Fuck, you’re dripping, you whore,” he growls before landing several more stinging slaps, hitting my clit with each one, the brutal pain combining with pleasure to make my head spin.

“Look at your puffy little pussy, swollen clit all sensitive huh?” He purrs softly into my ear as he harshly lands another sharp slap. I moan brokenly, trembling against him, my eyes fluttering shut.

I feel him shift above me and my eyes fly open when I feel his cock line up against my center. My gaze catches his and I watch as his lips curl into a cruel smile before his hips slam into place. My mouth opens in a wordless scream as his cock fills me and he sets a ruthless pace.

I arch my back against him, staring up at him with unfocused eyes as the pleasure mounts inside of me. His fingers are like bands around my wrist, keeping me pinned to the bed as he fucks me into the mattress.

“You’re fucking mine, you whore. I’m going to breed you and own every part of you. That’s what you need, huh? You need to be owned and controlled because that’s all stupid sluts like you want.” His voice is harsh, deep with possession and finality. I cry out and whine as my vision goes white and my body clenches for another time, my orgasm slamming into me with no mercy.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours!” My voice is shrill and desperate as he unrelentingly forces my body into submission to him. His low groan fills my ears as I feel his thrusts stutter. “I’m going to mark you as mine inside and out,” he snarls as he throws his head back and slams into me one final time. I arch into him and feel his cock throb inside of me as he cums, filling me and claiming me as his.

His body collapses on me, pressing me into the bed under his warm weight. His hands release my wrists and I bring my arms up to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer.

I giggle softly and let my lips brush against his ear, “Took you long enough to take what belongs to you.” He laughs with breathless incredulity in my ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[callsign-datura]

Both you and ghost hiding feelings for each other until you make a decision on a mission that saves his life but nearly results in you getting killed. Argument leads to angry sex that melts into soft gentle adoring sex

About A Girl

A/N: anon this is my favorite ask of all time pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader, reader's callsign is raven synopsis: ghost gets hurt, you cover it and nearly get yourself killed. he doesn't want to lose you. Simon "Ghost" Riley doesn't make mistakes. Not when he's stressed, not when he's under pressure, not when people are looking up to him. He doesn't make mistakes, and that's just who he is. When he looks at you and his heart thrums in his chest, he gets distracted. When he feels that tickly feeling in his stomach whenever you look up at him with those eyes of yours, he feels something. And to him, those things and feelings are what cause mistakes. And Simon "Ghost" Riley doesn't make mistakes.

"You're gonna be getting intel from a cartel-run trading port together." Price's voice is low and hoarse as he twirls a pen in his hand before tapping it against the edge of his desk. Ghost's tall, menacing form stands beside you, his arms folding over his chest as he stands. His eyes are cold, neutral, and murky as he stares holes into Price.

You stand beside him, smaller in comparison, your hands slipped into your pockets. His presence is suffocating and to you, it feels like he's taking up the entire damn room. "Just the two of us?" Ghost asks. His voice is husky and raspy, a sexy tone that has your knees knocking. "No backup?"

"No. This'll be a mission I can only send our best on. The place is fortified and you'll be going in, finding the woman and getting the intel, and then getting your asses out of there before the entire place knows you're there. Understood?" His eyebrows rise and he looks from Ghost to you, giving you a brief nod as if he's trying to make sure you have your attention on him. Ghost doesn't say anything. He turns on his heel and starts walking towards the door, and you look at Price and utter a soft, "Understood." before following him out.

"You're leavin' tonight. Get geared up." You look back at Price and nod, and when you look forward, Ghost is already halfway down the hallway. You sigh and you go the opposite way towards the armory to get your gear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tell us where Dimitri is." Ghost's tone is terse, snapping. His words are short and cut, and even though he's not talking to you, even you feel slightly intimidated. His hands are placed flat on the table in front of him, and he leans forward on it, brown dead eyes trained on the lady tied to a chair at the other side of it. "Fuck if I'm telling you," she laughs, accent cutting through her words as she struggles against the ropes. She avoids his gaze however, her eyes cast down and away. "Look, Lana, if you tell us where the man is, we'll let you go." You're lying. Ghost glances at you and his eyes narrow briefly before he looks back at her. Lana Antonova. Russian financier working under a mysterious person named Dimitri Kulikov, the guy who's supplying the man we're looking for-- Red Spirit, a man who's at the head of a cartel. Multiple fatalities as a result of the escapades he and his men went on, including the murder of one of our informants. "I'm not telling you!" She hisses, jerking her body against the ropes. Her voice is shaky, and she's on the verge of breaking. Ghost sighs and pulls away from the table, pacing at the far end of the room. You approach her and lean against the table with your hip, holding your rifle with one hand and putting your other hand on your hip. "Why aren't you telling us? Is it 'cause you're... involved with this man?" Lana pauses for a second, and then she scoffs, her eyes going up to yours. "...No." "You're lying again," you say, your voice taking on a higher tone, like you're mocking her. "I'm sure those ropes are uncomfortable. Tell us what we need to know and we'll release you." "No." She repeats, her gaze going back down again. She jerks against the ropes once more, and you sigh. You look back at Ghost and you see him rummaging through the various cabinets in the office. He's searching for something on her. You look back at her. "If you tell us where Dimitri is, we'll take him into custody and he'll get a lighter punishment. But if you don't tell us, we'll have to find him ourselves... and if we find him ourselves, we'll have to kill him if he gets combative. Do you want that?" Your voice is condescending, but it's obvious this gets the gears working in her head. She scoffs again and looks away. "I know you're looking for Red Spirit... I have logs on the supplies Dimitri bought. Where the supplies went, when they were bought, and when they arrived at their location. I'll tell you where those are. Just... leave Dimitri alone." You stand up straight and look at Ghost. He looks back at you and gives a nod, before coming back over. "Where are they?" "They're... in this office. In that desk." She nods with her head, and you go over to the desk and rifle through it. "It's a USB drive... insert it into a computer and it'll start a download of all the purchase logs and delivery reports." You find a small USB drive, and you hold it up. "This is it," you say, looking at Ghost. He nods again, and you put it in your pocket. He leaves the office. "Hey! Aren't you going to let me go?!" You go over to her and pick up a roll of duct tape on the table, picking it up and ripping off a strip before putting it over her mouth and smirking at her. "No chance, lady."

You turn around and jog out of the office, locking the door behind you. Ghost is waiting in the hall. He looks at you. "Got the drive?" You nod. "Good. We're going." Then he starts jogging down the hall and out the door you both came in through. You follow suit and he leads you out of the building and down the road leading to the docks at the shore. Waiting further up the shore is the patrol boat you used to get there. Halfway down the road, when you're catching up to Ghost, gunfire sounds. Your head whips back and you see about five men at the top of the road, shooting down at the both of you. You're about to start running, but you see Ghost using a wide tree as cover. He has his back to it and he has one hand on his leg like he's been injured. You turn around and return fire, taking cover behind another tree further up the road. Whenever you've taken out four of the five men, you go to Ghost's side. He's bleeding pretty bad from his leg. "Shit," you hiss. "Come on, let's go." You move to help him limp further down the road to get to the boat. "No, just go. You have the drive." he grunts. Millions of things are running through his head, and he'd rather get left behind than risk you getting injured just because you're trying to help him. Gunfire sounds, and his heart thumbs in his chest.

"If they find you, they'll kill you!" "Just go!"

"No, the boat is right there--" You take his hand and start leading him down carefully. He's limping, and it's taking some effort. You don't stop. You help him down to the boat and into it. You get in as well, and there's more gunfire. You look up as the patrol boat starts pulling away from the shore, and there are more men lined up at the cliff. He knows he should be grateful. But for some reason, he's angrier that you risked your life saving him. You don't say a word, and neither does he. He's just stewing in his own anger, packing his wound. He shouldn't be angry at you. But god, he is. He's pissed that you'd even think about risking your life for him. For some reason, he's angry that he was more worried about you getting shot trying to help him than he was worried about the thought of you possibly leaving him behind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's a few days later. You waited to talk to him in hopes some of the energy from the mission had diffused. You went to his room, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. He was sitting inside, on his bed, reading a book. He was doing better now, and the injury he sustained on the mission was a graze from a bullet and a pretty badly sprained ankle. He sets the book aside and gets to his feet, going to the door with no trouble, pushing open the door and peeking out. Once he sees you, something bubbles up in his chest. It's a mix of happiness that you came to see him, guilt that you went out of your way to help him, and anger that you risked your life. He never really dealt with all of the feelings that came with the encounter. "...Hi." You say, your gaze darting down to his leg. "You're doing better, huh?" He steps back and nods, gesturing for you to come inside. "Was jus' a graze and a sprained ankle." "Explained the limping." You say, stepping into his room. It's meant to be a playful joke, but you can't tell if it landed or not as he stares at you. You swallow slightly, crossing your arms. "...We gonna talk about what happened?" He says, his voice low and raspy like usual as he leans against the wall, mimicking your body language. "What is there to talk about?" You act nonchalant. "You saved me." He says matter-of-factly, staring at you a bit harder now. "I did."

"You risked your life to do so. Why?" His tone takes on an angry note; different from how he usually sounds, and you can tell all the emotions are resurfacing. You take a step back, looking at him. "I wasn't just gonna leave you behind, Ghost, that's not what a teammate does--" "No, I'm not jus' your teammate. I'm your lieutenant, and you're supposed to do what I say. I say run, you run. I say leave, you leave." "Are you seriously pulling rank right now?" You genuinely can't believe that he's acting like this, and the look on your face must show it. He scoffs a little. "I'm not pullin' rank, I'm tellin' you that you should have listened to me." "You were telling me to leave you to die!"

"And you should have listened." He pushes himself off the wall and goes toward you. "You're my subordinate." He gets in your space, and his face is a few inches towards yours. Suddenly, you're incredibly aware of everything. The way his brown eyes focus on yours, glittering with anger, the way he leans over you, and how big his hulking frame is in comparison to you. He notices the way a blush spreads across your cheeks, and he pauses for a second. He notices that you're looking everywhere but his eyes. He glances down at your lips and he takes a step forward. "You're an idiot, s'what you are," he grunts, his eyes trained fiercely on your lips. He takes a step forward, shutting the door behind you and pushing you up against it, leaning in and reaching one hand up to pull his mask over his mouth, his other hand tilting your head to the side as he leans in and starts planting rough kisses along the span of your neck. The audacity of this man makes your chest bubble with more anger, but you can't find it in you to push him away. His kisses feel heavenly. You bring your hands to the fabric of his shirt and you ball it up in your fists tight, grunting. "Yeah, well, you're an asshole." You mumble, tilting your head and shutting your eyes as he keeps kissing your neck.

"I might be an asshole but you're still the one who risked your life for me," he grumbles, nipping at the flesh of your neck as his hands find your waist and you pull him closer. "Yeah, well, what would I do without your smartass mouth ordering me around all day?" You mumble, your voice shaky as his touch sets all your senses alight.

He scoffs under his breath and he laps his tongue over your pulse, his big hands running underneath your shirt and gripping your hips. "I'm the one with a smart mouth? You're the one talking back to your superior." He grunts, leaving a light hickey on your neck, then another, then a darker one.

A moan that's badly muffled leaves your lips. He pulls your shirt up roughly, and you lift your arms to make it easier. He throws it aside and moves on to the next article of clothing, unbuttoning your bra and throwing it to the side as his kisses trail down. Over your collarbone, towards your chest as his calloused hands run over every inch of your bare skin. "You've always been so damn reckless," he grunts, lapping his tongue over your soft flesh and leaving more hickeys as he moves down. Your head falls back against the door and your shoulders draw together as he kisses down. One of his hands moves up and he starts playing with one of your breasts as he takes your nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it and closing his lips around it before giving a little tug on your other nipple with his thumb and pointer. His other hand is busy unbuttoning your pants, and his hand leaves your breast to pull them down around your hips as he detaches from your nipple and huffs. "So damn reckless, so damn stupid. You don't even recognize the fact you could have died trying to save me."

"I-I know damn well that I could have died, but I wasn't thinking about that at the time--" Your breath hitches as he tugs your pants and panties down around your legs. You kick your shoes off and he pulls your pants and panties off of you, leaving you entirely naked and subject to his gaze. He pulls back and his gaze roves over you, and his gaze softens just slightly before it hardens again and he stands up, leaning back into your neck and littering more hickeys there as your hands paw at his chest and tug at his shirt. You whimper whenever he takes your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head, a silent order for you to be patient. You're not having it though, and you grunt under your breath, pulling your hands free and bringing them to his shirt. He looks alarmed for a second and using his surprise against him, you pull his shirt up and off, and he grunts immediately.

"Damnit, girl," he hisses, but he lets you anyway. Your hands move to his pants and you start unbuttoning them, and he continues his ministrations as he kisses and bites your neck. One of your hands slips down his front, your eyes fluttering shut as you gently pull his cock free from the confines of his boxers. He's big. Not incredibly long, but he's thick, and heavy in your hands. You gasp and bite your bottom lip, trying to hide your satisfaction as you pump your hand around him, from base to tip. "Fuck." He hisses. He's going to stop you, but it feels too damn good to stop you just yet. Besides... this is the same thing he's dreamt about for months, and it's finally happening. He lets you continue for a few more seconds before he quickly hoists you up by your thighs, pinning you against the wall with his body.

Your gaze travels over him, taking in every inch of him. From his muscled chest, his arms, the tattoos on his arm, and then his hips-- his v-line, and his happy trail. Your gaze goes back up to his face, still partially obscured by the mask. So you reach up, tugging at the hem of it lightly to signal, 'off'. He chuckles just a little, feeling his chest swell slightly. He hesitates. His lust and that fluttery feeling in his stomach override his sense of rationality, and he lets you pull it off and throw it aside. You stare at him wide-eyed, taking in his features. He moves and grips the underside of your thighs a bit tighter, shifting a bit against you. You jolt when you feel the tip of his cock rest against your hole, and he leans forward, putting his face in your neck and slowly pushing into you. It doesn't hurt, not at all. You gasp when he sinks his cock into your heat, and your arms wrap around his neck and you cup the back of his head. He makes you feel so full, and your heart swells a little when you realize you're finally getting what you've wanted this entire time. He litters kisses and bites over your neck, his grip on your thighs tightening. He pulls his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before he bucks back into you, the head of his cock knocking against that gummy spot inside you. You mewl, tilting your head back as he bites down on that spot that makes your insides spasm on his cock.

He grunts and bucks into you once more, before adopting a smooth, rhythmic pace. He drags his cock out of you and then bucks back into you, the tip of it hitting that spot inside you each time. The sounds of wet skin on wet skin develop quickly, and he's grunting and groaning into your neck. He pulls back to look at you and his expression softens, his thrusts stuttering a bit. Your head is tilted back and your lips are parted as you whimper breathlessly, and it's like he's seeing you for the first time-- looking at you in that same loving, bewildered manner he did when you introduced yourself to him. His eyes sparkle, and a smile spreads across his lips.

"Fuckin' hell, girl... you're pretty, you know that?"

Your breath hitches whenever he addresses you so affectionately, and you lean forward to kiss him. He follows suit, and the moment your lips are on his, his hands slide up to cradle your ass as he adopts a new, quicker pace. You whimper into his mouth, and his tongue darts out to prod at your bottom lip, asking for entry. Your lips part and his tongue dips into your mouth, flicking against your own as his cock bullies into you over and over again, reaching deeper as he leans back and holds you up so your weight leans forward onto him a bit. You pull at his hair gently, teasingly, and he grunts and kisses you harder. You're moaning and whimpering. You have to pull away from the kiss to breathe, and when you do, his lips are on your neck again. Leaving dark hickeys, teeth nipping at your flesh as he pushes you up against the wall again and wraps one arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up your back and tangling in your hair, and he pulls it in retaliation to you pulling his. You whine when he does, and he bucks into you a particularly rough time, drawing another mewl from you. The way he's fucking into you has you seeing stars, and your eyes are rolling back into your head. All you can focus on is the sensation of his cock pumping into you over and over.

His grip on you tightens, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. He continues his pace, but you can tell he's getting close when he groans softly into your neck, tilting his head to nestle into your neck as he continues thrusting. You're getting close too, whining when that coil in your belly winds impossibly tight. You wrap your legs around his waist and you whimper. "Fuck, Ghost, m'close--" You feel his thrusts stutter again before he's groaning into your neck. "Say it, love." "Ghost..." You whine, your grip on his hair tightening when his thrusts suddenly cease, the pleasure fizzing away. "No, sweetheart, my real name. Say it, 'n that pretty voice of yours, and I'll consider letting you cum." You pause, and embarrassment swells in your chest, but you can feel your orgasm slipping away and you're quick to plead. "Simon, please..." "Yeah?" He chuckles quietly, kissing your cheek as he starts bucking into you again, a bit rougher this time. "You wanna cum?" You whimper in affirmation, and he whispers, "Then cum for me, sweet girl."

That's all it takes. Not even a second passes, and your walls squeeze on his cock and you're mewling as your orgasm wracks your body. His grip on you tightens and he leans in to kiss you and muffle your noises, nipping at your bottom lip as he bucks into you and buries himself into you as deeply as possible, bottoming out. You whimper when you feel ropes of his cum spill into you, and you're moaning breathlessly into his mouth and pulling his hair. (You're almost positive you told him you loved him.) He grunts and stays inside you. Your cunt spasms around him, and he grunts, withdrawing himself from your pussy. You feel just a bit of his cum dribble down your inner thighs as he slowly lowers you to the ground, littering loving little kisses over your face and running his fingers through your hair as the haziness of your orgasm fades. He guides you over to his bed and shifts you down onto it, getting himself dressed before he comes back to you with tissues in hand, wiping his cum from your inner thighs and pulling your panties back up your legs. He runs his fingers along the inner side of the hem to make sure they're in place. You're still panting, and a bit out of it from the entire experience. He pulls away and grabs one of his shirts, gently helping you put it on. You're enveloped with the scent of him, and it's a warm feeling. You feel the bed shift as his weight is added to it and he lays beside you, pulling you close and tucking your head into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You coo quietly and nuzzle into him in response, holding him close and tight. Your body is still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and being in Simon's arms has a smile spreading across your lips; one you just can't wipe off. "You know, if sprainin' my ankle and gettin' grazed by a bullet results in this... Might just do it again." "...Don't you dare."

[jarofstyles]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

So basically this was meant to be a shorty, but it turned into almost 9k of cuteness and smut. So happy holidays, my loves! Here is some friends to lovers cuteness and filth <3

Check out our Patreon for over 100 exclusive writings!

Warnings: Smut

WC- around 9k

------------

Y/N hadn’t meant to fall asleep on Harry’s couch. Honest.

But anyone who had the pleasure of sitting on the cloud like crimson couch could tell you, it was hard to get out of it once you were in. Harry had to answer some business emails, of course, because as much as she liked her friend, she was well aware he was a workaholic. Lawyer by day, and by night. He had invited a few people over for a movie night but Y/N was the only one who was free- but it was fine. It meant more popcorn and pizza for them anyways- and he had been a doll and ordered her the BBQ Chicken pizza on a flat crust. She got it all to herself as they watched the original claymation of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, which was a classic if you asked her. Her stomach full, she still picked at some of the M&M’s and tried to ignore the little jump her heart gave when their hands brushed. Their thighs had already been knocking together and Y/N had been trying to talk some sense into herself considering she knew there was no meaning to it. He sat close to her so they could both reach the popcorn and share the candies! He kept the bowl balanced on his thigh so she could reach over and get it. Duh. 

But after their second movie, Elf, his phone began to ping. Why, Y/N didn’t know. It was literally 9 in the evening, there was no reason to do so, but when Harry asked if she was okay with him stepping away for a few moments to answer some things in his office, she didn’t make a fuss. No, she continued watching albeit with a slightly heavier heart when 30 minutes had passed and he hadn’t reappeared- but that was neither here nor there. 

She can’t remember doing it, burying her face in the pillow that he had been using and curling up into a little ball on his couch, snoozing away. The warmth of his home was welcoming, and she was vaguely aware that the wind had picked up outside- but she fell asleep shortly after. Firmly planted in dreamland where she was picking blueberries for a pie in the summer. Why that exact dream, she wasn’t sure. What she did know is that she stirred to the feeling of a warm hand stroking her head, soft whispers of her name coaxing her from the impromptu nap. 

“Y/N?” He murmured, sitting next to her with a furrowed brow. Her eyes peeled open and blinked sleepily at him, confusion written in them as she looked over his face and the fact that the TV had the ‘are you still watching?’ notification on the screen. “Hey, sleepy girl.” He smiled slightly before it dropped. Her heart fluttered in her chest from the close proximity and fondness in his tone. “M’so fucking sorry. Time got away from me and before I knew it I was up there for an hour and a half- and m’a shit friend.” He frowned, unaware of the tantrum Y/N’s stomach was throwing from his hand resting on the side of her head. His thumb was brushing right before her ear, the slight sound tickling a part of her brain she hadn’t even known existed. He made her so nervous. 

“Oh.” She said quietly, unsure how to reply. It kind of sucked that he had spent their movie night tucked in his office. Y/N didn’t get to spend a lot of time with Harry lately, his workload picking up, and she had been going on about how good it was to see him for once. The lighthearted teasing held a semblance of truth and Harry could tell, which made him feel pretty shit right now when he saw the slight dejection on his face. If only she knew.  

“I know. M’sorry.” He whispered. “But uh….” his eyes strayed to the window. “We’ve got a bigger problem now.”

This had Y/N sitting up, silently mourning the loss of his hand that had flexed slightly as it fell back to the couch. “What do you mean?” Her nerves shot up, turning to look at the window as well. It was significantly cooler in the house now, her arms erupting in chills as her blanket fell from her shoulders as she got up to look. She’d seen a peek of white, but she hadn’t been prepared to see the truth outside. The blur of snow, piling up high and showing no sign of stopping. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, cursing under her breath. She’d gotten an uber here, but there was no way in hell any would be out right now. “Fuck.” Her tone was a soft groan, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “There’s no way I can get a ride home now.”

“I know.” Harry said back. “But it’s a good thing I’ve got lots of blankets, yeah?” He didn’t want to admit to her that there was something in him that was almost excited that she would be trapped here with him. That the reason everyone else had canceled was the weather, apparently, that neither of them looked into until Harry had checked his phone just moments before waking her up. It was going to snow all night, and all day. Y/N was stuck here, and he didn’t know for how long. 

“Are you sure?” Nibbling her bottom lip, Y/N worried. She didn’t want to be a pain but there was no way she was walking home in this. No way Harry would ever let her either- and it wasn’t like she could ask him to drive her, it wouldn’t be safe. There was no other option other than staying. 

“Course I am. Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “We can just continue watching. I really am sorry- we’ve got this case, the wife is trying to take half the assets.” He moved towards the couch and began to move things back to neaten it up. “We were trying to negotiate but then the PI that the husband hired found the proof of her infidelity, so it changed the case structure completely. I got in my own head, and I apologize.” It was obvious he actually felt really bad about it. Harry was passionate about his job, working with personal injury, divorce, and estate law. It made sense to her considering he was a busybody, and apparently could argue with anyone about anything- she’d seen it first hand with a tipsy Harry and Niall at karaoke night, arguing over the perfect color for those little drink umbrellas. 

“It’s okay, Harry.” She smiled softly. “I wish I could find something to be as passionate about and make my job. M’just stuck at the cafe for now.” She joked. The cafe was fine, she liked her coworkers, but there was no passion there. She did her job, collected her money and went home. 

“You will, love. It’s never too late.” He was always encouraging of her going after her dreams, especially over one drunken conversation about wishing she could do art full time- but Y/N was a realistic person and she had real rent to pay. Being a no-one in the art field would lead to ‘exposure’ work and exposure didn’t pay the bills. She needed to work on it but she was always so tired after work- eventually she would get there, but it was nice to know that someone believed in her. One of her paintings hung over his fireplace, actually, making her smile every time she came over. She painted his cat for his birthday, which had actually made him tear up. That had gotten her a very long hug and a solid appreciation for how muscular he was. 

Y/N decided to help him out, readjusting the blankets and pillows as he brought the now cold pizza and treats into the kitchen. It was then that it hit her- she was going to spend the night at his house, and possibly the whole day tomorrow. Snowed in at Harry’s House. He was pretty choosy about the people that came over, citing that ‘his home is his sanctuary and he needs to protect it’, which she sort of liked. When she was in college, she had opened her home up for a bit for the parties and decided that she wasn’t a fan of a lot of people in her space either, so knowing he felt similar made her feel special. 

“Okay.” He brought out the hard cider. “I’ve got the holiday version and the regular. Both are good, the holiday version is a bit more cinnamon-y.” He held up the bottles, teetering them in his hands. “Which would you like?” 

“I’ll go with regular, please. Too much cinnamon makes me sneeze.” She admitted. “Weird, but even when I get it on my coffee I get a bit sniffly.” It was weird, considering it wasn’t exactly an allergy- but maybe a sensitivity. 

“Oh, shit.” He raised his brows. “Okay, We’ll do regular then.” He handed it over to her after snapping the cap off with his bottle opener. “Don’t need a sneeze storm along with the snow storm.” The poor attempt of a joke made her snort, shaking her head. Harry’s jokes were infamously horrible, genuinely cringe worthy, but he had to have some sort of flaw. No one was that good looking and went away without something. Taking the frosty glass bottle in hand, she blamed it for the shivers- and not the fact his fingers brushed her own. 

“Let’s get started again, yeah? Let me turn my phone off for real this time.”

—-----

The movie watching had turned to more of a movie and chat. Harry sat closer to her than before, claiming it was ‘cold as fuck’ before starting a fire. The room was dim except for the flat screen mounted above said fireplace, his twinkling christmas tree and the comforting warm glow of the flames crackling

“I really am sorry, you know.” He murmured, breaking her out of thought as he let his fingers play with the ends of her hair. Harry had been a bit more touchy tonight, she noticed. She was trying not to let it be known how much it actually affected her. She’d managed to keep her little crush under wraps for months now, and she didn’t want to slip up. It was hard not to, especially after they’d kissed on halloween. It was a dare, of course, everyone tipsy as shit, but it had done something to her. Their costumes accidentally ended up matching, so it was pushed and she didn’t mind. The girl had been so sure she was immune to Harry’s hypnotic charm, but the kiss had been… really fucking good. It wasn’t something that was rated R, but she got a bit of tongue from him, his hand cupping his jaw carefully enough to not mess up her makeup, and the length… If she had been a bit more drunk, she would have pulled him back for more. Since then she’d been a bit fucked. It was both fortunate and not so that Harry got a lot busier at work after that. 

“What for?” She asked, giving him a questioning look. Harry had already apologized for taking so long and it wasn’t something she was still upset about. Not with her body buzzing and heating up with him so close to her. 

“I’ve been kinda selfish. Forgot to ask more about you.” He frowned. “We’ve been a gossipy bunch tonight but.. You’ve been holding out a bit.” He teasingly tugged her hair. It was hard to keep her shiver from that hidden, as she really liked the feeling. “Remember you told us you’d been seeing someone. How’s that going?”

Y/N was confused for a moment. What was he talking about? Y/N hadn’t gone on a date in months. She wracked her brain, trying to place what he was talking about- when it hit her. Not too long after they’d kissed, Bradley had opened his mouth and asked Y/N about the date she had been on with his friend. Someone she had been set up with, and definitely didn’t like. Her nose crinkled as she shook her head. 

“God, you remember that? It was awful.” She said in distaste. “We went to like.. Two dates. The first one and then the second one only happened because Brad kind of pressured me into it.” Her eyes rolled, still annoyed at her lack of a backbone when it came to hurting people’s feelings. She’d been really trying to work on that. The whole putting yourself on the line just to ensure other people are happy and god forbid you hurt someone’s feelings thing.

“Pressured you?” Harry’s fingers paused in her hair. “How do you mean?” She could see it in his face, his irritation rising. One of the things she liked the most about Harry was how respectful he was towards women. It was a hard thing for some men to conceptualize, apparently, but Harry naturally knew how to be a decent human being. It said more about other men than him. 

“Well.. After halloween I told Brad I wasn’t feeling it with his friend when he asked me how it went, but he told me how much his friend liked me and I shouldn’t give up on it so quickly. Give him another shot. And then I was a stupid baby and decided to put the random man’s feelings above my own, and it was a second sucky date. I mean, there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the guy. I was just bored. He just wasn’t my person, y’know? I felt bad wasting his time and giving false hope.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. It wasn’t a thing she was proud of. “But yeah, I know you’ve been busy lately. Though I would have thought Brad would have told you when you guys worked out? You two love to gossip like old hens.” She knew they met up every week.

“Yeah. I would have thought so too.” He said, something underlying in his tone that she didn’t quite get. “He uh.. He told me that you guys still saw each other occasionally, though?” He looked thoroughly confused which in turn, made her even more so.

“I mean, yeah. Kind of? He comes into the cafe and we’re friendly enough. I ended up telling him after the second date that I wasn’t seeing it go anywhere but I’d like to be friends. I’d say we’re more acquaintances than anything else, but he’s got a girl he’s seeing. I served them the other day.” Y/N wasn’t sure why Harry looked upset, almost annoyed at the information, but she was going to find out. “I’m sorry, are you okay? You just look annoyed, is all.” She tried her best to be soft about it, but she had no idea why on earth he would be annoyed about what she just said.

“No- no, s’nothing you did.” He assured her, rubbing over her back once he realized she was taking his expressions personally. “It’s just- he kept saying you guys hit it off and made it seem like… like you were taken by him. I dunno why he’d do that when…” He paused, shaking his head. It confused her even more, unsure as to why Brad would do that either. What did he have to gain by lying- or stretching the truth?

“When, what?” She asked. What would be in it for him?

“I don’t want t’make it weird, but he knew I was plannin’ on asking you out after Halloween but… he told me you and his friend had hit it off.” He stiffened slightly. “I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, it’s water under the bridge, but I’m just a little upset that he lied.” 

Y/N’s stomach dropped. 

“He did what?” 

“Yeah, I’m not sure… what the motive for that was.” He scratched the base of his neck uncomfortably. It was obvious he hadn’t necessarily wanted to divulge that information to her but she was really fucking glad he did. 

She was also angry. Brad knew damn well Y/N and his friend didn’t hit it off and he had told him, albeit politely, straight to his face. It pissed her off immensely if he was being honest. It only made her hypothesis more glaringly correct the more she thought about it, but it wasn’t her place to tell Harry that Brad most definitely had a nasty, big crush on him as well. It was hard not to have one on him, having fallen victim to the Styles Charm herself. 

“I don’t either but… No. M’single. I have been for months.” She admitted, not sure if the feeling in her stomach was caused by the alcohol, the anticipation, or the revelation. “I would have said yes, by the way. If you’d asked.” Finding the nerve to meet his eye, she was taken aback at the pure green mixed with a splash of oceanic blue. She’d been up close before but this felt other worldly. Knowing that he was planning on asking her out in any capacity had the feeling in her stomach intensify, looking into eyes that were so pretty it shouldn’t be allowed. 

“Yeah?” He asked quietly, the air stilling slightly in the room. He was looking back just as intensely, just as intently, making her body react in ways she hadn't felt in a long time. Giddy, like a kid on christmas from the revelation. “Well… I feel a little silly now. Should have just asked you myself. But… he said you were happy and I didn’t want to intrude on that but it was hard t’be around and not want to tell you so, I kinda buried myself in work for a bit. I didn’t want to be a miserable bastard, like some child who had his toy taken away, but I felt sad that I’d missed my chance.” 

The frown on his face made Y/N want to coo. He was so, so sweet. This man. He was incredible, wasn’t he? So human, but honest. Admitting his honest feelings to her despite them being potentially embarrassing. Y/N took a bit of his confidence in tow as she replied to his words, still anxious but knowing that if he could, so could she. 

“I missed you. Was sad you stopped coming around.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. There was a new energy, a static between them that she could feel on her fingertips. “It wasn’t silly, though. Your feelings are valid. I understand. I’d probably be a bit hurt if I had a great kiss with someone and then found out they were supposedly seeing someone else not long after. It’s an icky feeling.” Y/N truly couldn’t blame him. She could blame Brad, though. She would. 

“Yeah, but I should have… I dunno. Something felt off, I should have trusted my gut as you like to say.” He teased lightly, moving his hand up to the side of her neck. “But… ‘great kiss’, huh?” His raspberry lips, still wet from his sip of beer, turned up in a smirk. “You thought so? How great was it, really?” 

Y/N could feel herself flush. God, she had been speaking truth so it hadn’t crossed her mind on how she worded it but somehow, she wasn’t regretting it. If anything, she felt a bit of relief, though his teasing made her flustered. “Stop.” She pushed his shoulder. “I was just- I was just saying.” She grumbled, eyes falling from his back to his curled mouth. She remembered just how good it felt against her own, how his hand had tightened on the back of her costume and urged her closer while the other had delicately held her jaw. A gentle, commanding presence. A will she was willing to bend to. 

“Oh, don’t look away, sweetness. M’just teasing.” He cooed, lifting his knuckle to bump her chin back up. “Look cute when you’re embarrassed though. It’s sweet.” His confidence seemed to rise again at her words, which relieved her slightly. At least one of them was feeling it. “For the record- it was a really, really great kiss. S’part of why I wanted to ask you out, hm? Wanted more of that. You’re such a sweet little thing. Always so kind to everyone, maybe a little shy but… s’cute.” Laying on the praise was making her feel like she was boiling, a shy mewl leaving her mouth as she went to divert her eyes again but was interrupted by his hand. 

“No more of that. Let me see your pretty eyes when m’talking to you.” It was like he had shifted, making her eyes widen. Her body wanted to respond, blinking rapidly before nodding at him slowly. “Good. Can’t believe there was so much wasted time. M’gonna have words with Brad later, but I don’t think we should wait much more. Do you?” his thumb brushed her bottom lip, making her thighs want to squeeze together. This was a side of him she had only seen the tiniest blip of when they kissed, but god, did she like it. Her body hanging on to his words. 

“N-No.” She tripped over the word. “How d’you mean?” The tone was breathless, still in awe of how the situation had shifted. How his hand held the back of her neck and his hand kept her chin up so he could see her eyes. They hooded slightly, tummy twisting in anticipation. He was close, much closer than she had originally thought, and holding her face in a similar fashion to their first kiss. 

“Shouldn’t wait to do what we both obviously want. I’d like t’take you out when we’re able to get out of the house, but we were held back because of some lies… and I had a lot planned for us all from that one little, really good kiss.” He murmured. The side of his face was illuminated by the roaring fire, the movie fading into the back of her mind as her eyes searched his face. “It’s been hard to be around you knowing what this mouth tastes like and knowing the pretty little noise you let out when I went t’pull away. Didn’t even want to but you seem to forget to breathe when you’re being kissed, silly girl.” He chuckled under his breath. 

“Only with you.” She whispered. It hadn’t been something she meant to say out loud but seeing his smile was worth it- even a tiny bit of a blush if she was seeing correctly. He was stealing a bit of her brain power, she thinks, but at this point she didn’t mind. Harry could take over and she would happily follow. 

“Yeah? With me?” He taunted, leaning closer and feeling his nose brush hers. It was cooler than his own, the fire only now starting to heat the room up- but he wanted to keep her warm in another way. At her nod, he let out a sigh. “So can I kiss you again? It’s all I can think about, y’know. When you’re around. Been dying to kiss you and even more. Such a sweet thing, y’are. So good to me. Make me laugh, make me smile. Was gutted when I thought you were with someone else. I’ll tell you a secret.” his thumb brushed her chin again, close enough that his breath could be felt against her lips. “It drove me mad, thinking about you with some other bloke. Someone who I know can’t make you feel half as good as I can. Can’t treat you like the perfect thing you are. Proper princess, aren’t you?” 

Y/N was hanging on to his words, nodding along. She always wanted that, wanted to be treated like she was a diamond. To be delicately handled when need be, spoiled with affection. Harry had that quality to him, a man who could take care of business but also come home and dote. At least it seemed that way. She had to imagine him after work, suit jacket strown against the side of the couch and his tie undone, glass of bourbon in his hand. Imagine climbing in his lap and pressing kisses to his face and watching the tension in his body melt away. Let him take out his frustrations on her body instead of letting it fester on his own. 

“I can be.” She replied, leaning into him. “I’d like it, a lot.” It felt hard to come up with the right words to express how she felt, how much she genuinely felt the urge to just jump on him- but he beat her to it.

Buttoning their lips together, he scooted closer to her and held her jaw tenderly. Touching her in a way reminiscent of the way he had before, she was stiff for a mere moment before melting into his touch. He was warm, much more so than her, and the blanket that had been thrown over his lap shifted so he could get closer to her. Y/N followed suit, lifting her hand to his chest, palm down on the heated shirt. His heart could be felt thumping away underneath her grasp, cluing her into the fact he was just as worked about about it as she was. 

When he pulled back for a second she let out another whine, though the air felt good in her lungs. It was hard to breathe when he was kissing her, not wanting to waste a single second of the experience. Her brain was a loop of his name, not thinking about the oxygen she needed. Now she was needy, knowing that her feelings were returned in a way. She whined again as he halted her from going in again. “Breathe, sweetness. I’ll keep kissing you, but you’ve got t’remember to breathe for me.” His voice was hypnotic and he had all the control. Y/N willingly let it go. She wanted to give it to him. 

“Sorry.” She peeped. “It’s hard.. Hard to think.” There was nothing but honesty in her tone, making him want to coo. Y/N was so precious, it hurt. Harry loved that he had this effect on her. The girl was putty in his hands, marshmallow fluff seeping between his fingertips. He hadn’t gotten to see this side of her before and he loved it. Being a man who was in charge most of the time and thoroughly enjoyed it, he loved that she put her trust in him and made herself malleable. 

“Mm? S’hard to think when I’m kissing this pretty mouth?” He smiled, “Good. You don’t have to think. I’ll take care of you, sweet thing.” He brushed hair off her face before sitting back on the couch. “Come sit on my lap, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.” He was taking the reins now, and Y/N eagerly followed. Clambering onto his thighs, he had shucked the blanket to the floor and let her warming body settle on top of his. Her body melting into his lap, she clutched his tee shirt before surging back in and connecting their mouths back together.

Y/N was needy in a way she hadn’t experienced before. One of her hands slipped into his hair as he returned the kiss with matching fervor, sliding his hand down her waist and pulling her in so she was pressed against him. Breasts against his chest, the plushness of her body making his fingers dig a bit deeper as he licked into her mouth. She was his willing accomplice, his sweet escape as she mewled softly against his tongue. This was even better than their first kiss, in the privacy of Harry’s home where she could let herself go fuzzy. She’d known him long enough, trusted him, pined after him- Y/N was ready and willing for him. Spreading her thighs over his lap further and making sure they were touching in every single way possible. 

A noise she wasn’t familiar with left her throat, a little grumbly moan as he sucked on her tongue and pulled off before taking more. She hadn’t been kissed like this before, her body burning as it got heated rather quickly.The revelation of returned feelings, the pining they’d silently been doing, the kiss they’d shared that haunted them, the desperation to make up for lost time- it all was a perfect concoction to the perfect storm. Hand sliding over one another, revving up the neediness as she slowly began to shift in his lap. Rolling her hips. A dangerous but necessary move. 

“Careful, Darling.” The warning was mumbled against her mouth. “M’burning for you. Keep rubbing yourself against me like a little kitten and m’gonna take care of it.” All of the pent up neediness was showing itself, rearing its head and spilling over onto the carpet. Y/N would be embarrassed if she wasn’t so into him, and if he didn’t help guide her hips on him. She wanted to be his, wanted to know what he sounded like. She was in awe of how good it felt to just rub up against him. The large hand cuffed around her waist while their spit slicked lips hungrily kissed one another. Harry was unraveling her and he barely had to try. Pathetic, maybe, but he had a strong effect. 

She continued the movement, even going as far to rub a bit harder before she was physically stopped, his hand gripping her chin and tugging her away. It was disorienting, making her whine in sadness, but she looked at him with a bleary gaze ad his thumb wiped at some of the wetness smeared under her mouth. “Need you to tell me how far t’go.” Harry wanted to be sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries. He needed to. With any of his partners he established those, but Y/N especially. He would weep if he misunderstood and make her uncomfortable. “C’mon, pretty girl. I know you’re a bit out of it, but let me know what you want.” He could feel her squirm on his lap, but a simple raise of an eyebrow made her freeze. 

“Anything.” She whispered. “Anything, please. Just want…” She swallowed, trying to say it properly. “Just want to make you feel good. Want you to want me. S’cold, I need you to keep me warm.” Her tone was a little pathetic, but Harry seemed to enjoy it. Relish in it, actually, with how much she was desperate for it. 

“Oh, sweet baby. Want you regardless of what this body offers me… But if you want me to do anything I want, you won’t mind me slipping these off?” He plucked at the waistband of her fuzzy pajama pants. Light blue with little penguins and snowflakes. “And this?” Her white cropped tank top. Her cardigan was hung over the back of the couch, and he had access to the bare skin of the sliver of her stomach. “Yeah?” He replied to her head bobbing in agreement. “I can see my pretty girl and keep her warm?” 

“Mhm.” She agreed. “Take it off. Want it off.” Her hands tugged at his shirt, making it lift up slightly. It was well known he was covered in tattoos but she wanted it up close and personal. She wanted bare skin against her own, wanted to bite on the curve of his neck and see what sounds he would make. 

“Okay, needy thing.” He laughed through his nose, tugging his shirt over his head to expose himself. Swallows at the collar bones, a dusting of chest hair, the butterfly on his stomach. His arms showing off more ink, his muscles- god, he was good. So fucking hot that Y/N felt herself ruining her panties even further. How was it possible for a man to work her up just from a little kissing and grinding, merely looking at his shirtless form in the way it had for her? “How’s it, hm?” 

“So pretty.” Her voice mumbled, running her hands hesitantly down his chest. Brushing his nipples slightly, making him groan before they reached his butterfly tattoo. “You’re so pretty, H.” It made the man’s ego raise up, not really being called pretty all that often. Sexy, handsome, sure. But pretty was a newer one.

“You’re prettier.” He kissed her jaw, tangling his digits in the hem of her top. What he hadn’t expected was for her bare breasts to be exposed as he lifted it up. The top had a built in bra, leaving little to the imagination to begin with but… god, he was in heaven. Dipping his head down, he kissed the top of her chest before making his way down with sticky kisses. “God, fuck me. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He hissed, palming one of her tits. “Been trying to hard to keep my eyes away from these but, but I keep droolin’ over them. Imagined them covered in my cum, did y’know that?” He worked over the curve of the exposed one whilst squeezing the other. Enjoying the feel of her in his palms. “That’s the only way they could look prettier. Covered in me.” His tongue found her nipple, making her squeak. 

Y/N let out a squeak, moving a hand to his hair as he worshiped her chest. Licking, kissing, sucking, even biting down softly on her nipple before switching sides, letting his thumb brush over her now wet and slightly swollen nipple. Her cunt wept, her clit throbbing as her breathing got heavier and she tried to withhold her noises. She was making some, sure, but it was embarrassing how much wanted to pour from her lips. 

“Don’t hold back from me.” He pinched her nipple harder than before, making her squeal. “Said I wanted to hear those noises, didn’t I? Be good for me.” The slight scolding only made her hotter. Something about the tone, something about Harry having complete and utter control over her body in this way had her panting. 

“Sorry, m’sorry.” She simpered, spreading her legs further on his lap. Her hot cunt needed some relief, desperately. Her clit rubbing against him and the fabric of her now useless panties had her mewling, his mouth sucking harder on her nipple, hungry for it. “It feels so good, I can’t think.” Her words came out almost as a cry. She was obsessed with this feeling, albeit a tad overwhelming. 

Pulling away fro her nipple with a soft pop, Harry licked over his shiny lips before cooing at her. “Who said you need to think, baby?” He stroked her hair, tangling his fingers in it and firmly tugging her head where he wanted it. “My silly girl. Just let me do the thinking. All you’ve got to do is focus on warming my cock so I can keep you nice n’warm too, yeah? Let me take over a little bit.” His tone was intoxicating, the cadence of his speech placing her under a spell. She wanted this, she wanted him to do this for them. “Good. S’time for these to come off. Want to take a peek at that pussy.” He playfully smacked her ass, motioning for her to stand on her shaky legs and let him tug her leggings down. 

“What have you done, sweetness?” He crooned, looking at her panties. “Messy little thing, you’ve soaked right through them.” Nimble fingers rubbed over the gusset of her panties, the warm, wet fabric doing nothing to hide her cunt. The soft pink had gone transparent and sticky, making his cock jerk in his sweats. God, she was exquisite. A complete angel. How had he managed to keep his hands off of her? “Love that you got this sticky for me, baby. Y’like me that much?” 

It was almost humiliating, the burn in her cheeks making her hot but… she liked it. She liked how he was talking to her, sweet but a tiny hint of condescending to it. It wasn’t something she knew she liked until this moment- perhaps it was something she just liked with Harry. But she shivered at the feeling of his warm fingers finding her pearled clit under the fabric, rubbing lightly over it. “I do.” She whispered. “Like you a l-lot.” Her words stuttered when he pressed his thumb over her, wiggling it back and forth. It was slightly humiliating, standing in just her wrecked panties in front of the man, but the shame licked into flames of arousal as he pulled her in and peppered kisses to her stomach. Soft, sensual ones that left a print of his saliva there before he pulled back to tug the silly waste of fabric down her legs. They were tossed to the side, Harry switching positions to have her sit on the couch. 

“Good. Like you too, sweet girl. Felt so guilty, cumming all over my fist while imagining you. That perfect mouth and these pretty thighs…” He hissed, running his hands over them as he got on his knees in front of her. “But part of me didn’t care. Thought I was fantasizing about someone else’s woman, but it was you. So I did it anyway.” His lips found her sensitive inner thighs, kissing tenderly as he spread her open. “It’s a shame we wasted so much time, but m’not wasting another second. 

He didn’t. A gasp tore from her mouth as he licked up her slit, tasting the sweetness he had been deprived of. Something started to unfurl inside of him, settling further as he hooked his hands under her knees and urged them to stay spread as his arms moved to their place. His fands looped around, placing one hand on the mound above her cunt, eyes peering up at her as he took his time. Languid, long licks as he cleaned her up. She had made a mess of herself, and he was taking care of it. Of course he was. He had wanted to do this for months, now. Spreading her open and tasting her right from the source. 

It was like he fed off of her sounds. The tiny bucks of her hips that he quickly eased by holding her down slightly, only making her more wet. He was taking mental note of the things that she liked, and being controlled was one of them. He’d never have guessed, but he was having a beautiful time figuring it all out. His cock was throbbing, in need of relief, but he ignored it in favor of her pleasure. Pulling up momentarily, he kept their eyes locked as he let a line of split dribble from his lips to her cunt, stringing over it before he lowered his angled hand and gave her clit a few taps. 

“Fuck.” Y/N whimpered. “You’re too good at this. Gonna make me cum.” She was a mess, but Harry wasn’t going to give her that. Not yet, anyways. 

“No, sweetness. You’re going to cum around my cock. M’just getting you warmed up.. Although you didn’t seem to need it.” He slipped his finger inside of her after releasing a thigh to rest it on his shoulder. “Nice and wet for me already. I’m just being selfish. Wanted to taste you for ages.” His crush had been there for longer, he supposed. It had grown slowly over time, blossoming into what it was now. 

He was torturing her, she was sure of it. His finger, thicker than her own, curling slightly as his mouth attached to her clit, suckling on the swollen bud. How could she hold back from orgasm when it felt this good? She was getting closer and closer with each pull into his mouth, the wet, sounds of sucking filling the air and her hands clenching around his hair, pulling him further into her cunt. His nose brushed up against her and little she could do but take it, he continued on it, working her until her thighs began to shake and the pleasure began to boil in her tummy, almost- until he stopped. Cooing at her as she began to whine, squirming in his hold and almost tearing up at her orgasm that she had been robbed of until he rose up and shut her up with a kiss. 

“Told you what I wanted. Don’t pout, as pretty as it is. I’m gonna make you cum, baby.” He brushed their noses together before he walked over to his side table and opened the drawer. One day later she’d ask him about why he had a stash of condoms in there, but for now her eyes were far too focused on the obvious outline of his prick through the sweatpants. Nearly gagging for it, she felt, she peeped up at him as he stood back in front of her. “Normally I’d ask how you’d want it, but since you’re a bit thoughtless today, m’gonna choose. Lay back.” He pointed her in the direction of where he wanted her to lay. 

“Don’t- don’t you want me to suck you?” Her voice sounded much needier than she had wanted, but he was endeared. His sweetness was obviously wanting to, looking at him as he palmed over himself and shook his head. 

“Not today. I’ll bust right inside that mouth. As much as I want to, and I will have it later… Not now. Want to feel you wrapped around me when I cum.” Slipping down his sweats, Y/N watched as his cock bobbed up and the pulsing between her thighs intensified. He was big, thick, and wet. The tip ruddy, dark pink and weeping with precum and a prominent vein extending over the side, trimmed hair around the base up to the little line of hair that went over his stomach- yes, she had never seen a cock as appealing before, and she was feeling hot over it. He apparently noticed too, a smirk on his lips and dimple extended. “No. You’ll taste it later, but I need to be inside of you.” He liked licking her out a bit too much. 

Y/N blinked up at him, nodding her head as she swallowed thickly. Settling between her thighs again, this time on his knees, she watched as he slipped the condom on before taking his other hand and cupped her cheek. He softened his gaze, looking over her face before speaking. “Need you to tell me if you want to stop. Any time, any reason and we can be done and go back to cuddling. I like you for far more than your body, sweetness.” He sighed. “Want this to be good for you. Want you to use your pretty mouth and talk t’me so I know how you feel. Don’t hold back.” He was a homeowner and the walls were thick, so it didn’t matter. No one could hear them past the roaring winds outside. The snow itself was silent, his silent savior for making Y/N stuck with him. “Get me, baby? Words.” 

“Yes, I’ll tell you. I want it, I promise.” She whispered. “Think I’ll like anything you do for me. I know I’m safe with you.” And she was. Harry had always been a good friend and she would trust him with her life even beforehand, so handing her body over to his tender care didn’t seem half as scary as it may with someone else. Nerve wracking only because there were feelings there- real feelings they both admitted were felt. 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, brushing the tip against her cunt. “Gonna push in now.” He paused for a moment, leaning over to give her a kiss before righting himself on his knees and giving her what they both wanted. Fuck, was it good. 

Y/N had never felt so full in her life. Her fingers curled around his wrists as he held her legs up, her stomaching jumping as she panted, Harry filled her up so well she could cry. So deep, so perfectly curved like his dick had been made for her, she dug her nails into him as she let out cries of pleasure. 

“That’s what I wanted, baby. Let me hear you.” He crooned, feeling sweat begin to bead on his brow. Working his cock into her, he listened to the sounds of their sex, how wet she had gotten solely for him, and he was happy. God, he was fucking happy. Not only was he inside of her, but her feelings mirrored his own. She wasn’t taken- but she would be now. 

“I feel so good.” She said up to him. “I’m so full and you’re so deep, I don’t know.. How does it feel so good?” It was evident her head was a bit in the clouds, but he was there to take care of her. “Stretching me… Don’t stop.” She babbled, closing her eyes as he hit exactly where she needed.

He continued, watching as her cunt spread open for him. Taking him deep, he was enamored with the sight of her wetness all over his cock, wishing he could ditch the latex covering his shaft. All he wanted was to leave traces of her on his skin, leave her smell and taste. This was only the beginning of their relationship, the very prologue, and he couldn’t get enough of her. “M’not gonna stop, sweet girl. You feel too good.” He exhaled. “S’only our first time. Gonna keep fucking you until you can’t take it.” It was serious. He’d held himself back from her for months now, and it was nearly christmas. “My girl… You take it so well, hm? Think you were meant to take my cock.” 

“I was- I am.” She replied, blinking up at him blearily. “Nothing has ever felt so g-good. Want it all the time. Please, I don’t want to feel empty.” Her eyes watered a bit, making his cock twitch as he cooed down at her. Something about it was so erotic to him, watching her cry for his cock. For him. She needed it, needed him and he was the only one that could provide the very thing she needed. He was the only thing she could crave and he would make sure of that. 

“Oh, sweetheart. So gorgeous… M’not gonna let you stay empty.” He cooed. “No, I like far too much. Want to be tucked as deep in you, as long as I can. You promised to keep my cock warm, yeah?” He wiped away a tear, bringing it off her face. “I’ll keep you warm too.” And he was. Y/N was beginning to get sticky with sweat. Feeling her hair start to stick to the nape of her neck from the room finally feeling the effects of the fire, or his movements and pleasure, she didn’t know the origin. She was almost hot, but that was welcomed. The storm going on outside, snow was coming down hard, but she was nice and warm with Harry. 

Y/N felt a bit speechless. This was not how she had anticipated her night going in the slightest, but she loved every second of it. Each thrust of his cock filling her up led her closer to her orgasm, knowing she was sticky with arousal and sopping wet on his cock, and he took it in stride. Lowering his hand down to thumb over her clit, soft grunts leaving him as he fucked her. It wasn’t too rough, wasn’t too kinky, but it was perfect. He was treating her with the care she needed. Looking at her with visible fondness, only teasing her a bit, it was evident that he cared about her and that only brought her closer. 

“M’gonna cum.” She whispered. “I’m gonna- I’m so close. Please let me- I was good.” Part of her worried about him deciding he wanted her to hold it again, depriving her of the pleasure, but he didn’t. He kept his thrusts the same, rubbing her clit a bit faster as he continued. 

“Go ahead, my sweet thing. Make a mess on my cock. Cum for me.” She had already dripped all over him, even some towards his thighs, but he wanted more. He craved the mess only she could give him, the wet slap of skin and her puffy pussy contracting around his length. She had been so close on his finger, so he knew she was reaching it from how she squeezed him, but it was almost too good. He was a goner, watching as she arched her back and let out a broken moan, trembling yet again before her mouth dropped open and she came on him. He could feel it, her cunt squeezing him and her body tightening up as it hit her. Pulsing around him as he continued his thrusts inside of her, the delicious heat nearly making him lose his damn mind.  

“Shit…” He hissed, feeling his own start to hit him. “Fuck, baby… fuck.” His voice turned slightly whiny as he held tight onto her leg, his thumb pausing on her clit as the first rope of cum spilled into the condom. Her contracting, hot cunt, her teary eyes, her swollen mouth, all of it was so beautiful that he couldn’t stand it. This was a long time coming, of course, but to actually have her on him, to feel her body react to his touch, to see her cum solely because of him? It was otherworldly. He doubted he’d felt this strongly about an orgasm before, jerking his hips as deep groans left him, imagining there was no barrier in between them as he filled the condom. He knew it was going to overflow, but he didn’t care at this moment. 

All he cared about was lowering himself on top of her and kissing her senseless, holding her face like it was a precious stone. Recovering from this orgasm and kissing her, the giddy feeling never went away.  It stayed as he checked on her, kissing her cheeks and her nose, wiping the hair that was stuck to her face away and murmuring praises to her. “S’my girl. Not going to let you go.” He loved this feeling. “You’re perfect. Can’t believe it took us so long, but now that I’ve got you… M’not letting go.” It was sappy, maybe, but he was finally getting what he wanted. Something he thought he’d lost the chance to have. 

“Don’t want you to let go.” She sniffled, taking his face in her smaller hands once she caught her breath, pressing their lips together again before letting him rest his forehead against her own. “That was perfect. I can’t believe it either…” She stroked his hair back, the slight dampness from sweat not bothering her at all. “Does this mean I’m yours?” It felt a little embarrassing to ask, but she wanted to be clear. 

“Mhm. And I’m yours. No more games. Don’t give a shit what any of our friends have to say… M’pissed I was kept away so long, but I’m not going to do it now. I wasted so much time…” He gave a bittersweet smile. “Been dying to make you mine.” 

“Well…. Merry Christmas.” She giggled, eyes light and bright. Happiness illuminated her features and it nearly stopped his heart. Y/N was so beautiful that it almost hurt. And now she was his. He took her in as the multicolor lights from his tree flashed over the side of her face, heart completely filled with affection. “I’m your gift. No refunds or exchanges.”  He laughed, not able to help himself from taking another kiss. “Best gift I’ve ever received.”

[eyebagshawty]

Hello! May I request Lae’zel, Karlach, and whoever else you want to write being washed by the reader. I find the idea of bathing and taking care of someone to be really sweet.

Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav

A/N: Hello! Sorry for just getting around to requests and other things now, the end of the semester got pretty crazy (at least I passed everything !) and now I’m finally able to focus and get out of this rut. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!

Characters: Lae’zel, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, Astarion, Halsin

Part 2

Lae’zel

• When you first offer to wash up with Lae’zel she’s mostly confused and kind of annoyed - there’s already a tadpole in her head, and that’s enough lack of privacy.

• “Chk. At my crèche these things are normal. However, you istiks insist on attaching emotional meaning to such things… no.”

• However the more she thinks about it… you two have shared a bed more than once. She respects you more than the others; when she tells you to speak she also makes sure you know she will listen. She supposes that maybe connection wouldn’t be so bad with you of all people.

• She just walks up to your tent, grabs your hand, and says “Fine.”

You meet her at the waterfront and- is she nervous? Her gaze wavers between you and the night sky, feet firmly planted into the ground and arms across her armored chest. You get most of your armor off, but that last clasp just has to give you trouble. “Lae’zel, could you help me out with this?” It’s silent for a tension filled moment, and you’re about to ask again.

“Chk.” She walks over and with ease undoes the clasp. She’s back to feet firmly planted and arms crossed, only looking at the sky. You unfurl your hair from its practical braid and keep your eyes on her. “I wish I could show you the Tears.” Your eyes widen when you think about the first night she invited you to her bunk, how hard getting used to this unusual plane must be for her. You place your hand on her shoulder and she tenses, but relaxes after she’s brought back to the moment.

“I wish I could see them.” You whisper to her. You ‘help’ her out of her armor (she’s just letting you at this point, she could’ve been out of it in 30 seconds flat) and you both hiss as you enter the cold water. After a soft and asking touch, she allows you to undo her hair and wash it. You gather her hair gently into your hands and have her lean back to the water. As she does, you can see that she clearly hasn’t been this vulnerable in maybe ever. You give a soothing stroke to her scalp and she hums. As you lather the looted soap into her hair and scratch your nails lightly, you hear her sniffle.

“Lae’zel… are you alright?” You stop your ministrations but keep a hand cupped at the back of her neck.

“My-my queen is false. I will never ascend. Tsk’va, I’m an enemy to my kin. I don’t want to be on this plane anymore… I miss the astral. I must fight but I do not know how to keep going.” She quickly wipes her tears and looks at you. “Speak, source of my bruises. I will always listen.”

With her hair looking clean, you slowly move the bar between her shoulder blades and move it in soothing circles. You kiss her temple. “My love, this situation is quite a mess. Tadpoles in our heads, endless injuries, and I cannot imagine what this world must be like for someone who has never been in it. We will get through this. I’m here. I’m yours.” With that she shows an inkling of a smile as she stares into the water in thought. You continue to bathe her with soft kisses in between every swipe of soap along with words of reassurance. You are hers, the source of her bruises.

Karlach

•Once Karlach is able to touch people again, she is ecstatic to wash up with you. She’s barely been able to keep her hands off of you since, so when you offer she squeals.

• “Of fucking course soldier! Who knows, we might even be able to turn that river into a hot spring.” Her eyebrows waggle and your face goes beet red.

• When you meet her she definitely cannonballs into the water and complains when it’s shallow

• “Aw hells, that’s gonna be a kink to work out in the morning.”

• You guys don’t bathe for a good 15 minutes, she’s just kissing you and rubbing your sides and it’s so SWEET

She breaks away from the kiss and wades further into the water. You grab the soap from the grass and follow after, settling your arms around her neck and wrapping your legs around her waist. Her fingers come up to pinch your nose and she flops backwards into the water, leaving both of you sopping wet when she comes back up. “Gods Karlach you’re gonna kill me,” you sputter as you cough out the bit of water that got in your mouth. She pats your back and lets out a full bellied laugh.

“That’s right soldier get it all out,” she grins. You shoot her a playful glare. When your collective giggles finally die down, you bring the bar of soap up to her hair and begin lathering and spreading it with your fingers. Her eyes close with a serene smile. You make sure to get the area around her horns, and she kisses your cheeks as you take care of them. “You know… after Gortash. After… Avernus. Nobody has taken care of me like this in so long. So fucking long.” She sighs as you bring the bar to her neck and chest, taking away the near pints of blood the party had spilled earlier.

“I’ll make sure it never is that way again. I love you, and no matter what happens you deserve to be free from all of this.” You meet her gaze as the bar moves to her shoulders, and you see fear.

“Tav… my heart.” She lets out a choked sob and a tear streams down her cheek that you immediately wipe away. “I finally have you after so godsdamn long, and I don’t want to lose what’s most important. Not again. I’m just so scared.” She breaks down into tears and her skin heats up warmly under your skin. You crush her into your chest and she buries her face into your neck, where you rub soothing circles into her scalp along with kisses.

“You won’t lose me. Whether it be in Baldurs Gate or Avernus, I’ll be here.” She lifts her head and you kiss her nose, where a little flame sparks and then snuffs out. She lets out a soft chuckle as her mood cools. “I promise to you we’re gonna kill that pathetic little fucker and anyone who helped him.” Her lips meet yours and you kiss back with eager passion. As you pull away you go back to soothingly rubbing the bar across the planes of her back.

“Wait- didn’t you grab this soap off a dead guy?! GROSS soldier!”

Shadowheart

•She immediately says no

•Not because she doesn’t trust you, she just can’t swim and finds it a bit embarrassing for her powerful presence

•After you finally convince her it’ll only be where she can stand, she agrees.

• “A bottle of wine, my lover, and a nice grassy beach? It’ll do,” she gives a sarcastic but playful smile.

•You two get plastered on Chultan Fireswill before you hop in

After one last swig from the bottle Shadowheart takes your hand and leads you into the water. You stop at around three feet deep and get to your knees. Her braid whips around her shoulder as she serenely begins to scrub away blood with the soap bar. “I love this silver color so much. It illuminates you as some would say,” you utter softly, and she chuckles. She slowly takes her hair out of the braid’s confines and your jaw drops at how long and pretty it is as it flows down her back. You look pointedly to the bar of soap. “May I?”

She squints at you in playful suspicion then smiles. “You may.” You lather the soap into her hair and she lays her head back into your chest as you scratch lovingly at her scalp. She brings her hand up to your cheek behind her and whispers, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” As soon as the words leave her lips the wound in her hand opens. She hisses and sits back up. As she looks back to you, her gaze looks broken. “After everything I’ve been through with the dark lady, I don’t think this will ever go away.”

You inch your hand closer to hers, placing your pinkies over each other. “It’s horrible… what she did to you.” She grins bitterly but moves to interlace your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb.

“I just wish I could remember any of that horrible stuff. I want to be angry. But mostly I’m only numb. She was… she was everything to me. And although it is horrible yes, it’s all so new. Being away from her.”

She nods in confirmation as you move the bar of soap to her chest, the motions soothing her and making her eyes soften as she watches you. “I understand,” you whisper as you lean up to kiss the shell of her pointed ear. That’s all that needs to be said, Shadowheart thinks to herself. You’ve become more than her greatest companion in her eyes, she trusts you’ll be there through thick and thin. “We’ll just have to make new memories,” you smile, and as you finish rubbing the soap across her body you throw it back to the grass, pulling her into a loving kiss as she wraps her arms around your neck.

Wyll

•When you offer to wash up with Wyll a MASSIVE blush runs across his cheeks

• “Are you sure? ImsurethehornsfreakyououtandtheresbumpsinotherstrangeplacesIdontwantyou-“ he basically starts talking at a mile a minute about how it might be awkward for you

• “Wyll honey, I can just meet you there while you’re already in if that’s more comfortable for you” and you give him a sweet smile and his face goes red AGAIN

By the time you get to the waterfront, you see Wyll propped against a rock, the water resting at waist level with his arms propping him up. You throw him a shy smile. He has a sly grin and nods your way, beckoning you towards him. You twirl your finger and mouth, “Turn around!” He lets out a silent chuckle and turns his head towards the mountains beyond the lake.

You slide out of your evening clothes and grab the soap bar laying on top of your towel. As you wade further into the water you let out a shriek — it wasn’t winter right? Wyll turns around and laughs at the sight; you’re rubbing your arms with chattering teeth. “It is quite frigid tonight, huh? I think I’ve got a cantrip in me for a special someone.”

You look around, bemused, as to how spells could possibly help you out here. Wyll shoots a fireball into the depths of the water, your skin instantly warming up. However, it doesn’t last long as the lake cools back down to freezing. You swim at the speed of light over to Wyll and wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry, I just need something. By the nine hells you think a blizzard would be rolling through,” you laugh. When you’ve warmed up enough, you take the bar of soap and gingerly begin to wash and lather his hair and horns, kissing the scars across his face.

Wyll looks down at you, surprise slathered across his face as you finish up with his head and move to his broad shoulders, kissing everything infernal you can find. “Tav…you like this?” He brings up a hand to your cheek as you continue your ministrations. You cup water in your hands and gently rinse away the soap on his chest.

“Of course I do, Mizora could make you look fully cambion and I would still have the strongest of feelings for you. You’ll always be my dashing, strong, Blade of Frontiers,” you peck his neck with each last word, and he laughs, kissing your forehead with a soft cherishing smile.

Gale

• When you offer to Gale, he gives you the most devious look you’ve ever seen

• He hasn’t been around others for so long till now, much less bathing with anyone, and he’s grown pretty strong feelings for you so he love love loves this idea

• “My dear Tav I would love to! You know how I enjoy your body after a battle, all the sweat covering your skin and the flush of your cheeks”

• He’s not your quietest companion so everybody does hear this and everybody does let out an exasperated groan

• Your face flushes even further than when you asked him and you squeak out an okay and run to your tent

When you meet up with Gale at the waterfront, his tunic is already off, showing his surprisingly wonderful muscles. He kisses you upon greeting, and helps you out of your evening clothes with a soft caress here and there on every part of your body. You grab your soap and lead him into the water, the water being just warm enough for your plans.

He gathers you into his lap, his cheeks a light red as he grins up at you. You lather the soap and scrub it into his hair, listening to his groans and praises as you work. You kiss his cheeks as you move to his chest, and he finally opens his eyes again, looking up at you with those big round puppy eyes.

“This is surprisingly wonderful. I remember doing things like this for her, running water through her hair and lathering the finest oils onto her skin, but she never once did anything for me.” You stop your work, looking up to his eyes with an expression of shock and sadness. His eyes bore just as strongly into yours, and his thumbs rub circles into your hips.

“Gale… you are worthy of being loved. What she did to you wasn’t right — it never was, even from the beginning if I’m getting my facts straight. She isolated and took from you. I never want you to feel like that with me.” You kiss his cheeks and his hairline, and his lips follow yours, chasing to press them together.

They finally do, and his kiss is filled with eager passion, pouring every thought he’s had about you into you. When you pull away he lets out a soft whine, bringing his hand to your neck. “I’m in love with you, darling. And I know and trust that you feel the same, any need of the tadpole be damned.” You smile and begin to continue rubbing the soap into his stomach, but he stops you. He brings his lips to yours once more, and he rolls you over onto your back in the water, letting you prove how loved he is.

Astarion

• His eyes go soft and round when you ask him

• “Really?? Little old me??” Even after the graveyard and all your reassurances, he’s still moving towards actual coupley things

• “You’ve never wanted a luxurious meal and bath together my love?” You take his hand stroke his fingers with care

• If he could blush he would, but he just sputters with the goblet of wine he has

• He collects himself back into charming mode, “Well then, I thought you’d never ask. Come find me when you’re ready.” He kisses your cheeks and literally just walks off into the woods, leaving you standing at the entrance to your shared tent looking absolutely befuddled

When you find him at the hot spring the camp had discovered last night, he’s already in the water with his eyes closed angling his head towards the night sky. His ears twitch as he hears you begin to take off your evening clothes, and his eyes open to look at you with a rakish smile. “Why hello, my treasure. The water feels amazing.” You smile, grab your soap and head in. Immediately you groan with relief, the hot water soothing the aches from your nasty fight with some undead earlier.

Astarion moves closer to you, taking the most warmth he can get. You bring your arms around his neck and just stay there for a minute. He hugs you back, burying his face into the crook in your shoulder. You fingers lightly stroke against his raised scars in a loving motion, and after his breath hitches he melts into your touch, practically purring as you lavish him with affection. When you pull away his loss of heat is devastating. However, he calms down when you begin to wash his hair, scratching at his scalp and running the hot water over his curls.

“I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone touch my hair like this,” he mumbles. You kiss his cheek and move the bar to his chest and shoulders, working out any aches and pains he might have.

“Well, now you have me my love,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his ear.

“I just can’t believe that after everything you want to stay. The sky is beautiful tonight, but it is all I will ever know once this mindflayer business is said and done with.” His words are bitter, almost as if he is angry with himself.

“It is all we will know my love. And I’m actually quite the night owl. As much as I love our ragtag group, I’m quite introverted around most of society. Everything is fine,” you kiss his bite marks, the hollows of his cheeks, and finally his lips. He kisses you back fervently, pouring care he was never able to show for anyone else previously. You pull away and finish gently washing the rest of his body in silence. As you prop your neck to the side for him, he looks at you with an expression akin to great offense.

“Darling! I thought you knew me well enough to know the bath is never over after only soap.” He waves his hand over to the small crate of oils he’d brought to the spring. “Now, I’m feeling lavender tonight. How about you my love?”

You give him a beaming smile, wading out of the spring to retrieve it. “Sounds wonderful, my heart.”

Halsin

• You don’t even really have to ask him, he’s just joined you most of the time to protect you

• He doesn’t like you venturing out in to the woods by yourself, because Silvanus help him a lot of people are after you guys

• “Of course my heart — Scratch is licking at his paw a bit so I need to inspect that, but I will join you in just a couple of minutes.”

• With an encouraging woof from Scratch, you caress his shoulder and go to collect your things

You’ve stuffed all the stuff needed for the bath into two large bags, your arms making you crouch downward with the weight. As Halsin walks to meet you he sees this, chuckles, and wild shapes into his bear form. He takes the bag handles into his mouth and nudges your leg with his snout. You pet his head and hop onto his back, him letting you ride on it as you both make your way to the water.

On arrival, you hop off and he drops the items into the grass. As his bear form is used most in combat, you grab out a bottle of soap you’d nicked off of that crazy dog handler in Rivington. You drizzle it all over his fur and gather some of the river water into a bucket. You begin scrubbing the soap into his fur, and he lets out cute little groans and growls. When you finish you dump the bucket of water onto him, and he lets out a noise of surprise. He turns back into regular Halsin, his hair soaked down against his head with playful exasperation.

“My heart, you did not need to release the full power of a waterfall onto me I assure you.” You laugh and beckon him into the water. He wades in and smothers you with kisses.

“Halsin please! I need to breathe!” You giggle, pushing at his chest. He finally settles down, pulling you into his lap.

“Thank you for helping me with the shadow curse. Thaniel he… he needed us. He needed you.” He settles into a somber smile, nuzzling his nose against your temple.

You trace your fingers across his chest, leaving kisses that follow. “I knew the lands needed our help, and I’m glad he’s free from the curse. All we have left is this elder brain, and we can go back to the grove and live in peace.”

He tilts your chin up with his hand, and looks tenderly into your eyes. “I would be blessed by Silvanus to spend my thousands of years with you.” He crashes his lips into yours, one of many you’ll share over the passage of time.

[meowpupp]

chubby!puppygirl x owner!price

Price is getting older, retired from the SAS now. his work never allowed him to settle down meaning no wife, no girlfriend, not even a casual hookup. so after hours of stroking his cock to puppygirl porn, he decides he should get one for himself. maybe make some home videos.

he browses local shelters. most the pup hybrids are the same. all thin and muscular. their bodies profiled by sharp angles and sharper teeth. then he sees you.

your picture is sweet. a sweet smile, floppy ears, sharp eyes. your tail is blur, clearly wagging it at the time they took your picture. he clicks on your profile, he has to know more.

‘one of our newer rescues! she’s a sweet girl, but too smart for her own good! this pup would best be suited to a household that can give her lots of attention and training to avoid misbehaviour. ’

a smile quirks at his lips. perfect. pretty, smart, and a little needy.

you’ve got a soft body- rolls and curves that he desperately wants to grope. he can imagine it now, you’d be sat pretty in his lap cockwarming him. he’d stretch your tight cunt, grope and squeeze at your tits, slap your clit when you squirm.

within a week, he’s adopted you.

the first few weeks fly by. a month in and you’re fully settled. price treats you well, extremely well. praises almost everything you do, constantly pets and kisses you, feeds you the highest quality food. devours your cunt every night.

he’s made you drunk on him. every morning you wake up nuzzled in his arms. within ten minutes he’s shoved his fingers into your soft cunt, rutting his hips into your ass. prices voice low and growl as he praises you; “fuck, pup. so fuckin wet for me. my good girl. cmon, cum for me, show me how needy you are.”

afterwards, he feeds you. makes you whatever you like. once youre full and happy, tail wagging back and forth, he shoves you under the table. sits you on your knees between his legs. price tangles a hand in your hair, eases himself into your throat. your ‘morning treat.’

breakfast is followed by a walk. he is ex-military, old habits die hard. by the time you get back, you’re sweaty, body worn out and tired. ready for a shower.

this is prices favourite time of day. he takes you into the shower, gently washes your body. soaps you up in sweet smelling bubbles, washes you down with warm water.

the whole time, he’s squeezing your soft body. knows exactly where to grope you to make you squeak.

the part he loves the most though? when he spreads your chubby thighs, changes the shower setting, and sprays water directly on your clit. he bites and sucks the fat of your tits, grumbles against the soft skin.

“cmon pup, gotta make sure you’re clean. be a good girl, spread your legs f’me… atta girl”

every moment of your day, you’re lavished with attention and praise. so when you act up, break the rules, disrespect him? his punishments hit hard.

he gets up before you do, already gone on his morning run. he makes you food, but leaves it on the bench. he doesn’t so much as look at you for the first half of the day, let alone speak a word.

it’s only when you’re crying at his feet, grinding your wet aching cunt against his boot that he bothers to look at you.

with a hand in your hair, he tilts your head. the sight of tears running down your chubby cheeks making him rock fucking hard.

he uses the other hand to squish your cheeks together, eyes stern and cold, voice flat as he speaks. “What did you do wrong?”

he doesn’t let go, making you talk through a forced pout. he waits until you’re begging and sobbing, eyes needy and desperate before he gives in.

price pulls you up over his knee, big hands a little too rough with you. he pushes your panties down, exposing your cunt. lets out a groan as he slowly toys with your soft clit. you’re fucking dripping.

“Mhm, i know puppy. you’re sorry. didn’t mean to make me mad, huh?” he smirks as you nod. he’s practically drooling at how your thighs surround his hand, the fat burying it.

he waits till you're relaxed before he pulls his hand back, delivering a stinging spank. he keeps his other on your neck, forcing you still.

Price continues to spank you, making you count each one. grinding his tent against your tummy as he turns your ass red, only getting harder as your tears wet his jeans.

he makes you count in intervals of ten. spanks you red and raw, then after 10, strokes your pretty pussy. he gets you nice and relaxed, acts as if it’s over, then repeats.

he only stops once you’re shaking and sobbing, his jeans completely soaked with slick and tears.

[hsunrry]

ghostface // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: he decided to finally make your wish come true. based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,6k

warnings: smut18+, knife play, oral (m receiving), dirty talking (degradation, praise), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, dom!harry, ghostface!harry, slight size kink

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you can’t tell how many times you told him about how you’d love him to fuck you in ghostface mask. hundreds, maybe even thousands. he wasn’t against this idea, but he was thinking why you want specifically that. he wanted to surprise you, to please you. when you were standing next to the kitchen counter, about to make yourself a tea, he covered your eyes with his big hands. you chuckled.

“guess who?” he smiled under the mask to himself.

“Harry.” you smiled. he’s hands still on your eyes.

“not this time, baby.” he whispered and you frowned slightly. you grabbed his hands to uncover your eyes and you turned around to face him. your breath quickened when you saw this damn mask. the rest of his body was covered in black t-shirt, that was perfectly hugging his body and black sweatpants.

“fuck, that’s hot.” you managed to say. he quickly sat you down on the countertop, taking out butterfly knife from his pocket. he pressed cold tip to your cheek, tracing a line from it through your jawline to your neck. your breath hitched in your throat.

“what’s the matter, whore? couldn’t stand your talks about it, so decided to finally make your wish come true, yeah?” you could hear his grin under that mask. “i’m gonna fuck you just the way you deserve. i’m gonna use your pretty pussy to fill it with my cum.” he putted the knife under your chin, so you were looking up at him. you licked your lips slightly. “like the sound of that, cunt?” he pressed the tip of the knife harder. you nodded. “use your fucking words.”

“yes.” you said immediately. he chuckled lowly.

“good girl. so now…” he started cutting off the buttons from his shirt that you had on yourself with the knife. “i’ll tell you what will happen…” he cut off the last button, exposing your chest with black laced bra. he quickly took the shirt off you, tracing lines on your skin with the knife, cutting you slightly in few places. it was probably an accident, but you’re playing with knife, so what did you expect? “first, we’ll go to bedroom soon and you’ll suck me off.” knife went in the center of your bra, under the material. he cut it in the half in one swift motion, your breasts exposed for him now. “then, i’ll fuck you with my fingers so hard, until all our neighbors get to know my name.” cold metal tip of the knife tracing around your one nipple. “after that i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see the stars, i’ll use your slit for my pleasure, because that’s what you deserve, slut.” he touched your other breast with his hand this time, squeezing it. you moaned, watching him closely this whole time. knife traced line from your breast down your stomach. it was so sharp that it was leaving white lines on your skin and cutting you in few places. your already drenched panties got cut on your hips, leaving you all naked. “and at the end, i’ll take care of you, because i love you so fucking much. is it all understandable for you?” he pressed cold metal flat to your cunt, causing your gasp.

“yes, it is.” you said quietly.

“good. now get your ass to our bedroom and wait there for me, fucking whore.” he patted your pussy few times with flat side of the knife, before putting it to his pocked. you hopped off the counter and when you started walking his hand met your ass with hard smack. you smiled to yourself, going to the bedroom. you sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. after few minutes the doors opened and he was standing there only in black boxers and mask on his face. his dick visibly hard. he approached you, standing between your legs and looking down at you. he took the knife out, holding your chin up with it. “bet you can’t wait to swallow my whole cock like a slut you’re.” knife went from your chin to press on your lower lip. you opened your mouth, looking up at him this whole time. “i’m gonna fuck your mouth, leave it open like that.” he gripped your chin with his hand, squeezing it firmly. your breath was already heavy from how turned on you were by all of that. he took off his boxers, stroking himself few times. he threw the knife beside you and took your head with both of his hands. he pushed his tip inside your mouth and stopped. “suck, bitch.” you started pleasing his head with your tongue, sucking from time to time. he was looking down at you. ghostface was looking down at you. he moaned, pulling out his dick from your mouth. “now open wide for me.” you quickly obeyed. he pushed all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat. “fuck, didn’t even gagged at my big cock, we’ll see about that, slut.” he started moving in and out. your lips wrapped around his length. you were breathing heavy through your nose, swallowing him whole. his dick curling down your throat from time to time. “fucking god, yes, good fucking girl.” he panted, thrusting faster. you gripped his hips to hold onto something. you closed your eyes to focus on breathing through your nose. “swallowing my whole dick, nothing but a whore.” he gasped, thrusting faster. saliva running down from the corners of your mouth already. you moaned around him, making him groan. “just a little more, i’m so close. you’re gonna swallow, yeah?” you only managed to moan again. after his few hard thrusts, hot sprouts of his cum went down your throat. his dick twitching in your mouth, emptying himself inside it. your name falling from his lips like mantra. he finally pulled out and you took a deep breath. you were panting just like him. you looked up at him, watching him taking knife to his hand again. “lips together.” he commanded. your parted lips close at his words. he collected your saliva mixed with his cum with the knife from around your lips. “now tongue out.” you quickly stick your tongue out. he putted knife against your lips and you licked everything from knife. you were sure he was grinning under that mask. he tossed the knife on the bed, grabbing your hips and effortlessly pushing you against pillows. you laid on your back, watching him going on top of you. his hand went down, his finger teasing you between your folds. “jesus christ, so fucking wet.”

“fuck.” you moaned, feeling his two fingers going inside you. he started moving them right away at fast pace. “Harry.” you whined.

“that’s right, we’ll let know whole fucking neighborhood who you belong to.” he said, moving faster. you were so wet it all almost sound like porn. his digits curling in this perfect angle he knew was driving you crazy.

“Harry i- fuck, please.” your hips went up. he quickly putted them down with his free hand, pushing on your lower stomach.

“what was that, slut? you’re begging now? what’s the matter, can’t handle good orgasm?” he started moving faster and you almost cried out of pleasure.

“Harry, jesus christ!” you moaned, squirting all over his fingers, stomach, dick and sheets. his fingers fucked you through it. he pulled out, smacking your pussy gently, but still causing your body flinch.

“you were so needy you squirted, my pretty girl.” he parted your legs, positioning himself at your entrance. “gonna take my load like a good girl.” he pushed all the way in, your eyes rolling back from pleasure and overwhelming feeling. his hand gripping your hips, pounding into you fast and rough. he knew you’re gonna be sore and he loved the thought. he loved he’ll take care of you tomorrow and single thought of that was pushing him closer to his climax. “so tight, using your hole for my own pleasure, like some slut.” he panted. you gripped the pillow above your hand, trying to hold onto something. “but you’re mine. only mine. no one else is able to have you like that. understand? fucking say it.” he started moving faster, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his hips. he adjusted, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“yes, i’m yours- fucking god- only yours baby.” you moaned loudly, watching him taking off the mask. he leaned to capture your lips with his finally.

“that’s fucking right.” he panted against your mouth. your back arched from overwhelming pleasure. “gonna fill you to the brim, you feel so good.” he groaned. with his few thrusts you started clenching around his cock, finishing with his name on your lips and your whole body arched towards him. “fuck, y/n.” he moaned, slowing down his movements when his dick was painting your inner walls. he buried himself deep inside you, panting heavily. he placed few kisses on your neck. “hope you enjoyed, sweetheart.” he whispered against your skin.

“i did. i love you so much.” you caressed his hair.

“i’m gonna take care of you now, my angel.”

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ sleepy boyfriend!yoongi⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

boyfriend / uni au

fluff + implied smut

//

the campus is asleep.

fuck.

who wakes up this early anyway? it's 6AM and yoongi is half asleep, and irritated as fuck at the gust of wind that sends him shivers.

but he can't help but feel warmth begin to spread from his chest as he lays his eyes on you.

from a slight distance, he watches as the chill in the air makes your nose tingle. you clutch the litter tongs in one hand and a trash bag in the other and you’re mid-yawn when you feel familiar hands wrap around your body.

at first you jolt from the sudden touch, but the heat of his breath against your neck and the sound of his sleepy voice gives it all away.

“morning.”

you turn your head, your cheek meeting his lips.

he kisses them sweetly before letting you go.

you stand in front of him and take it all in—his sleepy glory.

yoongi inhales deeply with his eyes shut. hair is messy, hoodie pulled tight over his head. he blinks at you like he might still be half-asleep.

actually

he really is half asleep.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, eyes wide. you reach for his flushed cheeks and squish them. partly to warm his face and partly because he’s so cute all puffy. “you said you would never wake up before 10AM on a saturday. that it’s a sin.”

he shrugs, stepping closer. without warning, he leans in and presses a lazy kiss to your lips, his mouth warm despite the cold air.

“you were all pissed last night,” he mumbles, voice low and gravelly.

“no, i wasn’t—"

he scoffs at you. “you were pissed about how we don’t spend enough time together and how i never do the shit you like. so...” he gestures vaguely around you. “you like this? picking up trash at 6AM on a saturday?”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“i do.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

… but there’s the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“figured.”

without another word, he takes the tongs from your hand and starts picking up litter. you watch, stunned for a moment, before quickly falling in step behind him.

he moves lazily, plucking up wrappers and cups with minimal effort, while you practically bounce behind him, talking about everything and nothing.

“you know,” you say, pointing to a crumpled soda can, “this is so much better with you here.”

he hums noncommittally, picking up the can.

“and,” you continue, “i feel like this might actually be good for you. you’re always inside. fresh air is important. if it’s mandatory for little kids to have at outside time, what about adults? you’re so pale sometimes, i feel like the only light you get is from your pc screen. with winter coming—”

yoongi grabs another piece of trash, not even glancing your way, but his free hand slips into yours.

like second nature, your fingers curl together.

soon enough, you’re not even picking up trash anymore—just pointing things out while yoongi handles it. he doesn’t complain, though he does give you a flat look every now and then when you get too bossy. he mumbles something about how it’s not what you’re telling him to do, it’s how you’re telling him to do it. you snicker apologies and he accepts them rather quickly. truth is, he knows you’re just excited. he is too.. he likes seeing your eyes so bright even if it’s at 6AM on a saturday.

when the bag is finally full, and the volunteer session wraps up, you beam at him;

“let’s have breakfast together! we’ve never had breakfast in the morning together. we do brunch sometimes but this is gonna be our first real breakfast! oh my god, lovie! i’m so—"

he groans, rubbing the back of his neck.

“love, how about we go back to sleep?”

“no!” you protest. “breakfast is important! a-and you’re already awake.. please don’t take this away from me—”

before you can keep yapping, yoongi steps forward, leans in, and kisses you firmly.

it’s quick, but enough to shut you up completely.

he pulls back, smirking. “okay.”

“really?”

“really.”

“great. I know this really good pancake place—”

“love?”

“mhm?”

“i’m more of a breakfast-in-bed type of guy.”

you narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks warm despite the cold.

“we can make pancakes at your place then.”

he tilts his head and looks at you.

up and down.

then, he licks his lips.

“with lots of whipped cream?”

your shoulders drop and you let go of his hand.

crossing your arms, you huff at him.

“you’re impossible.”

“so are you,” he says simply before nodding towards the direction of his place. “come on, love. let’s go back to bed. you can wake me up like how i like to be woken up and i’ll eat you for breakfast.”

[smileysuh]

ice cold, cabin fever - part 1

🌙 staring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."

cw/ tw. threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, I petnames. (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 25.9k

🍭 aus. e2l, s2l, step brothers Jihan, non idol, ski resort, roomies, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. so when I tell you I know practically nothing about skiing... also, the recent soop episodes have been giving gyucheol and jihan and I'm dying. I other inspo: 🙂 🙂 🙂 I pls note. this fic has so much dialogue, it exceeds the number of paragraphs allowed in a tumblr post, so it will be split into 2 parts posted at the same time I read the whole thing in one post + the bonus by subscribing to my patreon and clicking here

Prologue: 

“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” Jeonghan says as he enters the main area of the flat he shares with his brother and two best friends.

Three sets of eyes turn to him, and it’s Joshua who takes a shot in the dark and asks, “Did you get chlamydia again?”

“Aish, fuck off,” Jeonghan picks up a pillow to launch at his brother, “I just got off the phone with mom you idiot.”

“Ouch, since when are you telling mommy about your STI results?” Seungcheol teases, earning himself a pillow as well, that he easily bats out of the air.

“Tell us,” Mingyu urges seriously, “what did your mom say?”

“Only that our new step-sister decided to join us for the destination wedding, super last minute,” Jeonghan explains, taking a seat next to the youngest and sweetest of his friends.

“Did your mom tell her that they already gave up the cabin?” Seungcheol’s heart drops to his stomach, thoughts of powdered snow and skiing swirling on the periphery of his mind.

“Fuck if I know,” Jeonghan shrugs. “She sounds like a bit of a bitch if I’m being honest- sorry Gyu, but it looks like you’ll be giving up your bed.”

“We’re sharing a cabin with her?” The maknae’s jaw drops.

“Well she’s definitely not staying with us,” Joshua stiffens in his seat, “I don’t know what weird step-sibling porn you’re into Gyu, but we’re not that kind of family.”

“Listen,” Seungcheol leans forward, eager to keep the peace, “none of us have met her before- but your mom really likes her dad- let’s just hope she’s as nice as he is… I really doubt she’s a bitch. If it comes down to it, I can give up my bed, there’s a pullout in the cabin too, right? We’ll make it work.”

The glances all four men exchange betray how unsure they all are, and Seungcheol only wishes he was as positive as he makes himself out to be. 

1: Thursday - Arrival

“Y/n! You made it!” your dad’s excitement should be contagious, but as you haul your suitcase into the lobby of the ski resort, you’re much too exhausted to mirror his attitude.

In fact, you’d bet you look exactly how you feel; done with this vacation before it’s even started.

Despite this, you accept the hug from your dad, trying to relax a little before he lets you go again. “Was your flight very long?”

“Too long,” you sigh, taking a deep breath before returning his question with “and you?”

“Too long,” your dad laughs. “But you can rest easy now, the hard part is over.”

Is it? 

“I’m so excited for you to meet Suelki,” he continues, “and her two sons.” 

“I’m excited too,” you really force a smile this time, trying your best to look sincere.

“Good,” your dad nods, beginning to lead you through the resort. “So listen, this trip is kind of like my honeymoon- so we really don’t expect to be seeing that much of you- Suelki and I have a suite in the actual hotel itself, but I think I mentioned to you over the phone that we booked two of the rustic cabins-”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” your grip on your suitcase handle tightens.

“Because you originally said you wouldn’t be coming, we gave the second cabin up to Suelki’s boys’ roommates- and unfortunately, the entire resort is booked up this week, so we couldn’t get you your own room.”

“Right-” He’d mentioned something along these lines during your quick phonecall when you’d changed your mind about coming on the trip, and you’re eager to see what fix he has for this.

“Each cabin had a pullout though, so you’ll be staying in one of them, and whether it’s with Suelki’s boys’ or their friends, I really hope you use this trip to get to know your new step brothers.”

Your mouth feels dry, heart jittering in your chest at the concept of sharing a cabin for a week with two boys- 

“The wedding is on Saturday,” your dad and you have reached a door leading outside; icy air hits your face when he opens it. “And the cabins you’re looking for are the last two down this road here- cabin 6 and cabin 7. Just follow the string lights-”

“Are you-” you swallow. “You’re not going to take me out to where I’m staying?” You tighten your grip on your heavy luggage, eying the snowy path.

“Sorry darling, but your plane was late, and you’ve arrived at a bad time- Suelki and I have massages scheduled in-” he checks his watch, “ten minutes? I really have to go- but you’re a strong, capable girl, you’ll find the cabins no problem.”

This is exactly the type of behaviour from your father that you’re used to. 

Part of you had expected something to be different- you’d been hoping that the wedding jitters would make him more inclined to be compassionate to you- but it looks like he’s as intent on letting you go about it yourself as he’s ever been.

After your long flight, and now this- you’re really questioning if you should have come on this trip at all.

2: Thursday - Arrival

“Joshie, come look at this,” Jeonghan urges, holding his tea tighter while gazing out the small cabin window.

“What is it?” his brother sighs, putting down his book but remaining seated on the couch.

“Some girl is dragging her suitcase up the path.” 

He can’t help but snicker. With the road covered in snow for the winter season, accessing the cabins isn’t the easiest task in the world. 

Having been here before, the brothers had packed accordingly, and carrying their duffles had been substantially easier than the struggle Jeonghan is currently witnessing. 

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Now Joshua stands up.

“She’s coming to the door- shit-” Jeonghan pulls away from the window roughly, and hot liquid spills over the edge of his mug, making contact with his fingers. “Shit!” he shakes his hand out-

“Must be the step sister?” Joshua suggests, ignoring the elder man tending to his reddening skin. 

“Must be,” Jeonghan hisses, putting his tea down just as there’s a knock on the door.

The elder of the two takes a seat on the couch, pulling his hoodie sleeve down to cover his hand while Joshua answers the door. 

“Hi-” your voice carries into the small space, and Jeonghan silently urges Joshua to move to the side so he can get a better look at you. “Are you Jeonghan?”

“No, Joshua,” he shifts, allowing you to see into the cabin, “that’s Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan lifts his unharmed hand, wiggling his fingers at you and offering a smile. 

His eyes quickly take you in, assessing your cute outfit- and its lack of weather appropriateness. He finds himself stifling a laugh again, shaking his head to snap himself out of it before saying loudly, “Aren’t you going to let our new step-sister in?”

You look like a bunny entering a wolf’s den, and you stop just past the threshold, allowing the door to be closed behind you.

“I guess you guys know about the cabin situation?” Your first words aren’t something Jeonghan had particularly expected from you-

You’re much more forward than your appearance gives you credit for, and he begins to wonder if his little bunny has teeth. 

“Cabin situation?” Joshua comes to join Jeonghan on the couch, reaching for his book.

“Yeah-” you swallow, “I heard my cabin got given up to two of your friends?”

“Right, that cabin situation,” Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances, and they leave space for you to continue.

“I was thinking,” you shift awkwardly on your feet, a chunk of snow shifts off your boot and onto the wood floor, “uh- you guys aren’t really going to make me share a cabin with two of your friends, right?” 

“What do you mean?” Joshua cocks his head, and Jeonghan leans back in his seat, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him.

“Just that-” you release a deep sigh. “Guys- I’m going to be honest, I’m really tired- is there no possible way one or even both of your friends could- I don’t know… crash in this cabin with you guys?”-  there’s a beat of silence, Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances - “like, that’s a pullout couch, right? So- at least one could stay here-”

Joshua opens his mouth to respond, but Jeonghan places a hand on his knee to silence him, taking the lead in these new family negotiations; “You might be able to convince one of them to stay here,” he tells you, “but I doubt you’d be more comfortable alone with a strange man you’ve never met, than you would be having two.”

“I mean…” you look between your new step-siblings, “these guys are your friends, right? It’s not like they’re going to- erm… try anything?”

“You’re right,” Jeonghan nods sympathetically, “let’s go over there and you can see which one you prefer to spend a week alone with.”

You shift again, releasing a groan. “I know we just met- but I’ve gotta say, you’re a bit of an asshole, you know that?”

Jeonghan laughs.

“He’s right though,” Joshua sighs. “As unfortunate as it is that your cabin got given up, there’s no chance both of our friends are going to give up their beds to sleep on a pullout in here with us.” He stands up. “I saw you were struggling with your bag earlier- I’ll carry it for you, we can go to the next cabin over and discuss the situation with Cheol and Mingyu-”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you open the door, holding your suitcase tightly, “I’m a big girl, I’ll handle this myself.”

The new brothers watch you leave the cabin, and then Joshua heads to the window, eyes following you as you trudge down the path back to the main road again. 

“Is she still struggling?” Jeonghan asks.

Joshua lets out something between a laugh and a sigh, then he nods. “She’s really struggling.”

3: Thursday - Arrival

“Is that your stomach growling?” Cheol groans, distracted from the Christmas film he’s watching for what must be the third time-

“I’m sorry-” Mingyu whines, hand rubbing his tummy in slow circles, “you know how I get when we go skiing-”

“Then eat more at dinner next time,” the elder man snaps, grabbing the remote to turn the sound up in the hopes it will drown out his friend’s stomach, “and make some ramen or something.”

“I’m too lazy, I can’t get up,” the large man sprawled on the couch groans, his voice switching to something more on the girly side when he says “oppa, make me ramen? We can have Netflix and ramen?”

“Aish-” Seungcheol reaches out to bat his friend’s foot.

Mingyu is the baby of their apartment back home, and all three of the men born in 95 try not to make a habit of indulging him in maknae privileges. In fact, Mingyu often ends up being the one who cooks and cleans, but Seungcheol will never admit that to anyone.

“Stop complaining and watch your movie,” Seungcheol urges, eyes returning to the screen, where Jim Carrey’s Grinch is having a similar meltdown to Mingyu’s.

A knock at the door stuns both men, their heads whipping towards the sound- then Mingyu is jumping off the couch, as if he wasn’t just claiming to be a lazy bum less than a minute ago. 

“Who is it?” Cheol groans, leaning back against the pillows, stretching his tired arms out in front of him. 

He’s never going to get through this movie if there keeps being distractions-

“Shh- it’s a girl-” Mingyu’s whispered response is another shock to Cheol’s system, and he suddenly finds himself sitting up in his seat.

“Well, answer the door!” he whispers back.

Mingyu follows through with the command, and a moment later he’s greeting you with a “Hello?”

“Uh, hi? Are you… Cheol?” 

“No,” Mingyu steps to the side, “he is.”

Seungcheol blinks at you, taking you in.

He’s definitely never met you before, so how is it you know his name- 

How is it you know the name that only his friends use?

“Then that makes you… Mingyu?” 

You’re not even looking at Seungcheol anymore, your eyes have slipped over him and returned to the large man in front of you faster than Cheol can even clock-

“That’s right,” Mingyu nods, then, “wait! You must be the step-sister!”

“That’s me,” you sigh. “The step-sister.”

“Come in,” Mingyu urges you, “and let me take your bag, I bet you’re tired from your flight-”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, setting the remote down. It’s unlikely he’ll be returning to the movie anytime soon, and he supposes he should be friendly with you- despite his exhaustion from a long day on the slopes.

“Did you drag your suitcase all the way through the snow?” Mingyu asks, blatantly bewildered at your behavior. 

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing the door behind you and reaching down to take off your boots.

“No one helped you?” Mingyu’s tone makes the whole thing seem like blasphemy, and Cheol watches the way he fusses over you, setting your bag at the foot of his bed before rushing to help you take off your jacket-

“No one,” you confirm. “Joshua offered, but- I managed by myself, like always.”

“So you stopped at the other cabin first?” Seungcheol confirms, “Met Hannie and Josh-”

Your eyes meet, and then Seungcheol finds himself looking at your lips-

“Yeah,” you tear your gaze away, turning to Mingyu when you explain, “wanted to talk with them about bed arrangements first-”

“You can have mine,” Mingyu offers, flashing you an earnest smile.

“Really?” your eyes widen, and you look between the two men again. “You’re not uh… too big for it?”

Seungcheol feels like he’s been hit in the chest. 

If you’d had asked your question without looking directly at him, he might have been able to convince himself you weren’t insinuating anything- but it’s clear what you’re saying. It’s clear you’re clocking him as being smaller than his younger friend, clear you’re inadvertantly suggesting that as the shorter man - Cheol - should sleep on the couch.

A month ago, Cheol had suggested the very same thing, thinking you’d be some nice girl he could give his bed to.

But now? 

He wouldn’t give you his bed if your life depended on it. 

“It’s okay,” Mingyu is quick to assure you, “you can have my bed. Here, have a seat, we’re watching a Christmas movie-  did your flight serve you dinner? Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” you sigh, collapsing onto the couch, taking the corner Mingyu had inhabited earlier. 

“I’ll make us some ramen,” Mingyu tells you. “Ramen always goes well with Christmas movies.”

Seungcheol notes the way you smile at Mingyu’s words. 

He feels invisible, and most of all, bitter. He’s not happy about any of this, not the way you’d taken a hit at his pride, nor Mingyu’s new burst of energy and overly friendly demeanor.

Picking up the remote again, Seungcheol hits play, and he hopes nothing else sets him off tonight, or he just might explode.

4: Friday - morning

Waking up is slow at first, and then it hits you all at once. You sit up, clutching the quilt to cover your body while blinking away the last of your drowsiness, eyes acclimatizing to the soft glow of the room.

Sunlight is coming through the cabin shades, and you realize two things very quickly. First, that you’re alone, and second, that you’re not where you’d fallen asleep last night.

After settling in and eating your ramen, you’d gotten comfortable on the couch. The movie hadn’t truly captured your interest, and you’d begun to doze off with the intention of waking up when the film was complete to move to the bed- 

But you have no recollection of being woken up.

You hadn’t even had any dreams. You’d been so exhausted from a day of traveling that you’d blacked out, and now, you’re left with confusion and body aches.

Someone must have carried you to bed- 

You hope it was Mingyu.

When you look down, you see you’re still dressed in your travel outfit, so the first thing you decide to do is explore the small cabin and find the shower.

Part of you is grateful the men you’re rooming with allowed you to sleep. It makes finding a routine easier. You take your time in the shower, allowing yourself to relax a little, and you consider what your day might look like.

You guess the men are on the slopes, as the skis that had been propped next to the door when you’d arrived are gone, and you decide exercise might be exactly what you need.

Besides, you’re at a ski resort, skiing seems like an obvious choice- although you’re not quite sure how it will work, seeing as you haven’t brought your own equipment-

You begin looking around the cabin for a resort map- and you’re so busy looking in all the hard places you almost miss the glaringly obvious piece of paper resting on the coffee table under a set of keys. 

Your heart lurches in your chest. You pocket the keys and open the paper to find it’s the resort pamphlet you’ve been searching for. 

Along with a map of the mountain, someone has taken the time to circle cabin 7, draw a line to the main hotel, and circled another section, which has been labeled ‘ski rentals’ in handwriting that’s just barely legible. 

There’s no other writing to indicate which man has left this for you, so you decide to assume it’s Mingyu.

Cheol had barely talked to you last night. He’d given off cold vibes; a man with walls built up around him. 

You truly can’t imagine that the quiet, brooding man had stopped to write on a map and leave you keys.

And honestly? You don’t want to imagine it.

It’s much safer to identify one of your roommates as a tall, white knight, and the other as a dark entity you’ll have to suffer through for a week. 

It makes it easier to plan on ignoring Cheol. 

5: Friday - afternoon

Today is a good day for Seungcheol. 

He’d been worried that your arrival would mean babysitting duty, so when you’d slept in and he’d convinced Gyu to leave you be, he’d been nearly ecstatic. 

He’d clocked you as a non-skier the moment you’d arrived without the correct equipment, and despite his day job as a physical trainer, Cheol is not in the mood to be teaching anyone how to do anything.

No, he’s much happier taking the slopes with his best friend. 

Mingyu isn’t as adept with skis as Cheol is, but he’s good enough for the elder not to worry too much about him. 

After tackling a few of the harder slopes, the two men find themselves on a green run. 

It’s enjoyable to take the hill in an easy manner, crisscrossing down the incline, watching the powder fluff up and take air with each harsh turn-

The day is gorgeous-

And then Cheol spots you, and his mood drops instantly.

You’re a couple hundred feet down the mountain from he and Mingyu, and they both stop for a moment, battling the glare from the sun-

“Is that-”

“Y/n,” Seungcheol confirms with a sigh. “First the thing with her bags, now this- it’s like she’s never been to a ski resort before.”

“Maybe she hasn’t,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful for a moment. “We should go help her.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “You really think she wants our help?”

“It never hurts to offer,” the younger, more considerate man points out. “Besides, this is Jeonghan and Joshua’s new step-sister, we’re trying to be nice to her, right?”

With a sigh, Seungcheol agrees, and the two continue down the mountain, catching up to you easily. 

“Hello!” Mingyu calls out to you, in classic extroverted Mingyu fashion. This earns him a smile from you, and you stop your slow slope descent to chat.

“Hi Mingyu,” you say, pushing your hair out of your face and adjusting your hat.

You don’t say hello to Seungcheol, and he doesn’t greet you either.

“How’s your day going so far?” Mingyu asks. “Are you enjoying the fresh air?”

“Yeah- found some skis at the rental and I think I’m getting the hang of it,” you tell them, “wasn’t sure I’d be skiing much this trip but, well, here I am.”

“You slept in,” Seungcheol finds himself stating. “We weren’t sure we’d bump into you today.”

“Right…” you trail off, giving Seungcheol a quick once over before your eyes return to Mingyu, and an easy smile works its way across your face again, “Have you been skiing long? I mean, I get the feeling that I’m the only person on the trip who doesn’t have much experience with all of this- you guys all brought your own skis.”

“Yeah, we’re all big snow sports people,” Mingyu tells you. “Seungcheol was actually almost an olympic level snowboarder-”

“Really?” Now you’re looking at Seungcheol. Truly looking at him. “But… you brought skis?”

“He’d be much too fast on his board,” Mingyu grins. “Skis slow him down, make him level with the rest of us. But, he’s still pretty good at skiing too.”

“Could give you a few pointers if you want,” Seungcheol says, earnestly. 

He’d gotten a good look at what you were doing wrong before they approached you, and a few minor tweaks would have you skiing with the best of them-

“Erm, thanks, but no thanks, I think I’m good learning at my own pace for now.” 

He notes the way you avert your eyes, upper lip curling slightly with disdain. 

He should have never bothered to offer you help. 

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. “You two are probably more compatible for your level, and I want to do some harder runs. I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he leaves you and Mingyu, taking off down the mountain at a speed his friends can only dream of.

6: Friday - evening

It’s been a good day for Mingyu, and settling in for dinner with his friends is the perfect ending for it. They order half the menu, covering the table in all sorts of foods to try together, and it reminds him of their time in university. 

While Mingyu is younger than his friends, he’d entered their frat before they’d graduated, and the bond he has with his older hyungs is truly one born out of a shared love for food. 

“Try this,” Jeonghan insists, and Mingyu opens his mouth before he even gets a good look at what’s about to be fed to him. “It’s good right?”

Mingyu can only nod happily while munching, hand reaching for his beer.

“Where were you guys today?” Joshua asks, “we missed you on the slopes.”

“Did a couple of the harder ones,” Seungcheol responds while the maknae has his mouth full, “then bumped into your step-sister on the easier hill-”

“Oh?” This grabs both Jeonghan and Joshua’s attention. “She was skiing?”

“Badly,” Cheol leans back in his chair, sipping his beer.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Mingyu insists, swallowing his food so he can defend you. “I did a couple runs with her and she wasn’t that bad, really.”

The brothers exchange a glance that Mingyu can’t read. 

He’s always been jealous of how in tune Jeonghan and Joshua are. As ‘irish twins’ - siblings born within the same year - it’s like they can read each other’s minds, and Mingyu always feels like he’s missing some crucial part of the conversation.

“Did you guys sort out the bed situation?” Joshua asks, looking down at the steak he’s cutting. He gives off an air of nonchalance, but Mingyu can tell that this is a topic both brothers are interested in. 

“I think you mentioned giving up your bed when we talked about it a few months ago,” Jeonghan adds, “isn’t that right, Cheol?”

“That was before I met her.”

The brothers exchange a glance, and a smirk works its way onto Jeonghan’s face. “Looks like Gyu got the short end of the straw, huh?”

“I offered her my bed,” Mingyu insists. 

“But she fell asleep on the couch during our Christmas movie,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “I moved her to his bed, wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy.”

“My neck is aching,” Mingyu groans, rubbing at it, “but it was worth it. I told her she could have my bed, so she had my bed.”

“He’s so eager to help her out,” Cheol teases, pushing at Mingyu’s shoulder. “When we saw her on the mountain earlier, she refused my help, but was more than happy to ski with him.”

Joshua and Jeonghan exchange a glance that has Mingyu rushing to assure them, “she’s your new step sister- I’m not trying anything, I just want to be friendly-”

“What was that?” Cheol leans closer, “I don’t think I heard you?”

“I said,” Mingyu raises his voice, “she’s their stepsister, and I’m not trying anything!” 

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I thought I heard,” Seungcheol grins, and then he’s looking at something over Mingyu’s shoulder. “Hey Y/N, you should join these three for dinner.”

“Uh…” 

Mingyu turns to find you standing there, and his skin heats with embarrassment. 

He’s pretty sure you’d just heard what he’d loudly said to his friends, and his skin tingles with regret, ears heating-

“Really,” Seungcheol stands, “take my seat, I was just leaving.”

“Where are you headed?” Jeonghan asks, more curious about his friend than his own step-sister.

“The pool.” Cheol grabs the jacket on the back of his chair. “Have some knots in my back, but nothing the hot tub jets can’t fix.”

For the second time today, Mingyu finds himself watching Cheol make a hasty retreat in order to avoid spending time with you. And for the second time today, Mingyu finds himself eagerly attempting to help you fit in, despite his oldest friend’s rejection of you.

“Come eat,” Mingyu urges, patting the newly empty seat next to him. 

“Are you guys sure? I can always eat alone-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joshua laughs. “You’re one of us now, come sit.”

Mingyu is glad that your step brothers immediately start asking you questions, and for a little while, everything runs smoothly. 

Every minute he spends with you, he warms up more and more to your presence.

It’s obvious to him that yesterday, when you’d arrived, you’d been out of sorts after hours of traveling. Your temperament has improved drastically, and Mingyu finds himself laughing along with his friends at small jokes you make here and there.

The four of you spend a much longer time in the resort restaurant than Mingyu had expected, and it’s only when Jeonghan begins to yawn that you all decide it’s time to head back to your cabins.

The night is cold, but it’s not snowing, and your small group follows the poles of string lights diligently.

Jeonghan and Joshua pull off one stop earlier than your own, wishing you goodnight before heading into their cabin.

As you and Mingyu continue up the path, Mingyu finds you walking closer to him, and he’s surprised when you say “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Carrying me to bed last night,” you respond, “and the map you left on the coffee table, the one with the ski rental circled.”

“Oh, uh…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “that actually wasn’t me. I think it’s Cheol who you have to be thanking.”

“Oh…” 

‘Oh’ is right.

7: Saturday - morning

When you wake up, you’re struck by two things. First, that you’re alone, as you were when you woke up yesterday. And second, that your father is getting married.

Your body aches when you sit up, muscles screaming at you for having the audacity to ski as long as you had with Mingyu, and you decide pretty quick that another attempt at the slopes is off the table.

You remember what Seungcheol had said yesterday, about the pool and the hott ub, and decide maybe he had the right idea about jets and sore muscles.

He can be an ass, but you suppose he uses his brain sometimes.

You change into your swimsuit, and make sure to layer yourself with comfy sweats and your parka, pool bag in hand before you set out to take on the weather. 

For the billionth time since arriving at this God forsaken cabin, you wish you’d gotten a room in the resort itself. It’s snowed over the night, but the path is somewhat cleared. Even so, the trek to the main hotel is difficult, and your muscles are even more tired when you arrive.

The resort is a ski destination, and you cross your fingers that most of its patrons are on the hills and not utilizing the various pools and saunas. 

Your wish comes true, and you’re pleased to see hardly anyone as you pass through the indoor pool to check out the outdoor areas, intent on having a hot tub to yourself-

As you’re walking along the pool deck, clutching your parka tight around your body, you notice someone swimming. 

He’s underwater, slicing through the pool like a professional swimmer. The glare from the overcast sky makes it impossible to get a great look at the athlete and you settle next to the hot tub, hoping to see more when he comes up for air. 

You’ve just taken off your parka and are wading into the hot tub when the swimmer stops at the edge of the pool. He’s in the shallows now, and he’s able to stand up, his back to you.

Droplets of water glisten down his back in the light, steam immediately beginning to lift off of his skin-

His shoulders and back look like they were crafted by the Gods, and the man runs a hand through his hair, shaking it out of his face.

You just wish he would turn to look at you, so you can see who you’re drooling over-

In no time at all, this wish is coming true, only, you wish it hadn’t, because the moment the gorgeous, well-muscled athlete turns to look at you, you’re locking eyes with your least favourite person on the mountain.

Seungcheol is as taken aback as you are for a moment.

He’d been reaching for the rail to pull himself out of the pool, but now, he’s simply frozen.

You’re practically gawking at each other, and you’re the first to break eye contact, clearing your throat and looking away.

You can feel your skin heating, and it’s not just from the hot tub, which you wish you could simply submerge yourself in and never come back up-

In the periphery of your vision, you see Seungcheol getting out of the pool, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your entire body not to turn and watch him.

Then, to your surprise, he gives you an excuse to look at him, calling out, “The wedding starts at four, don’t be late.”

Your jaw hits the hottub floor, and you watch Seungcheol practically run away from you.

It’s becoming an all too familiar sight. 

8: Saturday - afternoon

Sitting in his mother’s hotel room, watching her do the final touches on her wedding look, Joshua is struck with memories of the past.

There’d been many mornings growing up where he’d sat on the closed-lid toilet, watching her brush through her hair, sometimes braiding it, before taking him and Jeonghan to school.

In the quiet of their small apartment bathroom, nothing could come between them, not Jeonghan whining for whatever reason, nor the angry father who’d disappeared from the picture when the boys had turned ten.

To Joshua, the moment feels like peace, or at least, as close to it as he’s ever come.

He can tell, by the way his mom smiles when she looks at herself in the mirror, that she’s truly happy, and it’s all he’s ever wanted for her. 

The moment is fleeting, as Jeonghan enters the room and brings with him a certain level of chaos, the kind of windswept mayhem that follows him everywhere, like a moving storm.

“Booze?” The first word to come out of his mouth.

“In the fridge,” Joshua motions to the small cooler before asking his elder brother, “drinking already?”

“Just spent half an hour running all over and making sure everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to be doing,” Jeonghan sighs, bending down to retrieve a can of beer, cracking it open with nimble fingers.

“You wanted to be the best man,” Joshua points out.

For such a small wedding, consisting of only close family and a few friends, roles hadn’t been a necessity, but Joshua wasn’t aware that scrambling around to make sure people are in place would be necessary either.

“Y/N forgot her shoes at the cabin, so Mingyu ran to get them, but by the time he got there, Seungcheol had apparently realized the heels were needed, so he’d grabbed them- and somehow they’d missed each other in the lobby-” Jeonghan cuts off his own ramblings with a large sip of his drink. 

“Sounds like quite the goose chase,” their mother’s calm voice visibly settles the best man, who takes a seat next to his brother.

“You look amazing,” Jeonghan tells her, as sincere as Joshua’s ever seen him. “Our new step-sister’s dad is a lucky man.”

“Since when did you stop calling him by his name?” Seulki laughs, returning her gaze to the mirror, fixing her veil. “Looks like you’re both getting used to Y/N though, Joshua mentioned that you all had dinner last night. Is she settling in okay?”

“I think so,” Joshua says thoughtfully.

“Mingyu really likes her,” Jeonghan adds.

Joshua nods. “And we do too.”

Their mom gives them a knowing look. “How’s Seungcheol finding his cabinmate? Haven’t you both always said he’s a good judge of character?”

“He’s also a stubborn ass,” Jeonghan grins over the rim of his drink, “so we can’t really trust his opinions on her- besides, any time she’s around, he runs the other way. I doubt they’ve talked much.”

“That’s a shame,” Seulki frowns. “I bumped into her with Mingyu on the slopes yesterday, she seemed really lovely.”

“She is,” Joshua admits. He’d also enjoyed getting to know you last night over food and drinks.

“Well,” Seulki turns to her boys, “let’s just hope Seungcheol warms up to her, but we’ll put that to the side for now, we have a wedding to get to.”

9: Saturday - evening

The ceremony had gone exactly as planned. 

After the initial goose chase looking for your shoes, there’d only been one or two small details Jeonghan had been forced to attend to. But after it all, his mom had walked down the aisle, vows had been said, and Jeonghan had gained a father figure.

Standing at the alter next to his brother, Jeonghan had watched everything take place with a keen eye.

He’d been pleased to see the three couples invited - his aunt and uncle, and two of your father’s friends with their wives - sitting in the small venue with his roommates. And he’d been even more interested in watching his friends react throughout the service.

Mingyu had gotten teary-eyed the moment Seulki had begun her walk down the aisle, and even Seungcheol had torn his gaze from you for long enough to admire the dress.

When everything was said and done, the small party had moved to a secluded room off the main restaurant to have food, drinks and further celebration. Here, Jeonghan had again noticed Seungcheol’s affinity for having you in his line of sight.

“You know,” Jeonghan says, as he settles into the seat next to his brother, eyes fixed on his muscular friend by the small bar, “for a guy who runs away whenever y/n is around, he spends an awful lot of his time watching our step sister.”

Joshua chuckles, sipping his champagne. “You noticed that too, huh?”

“Hard not to,” Jeonghan grins, following Seungcheol’s gaze to where you’re clinging to Mingyu on the makeshift dance floor. “What do you think about those two?”

“I think Cheol better cut his losses now,” Joshua says, setting his drink down. 

“Really?” Jeonghan cocks his head, considering it all. “We’re only two days into this trip… a lot could happen before the week is done, don’t you think?”

“A lot could happen,” Joshua admits, “especially if someone like you decided to meddle.”

“I never meddle, only… help push things along.”

“In the direction you want it to go.”

“Touche,” Jeonghan lifts his champagne, gently clinking it against his brother’s discarded glass. 

“I think I’m going to go ask y/n to dance,” Joshua says, pushing his chair back and standing.

“Now who’s meddling?” Jeonghan laughs.

“Still only you.”

10: Sunday - morning

The couch had been uncomfortable on a normal night, so Mingyu supposes it’s his own fault that he wakes up aching after a night of drinking and dancing at the wedding.

Stretching his arms over his head, he tries to ease the tight muscles in his shoulders, but he’s unable to get comfortable again.

He lays there for a few minutes, watching you dance in your cute bridesmaid dress on the back of his eyelids. He’s not sure if it’s you, the dress, or the visual combined, but he knows he’s going to remember last night for many years to come.

When he finally sits up, Mingyu looks towards your bed, and he’s not shocked to find you still sleeping. This is the third day waking up in the same room as you, and Mingyu’s becoming accustomed to the fact that you sleep in longer than he does.

He’s becoming accustomed to your cute, unsuspecting, resting face.

It makes sleeping on the couch worth it, and his sore muscles are almost forgotten- until he has to stand up, and they scream at him again.

Cheol is sitting up in his bed, scrolling through his phone, and he looks up when Mingyu stretches his arms above his head to release his shoulder tension.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Cheol mouths at him.

The two have been scared to even whisper in the mornings - scared to wake you up - and have adopted this silent way of communicating. Mingyu nods quickly, pointing back at his hyung as if to say ‘and you?’

Another quick nod, plus a thumbs up, then Cheol makes the motion of a man shoveling food into his mouth and points to the door.

Mingyu holds up his hand, ‘give me five minutes’ and slowly begins to tiptoe to the bathroom, where he can have some water, fix his hair, and change into better clothes. 

It’s a routine they’ve gotten used to, and for the third day in a row, Mingyu prays that when he exits the bathroom, by some miracle, you’ll be awake and eager to join them in the resort restaurant for breakfast.

Mingyu and Seungcheol - quite predictably - end up weathering the early morning elements without you, and it’s on the snowy path that Mingyu tells Cheol “I think I’m going to skip skiing today.”

“Really?” Seungcheol’s shock is written all over his face.

Mingyu nods. “I feel bad that we’re always ditching y/n- and we mostly go on the slopes she can’t ski on, so… I figured, after breakfast, I'd stay behind at the cabin and wait till she wakes up, then see what she wants to do today.”

There’s a long pause, and then Seungcheol sighs. “I see how it is.”

“Hmm?”

“You also walked her home last night after the dinner. Hannie, Joshie and I stayed up drinking, you usually join, but instead, you walked y/n home.”

“We were both tired,” Mingyu defends himself. “Watched a bit of a movie, then fell asleep.”

“Is that all that happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… part of me wondered if I should have stayed on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch last night, to give you privacy.”

Mingyu’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he fumbles with the hood of his parka. “We didn’t- we aren’t-”

“You guys danced a lot last night, then you walked her home… if it’s not like that then… well, people might get the wrong idea.”

“Who’s people?” Mingyu nearly laughs. “It’s just us here- you think anyone really cared last night?”

“I guess not.” There’s a pause, then Seungcheol changes the topic, asking, “What do you think you’ll have for breakfast today?”

It’s then that Mingyu realizes, someone did care last night, and that someone, is Cheol. 

11: Sunday - afternoon

You’d been a little shocked to find Mingyu reading on the couch when you’d woken up from your long sleep, but when he’d explained to you that he’d stayed behind from skiing with friends to make sure you had a proper buddy for the day, your heart had melted.

After a slow start, the two of you had decided to rent some snow shoes and use the back slope trails, which is how you end up climbing one of the smaller mountains together.

“We’re almost at the top,” Mingyu tells you, pulling out the trail map provided by the resort. You try to catch your breath while he points to a spot on the paper. “I think we’re about here, so just-” he drags his finger up the green line, “this far to the top.”

“Are you sure?” you laugh, grasping onto his arm to pull yourself closer so you can get a good look at the map.

There’s a pause, then he shakes his head, “No. We could also be sort of lost.” 

“Don’t say that-” you grin, pushing at him, “you’ve been mostly using this map alright- I trust you, and your trail-following capabilities.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t though,” Mingyu insists. “Honestly, following maps is definitely Cheol’s thing. One time, we were on a road trip, and we were going down this road for half an hour before we had to pull over and he got to look at the map- we’d missed a turn and it set us back like two hours-”

“It’s easier to miss a highway turn than a trailhead,” you assure him. “Come on, we said we’d climb this small mountain, and then we can take the lift back down and finish our movie from last night at the cabin- just think about our nice, warm cabin-”

“Nice, warm cabin,” Mingyu nods, folding the map back up to put in the pocket of his parka. “Let’s go, we can do this.”

You watch the large, beautiful man pull away from you and continue your trajectory up, and you can’t help but smile, echoing the sentiment, “we can do this.” 

12: Sunday - evening

Seungcheol had been surprised to find the cabin empty after skiing, and he’d been even more surprised when he went to the restaurant to find you and Mingyu not there either. 

However, he does find Jeonghan, who informs him that he’d seen you and Mingyu getting snow shoes a few hours ago, and Seungcheol’s heart sinks.

There’s a storm coming, and darkness has already begun to settle in across the resort- 

He hopes, for both your sakes, that you’re not on the top of the mountain, lost in the trails, when the worst of the winter weather hits.

After waiting diligently for his meal order to come through, Seungcheol ends up trekking back to your cabin with food and firewood in hand just as the snow begins to get heavier.

The last thing he expects when he enters your lodging, is to find you sitting there with a minty green facemask on, and for a second, he stands in the doorway just staring at you.

You break eye contact first, calling out “Cheol’s back!” and a moment later, Mingyu comes out of the bathroom, mid-facemask application.

“Cheol!” Mingyu beams, rubbing the green goo against his cheek, “you’re back from skiing!”

“I was back earlier-” Seungcheol closes the door behind him, “stopped here for a bit but you guys weren’t around.”

“We just got back from a snowshoe hike like, twenty minutes ago?” Mingyu tells him, looking at you for confirmation. Seungcheol watches the way you nod at Mingyu, and his friend lights up. This time, when he says “twenty minutes ago,” he says it with confidence.

“Well, I brought food and firewood,” Seungcheol sighs, kicking off his snow boots and entering the small space.

“Firewood?” You’re looking at him again, and Seungcheol can’t find it within himself to meet your eyes while you’re green in the face like this, so instead, he sets the food down and moves to the small cast iron fireplace in the corner.

“Did you think this cabin heats itself?” The question comes out much snarkier than he’d intended, and he regrets it as he begins to build the fire.

“No- I mean, I noticed it was cold when we got in twenty minutes ago- but I don’t know, I sort of assumed that maybe hotel staff would bring the wood and keep the embers going-”

Seungcheol scoffs. Of course another good deed of his would go unappreciated. 

“It’s plausible!” you try to insist.

“I never said anything.”

“You scoffed, you went like-” you mimic the throaty annoyed sound he’d made, “you went like that, a scoff- you scoffed at me!”

“Here’s your dinner,” Seungcheol pushes the bag of takeout towards you across the floor, eyes fixed on the fire he’s still building.

“What if I don’t want your food? What if I want to finish with this mask and go grab food for myself?” 

Seungcheol sighs again. “There’s literally a storm coming in- if you go out, you’re going to get windswept away- just eat the food I brought.”

“What if I don’t like the food you brought?” you insist again, and Seungcheol’s getting real tired of your bratty stubbornness. 

“You will, it’s what you’ve been eating for two nights in a row.”

This finally gets you to open the bag he’d brought, and you remove the three takeout items, eying them. “How did you know I like this?”

“Like I said- you’ve eaten it two nights in a row.”

“Why were you watching?”

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair. “Just say thank you and eat your fucking food while I make this fire so you don’t freeze to death- why does everything have to be so hard with you?”

There’s a long pause, and he hears the sound of a food container opening. 

He’s thankful you’ve finally shut up and are going to eat.

“Even without the fire- this cabin is well insulated enough that we wouldn’t die,” you say after a moment. “The hotel wouldn’t be able to have a cabin where its renters could just die.”

If he hadn’t just lit the fire, Seungcheol might have considered allowing you to test your theory out of spite.

“You always need to have the last word, don’t you, brat?” He stands up, dusting his hands off on his pants before turning to look at you.

You open your mouth to respond- but quickly shrink under his hard gaze.

A moment later, you pick up the remote, and a movie begins to play.

At least in this, Cheol’s gotten the last laugh. 

13: Monday - morning

“Fuck-” Jeonghan’s cursing does more to wake Joshua up than the knock at their cabin door had, and the younger irish twin goes to cover his ears while Jeonghan stumbles out of bed.

“Who is it?” Joshua groans, giving in and sitting up, squinting at the door that his brother throws open to reveal their eldest friend.

“Are you two really still sleeping?” Seungcheol pushes into the cabin, throwing his gloves down before gruffly kicking off his boots.

“What time is it?” Jeonghan asks, rubbing at his eyes and groaning before running back to nosedive into his bed.

“Late enough that you should both be awake.”

“Y/n’s not awake,” Jeonghan insists, tucking himself back under the covers, “and I don’t see Mingyu anywhere- why do they get a free pass from your bitching but we don’t?”

“Because they’re not my ski buddies today,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “Seriously, what’s up with you two- and why is it so cold in here?”

They all look towards the castiron fire place, and the emptiness of it gives Joshua a chill that he feels tingling through his entire body.

“We thought we had enough firewood to carry us over from the evening and into the night, so neither of us picked up any dry wood from the hotel yesterday-” Joshua begins to explain.

“Evidently you both ran out,” Cheol concludes, scanning the rest of the small space with his precise, all-knowing, eyes. His gaze lingers on the bottle of fireball on the coffee table. “Instead of running to get more wood, you guys took to drinking, huh?”

“It’s not like we were going to cuddle,” Jeonghan groans.

“So you’re both hung over.”

“Just a little,” Joshua sighs, swinging his legs out of his bed. “Give us half an hour and I can be up.”

“It’s funny,” Cheol says, moving to sit on the couch, “I just had a fight with your step-sister last night about whether we’d freeze to death if we forgot firewood- and at the same time, you guys were over here, resorting to fireball instead of an actual fire-”

“It’s not like we could go out and grab wood once we realized we didn’t have enough,” Jeonghan defends himself. “The storm was really bad.”

“And it’s going to be bad for the next few days,” Seungcheol tells them, “so you better get used to grabbing firewood every evening after dinner.”

Both of his friends groan. “Sure, dad,” Jeonghan buries his head in his pillows. “You know what? If you’re going to be like this, maybe I’ll sleep in and not be your ski buddy today.”  

“Mingyu ditched me yesterday, and now you’re ditching me today-” Seungcheol clicks his tongue, “am I really being that much of a dick this vacation?”

It’s Joshua who responds, pointing out, as thoughtfully as he can; “you have been more of a dick than usual.” 

To which Seungcheol replies, “Yeah, well, you guys have been pissing me off more than usual.” 

Except, Joshua knows it’s not necessarily he and Jeonghan who have been pushing Seungcheol’s buttons this trip- but he keeps that to himself. 

14: Monday - afternoon

After skipping out on skiing with his friend and brother, Jeonghan had gotten some much-needed rest. Then, around lunchtime, he’d left his cabin in search of food only to bump into you and Mingyu doing the same thing.

As if that wasn’t coincidence enough, when your odd trio had entered the resort restaurant, you’d found Joshua and Seungcheol midway through their own meals.

Jeonghan had insisted you all join together, fully intending to meddle with you and your cabin mates. After all, he’d just gotten some sleep, and his mischievous mind was eager to stir the pot.

To his disappointment, the seating arrangements make poking people’s buttons difficult- with Cheol all but ignoring you from his vantage point as far from you as possible.

Despite the less-than-ideal format of your table, Jeonghan still finds a way to draw everyone into the conversation when he states, “so I heard there was a fight over cabin temperature last night.”

This earns Jeonghan a rough kick under the table from Cheol, as well as a harsh look from you. 

“Who said that?” you ask.

“Cheol did,” Jeonghan smiles through the pain in his shin, and this time, when Cheol goes to kick him, a quick movement of his leg has him narrowly avoiding his friend’s boot. “This morning, when he came to pick of Joshie for skiing.”

“It wasn’t a fight,” you go to insist, but the harsh glare you send Seungcheol’s way has Jeonghan nearly laughing.

“Definitely not a fight,” Mingyu confirms, and Jeonghan almost feels bad for the way he’s sat between you and Seungcheol. A man caught between two stormy personalities ready for a clash.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jeonghan says, “we ran out of wood last night, and we didn’t die.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Well, that’s good to know.” 

“Y/n was saying last night,” Mingyu adds, “that she doubted we’d die without wood- hotel regulations and everything-”

“Was Cheol insisting you’d die without a fire?” Joshua’s eyes have widened, and he leans in, elbows on the table next to Jeonghan’s food. “Cheol? Really?” 

“He was just being dramatic,” you say, and Jeonghan watches the way his friend’s ears turn red at your statement.

“Says the girl who was going to go out in the storm instead of eating the food I brought for her.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. He’s glaring at his plate, and a thick tension blankets the table.

Jeonghan loves it.

But then something happens that he couldn’t possibly predict: your parents enter the restaurant, and before he knows it, you’re hopping up to go say hello to Seulki and your father, leaving the men to deal with the unresolved tension.

“Are you trying to start something?” Seungcheol whispers angrily as soon as you’re out of earshot, his angry gaze fixed on Jeonghan.

“Who, me?” Jeonghan touches his chest, pretending to be the most innocent person in the room. “I was just looking for conversation. Besides, we’re the one’s who forgot firewood last night, it’s quite embarrassing for us.”

“You don’t look embarrassed,” Seungcheol notes, sitting back in his chair.

“He has no shame,” Mingyu adds, nodding sympathetically.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Jeonghan’s grin widens, and he looks over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see you leaving the restaurant. “Now that it’s just us, I suppose I should be a good big brother and figure out which one of you intends to fuck my new step-sister.”

Mingyu had been taking a sip of his drink, and now he’s choking, which only adds to Jeonghan’s delight. 

“Jeonghan,” Joshua’s harsh warning bounces off the elder brother, whose smile is becoming something akin to the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Neither of us are going for your stupid step-sister,” Seungcheol growls, thumping Mingyu on the back to aid with the water caught in his lungs.

“Oh, so you’re both in denial?” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “I’d thought at least Mingyu would fess  up.”

“Fess up to what?” Mingyu says between coughs. “I’m just being nice to her!”

Jeonghan nods. “Sure you are.”

“Why do you all think I want to fuck your stepsister?!” Mingyu whisper screams at his friends, doing a quick look around the restaurant before adding, “you guys are all horrible.”

“Cheol’s been bugging you about this too, huh?” It’s one of the first things Joshua’s really said, and Jeonghan realizes his brother is right. 

“Bet he had a lot to say about the way you danced with our sister at the wedding.”

“Were you all watching that?!” Mingyu’s eyes have widened. 

“It was quite the spectacle,” Jeonghan plays with his glass of water. “Cheol was jealous.”

“What!?” This time, when Seungcheol misses Jeonghan’s shin with his foot, the whole table shakes from impact along the underside of it. “Was not! I didn’t even dance with her- how could I be jealous when I never even danced with your stupid sister-”

“Stop calling her stupid,” Joshua’s harsh tone is a surprise to everyone, and the table goes quiet. “Just because you’re in denial about everything doesn’t mean you get to call our new sister stupid.”

“Someone’s taking their older brother role a little seriously-” Seungcheol lets out a whistle.

“Deflect all you want,” Joshua sighs, “Change the topic and make fun of me, but at the end of the day, you’re only making things harder on yourself… both of you.”

For a moment, both Seungcheol and Mingyu are put on the spot, then Seungcheol insists, “We’re not doing anything.”

“And denial is a river in Egypt,” Joshua sighs, shocking the whole table with a pop culture quote- something that’s very unlike him. “Cheol, you’re done eating, let’s leave these two and get a few more runs in before the storm makes skiing impossible.” 

15: Monday - evening

Sitting on the floor with your roommates, roasting marshmallows on the fire while the storm rages outside, you find yourself noticing all the small details about them both.

It’s the first night that you’ve actually allowed yourself to take a breath and relax, accepting that, with the extreme weather, there is really nothing else that can be done except to work on enjoying your company.

Mingyu is easy, as you’ve grown accustomed to having him around. You’ve gotten used to his large form, the clumsiness and easy smiles.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is something you’re newly exploring, sneaking glances at his side profile whenever you think he’s fully distracted in his marshmallow making.

Unlike Mingyu, who thrusts his treat into the fire and watches it burn, Seungcheol is meticulous about his food, preferring a spot where his marshmallow can slowly turn golden near the embers.

He’s got a pretty side profile, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he focuses, eyes fixed on flames that light his face in pretty hues. 

His nose is also quite striking, and along with his strong brow, his face is altogether quite attractive, something you’ve been fighting yourself on since the moment you entered the cabin and he’d been cold to you.

There’s something about the duality of him that has your heart racing whenever he’s around. 

You’re never sure which Cheol you’re going to get.

You’ve had glimpses of his softer side, especially on your first day when he’d carried you to bed and then left you a map- then there’d been the way he brought you your dress shoes after you’d forgotten to pack them and trekked to the hotel in snow boots on the day of the wedding-

It seems as if Seungcheol is the kind of man who likes to do nice things for you when you’re not watching, but after your small altercation last night, wherein you’d realized he’s also been doing fire duty, you’ve made more of an attempt to notice small things.

 Small things like the way he takes the perfect golden marshmallow out of the fire, places it between two chocolate graham crackers, and hands it to you without a word, giving you the best s’more of the night.

He balances his kindness to you by offering Mingyu the s’more after, and you think he must be doing it as if to say ‘you’re not special, I’ll share with everyone’ but you can’t help but think there might be more to it. 

To your surprise, Mingyu is the first of the three of you to get sleepy, and after a quick washup in the bathroom, he’s collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep. 

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, you find yourself truly alone with Seungcheol, no big, human buffer to keep you both in line.

The silence is thick. Even so, in the quiet, Seungcheol gives you wide birth to go wash your face and brush your teeth while he cleans up the few items from your s’mores.

There’s hardly anything to be said, and the two of you find yourselves getting into your own beds in no time at all.

“Turning off the light,” Seungcheol tells you, hand reaching for the lamp chord. 

He pauses, waiting for your curt “okay” before following through with his statement of intent, and the room is captured in darkness.

The wind howls outside, drowning out any sounds of your roommates breathing, and for a little while, you can almost pretend you’re alone. 

Almost. 

In the dark, your mind begins to have all sorts of thoughts, and you surprise yourself when words slip out of you; “I’m sorry for calling you dramatic today.”

The air feels thick and heavy, a few beats of silence passing that almost convince you Seungcheol’s asleep, but then, he responds. “I’m sorry for referring to our disagreement last night as ‘a fight’ when I talked to Jeonghan this morning.” 

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. 

For a short while, you think nothing else is going to be said, but then; “Goodnight y/n.”

You take a breath, wrapping yourself tighter in your blankets. “Goodnight, Cheol.” 

CONTINUE READING PART 2 HERE I note. the fic was too long to be posted in one tumblr post 🤪

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[jmdbjk]

Well...

I've always harped on their "chemistry" and its no exaggeration. They fit together so naturally. They are so very in tune with each other, when you are with that person and you feel like everything is right and it doesn't matter what you are doing, where you are going or if you are doing anything or nothing at all.

This episode was completely different than any of the previous episodes.

By the end of November they both knew what was going to happen and embracing the idea that they were about to "go in" and they were doing this together. They flat out said they were making memories to take with them while they served their military obligation.

Jimin and Jungkook clearly see themselves as just ordinary people living extraordinary lives, and they want to and expect to experience ordinary things.

The convenience store visit.

They ran like kids sliding on the ice, stomped in the snow, threw snowballs at each other, even though occasionally, Jimin's pragmatism burst their cozy little bubble:

Jungkook: "When it snows during our military service I think I'll recall this moment."

Jimin: "Right now, we're watching the snow from a hotel window but soon we'll have to sweep it up."

Ever the romantic, that Jimin...

Walking on the street with the general public, getting coffee, making their way to the train station... just like everyone else...

Yes, they had a crew with them, leading them and following them through the streets of Sapporo. But everything they did was ordinary.

When they are ordering food or drinks, their attempts at reading and speaking Japanese are endearing. They just dove right in. I love them. See? Don't let language be an obstacle when traveling in a foreign country!

I don't know if that's his personal little round furry money purse or if the staff used that for this trip's spending money and just handed it to him... but it was cute as fuck.

There is nothing pretentious about them. Yes they can whip out the black card to pay for expensive whisky but Jungkook took pleasure in choosing what he wanted himself, carrying his armload of 18 year old whisky to the counter and paying the $4000 for it himself at the distillery. He could have had someone else do it for him.

We saw these purchases in his refrigerator during his live on Dec. 8:

As ordinary as it was, there were still some very WTF moments that everyone has already pointed out:

That moment from the car ride on the way from the airport to the hotel at 11 o'clock at night, no seatbelts, Jimin practically sitting in Jungkook's lap and both smushed against the door. Jungkook looking like he is about to get lucky or just did.... man, I don't know what that was all about and how it stayed in this episode instead of getting edited out. I mean... there is a cut so we are not seeing the entire thing but what they left in was... ok?... I guess?

The train ride sequence (even though it was highly manipulated in post-production to wipe out all the other people)...

That culminates in this... we hope it ends up being a selca in the photobook. The moment was so sweet.

At the distillery, cosplaying their pickup lines at a bar...

Jimin's moment of clarity when he envisioned himself a girl dad and Jungkook thinking "uhhhhh... ok, Jimin, whatever you say"...

Gotta say though, Jimin envisioning himself a father at some point in the future was very sweet.

They reminisced a lot, talking about how much they and the other members have changed over the years and still remarking to each other how young they both look when back outside in the cold air, cheeks flushed from whisky and beer and a hot meal.

Their point of view regarding their looks, "they enjoy watching us gradually get raggedy and fat."

Yet, their age difference is exactly what makes them click. Jimin being older, caring, watchful, responsible in the early years, and Jungkook, so young, still socially awkward, always watching Jimin, always sticking close by him, learning how to maneuver the situations they faced in their profession. Through the years they evolved and matured personally and professionally into the men they are today.

If they had been same-agers, the outcome may not have been the same.

Again, props to the staff for everything they did to make this happen for Jimin and Jungkook. It appeared that some of the time they remained outside in the cold while Jimin and Jungkook were indoors eating or getting coffee.

This trip was their final trip before that "rite of passage" that every Korean male is obligated to fulfill. There was a poignant edge to a lot of this episode, in what they talked about, in the imagery. Jimin has always seemed to want to hang on to his "youth" and now he was about to cross that line and he knew it.

I also keep harping on the fact Jimin and Jungkook are together as we speak and I am thankful for that every day. I firmly believe they are thankful for each other, even if they are not same age friends.

Two more episodes.

[marvel-snape-writes]

Hi there :) could you write something on letting snape fuck you raw for the first time and he goes feral for cumming inside you 😵‍💫 pretty please!

Our Best Worst Habit

18+ smuuuuuuuuutttttttyyyy

🪄— thank you so much for this request, I hope I did it some justice! 🫶

4k+ words

His chamber was silent. His voice was silent. His mood was foul. The atmosphere was heavy. The party was over.

Severus had been sat in his desk chair since they had returned, busying himself by reading the newspaper that had been placed on it earlier in the day and the chair pushed back enough so he could hold the paper out fully in both hands in front of him. The room was quiet enough for her to be able to hear each turn of each page and his breathing as he did it.

Though he did somewhat make her weary when he was in this state, she almost enjoyed trying to entice him out of it. Cautiously, she approached him from behind and place her hands against his shoulders, brushing the material over his shoulders as she dipped her head forward and pressing a light kiss to his ear before speaking softly, “Anything exciting in there?”

Severus’ breath hitched when he felt her hands upon his shoulders and changed completely when her lips were against his ear, nostrils flaring at her question. He looked to the side of him where her head was positioned, letting out a small huff but not speaking a single word.

“Severus?” She spoke against his neck this time, brushing her lips against his skin slowly. Severus cleared his throat irritably, his grip on the newspaper now tightening and crinkling the pages slightly, “Sev…” She spoke once more, pursing her lips against him now.

Severus didn’t speak, but the way he wafted his arm in the air and glare he gave spoke a thousand words. He let out an irritated, low growl from the back of his throat when he felt her pushing her luck once more as her lips dragged against the side of his neck whilst forming into a smirk. Calmly, though suspiciously calmly, he closed the paper and folded it in half, placing it on the desk a few inches in front of him. Silently, he raised the same arm as before but clicked his finger and thumb together this time before pointing his large index finger at the space in front of him between the chair and desk, still not saying anything.

Her breath hitched from his soundless command, standing up straight and standing where he was still pointing. Once in front of him, he lowered his hand and began taking his time devouring her body with his eyes. His lip twitched and the room remained quiet enough to just hear their breathing. His lips then began to part, their eyes meeting briefly before he snapped out of his trance as if he was suddenly reminded of a bad memory.

“Are you going to tell me why you are being so cold?” She asked, leaning back against his desk on her hands and tilting her head to the side with a cocky expression as his eyes flickered up to hers again, “What’s the matter, Severus?”

“Must you displease me all evening and then continue to do so once back in my chamber?” Severus finally spoke, though in a flat tone.

“I’m sorry?” She asked with a confused expression.

“Do not play dumb with me, Miss Eleanor,” Severus glared, “The way you behaved tonight was insufferable,” He spat, his following words lower, “With that boy.”

“Boy?” Eleanor squinted her eyes for a few moments before realising who he meant, “Oh, you mean Noah? He’s not a boy, he’s older than me!” Eleanor protested, already aware of her and Severus’ larger age difference.

“Do not speak his name in my chamber!” Severus’ usual tone raised slightly, gritting his teeth, “That boy wouldn't know the first thing to do with you.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes from his words and hopped up onto his desk, dangling her legs over the edge as he continued to ramble;

“Flicking his eyes where they were not wanted, placing his hands where they should not have been, if I really must think back to the horrific event.” He spoke in a disgusted tone, the pale glare still on his face.

“Horrific event? Really?” Eleanor rolled her eyes but Severus’ face didn't budge so she tried to continue pushing his buttons, “Anyway, who's to say that his eyes or hands weren't wanted?”

She got him. She knew when he was almost at his limit because he wouldn't shoot his sharp tongue like usual; instead, he would say nothing while his lips twitched madly as if struggling to contain all that he wanted to say in his mouth. Eleanor narrowed her eyes and discreetly parted her legs as she shuffled a little further forward to the edge of the table and discreetly enjoyed the brief moment Severus’ eyes fell to the hem of her short dress as her legs parted.

“Hm?” She smirked, now pressing her knees together as her eyes remained on him.

“That is one of the problems that were presented to me…” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard, “I was starting to think you liked him, too.”

“Yeah?” She bit her lip and reached her foot forward, placing it on the chair Severus was sat on, against the bare part from the way his legs naturally parted when he was sat… against the part of the chair that was just beneath his crotch, “You think I've taken a liking to Noah?”

“Don't you speak his name in my chamber.” He snapped, trying with every muscle in his body not to glance down at her foot, “I will not warn you again.”

“Why, hm?” She raised her eyebrows with a devilish grin, lightly pressing the tip of her shoe against his crotch, “Are you jealous, Severus?”

His jaw clenched when he felt the strange contact against his crotch and felt like a boiling kettle when he heard her question, as if steam was about to come out of his ears. He exhaled slowly and slouched a further into his chair, making her foot ride up his crotch a little further.

“I could crush you right now.” She spoke the threat in a stupidly seductive tone, teasing her heel against his crotch and lightly nudging it to emphasise each word, “Are. You. Jealous. Severus?”

He tried his best not to let any reaction show or sound pass his lips, but it only lasted a few seconds before his lips parted and let out a soft whine, narrowing his eyebrows.

“So, that's why you've been so off with me tonight?” She asked, continuing to rock her foot against his crotch and now placing her other foot on one of his thighs to keep them parted, “Giving me the silent treatment because you were jealous of me paying attention to some other guy?”

Severus’ nostrils flared and he finally snapped, pushing her feet away and standing up as he spoke, “Listen to me,” He was towering over her now as she leaned back on her hands again, “Are you listening?” He looked down at her with a dark expression.

“Oh, I am listening…” Eleanor bit her lip sensually, gazing up at him.

“If this thing is going to work-”

“’Thing’, hm?” She scoffed until she was cut off by him pushing his face closer to hers.

“Silence while I am speaking,” He spat bluntly, “If whatever is going on between us is to continue, I need you to myself again. No ifs, no buts, I need you to all to myself.”

“Are you pleading with me, Professor Snape?” She smirked, sliding her hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, “I must be yours?” She squinted her eyes, “Despite us only fooling around?”

“Mine and only mine.” He growled, leaning down a little further as he placed his hands against the desk at either side of her.

“Or… what?” She dared to ask, able to feel his breathing against her lips now.

“Trust me… you don't want to know.” He spoke lowly and slowly, their lips only centimetres apart.

“That’s a little possessive, don't you think?” She spoke as close to his lips as possible without kissing him.

“Quite frankly, my dear,” He spoke quietly but firmly, “I don't give a fuck.”

The minute he got to the end of his sentence, their lips were pressed against each other. Eleanor whimpered from the harshness of it and Severus moved closer to his desk, grinning against her lips when her legs parted to either side of him. It wasn't long before the kiss grew deeper, Eleanor’s hands now in his hair as she kissed him urgently, desperately. Severus cupped her face in one of his large hands and tilted his head, grunting into the kiss as the tips of their tongues touched.

“Does jealousy make you horny, Severus?” She teased against his lips, giggling.

“Do not be absurd…” He mumbled, kissing her harder as if punishment for the question.

“You can't deny that someone preoccupying what's yours turns you on…” She played with his hair while they kissed in between her speaking, “Is it because you're already picturing what punishment you're going to give me, hm?”

“Jealousy does not turn me on.” Severus grunted, parting the kiss with a heavy sigh as he glared down at her.

“Oh, yeah?” She bit her lip once he pulled back, glancing between them and then back up at him, “You might want to try telling your cock that.”

“Your tongue is almost growing as sharp as mine, Miss Eleanor.” He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth.

“At least it's not as arrogant.” Eleanor quickly fired back.

Severus’ temper raised further, his lip twitching angrily as his eyes darkened even more than their usual black. Eleanor was enjoying taunting him a little too much, and he could tell.

“So, not only did you spend the entire night with another man right under my nose,” He leaned over her once more, using one of his hands to fumble with the buttons on his pants, “And now you insist on thinking you can take that tone with me? I don't think so.”

“Mm…” She raised her eyebrows, becoming even more aroused by the way he was acting, “What are you going to do to me, professor?”

“Spread your fucking legs and I'll show you.” He responded in a gruff, demanding tone.

“Yes, sir…” Her eyes fell to his crotch again once his buttons were undone, the bulge now protruding through the opening and straining against the front of his boxers.

He dipped his head again and their lips met urgently with a bruising kiss. Eleanor’s arms snaked around his neck again and pulled at his bottom lip, enjoying the whine that came from him as a result. Her fingers darted into his hair as he rocked his hips up against the edge of his desk, rolling up onto his tip toes several times and making soft noises against her lips.

“What, is my punishment that you're going to fuck this desk instead of me?” She giggled when the desk rocked again briefly against the wall it was positioned against as a result of his hips.

“What have I told you about your fucking mouth?” He snarled, subtly enjoying the brief friction through the material of his underwear.

“Mm… so sweary…” She grinned against his lips.

“I’m going to need you to remove your underwear,” He grunted, “And actually be a good girl for me.”

“Actually…” She swallowed hard, seeing the disapproval in his face already for not immediately bowing to his command, “There’s a slight problem with that.”

“Miss Eleanor, I do not think it would be wise for you to disobey me again…” He exhaled through his nose with a glare, narrowing his suspicious eyes when he noticed her reaching for his wrists while leaning up to kiss him feverishly as he muttered against her lips, “You are becoming insufferable again…” They kissed again, her hands now guiding his to her thighs under her dress, “Intolerable…”

“The problem being...” She let go of his wrists and moved herself closer to the edge of the desk to encourage his hands to move further up her thighs, “I’m not wearing any.”

Her words left a tingle against his lips — a tingle that went directly down to his cock. He felt Eleanor smile as they kissed again, her hands now resting against his shoulders. Although he hardly doubted her for a moment, Severus’ hands still moved further under her dress just to make sure. Despite the feeling of her bare skin beneath his fingertips easing his mind, it did not ease the arousal bulging against his own underwear that was still purposefully brushing against the edge of his desk with each kiss.

“Did you remove your underwear for me or already in hopes for him?” He asked in a serious tone, pressing his fingertips into her skin and smirking when she whimpered against his lips.

“You,” She gasped when she felt his fingers move directly between her legs, kissing him hungrily, “Always for you.”

Severus swore he could hear the pulsing of his cock from her response, now pulling his hands away completely and holding her face in one hand and desperately reaching down to free himself from his underwear with the other.

“Fuck…” He mumbled to himself, now suddenly starting to feel around in the desk drawer and then his pockets as if in some desperate hope for some form of condom or alternative contraception, “I need… I just need…” He looked around frantically, frustrated with himself, “Stay right here. Don’t move a muscle.”

“Wait,” She reached out for him once he began to pull away, “Don’t go anywhere. Its fine.”

“But I don't have- I need to go get-”

“No, shh, I said it is fine,” She shook her head, pulling him closer to her again and stretching her legs out to wrap around his waist, “Honestly.”

“You don't… want me to use anything?” He asked, she shook her head so he repeated, “Anything?”

She shook her head again, glancing down at his hardened length for a moment before glancing up at him again, “I removed my underwear before I approached you when we got back because I didn't want any barriers to stop you throwing me around your chamber in a rage of jealousy, and I would quite like to stick to the theme…” She bit her lip when he stepped close to her again, his desperate, sticky precum wet length now lining up perfectly between her legs, “I’ve been learning the contraception spell, and there's only one way to know if it worked, right?” She giggled, their heavy, desire-filled eyes now meeting, “I want you to have your way with me, Severus. No barriers. Skin on skin.”

Severus’ lips parted as he struggled with a response, taking everything in him not to lose control hands-free right in that moment from her words alone.

“Show me what happens when someone touches what's yours.” She licked her lips seductively, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Too fucking right, you’re mine.” He snarled, gripping her thighs in his large hands as he thrusted his hips forward in one, swift motion. She let out a high-pitched moan and he exhaled loudly as he felt her tense around him immediately, but for the first time nothing between them, and spoke breathily into her ear, “And don't you ever ‘shush’ me again.”

Her lips parted to apologise but all that passed through them was an even louder moan. Severus was showing no mercy, already thrusting his hips at such a pace that their kisses were hard to maintain. He gripped her thighs firmly with his hands, their teeth now colliding with rough kisses.

“I love the way you claim me so selfishly…” She spoke against his lips, trying her best to grip onto him with her arms around his neck.

“I do not wish to ever see you with another man again,” He panted against her lips, “And I could not care less how selfish that sounds.”

“Mmm… fuck me like you mean it, Severus.” Her hand dived into his hair, pulling at it in time with his thrusts.

“Do not doubt my intentions…” He spoke gruffly, secretly still trying to get used to the feeling of nothing between them as his entire length continued to plunge in and out of her in fits of desperation.

He could easily lose himself in this new, much more sensitive feeling, and trying his hardest not to was not helped by Eleanor now wrapping her legs around him tightly and digging her heels into his bottom with each thrust he made. He had no choice but to break the kiss and gasp for air; his moans were continuous but he needed to at least attempt to try and catch his breath before he passed out.

“Mm… mm, fuck!” Eleanor cried out in pleasure from the sudden change of angle and speed of his hips, her legs now desperately trying to cling onto him as their bodies shuddered in delight with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, yes… agh!” Severus grunted between heavy breaths as his hips picked up an even more relentless pace.

“Y—You’re…” She reached out weakly to grab onto the buttons of his clothing but resulted in wafting the air clumsily instead as her entire body shivered from his harsh pace, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as they rolled back, “F—Fucking me so good, Severus…”

“I’m fucking you like you're mine.” He growled against her lips and shook his overcoat and cloak off, now standing in his black button down shirt and his desperately unbuttoned trousers which his strong thighs had prevented from pooling to the floor.

“Yeah?” She grinned and forced her eyes open, losing her breath completely when she saw the pure rush of delight visibly flowing through Severus’ body with each and every movement he made.

“Yes,” He responded with his eyes closed and placed one of his hands flat on the wall to steady himself; the bare contact and pace of his movements were giving him so much pleasure that he feared the feeling he could pass out wash over him again, “You. Are. Mine,” He grunted in time with each harsh thrust, “And. Mine. Alone.” He could barely catch his breath at this point, “Do you hear me?”

Eleanor could not speak for moaning out his name repeatedly with the mixture of everything that was happening, so instead offered him a shaky nod. Not that Severus saw her response with his head tilted back and his eyes still closed tightly. The table squeaked upon its legs from the forceful, consistent back and forth movements and banged against the wall. Severus felt himself slipping further and further into the raw feeling of the skin-on-skin contact and tensed his jaw every time his hips thrust all the way forward. Countless profanities left his mouth as his head made several attempts to rise again, his sweaty hair now becoming a part of his sticky forehead.

“M…mine…” He grunted, his sweaty palm now slipping down the wall. He removed it so both of his hands now clamped onto her waist as her legs squeezed around him, “Mine, mine, mine,” Each word was emphasised with a harsh slam of his hips and causing Eleanor to let out a loud squeal in the process.

“Fuck, yes, Severus,” She moaned, digging her heels harder into his bottom to urge him not to stop or slow down, “Y—Yours, Sev. Yours.”

“Good girl.” He growled against her lips, her face now in his hands as they reignited their previous clumsy kisses, “Sh-Shit…” He gasped loudly against her lips as the familiar flames in the pit of his stomach began to lick their way further up his body, trying to grasp her lip between his teeth each time their lips collided, “I’m going to cum, Princess… I—I’m going to fucking c-!”

“Mm, you certainly don't fuck me like a Princess.” She grinned against his lips, giggling for a moment before realising how close he actually was to his climax when she felt him desperately bucking his hips against hers.

“A-Ah, fuck!” He hissed through clenched teeth, his hands trembling against her face as he felt himself crumbling in pleasure, “Oh, oh! I'm cu…!” His moans were even louder than ever now, his thumbs shakily caressing her cheekbones as he tried his best to hold her face in place as his orgasm exploded with each twitch of his cock, “Ah, fuck, Eleanor!” He cried out breathlessly, feeling as if he had entered another dimension with the amount of pleasure coursing through him.

Eleanor’s own climax was already on the edge, her entire body becoming jittery each time he pushed her closer to it, but the reaction Severus gave to getting off inside her with no barriers whatsoever was all she needed to hit her peak of pleasure. Her arms flung themselves around his neck and legs tightened around his waist as she became completely undone at the mercy of his bare, relentless cock.

“S-Sev-!” She struggled for breath, repeatedly contracting around him with each pulse of his thrusting length, “Severus! Fuck…” Her fingers trembled in his hair as her body continuously switched from tensing up and turning to jelly.

Severus’ moans proceeded to rattle against the walls as his eyes rolled back in pleasure, his hands now back against her thighs and shakily massaging his fingertips against her skin. Their bodies continued to convulse in pure bliss, their clothing now sticking to their bodies with sweat as their hot breath fogged up the chamber with their heavy breathing.

Even after their movements had slowed, Severus found it practically impossible to speak for a few long moments, but when he did, he just said, “Fucking hell, that was amazing…”

“I’m surprised we didn't end up next door…” Eleanor giggled breathily, placing her hands upon his heaving chest.

“One does not take the opportunity to have you completely naturally for granted.” He whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand and gazing down into her eyes as he bit his lip.

“Mm…” Eleanor grinned, kissing him softly, “I never want to be fucked in any other way again, professor.”

“Stop talking like that,” He spoke playfully sharply against her lips, “Or it’ll never go down.”

“Don’t tempt me to keep going,” She looked up at him with a wink, “You and I both know that we always tend to have the best sex when one of us has somehow pissed the other one off.”

“No comment.” Severus spoke slowly, his facial expression straining to remain straight. He knew she was right.

“Making you jealous gets you all riled up,” She squeezed his shoulders, “Making you jealous does turn you on, Severus…” She raised her eyebrows, “Why do you think I spend all night with any man who isn't you and then turn up in your chamber without any underwear on? Why do you think I enjoy making you jealous so much, hm?”

“Why do you think I let you?” Severus replied instantly in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“Because I know you’ll fuck me into next week.” Eleanor replied just as fast, biting her lip harshly to try and suppress the wide grin that was threatening to show.

“Or next door, apparently.” Severus chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face as their eyes met again.

“I think this has to be our best worst habit.” Eleanor laughed along with him.

“I happen to agree with that statement.” Severus crinkled his nose, tilting her chin up with his index finger.

“What’s that?” Eleanor gasped playfully, “We actually agree on something?”

“Watch your lip, sweetheart…” Severus’ voice lowered, his eyes narrowing.

“I bet you’d like to watch my lip… my… lips…” Eleanor dared herself to say, though she only spoke in a timid tone.

“You really are insufferable…” He shook his head, eyes still on hers, “That attitude of yours will get you into trouble, you know.”

“Admit it, Severus,” She smirked, “I’m the kind of trouble that you enjoy.”

“Ha.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically, letting go of her and starting tuck himself back into his trousers.

“Oh, no, no,” She shook her head and pursed her lips, reaching down to push his hands away from his crotch. Severus’ gaze met hers again, his lips parting from her insinuation and a heavy breath leaving them as his jaw clenched from her following words spoken with a devilish grin, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

---

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