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not-neverland06 · 5 months ago

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Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

a/n: He doesn’t get TB in this. Why? Because this is fanfiction and I’m god and fuck canon (I just finished the game, I’m emotionally distraught and needed this)

Warnings: brief attempted SA

Summary: Your father is a gambling man and you’re always the collateral. He refuses to pay the wrong man and now you’re being dragged across country roads to a man you’ve never met. Arthur Morgan, an outlaw down to the bone, is in charge of making sure you get there in one piece. Except, he doesn’t feel right selling a woman off like she’s property.

You’re done being a doormat and letting the men in your life tell you what you’re worth. You’ve got three days to escape him, but you’re not prepared for the reality of the real world.

“Put your hands where I can see ‘em, cowboy.” Arthur’s shoulders tense and he curses under his breath. His hand darts to the revolver on his hip, but the second his fingers twitch towards it he hears a hammer being pulled back. The cool barrel of a gun digs into his neck and he raises his hand in surrender.

The man behind him lets out a familiar laugh and tugs him around. Arthur rolls his eyes and glares at Dutch. “The hell are you doing?”

Dutch clears his throat, still laughing slightly. “Relax, Arthur, but if I had been an O’Driscoll you’d be dead right now.” Arthur doesn’t point out that the only thing they have to worry about out here are the Lemonye raiders. He’s more focused on why Dutch is even out here. Rarely does he leave Shady Belle to traverse the streets of St. Denis.

None of them are particularly fond of the place. If he wanted to step in horse shit every other step he’d go to a stable. At least those smell better. Dutch slings an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, tugging him away from the saloon he was heading towards.

“You’re gonna have to save the cheating for later, Arthur, I need you for something.”

“You know I don’t cheat,” Arthur jokes and Dutch grins at him and it’s nice. This is familiar to him. This feels right. Dutch has been odd lately, the jobs he’s been taking, the risks he’s been imposing, none of them feels like the man he knows.

Now, Arthur would follow Dutch straight into hell without being asked. But he can’t abide by how he’s putting their people in harm's way. He’s felt like a stranger more often than not and he’s been doubting the people he shouldn’t. Right now, though, he can see the man he knows in the teasing curl of his lips.

“What’dya need?”

Dutch pauses in front of a tailor and pats Arthur’s chest. “I need you to look prim and proper for a party we’ve got tonight.”

Arthur’s brows furrow cynically and he scoffs. “Someone invited us to a party?”

Dutch hesitates, a stiff smile on his face. “Well, let’s just say someone is interested in our work.” Arthur wants to question him further, he’s hiding something from him. But Dutch is pushing him towards the door of the shop before he can argue. “And get a haircut, we need to look presentable not like a bunch of mountain men.”

Arthur watches as Dutch leaves, something heavy weighing down on him. Dutch doesn’t usually tell people about his plans beforehand. At least not every step of them. But this is odd, he’s definitely hiding something and Arthur isn’t sure he wants to know what.

With a resigned huff, he heads into the tailor. He has to mentally prepare himself for being stuffed into a starched collar and a stiff suit for the rest of the night. He hates these damn parties, hates having to pretend like he knows what the hell is being said.

Most of the people that attend are educated or pretend to be. And when he lets it slip that he’s more likely to shoot a gun than read a book they turn on him like jackals. You can’t let them see that you’re different than them or you’ll never get a word in edgewise.

The only part he enjoys is the booze and robbing them of their money. It’s not like they earned any of it. Most of it was made by breaking the backs of the people they mock for being too poor to afford a fancy suit.

Arthur takes a deep breath and looks for the cheapest suit he can find in the overpriced shop.

“Now,” Mr. Crane’s hand tightens around your bicep and he jerks you closer to him. You keep your face impassive, not letting him see just how much he’s hurting you. But you can feel your skin being stretched to its limits by his clammy fingers. “You’re going to behave tonight. I’ve got a few gentlemen I’d like you to meet.”

He looks at you expectantly but you keep your mouth firmly shut. His eyes narrow and he jerks you around roughly. “Understood,” you force the word out through gritted teeth. You’re trying to breathe as little as possible, not wanting to smell his cigar-laced breath any longer.

Finally, after a tortuously long moment, he releases you. You take ten steps back, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from the silk skirt he’d forced you in. You glance out the window of his office, watching as the workers scramble to set up the tables for tonight. You can hear cooks in the kitchen, shouting out orders for the food for tonight.

Everything must be perfect. Mr. Crane never fails to deliver on his extravagantly indulgent parties. The man himself is the very embodiment of greed. You glance over with a disgusted sneer as he sinks himself into his leather chair and pulls out a wad of cash.

He catches your eye and sends you a sickly sweet smile. “This,” he waves the money at you and you track the movement boredly. “Is how much you’re worth, sweetheart.” Your brows raise in amusement and you scoff. More than you thought he would put up for you.

You wonder who he’s going to have transport you. He’ll need you out of the city soon, your father is starting to catch onto what’s happening. It took him long enough. You’ve been missing a month, you’d think he would have put two and two together faster. Then again, he’d never been very interested in you beyond what you were worth to others.

“When will I be able to meet these gentlemen?” You ask, taking a step towards him. Your eyes dart towards the letter opener on his desk and for a brief moment you picture yourself strabbing it into his fattened jugular.

But he flicks his wrist and like magic the door opens, his men coming inside and standing resolutely by your side. “Not anytime soon, my dear.” He looks to the men surrounding you and you take in a sharp breath, wishing you’d just taken the chance when you had it. “My associate is feeling quite tired, take her back to her room, please.”

They grab you by the elbows, even though it's entirely unnecessary. You wouldn’t run, and even if you did you wouldn’t get far with the chains he has hidden under your dress. A punishment for the first time you snuck from his home. You’ve been well behaved since then but he doesn’t trust you.

You’re whisked away without another word. The trek of the stairs is a slow one. They’re forced to help you navigate by lifting your skirts and not tripping on the chains. It no longer brings you any satisfaction to cause a hindrance in any of their days.

Before, you would think of being an annoyance as a small victory. But it’s not, it never was. It was just a way for them to keep you complacent by allowing you to think you’d done something for yourself. You believe your father used to do the same thing.

It’s just another way of keeping you quiet.

When you make it to your rooms, they shove you inside. Like clockwork, you hear the jingle of the keys and then the lock clicks. You sigh and take a step towards your vanity, working on touching up your hair.

You think the worst part of this must be how well you’re treated. You have meals made by a private chef. Your quarters are decorated more lavishly than they ever were at your father’s house. Yet, you hear the suffocating tick of the clock as it counts down your doom.

You’re not entirely sure what their plan is with you. You know your father had made a promise to Mr. Crane involving some land. Or perhaps it had been a wager. But as always, you were collateral when your father refused to pay up.

You know Mr. Crane wants you out of town so that he has more time to negotiate with your father, to call in the interest he owes him. You also know the only reason your father is interested in finding you is because you’re meant to marry the son of a business partner in two months. The money he’ll get from that will be enough to finally pay off his debts.

Except, now, Mr. Crane tells you that should your father refuse to pay you’ll be married to one of his associates. And the deal he’ll make from that will be enough to cover what your father has refused to pay.

No matter what, you’re going to be married off to some man you’ve never met and yet again be a quiet trophy on a shelf. It’s a very convoluted situation, one which makes you think leaping from a window might be a better fate.

None of the men your father or Mr. Crane is in business with are particularly kind. They’ve got more skeletons in the closet than there are in the graveyard. You doubt you’ll live a very happy life with whoever they pick for you.

You slump forward onto the vanity, trying to fight off the burning feeling in the back of your eyes. You’ve known this would happen for years. Even before Mr. Crane had you kidnapped, you knew that this would be your destiny. You would never get to be one of the free-spirited women who fought for the right to choose. You would always be forced into this role.

Yet, being so close to it coming to fruition makes you feel choked and suffocated. You can feel the noose around your neck tightening, the hangman’s fingers twitching as he waits to see you drop.

You dig your nails into your palm, taking in a deep breath and fighting back the wave of despair. Where there is doom, you also see a sliver of hope. Your next journey will be a long one. He’s hiring someone to have you transported to an area further up the map.

If you play your cards right you might be able to escape while you’re traveling. If you’re incredibly smart about this, thinking with your head and not your heart, you might have a shot at freedom.

You take in a deep breath, reapplying your makeup and resolving yourself to another night of mindless entertainment. But you hold onto that fleeting feeling of hope. You have a shot, you just have to take it.

Arthur’s heard of these parties before. Some Mr. Crane fella that likes to blow all his money on food and booze. He indulges his guests and when they’re weakest, gets their secrets from them. He’s a snake and everyone knows it. Yet, missing his party is social suicide. They have no choice but to go and indulge in him.

Arthur had never had any interest in meeting him or doing any business with him. But Dutch had informed him that’s exactly what’s happening tonight. They’ll mingle for a little while, maybe scout some other jobs, and then Mr. Crane will invite them up to his office for a private discussion.

Dutch still hasn’t told him what exactly their business with him is. He brought Hosea along tonight so he has to assume it’s not going to be anything violent. But he can’t think of anything else they could be good for.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Dutch places his hands on Hosea’s and Arthur’s shoulders, a scheming smile on his face. “Try not to embarrass me.” He slips behind them, heading up the stairs of the home. Hosea and Arthur share a brief look before they split up, blending into the background of the garden.

Arthur lurks near the bar, he knows he should be talking to these assholes, possibly learning something useful. But he can’t be bothered. He orders a whiskey, gaze surveying the partygoers. They’re all loud with painted faces and fake smiles. Not a goddamn person here seems to be genuinely interested in anything they’re doing.

“First time?” The soft voice beside him catches him off guard. He glances to the side and is surprised to see that you’ve slipped past him. He hadn’t even noticed you slide up next to him. You laugh at the look on his face and it’s the first thing here that seems real. “Sorry, it’s just that look on your face, I recognize the disappointment. You’ve never been to one of Crane’s parties before?”

“No,” he clears his throat, still recovering from the surprise. “Uh, I can’t say I have.”

You suck on your teeth, narrowing your eyes at the people passing by. “They’re not worth the effort. Everyone who leaves here leaves carrying his debt on their back.”

Arthur chuckles a little, lips twitching up into a small smile. He’s surprised by your frankness, most people like to hide behind passive-aggressive digs. He appreciates the straightforward attitude. “Then why are you here?”

You shrug and Arthur finds himself enchanted. He shouldn’t be, he’s never been one for romance. He finds women pretty and he’s been in love before, but he’s never bought into the idea of love at first sight. Or any of that mushy stuff that Mary Beth devours in those books of hers.

But you are absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a silk dress that’s so expensive he’s sure he could buy two new horses with it. Your fingers and neck are decorated in dainty jewels that you fidget with as you stare down at your drink. When you set your eyes on him again he thinks he might have been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

“I don’t have a choice,” you finally answer, sending him a stiff smile. “What about you? Why are you here?”

Arthur suddenly remembers himself, remembers why he’s here and what he’s supposed to be doing. The fog in his head dissipates and he’s disappointed in himself. Pretty women have never done anything except get him in trouble.

“Business,” he answers vaguely. Your eyes narrow and your brows twitch in discontent. Something like realization dawns on your face and you back away from him. The easy attitude you’d carried yourself with is gone, replaced by a vague look of distrust.

“Right, should’ve known.” You let out a rough sigh and Arthur can’t help but feel like he’s said the wrong thing. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you again soon.” You slip past him before he can ask you what you mean. He hears the faint sound of metal clinking as you walk back up the stairs.

Something silver flashes under your skirts but he can’t get a good glimpse of it. He feels unsettled as he turns back to the bar. The whole interaction was odd. From how stricken he was with you to how cold you turned.

He doesn’t know what you saw in him but it was probably for the best that you left when you did. Neither of you needed the trouble the other would bring. He shakes his head, downing his whiskey and muttering nonsense to himself about not thinking with the wrong head.

It’s not that much later that Dutch is appearing on the balcony and silently motions him forward. Arthur leaves the bar behind and slips up the same stairs you’d disappeared on. Dutch says nothing as he leads Hosea and Arthur through the house.

The mansion is a maze more than anything. Arthur loses track of all the turns they take and the winding staircases they descend. Finally, Dutch stops them all in front of two large oak doors. He raps once on the door and then lets himself in.

A large, balding man with a shiny head is perched on top of a leather chair. He looms behind his desk, fingers steepled as he greets them all with a false smile. “Ah, gentlemen, so nice to finally meet you.”

Dutch grins and motions to Arthur, “This is the man who will be doing the transporting, Arthur.” Arthur’s eyes narrow in confusion but he says nothing as Dutch moves to Hosea, “And this is my associate, Hosea. He’s a lot better with money than I am, Mr. Crane. You understand.”

Mr. Crane lets out a boisterous laugh that makes Arthur’s ears hurt and nods his head, his cheeks jiggling with the movement. “That I do! Well,” he waves them forward when they linger in the doorway too long, “come in, come in.”

Arthur closes the doors behind them as Mr. Crane lifts himself from his desk. There are two couches positioned in front of an unlit fire. He takes one of them and Dutch and Hosea take the other. Arthur perches himself on the armrest of their couch, eyes surveying the office like it might reveal the truth of their visit.

“I trust Mr. Van der Linde has kept this all quiet?”

“He has,” Arthur grouses.

At the same time, Dutch says, “Of course, Mr. Crane. I promised confidentiality and Dutch Van der Linde is nothing if not a man who keeps to his promises.” Crane nods, looking satisfied and Arthur holds back a laugh at how easily he seems to trust Dutch.

“Good, good.” He dips his hand inside his jacket and Arthur’s palm instinctively drops to where his gun should be. Of course, they’d had to give up their weapons before they came into the party, if he does has a gun Arthur can’t do a damn thing.

But he doesn’t, instead, he pulls out the thickest stack of cash that Arthur has ever laid his eyes on. A loud thud resounds through the room as he slams the bills on top of the table between them. Arthur’s eyes widen and Hosea’s jaw nearly drops at the sight of it all.

This would be enough to get them out of St. Denis tonight. Shock sours quickly into suspicion. What the hell has Dutch signed up for? “Now, this is the first half. This is simply for accepting the job and,” he gives them all severe looks, “for your silence.”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably on his perch and waits for Mr. Crane to finish. “The other half will be given once the package has been safely delivered.” There’s a certain lilt to his words when he says package that has Arthur’s hackles raising. Whatever is getting delivered is not going to be good.

Crane turns towards the bookshelves on the wall and calls out, “Darling, won’t you join us?” Arthur figures the man must have lost his mind, they should just take the money and leave. But there’s a loud creak and something like metal gears grinding together. One of the shelves pops open and the panel swings forward.

You pop your head out, glancing towards Crane and then taking a step forward. Arthur, without even thinking about it, finds himself sitting up, and brushing some of the dirt off his pants from the ride over.

At first, he’s so confused by seeing you again that he doesn’t realize why exactly he’s seeing you again. Then you glance towards him, a knowing look on your face and it clicks. You’re the package. You’re what he’s meant to be transporting.

He glares over at Dutch, when exactly did they get into the business of trading women?

Hosea voices his doubts in a much calmer manner. “If I may, sir, why does she need to be delivered so discreetly?”

Mr. Crane laughs and your face twitches unpleasantly. You grimace, glaring at the back of the man’s head with something like murder in your eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s done to cause such a visceral look of hate and he doesn’t want to think about it. This whole situation is bothering him. You’re not here willingly, which means you’re not going to be transported willingly either.

None of this makes sense. Dutch would never have taken a job like this before, even when they needed the money. And there’s no way in hell a rich man like this one would want to pay a couple of grungy outlaws so much money. There’s got to be some sort of trick in all of this.

Cran clears his throat, “She’s a daughter of a, well,” he frowns and struggles for the words. “Let’s just say we’re in a hostile competition for a lot of land. This land, boys, could be very beneficial in expanding my business. He’s not interested in selling and, well, desperate times, desperate measures.”

You scoff, laughing slightly at him and rounding the couch. Dutch ignores you, Hosea looks uncomfortable, and Crane continues prattling on without missing a beat. “Should her father not pay me, she will be married to the associate you’re bringing her to. He’s promised me enough land and money to cover what I lost to her father. And if he does pay, she’ll be returned in time for her wedding here.”

Arthur’s eyes dart towards you and you send him a bitter smile. It makes him shift where he sits, hating the way your eyes bore into him. “I just need someone who's not afraid of getting their hands a little dirty to make sure she behaves while she’s delivered to my friend,” Crane glances over at Arthur. He asses him, the bulge of his arms in the suit and the scars on his face, whatever he finds must be satisfactory because he smiles over at Dutch.

Arthur stands, ready for Dutch to tell Mr. Crane that they’re not in the business of selling women off. But Dutch doesn’t, he smiles at Mr. Crane and reaches for the money, passing it off to Hosea to count. “Well, I do believe my friend Arthur is just the man for the job.”

“I think you’re right, Dutch.” He stands up now, pot belly nearly bursting the buttons of his shirt, and reaches for Dutch’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Dutch smiles and takes his sweaty palm, “You as well, sir.” Dutch walks towards you and holds his arm out. “This way, my dear.” You glance between him and his elbow before rolling your eyes and reluctantly placing your hand on his arm. You follow him silently and obediently, no fight is left in you. Hosea follows after you both, a concerned look on his face.

Arthur remains in the office, standing dumbfounded and staring at the doorway you’d disappeared through. He’s struggling to process what just happened. Arthur has helped people get home safely before and provided protection. But he’s never been one to traffic a hostage.

Crane glances up, finally noticing him still standing there. He walks past him, patting his shoulder as he does and giving him an approving smile. “Don’t be afraid to take care of her should she get out of hand.” He’s nearly out the door but he looks back and adds, “Just don’t bruise her too much.”

Arthur’s fingers twitch for his revolver once more and he’s never wanted to shoot a man more. But he knows Dutch is waiting for him and he’d never make it out of here alive if he started a fight right now. Reluctantly, he makes his way out of the manor and towards where you’re all waiting for him.

He’s fuming by the time he stops in front of Dutch. He’s trying to help you onto his horse and Arthur finally realizes what the metal sound he heard earlier is. There are chains around your ankles and you can’t maneuver yourself on the saddle.

His eyes narrow and he glares at Dutch, “What the hell are you doing? We’re selling women now?”

Dutch glowers at the tone of Arthur’s voice. You watch them both passively, fiddling with the rings on your fingers and looking unbothered by the entire situation. “Watch yourself, Arthur,” there’s a clear warning in his tone but Arthur’s too upset to care.

They’ve done a lot of bad things. They weren’t good men. But this was just going too far. “We need this, Arthur. You want to get out of here, you want to keep our people safe?” Arthur let out a deep exhale, gritting his teeth together and nodding reluctantly. Dutch huffs, “That’s what I thought. We’re not selling anyone, Arthur. It’s a simple delivery.”

His jaw clenches as he watches Dutch struggle to help you again. “It’s not going to work,” you inform Dutch. You lift your skirts, flashing him the chains he hadn’t seemed to notice yet. Neither of you gets a chance to say anything as Arthur pulls out his gun and shoots the lock off.

He feels a little guilty at how startled you look. Your eyes widen until they look like they might bulge out. Your hands fly up to cover your ears as the sound rocks through you. It breaks violently through the silence of the night.

Dutch turns and gives him a stern look, “Have you forgotten the meaning of subtlety?” Arthur can tell he’s trying not to shout and drag any more attention towards you all.

Arthur glares at Dutch, something wicked brewing in his stomach. “The lady wouldn’t be able to ride a horse like that.” He mounts his horse and rides off without a look back. He can’t stand to be near you or Dutch any longer.

The reality of what they’ve turned into hits him like a bag of rocks and it makes him irate. They’ve never been these people. Never traded a person off like they were an object. He’s sure plenty of people in camp would have a problem with this. But he doubts Dutch will let them know the truth until the job is done.

And by then, everyone will be too happy with the money to complain. Dutch is nothing if not good at saving his ass. He’s hitching his horse as the rest of you ride into camp. He lingers by Diablo, resting a hand on the thick neck of the shire while Dutch helps you off the saddle.

His eyes narrow in on the way Dutch’s fingers glide along your waist as you jump down. You take a step back the second your legs are steady sending Dutch a dirty look that almost makes Arthur laugh.

He starts towards Dutch, ready to try and reason with him again. But he holds his hand up and walks away, not even giving him a chance to speak. Arthur lets out a rough sigh as Hosea comes up behind him.

He pats his shoulder comfortingly, “You should get some sleep, Arthur. You’ll ride with her to Strawberry tomorrow morning.” He almost walks off but he whispers a quiet, “I’m sorry,” before he goes.

Arthur glances towards you but you’re looking around the camp, eyes lingering on Javier as he sings by the fire. He swears he almost sees you smile but it's gone as quickly as it came. He takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair and letting out a tired sigh.

“Alright, come with me,” he starts towards the house. It takes a minute to realize you’re not directly behind him. When he looks over your shoulder he sees you with your skirts lifted, tiptoeing through the mud and trying not to get your pretty skirts dirty.

He rolls his eyes, storming back towards you. Your eyes widen at the look on his face and you stumble back a few steps. Undeterred, he bends over, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the house.

Your hands claw at his back, desperately grasping onto his shirt so you keep your balance. He storms up the stairs, ignoring the alarmed looks he gets from others in camp. He can already hear them whispering, wondering who you are and why he’s dragging you into his room.

They can make up whatever the hell they want. Arthur’s too pissed off to give a shit about rumors tonight. He drops you unceremoniously onto his bed and storms back out. He heads downstairs, rooting around in one of the chests for some extra clothes.

You won’t be able to ride to Strawberry in those ridiculous clothes. You’ll need some pants if you’re going to sit on the horse properly. He tucks the outfit under his arm and makes his way back to you.

When he opens the door your hand immediately darts away from his shaving kit and shoves itself under your butt. His brows furrow as he catches a flash of silver in your hand. He places the clothes down on the end of the bed, eyes drifting towards his shaving kit. Sure enough, his razor seems to be missing.

He lets out a sigh and you tense up, hand clenching around your prize. He briefly debates taking it from you. But he figures you should be allowed a modicum of comfort. Even if you did try and use it against him it’s dull, he hasn’t sharpened it in a while and you wouldn’t be able to do much damage anyway.

He lets you keep it, leaving you on your own without another word. He can hear the exhale of relief you let out when he walks away and it makes him feel just a little better about this. At least you’re not completely terrified.

You change into the clothes Arthur gave you. They’re a little big, but you appreciate the pants. It’s much better than the ridiculous dresses Crane had you in. You collect your dress and toss it out the window of Arthur’s room, watching it sink into the mud pit below. It brings you some satisfaction to see Crane’s pretty silk getting ruined.

You take off the jewelry you’d been given and stuff it into your boots. If you did manage to escape while you were traveling with Arthur then you were going to need some cash. You could sell off the jewels and hopefully, it would be enough to keep you comfortable.

It feels nice, to wear real clothes. Not being dressed up like a doll for once. You envy some of the women here, who can wear what they want. There is an appeal to the outlaw life. As long as you’re on the right side of it, which, currently, you’re not.

You slip out of the house before anyone has a chance to retrieve you. The whole night you were curled up around a dull razor with your eyes wide open. Spending a night surrounded by outlaws isn’t exactly restful.

You figure you might as well try and walk around before you’re on the back of a horse for the rest of the day. There are more people up than you’d expected. Luckily, you don’t see Dutch around anywhere. You don’t feel like having to deal with any more of his false charm or empty apologies.

The same man you’d seen strumming his guitar the night before is asleep next to the dying fire. A blonde woman catches your eye, she’s walking past some other women in dresses. They’re still asleep but she looks like she’s been up for hours.

There’s a bit of blood on her pants and you briefly wonder what she’d been doing. “Who are you?” She asks, surveying you from head to toe with suspicion in her eyes.

“A package,” you tell her bluntly, walking past her towards the only lit fire of camp. She follows you, a wry grin on her face as she watches you pour yourself some coffee.

“You’ve got a real attitude, I like it.”

You huff out a laugh, taking a sip of the burnt coffee and giving her a brief smile. “I’m sure my future husband won’t.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs, waving you off. “Husbands, good for nothing. I loved mine but he was useless as a sack o’ flour. You’re better off without them.”

Your smile turns strained and you look down at your feet, at the boots that aren’t your own. You’ll never get to dress like this again. Or speak like this to a woman who isn’t afraid to voice what's on her mind.

“Yes, well,” you shrug and meet her eyes again, “I don’t seem to have much of a choice.”

Her eyes narrow and she frowns, “What’s that supposed to-”

“Mrs. Adler!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp and forces the others awake. Most of them grumble, but they’re quick to get started on morning chores. “I see you’ve met our guest,” he says your name with a flourish that almost makes you laugh.

He’s a good actor. He’s especially good at covering up his mistakes. “Yeah, what’s going on, Dutch? Who is she? Why don’t you guys ever let me in on this stuff?” She fires off questions rapidly, you almost don’t catch them all. There are clearly underlying issues here other than your unexpected presence.

“In due time,” he assures her, laying the charm on thick. But even you can tell he’s full of it. He’s not planning on letting her in on anything unless it benefits him. “And this is our guest, her fiancee has paid us handsomely to provide her safe passage back to him.”

He walks towards you, laying a hand over your arm and squeezing slightly. You give Sadie a stiff smile and let him lead you away. “I do believe it’s best that you just wait for Arthur, dear.” He gives you a look that lets you know it’s an order, not a suggestion.

Still, you play along, “I think you might be right, Mr. Van der Linde, thank you for the hospitality.” You run a tired hand over your face, sitting down on the stoop of the house and finishing off the rest of your coffee. Dutch watches you for a while, never straying too far from where you are and intercepting anyone who asks about you.

He spins quite the romantic tale of your lost love and how he desperately wants you back. You wish it were true, that you were living out some wonderful fairytale and were about to be reunited with the love of your life. Instead, it feels like one long walk to the gallows.

The wood creaks behind you and you don’t need to turn to see who it is. “Ready?” Arthur asks and you figure he means, ready to leave freedom and happiness and the will to live behind?

No, “Sure,” you toss the rest of the coffee into the grass and leave the mug on the stairs. You get to your feet and let him lead you towards the horses. He shares a brief look with Dutch as you pass by him but it doesn’t look entirely pleasant.

He makes his way toward a towering black shire and your eyes widen in horror. “What’s this?”

He works on saddling the horse up, not paying much attention to you. “This is Diablo.” You take a step closer and the horse starts huffing, swinging his neck towards you with his lips pulled back. You jump back a step back, eyeing him warily.

Arthur glances over and lets out a low chuckle, “He won’t bite. He’s just curious.”

“Mhm,” you give him a disbelieving look. “You’ll have to excuse me for being wary, I’ve not met a lot of horses.”

Arthur looks a bit shocked by your admission. “Really?” He questions, sounding doubtful.

You give him a brief smile and nod. “Hard to believe, I know, but I’ve lived a very sheltered life, Mr. Morgan. Haven’t had many opportunities for exploring on my own.”

He opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something. At the last second, he stops himself, instead taking a step closer to you. You flinch away from him when he reaches for you and he lets out a sigh. “You can’t spend the next three days terrified of him, come on.”

He coaxes you forward and you reluctantly step closer to the beast. He chuckles at the scared look on your face. You don’t appreciate how much amusement he’s gaining from this. “Come on,” he mutters, taking your wrist and leading you closer to Diablo.

The damn thing is named Devil, how could you not be terrified of it?

“He won’t bite, I promise.” You don’t trust him but he doesn’t give you much of a choice. He presses your open palm to Diablo’s nose and you wince, bracing for him to lash out at you.

But he doesn’t, he lets out a soft knicker and it seems like he doesn’t even care that you’re there. You let out a relieved laugh, running your hand tentatively over his muzzle. It’s shockingly soft and oddly squishy.

He doesn’t seem to mind as you awe over him. You smile and glance over at Arthur but it drops when you see the odd look on his face. He seems perplexed by your reaction and you can’t fathom why. “You really never have ridden a horse before, have you?”

You shake your head, “No. I told you.”

He purses his lips and nods. You don’t know what it is about this that’s bothering him and you don’t care to ask. If he doesn’t believe just how strict your upbringing has been then fine. “Alright, come on, we need to get a move on.”

He leads you around to the saddle and helps you up on the back of the horse. It’s beyond odd, sitting on something in pants. Getting to spread your legs freely is something you are going to greatly enjoy during this journey.

Arthur takes off without much warning and you yelp, throwing your arms around his waist to steady yourself. He glances over his shoulder at you but says nothing. You turn your head, watching as the camp gets smaller and smaller.

The people mill about, greet each other, and break bread together. It hits you suddenly, this will be the last time you get to see people being free. If you don’t get out, if you can’t escape, your life will be filled with starched collars and powdered faces. You’ll never have a genuine conversation with someone again. You’ll be turned into pretty jewelry hanging off the arm of a man you never met.

The ride to Strawberry is three days at least. You have three days to get your plan together and to escape. You almost feel sorry for Arthur and the repercussions he’ll have to face losing you. But not sorry enough that you’re not gonna try.

Arthur’s speed evens out and you let your arms relax, easing away from him slightly. Your wrist jolts against the gun on his hip and you eye it curiously. If you had a gun there would be no doubt you could escape. You see Arthur’s fingers twitch on the reigns of the horse and you move your arms higher up his torso.

You doubt you’ll be a quicker draw than he is. He is an outlaw after all. You don’t think he’d have many qualms about delivering you to your fiancee with a few extra holes in your gut. Your mind drifts to the razor in your pocket and you consider it for a moment.

You’re sure you’d be quick enough to just whip it out and slit his throat. You sigh and dismiss the thought. You were a lot of things but you were not a murderer. There are lines you can’t bring yourself to cross. Besides, as wicked as what he’s doing to you is, you know he’s a good man.

It was an instinctual feeling. Mr. Crane and your father were both horrible, evil men. They knew nothing but greed and would never be satisfied by all the riches they reaped. They were the type of men you looked at and knew deep down that there was nothing left to save.

Arthur has undoubtedly bad things. You don’t become an outlaw without spilling some blood. He was weathered and rough from a hard life, but that didn’t mean there was nothing good left in him. You won’t have his blood on your hands, no matter how much you might want to get away from him.

As grateful as Arthur is for the silence, it is odd. He’s helped a few ladies find their way back home before and for some reason, they seem to think he’s the best listener in the world. It seems everyone who rides with him wants to tell him their life stories.

You’re completely silent, though. He has to keep looking back just to make sure you haven’t fallen off the back of the horse. You’re pretty complacent, following along with whatever Dutch said and coming along quietly. You seem beaten down, the fight dragged out of you.

He wonders what Mr. Crane had done to you. A few times, he’s seen just a glimpse of the spark that used to be there. But it was snuffed out before he got a chance to know it. He almost wishes you would talk. It would distract him from what he was doing right now.

It didn’t feel right, bringing you along to marry a man you’ve never even met. He has to keep reminding himself that it would have happened no matter what. Ladies like you are always sold off into a profitable marriage. The only thing he’s doing is switching up who the fiancee might be.

None of that makes him feel better, though. He should be helping you, not dragging you away to your worst nightmare. But, his people come first. The amount of money Dutch’ll get from this will be enough to get them all out of here. This could finally be the last score.

You gasp behind him and he whips his head around, immediately expecting someone to be following along beside you both. Maybe your father’s men or just some raiders. But he doesn’t see anything except a herd of deer running through the trees.

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances back at you. You’re watching them like they’re something spectacular. Arthur’s always been a fan of the quiet beauty of nature. He appreciates them in ways most folks don’t understand. But you’re looking at ‘em like you just found God.

“Never seen deer before?” He teases, chuckling a little at your reaction.

You startle, not realizing he had been watching. You clear your throat and look away from them sheepishly. He almost feels bad for ruining the moment for you. “No. No, I haven’t.”

He knows it's possible, but it’s astounding to him that someone truly lived their whole life in the city. It just doesn’t seem right. Cities are full of shit, smog, and bad people. Not even having a moment out of that your whole life seems like torture.

“I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts,” you mutter, eyes darting back to the tree line. But the deer are gone and you don’t look very interested anymore.

“Right,” he shifts forward, the air between you awkward. He’d only meant it in jest. He didn’t mean to remind you of what was about to happen to you. He doesn’t like the silence, not this time, it feels wrong. It makes him stew in his shame and that’s a nasty feeling.

Selfishly, he prods you for more. “A few days on the road, you’ll be eager for the city again.”

You laugh but there’s no humor to it. “I very much doubt that Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur,” he corrects, “just call me Arthur.”

“Right,” your tone remains cold, “well if you don’t mind Arthur, I’d like to ride there in silence.”

He's got no other choice but to comply. If you don’t want to talk he won’t make you. He just wishes he could make this a little easier for you both.

Camping is something. You don’t have a word for it. It’s nice to be out in nature and embrace it for the first time in your life. But you really would not mind the comfort of your bed right now.

Rocks digging into your spine and head do not make for a good night’s sleep. You’ve been lying in front of the fire for hours, flipping around uselessly. It doesn’t matter how much you shift, the rock stays digging painfully into you.

You let out a loud huff, flopping onto your back and glaring up at the starry sky in defeat. At least the view is nice. In the city, you can’t see the stars. The smoke’s too thick and you never get a good look at them.

Out here, they almost feel fake. They’re so bright and beautiful, you thought the paintings in the museum had always been exaggerating just how breathtaking a night sky can be. But you were wrong. And you hate that there’s a potential future where you’ll never get to see this again.

“Would you quit squirming so damn much?”

You shoot up, resting on your elbows and glaring over at Arthur. He’s got his hat over his eyes, arms crossed, and looking like he’s been asleep for the past few hours. You hadn’t realized you’d been keeping him up.

“Some of us aren’t used to sleeping outside,” you hiss, throwing yourself back down to the ground. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you figure that’s the end of it. You clench your eyes shut, counting sheep in your mind and trying to force yourself asleep.

You hear boots crunching across leaves and your eyes fly open. Arthur’s standing over you, hands propped on his hips as he glares down at you. “Can I help you?” You snap when you get tired of the staring.

He scoffs and shakes his head, kneeling to be eye level with you. You’re startled by the proximity, an odd heat creeping up your neck. “Come on, I’m gonna tire you out. Maybe then you’ll get some sleep.”

You gasp, astonished at the audacity of his suggestion. “Excuse me?” You demand, tone incredulous.

His brows furrow before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Not like that,” he grouses. “Get up,” he doesn’t give you much of a choice. He places his hand under your back, shoving you onto your feet. You stand with a slight stumble, glaring at him as you brush dirt off your shirt and pants.

You can’t help the snotty tone of your voice as you ask, “What are we doing?”

“Huntin,’” He answers gruffly, going over to the horse and taking the bow out of his saddle.

Your brows furrow as you recall the few stories your father told you of hunting bison. “Aren’t you supposed to use a rifle?”

He shakes his head and nods towards the treeline. You glance back at the fire before reluctantly following him into the dark forest. The moon is full enough that it provides just enough light for you not to be terrified of what’s lurking in the underbrush.

“Got a friend,” he tells you, kneeling and glancing at some tracks on the ground. “Taught me how to hunt properly. Bows are quieter, less disruptive, and they provide quicker, cleaner kills.” He looks back at you and motions towards the arrows, “Less pain for the animal.”

Your face slacks with something like astonishment. All you’d heard from your father was the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the kill. He never mentioned keeping anything from the animal, using it for meat, or about how long it took for them to die. You’d never thought there was anybody who actually cared for the creature’s comfort as it died.

You suppose there’s going to be a lot about Arthur that’s different from the men you know.

“Arthur,” a twig snaps behind you, and your eyes widen. You drop your voice to a whisper, not wanting to draw too much attention towards you both. “I don’t want to kill anything,” you hiss.

“Ha!” He barks out a laugh and you purse your lips in irritation. He stands and looks at you, chuckling again before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be so confident in your huntin’ skill, kid.”

You click your tongue and glare at him, “Don’t call me that,” you snap. It’s the same patronizing nickname your father loved to use on you and you detest it. He raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes at the smirk on his face. “Then what’s the point of this?”

He shrugs and heads further into the trees, you have no choice but to follow along behind him. “Figure you should be taught a few skills before I get rid of ya.”

You want to argue with him that there’s no point. If you are given to Crane’s associate, you’ll never set foot in the woods again. However, if you do manage to escape him, learning a few survival skills wouldn’t be a bad idea.

So, you keep your mouth shut and let him lead you through the forest. “How do you know where to go?” You ask, trying to figure out what it is he keeps looking at in the mud. He waves you forward, moving you so you’re standing directly in front of him.

“You see that?” You have to squint, relying solely on the light from the moon, to make out what he’s pointing at. There are some tracks in the mud that look vaguely like hooves. “It’s buck tracks, you can tell by the size.” He kneels and when you don’t follow he tugs you down by the sleeve. “You can’t rely on just the tracks, though. You have to look for other signs of ‘em.”

You glance around, noticing some crushed twigs and grass a few feet ahead. “Like that?” You point towards it and he huffs in amusement.

“Caught on quicker than I thought.”

You feel vaguely offended by that but don’t bother voicing it, just glare at his back as he gets up. You walk silently through the forest, letting Arthur show you which tracks to follow and which to avoid. You’re not comforted by how many cougar prints you find. You stare up into the branches always expecting something to already be looking down at you.

Miraculously, no wild cat chooses you for dinner as you track the buck down. You find him near a small stream, antlers dipping into the water as he takes a drink. He’s got to be one of the most gorgeous creatures you’ve ever seen.

You’ve lived your whole life in St. Denis. The most you’ve seen are overworked carriage horses and mangy dogs. No life slips through the cracks of that place. There’s just smoke and misery. This is nature, real beauty. It’s breathtaking, the way the leaves ripple in the wind and the starlight reflects in the water.

You can’t imagine seeing this and wanting to tear it down to put up an oily machine that contributes nothing to the earth but death. It just makes you hate your father more. It also makes you more resolved to not be forced back into that life. You can’t do it. You can’t have this one taste of freedom and then let it go without a fight.

Arthur pulls the bow out and nocks an arrow. You glance between him and the buck and rapidly shake your head. “No,” you hiss, “I don’t wanna kill it.”

He rolls his eyes and moves you in front of him. You don’t have much choice as he places your hands on the string and guides you into the right position. “Relax,” he murmurs in your ear as you fight against his grip. “You ain’t gonna kill it.”

It doesn’t bring you much comfort, but if you’re going to make it on your own, sometimes you’ll have to do something you don’t like. “Now,” his hand drifts down your bicep and you suck in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold it too long, you’ll get tired.”

It’s dawning on you just how close you both are. You’re kneeling on the ground with him behind you, essentially cradling your body to him. You’ve never been this familiar with a man before, it’s making your brain short-circuit. You can hardly pay attention to what he’s telling you.

He lifts your elbow slightly and points you towards the left. “You need to keep your arm steady even after you let go or your aim will be off. Take in a deep breath and release on the exhale.” You give him an apprehensive look, still not wanting to hurt the buck. He just nods and there’s something in his gaze that lets you relax slightly.

You release the string and the arrow flies over the buck’s head, burying itself into the tree behind it. Its head shoots up and it turns towards you both before dashing off. You let out an astonished laugh, glancing down the bow and then back at Arthur.

“My god, I’ve never shot anything before.”

“Congratulations, you’ve killed your first tree,” he remarks dryly, but you see the glint of humor in his eye.

He gets to his feet and offers you a hand up. You smile up at him, undeterred by his attitude. “Thank you for this,” you tell him earnestly. He gives you an odd look but nods anyway. He doesn’t understand just how important this is to you. Knowing how to do something like this is the difference between life and death when you’re on your own. Of course, he doesn’t realize you’ll be making an escape attempt soon.

He retrieves the arrow from the tree and you run your hand over the curve of the bow. You wonder just how much he’d miss this if you took it from him.

Arthur’s tearing down the camp and you’re standing by Diablo, feeding him some apples. You stroke absentmindedly over the horse's muzzle, watching Arthur intently. He’s too busy pulling the tent apart to be paying attention to you.

You got better sleep last night than you did at Crane’s. He was right, hunting had tired you out. You were eager enough to sleep that you didn’t even feel the rough ground underneath you. He seems to be a little more lax about his watch over you.

Something about last night must have eased him into a sense of comfort that you’re not going to run. That’s his own fault, though. You glance over the curve of the hill, noticing a carriage that will be passing by soon enough.

You look back at Arthur and ease slightly away from Diablo. Arthur is still collecting the blankets and rolling them up. He turns towards the dying fire and tosses the rest of the coffee out. You take another step back and he keeps his back to you.

Slowly, you release Diablo’s reigns, giving him one last apple before you turn on your heel and run down the hill. Your foot slips out from under you and you let out a loud yelp as you go flying headfirst down the grass.

You land on your back with enough impact to make the breath rush out of you. But your descent is still going and you’re flipping over headfirst into the road. You slide forward, the dirt scraping up your chin as you cough and try and catch your breath.

“Look out!” You roll out of the way just before the carriage rolls over you. Someone shouts your name from the top of the hill and you see Arthur glaring down at you. He starts towards you and you scramble to your feet.

“Stop!” You scream, waving your arms wildly and chasing after the carriage. The man gives you a bewildered look as you throw yourself at him. “Please, sir, I’ve been kidnapped, you must help me get back to my husband.”

The man looks behind you, sees a very angry Arthur bellowing out your name, and moves to the side. “Hurry up,” he urges, giving you a hand on the bench beside him. You let out a relieved breath, taking his hand and throwing yourself the rest of the way up.

He whips the horses, hurrying them along all the while Arthur is yelling after you. It’s not hard to believe that he would kidnap you. He looks half-crazed as he follows along behind you. You turn over your shoulder, giving him a brief wave and a smile. “Thanks for the help,” you tell the man beside you. You offer your hand and name.

He glances down at it but doesn’t take it, instead looking forward and ignoring you entirely. Something uneasy settles in your stomach but you push it aside. You blame the feeling on the adrenaline still pumping through you.

“Where are you headed?” You ask, glancing into the back of the carriage. You notice some moonshine and a crate full of guns but decide not to question it.

“Said yer husband’s waitin’ for ya?” He demands, completely ignoring your question. You stare at the side of his face but his expression isn’t giving anything away. He comes to an intersection. You see a sign pointing towards a town and figure he’s going to take it, but instead, he pulls onto a smaller trail leading to the woods.

“Um,” you clear your throat uncertainly, glancing back at the sign. “Yes,” your voice cracks and you know you sound like you’re full of shit.

He laughs and the sound sends chills down your spine. You rip your eyes off of him, looking down at the horses and suddenly realizing just what you’d gotten yourself into. “You sure about that, little lady?”

Something cold digs into your side and you gasp quietly, looking down to see a gun pressed against your ribs. “You scream, run, or do anythin’ to piss me off and I’ll put a fourth hole in ya.” When you don’t say anything he digs it harder into you. “Understand?” He growls and you can do nothing but nod your head.

You want to move, want to shove him off the side of the carriage and make a run for it. But you can’t, you’re frozen solid. You’re so petrified with fear you can’t even blink. You think you’re holding your breath, as if taking in air is going to set the gun off.

He grins, a blackened curl of lips over rotted teeth, at your obedience and comes to a stop in the trees. “What are you doing?” You whisper, staring at the secluded area with a newfound sense of horror.

“Shut up,” he snaps, his voice echoing through the quiet of the woods. You hear no birds or animals and you feel so alone it makes you want to cry. He gets off the carriage and turns towards you. “Down,” he demands. Your eyes dart towards the reigns of the horses and he pulls the hammer of the gun back. “Don’t even think about it.”

You lift your hands in the air, slowly slipping down the seat. He doesn’t appreciate you taking your time He grabs the front of your shirt, jerking you further into the trees and tossing you to the ground.

You let out a rough groan at the impact, blood staining your shirt as your elbow slips across a jagged rock. It’s like something is snapped loose in your mind. He comes stomping towards you, kneeling between your spread legs and it finally clicks.

You lunge forward with a shout and he rears back in surprise. You wonder how often someone’s actually fought against him or just let it happen. You don’t want to die, you don’t want to get shot by this scum, but there are a lot of things worse than dying.

You grab the arm holding the gun, jerking it around, and knocking it out of his hand. “You bitch!” He hisses, bringing his open palm down across your cheek. The smack rings through the trees and ricochets through the air. Your head whips to the side so hard you think you might have snapped your neck.

Blood dribbles out from your lips, your teeth having bitten into the fat of your cheeks. You spot the gun nearby, the silver of the barrel glinting from under the leaves. Just as you reach for it, he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles and dragging you back towards him.

You feel like screaming as your hands desperately grasp at the dirt underneath you. But there’s not enough air to scream. You dig your nails into the mud, feel them split against the rocks, and kick at his chest hard enough to make him lose his breath.

His grip on you loosens and you throw yourself at the pile of leaves. Hands groping for something solid. Just as he flips you over you wrap your hand around the handle of the gun. You pull the trigger and the bang is deafening.

Your ears ring and your hands are trembling from the recoil. His jaw goes slack and he tumbles on top of you. You let out a grunt, breath pushed out of you by his weight. You scramble against his chest, something warm making your hands slip as you struggle to roll him off of you.

You glance over, waiting for him to spring back up. But there’s something dark pooling around him and sinking into the dirt below. There’s a hole in his chest and his eyes are already flattening. You fall back against the earth, staring up at the trees above you.

The sounds rush back to you all at once. The birds singing, deers prancing somewhere in the distance. You hear a stream rushing nearby and let out a stunned laugh. There’s a smile on your face but there’s nothing to be happy about.

You think you might be in shock. Mind still trying to catch up to what just happened. You glance down at the gun in your hand and toss it to the side, not wanting it near you anymore. Only a second later do you reach for it again.

You struggle onto your hands and knees, checking over yourself for any injuries that you might be numb to right now. The only blood on you is from the dead man on the ground. You keel over, hands on your knees, and suck in a deep gasping breath.

You stumble back, limping towards the carriage. You dig around in the back of the wagon, tugging out a giant hunting knife and walking towards the horses. You cut them loose, keeping the rope on one of them and tugging yourself onto her back. You tuck the knife in your belt and nudge her side, leading her forward gently.

You don't even have time to process the fact that you’re riding a horse on your own. Your body is moving on autopilot. You can only think about getting ahead, getting away. What just happened will hit you later. You slump against the neck of the horse, adrenaline leaking out of you and exhaustion catching up.

He’s going to find you and he’s going to kill you. Leaving while he had his back turned. Getting on some carriage with a man you’ve never met before. How dumb do you have to be? You can’t trust people out here. Not when there are gangs, raiders, hell, he’s encountered a few cannibals.

For all he knows, you’re already dead and he’ll be delivering a body to the train station. The thought makes him curse and urge Diablo forward. It’s not hard to follow the tracks of the carriage, what concerns him is when they lead into the forest instead of the town.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, “the hell have you done woman?” He leaps off Diablo, figuring it will be easier to track you on foot. He follows the paths of the wheels, finding the wagon abandoned and the horses cut loose.

His brows furrow in confusion as he wanders around the side and spots a lump in the leaves. All he can see is the bottom of a boot and blood splattered across the orange of the fallen leaves.

His stomach plummets and he races towards it. But it’s not you buried under the foliage, it’s the man who offered you a ride. “What the hell?” He kneels, brushing the leaves off his chest and frowning when he sees the blood splattered all along his chest.

He doesn’t need to look long to figure out what killed him. He’s sure the bullet buried in his heart did the job. Arthur curses and stalks away from the man. There are prints where the horses were but there are too many to tell which one you might have taken.

He’ll have to rely on instinct to find you. You’re becoming a real pain in the ass for what was supposed to be a simple job. Still, he can’t help but be a little relieved that it was a stranger and not you lying dead on the ground.

He turns back onto the road, taking the turn into town. Someone on horseback rides past him, they look disgusted by something up ahead and it makes alarms go off in his head. He urges Diablo forward, running the rest of the way into town.

An unsaddled mare lazily eats some grass as the sound of a rushing river meets his ears. Diablo’s hooves sound off against the wood of the bridge. He finally sees what disturbed the other rider so much.

You’re sitting on the railing of the bridge, legs dangling dangerously over the edge as you stare down into the crashing waters below you. Arthur gets off his horse, approaching you slowly. He doesn’t want to startle you and have you go tumbling over the edge.

He calls out your name and you glance briefly over at him. Blood is splattered across your neck and the front of your shirt is soaked with it. He knows it isn’t yours but it still puts him on edge. “What’re you doin’ kid?”

You don’t answer him, “Did you follow me?” He eases up beside you, straddling the railing so he can catch you if you slip. He nods and you let out a rough sigh. “Is he dead?”

He scoffs, “Sure as shit hope so, don’t know how someone would survive that.”

A manic laugh bursts through your lips and you double over your head falling into your hands. Arthur surges forward, steadying you before you dive headfirst into the river. “Alright, let’s go,” he quietly urges you around. You don’t put up a fight, letting him maneuver you how he likes.

He gets you on your feet and leads you back to Diablo. You latch onto the horse's reigns immediately, stroking your hand over his mane. Your silence is concerning. Arthur doesn’t know what your regular behavior is, the most he’s seen of you, you have been quiet. This is different, though. He’s seen this sort of quiet in women before and it never ends pretty.

“You’re alright, come on,” he tries to keep his voice low so he doesn’t set you off. He keeps his hands light as they land around your waist, giving you help onto Diablo’s saddle. Your gaze is distant and you move like someone else is controlling your body.

He collects the mare you’d brought along with you and leads both horses into town. He’ll have to get a saddle for her, she already seems attached to you. And maybe taking a horse with you into the city will let you escape a little.

The town, at least, is on the way to Strawberry so he doesn’t have to worry about being too far off schedule. Though, that’s the least of his concerns right now. His eyes keep darting up to you. Waiting for you to try and bolt again or finally break down. It doesn’t look like anything is going on in your head, you seem completely distanced from the situation.

It’s a good thing for him. He can’t handle a distraught woman. He’s not a kind enough man for it.

He hitches the horses in front of the hotel. You turn in the saddle, staring down at him and waiting for a hand down. You slide easily through his hands, landing in the mud with a dull thud and heading up the stairs of the hotel without prompt.

He huffs and follows after you. He doesn’t know how to explain the blood on your clothes away and hopes he won’t have to. The man running the place, thankfully, doesn’t have many questions. He looks disturbed but keeps his qualms to himself when Arthur slips him a little extra cash.

Arthur guides you up the stairs with a light hand on your back, opening the door of the bath for you. “Alright, here’s your room key. I’ll be out for a while so, just,” he sighs, taking in the blank look on your face and shaking his head. “Try not to cause any more trouble.” You nod and close the door behind him.

There’s no worries that you’re going to make a run for it again. He’s sure whatever happened in those woods was scarring enough to make you want to go back to the city and never see country folk again. He wouldn’t blame you, there are some nasty people out here. Himself included, but he could never imagine hurting a woman like that. It just ain’t right.

He heads to the shop across the street, buying some new clothes for you that actually fight properly. The horses are brought to the stables and he goes ahead and gets a paper for your mare under your name. Diablo will be faster tomorrow if he doesn’t have to carry the weight of two people. You might make it to your handler in time.

Arthur still doesn’t feel right about this whole thing. Leaving you with a man you’ve never met feels even worse knowing what happened to you today. He doesn’t think you being so calm about it all is a good thing. Shouldn’t women react?

Dutch likes to tell him women are a more sensitive breed. He’s seen some tough ones in his life, but this seems like the time to be in hysterics if there ever was one. He heads back to the hotel, planning on just leaving the change of clothes in your room.

He passes by the bath and hears an odd sound seeping through the cracks. Frowning, he presses his ear up against the door. A man passes by him, giving him a disgusted look as he goes into his room. Arthur sighs but he stays where he is.

It’s clearer now, you’re crying and it’s hard to listen to. It's the type that makes it hard to breathe. That sort of crying makes your ribs ache and bruise. It’s wrong to keep listening to such a vulnerable moment. So, he does what he planned, drops the clothes in your room, and then heads to bed himself.

Sleep comes easier than he thought it would. It’s not as restful as he’d been hoping but it draws over him faster than it normally does. He’s always been a light sleeper, though. It comes from years of having to be on guard in case some O’Driscoll is gonna try and slit his throat while he’s asleep.

When he hears the door creak his hand is already on the trigger of his revolver as he shoots up in bed. The glow of the lamps outside illuminates what’s clearly a woman’s form. But he can’t see your face until you take a step further into the room and the moonlight provides some light.

“Arthur?” You whisper his name, peering into his room. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” he grumbles. With a sigh, he shoves the gun back under his pillow and runs a rough hand over his face. “What'd ya want?”

You let out a low breath and rock back on your heels. “I’m sorry,” you mutter. “I just, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking he’s gonna creep out of my closet or bust through the door, I-”

You cut yourself off but he can hear the emotion thickening your voice. He clenches his eyes shut in irritation, arguing with himself over what he’s about to say. “You wanna sleep in here?” He mumbles reluctantly.

You close the door immediately, practically running towards his bed. “You don’t mind?”

You’re not really giving him a choice, but he’s not going to say that to you. “No.” He grabs a pillow and blanket off the bed and rounds the end of the mattress. You frown as you watch him toss everything to the ground.

“Well, what’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He snaps, angrily gesturing towards the floor. “I’m givin’ you the bed.”

You bite your lip and he feels horrible instantly because you look like you’re about to cry. He’s not trying to be rude but you woke him up in the dead of night. What’d you expect him to say?

“I was sort of hoping we could share the bed.”

His eyes widen and he glares at you in disbelief. “You mean-”

“No!” You cut him off with an aggrieved sigh. “You fool, that’s not what I mean at all. I just don’t want to be alone, alright?”

“Look,” he scoffs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m the man you want to bunk with for company, alright. I’m not that kind of guy.” You glare at him and snatch his pillow and blanket off the floor.

“Don’t be so damn stubborn.” You aggressively fluff the pillows, throwing the covers back and gesturing towards them, your brow set in anger.

“Right,” he huffs, “I’m stubborn.” He reluctantly crawls into bed and you follow behind him. It’s not that he minds sharing a bed with a pretty lady. He’s just not the sort of guy you should be coming to for comfort.

He doesn’t think he can provide whatever it is you need at this moment. But you seem to think otherwise as you inch towards him slowly. He lays on his back, arms under his head as he watches you out of the side of his eye. You think you’re being subtle, slowly moving into his side until you’re flush against him.

He doesn’t say anything to object and you don’t bring up the proximity. He doesn’t want to admit it but it is nice having someone else beside him. He’s so used to camping out on his own. He hasn’t had anyone beside him in a long while. He lost interest in women of leisure a long while ago. And ever since Mary, he’s given up on any sort of intimacy.

He hates to admit it, but he finds himself easing towards the warmth you provide. The second you feel him reciprocating you’re inching a tentative hand around his waist, cuddling closer to him. He recognizes it for what it is.

He’s always been looked at as someone who can protect, at least by the gang. He’s their muscle. To most others, he incites nothing but fear. It should be the same for you. But after what happened today, you just see someone who can keep the monsters in the dark away.

He doesn’t mind being used like this. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and waits until he feels you settle to ease into sleep again.

Arthur figures you should both get breakfast in town while you’re here. He reasons you should enjoy a hot meal before you’re on the road again. You don’t point out that you know he’s just trying to ease you into the day.

You appreciate it, honestly, but yesterday wasn’t your first run-in with men like that. It’s become incomprehensibly normal in day-to-day life, even for a city girl like yourself. You’d cried everything out in the bath once you’d scrubbed your skin raw.

You don’t think Arthur will ever understand just how much his presence helped you last night. If you’d been on your own, jumping every time you heard the wood creaking outside, you’d have driven yourself over the edge. He protected you, even if there was nothing to be protected from.

You don’t think he gives himself enough credit. Ignoring the situation you’re both in and what he’s taking you to do, he’s a good man. While the caliber of the men you’ve met is questionable at best, he’s one of the best ones you’ve ever known. At the end of the day, he disagrees with the whole situation, but he’s doing this for his family. That’s admirable in its own way.

But, god, does he have poor conversational skills. “So, yesterday.” You glance up from your toast, brows raised in question. He clears his throat, eyes darting between you and his food like he can’t choose what to focus on. “That man, did he…”

He trails off and you feel your hackles rise. “Don’t worry,” you hiss, a bite to your words, “I’m still pure for my husband. Your pay won’t be docked, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His hand clenches around his fork and his eyes bore into yours, “That’s not what I meant,” he growls. “I wasn’t worried about that,” he snaps, “I was worried ‘bout you, woman.”

You take in a deep breath, actively biting your tongue from saying something spiteful. He wasn’t being rude, that’s just what you’re used to. “I’m sorry,” you concede lowly. “Nothing happened,” you repeat without the attitude.

“Well,” he huffs and goes back to his breakfast, “good,” he settles on dully.

“Good,” you agree quietly, pushing the rest of your food around. You find your appetite dulled and you push the plate away. You lean back in the booth and stare out the window. The horses seem to be getting on well enough. “Did you name her?”

Arthur gives you an odd look and you nod towards the mare hitched next to Diablo. He swallows the food he’d been chewing and takes a swig of his coffee. “No, figured you’d want to do it.”

Your brows furrow and your lips quirk in confusion. “Why?”

“She’s yours, ain’t she?” He grouses.

You shake your head, “Nope,” you tell him, popping the p. “I just took her so I’d have something to get me to town.”

“Yeah, well,” he sounds less sure of himself and he’s looking like he made a mistake. “I thought she’d be nice for you to have with you in the city. A way for you to get around without relyin’ on someone else.”

You can’t help but smile, something in your chest easing away at the kind gesture. “I appreciate it,” he lights up a little at your approval, but you crush it in an instant. “But I can’t keep her, I won’t be allowed to. I’ve tried to have my own horse before, hard to control something that can get away from you,” you tell him blankly. There’s no emotion in your voice because it’s something you’re used to.

He looks slightly horrified at how blunt you are. He can’t comprehend not having that freedom but he fails to recognize that he’s got a leash of his own. You doubt a man like Dutch would ever let his main asset just run off to wherever he wants to.

A few people walk into the saloon, the women giving you odd looks when they see the pants on your legs. You smile cheekily at them, reveling in what you know will be a short-lived experience. You’ve never been on the receiving end of a judgmental look like that.

You’ve always blended in. Been the perfect wallflower for the men in your life. You were never something to gawk at or cause trouble. It’s a relief to stick out for once, to break the mould for the first time in your life.

Arthur clocks the interaction and chuckles. “Missin’ the skirts yet?”

“Not one damn bit,” you tell him, smiling as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m going to miss being able to run around without having to lug an extra four pounds of fabric behind me.”

“Ya know, you could just wear some pants, you’ve got a choice.”

You grin patronizingly at him, propping your head on your chin and watching him finish the rest of his breakfast. “You don’t know city men very well, do you?”

“Glad for it,” he grumbles, distaste clear in his tone.

A laugh breaks through your chest, the first real one in a while. “I’m going to be marrying one, Arthur. I won’t have a choice in much of anything anymore.” You can tell he wants to object, tell you there’s always a choice.

He’ll never truly understand what’s going to happen to you, though. You’re no longer human once you’re married. You’re cattle and property, meant to be bred and shown off. You accepted your fate a long while ago. And after you’re failed escape attempt, you’ve realized this is what you were always meant to be. There’s no point in fighting fate.

“Don’t apologize or argue,” you tell him, no spite or bitterness in your tone, just the honest truth. “I don’t mind anymore, really. What place is there for me in this world, anyway? I can’t exactly take care of myself.”

“You did a damn good job yesterday,” he snaps back quickly. He doesn’t seem too keen on the way you’re talking about yourself. But you’re not lying. Yesterday was a wake-up call. If you let yourself get screwed over by a hillbilly that quickly then how were you ever going to make it on your own? In your defense, you were raised to be dependent, you never had a chance.

“Sure, but that was a one-off incident. I’m not going to run again, Arthur. There’s no point. And there’s no point in fighting against the way things are, they’re never going to change for me.” You take in a deep breath, the easy mood ruined by your sincerity.

“I’m just gonna wait by the horses.”

You slide out of the booth, leaving Arthur to stare pensively at his plate. You’ve nearly slipped through the door when Arthur calls out, “You should name her.” You pause at the doorway, glancing back at him. He’s settling the bill at the front and you walk back out to the horses.

The mare picks her head up as you walk towards her, ears perked and tail flicking. “Hey, girl,” you run a hand over her muzzle, admiring the sleek silver of her coat. “I guess I should name you.”

You run a hand over her mane and swing yourself onto the saddle. “How ‘bout Bullet, it’s how I got you, anyway.” A dark joke, but it eases the macabre feeling hanging around you.

Arthur walks out of the saloon, tucking his money away into his bag. He lifts himself onto Diablo, glancing over at you with a knowing glint.

“Name her?”

You resent how smug he sounds. “Bullet,” you answer reluctantly.

“Bullet?” He questions, tone incredulous.

You grin at him, “It’s how I got her.” There’s a slightly stunned expression on his face before it slacks away into something more amused.

He shakes his head and nudges Diablo forward, Bullet follows alongside him eagerly. “Clever,” he mutters.

“Not really,” you snort, running a hand over her neck lovingly. “But I think it works for her.”

“Your husband’s gonna have his hands full with you,” you know he means it in jest. The lightness of the conversation turns into something heavier. Realization sinks over both of you and the smiles slowly drop away. “I-”

“How much further to Strawberry, anyway?” You effectively cut off whatever train of thought he was going to follow, distracting you both from the truth.

“Half a day,” he tells you, frowning when you refuse to meet his eye again. Half a day. That’s all you’ve got to enjoy the last bits of freedom you have. You’re gonna take your damn time getting there, that’s for sure.

You slow down from the steady trot Arthur had led the horses into, easing Bullet into a slow walk. You’re slowly getting the hang of riding a horse. It’s easy when she’s so intuitive. By god, though, your ass is sore.

Arthur shoots you a questioning glance at the slow pace and you shrug. “Might as well take the time I’ve got left.”

“You’re actin’ like you’re on death row,” he chuckles.

“Aren’t I?” He falls silent and you don’t know what’s bothering him but you don’t have the energy to inquire.

He’s slowing you down on purpose, he knows it and you know it. Neither of you says a damn thing about it but it’s bugging him. He shouldn’t be this bothered by a job. He knows how to separate himself from what he does. He just can’t this time.

There’s something about you that glows. You’re sitting beside him on the peak of a hill, overlooking the roads below you, and laughing as you make up stories for the people that pass by. It’s a far cry from the beaten-down woman he’d seen at Crane’s house.

Even after what happened yesterday, you somehow manage to seem happier. There’s nothing about it that makes him happy. This feels like the last goodbye of someone who knows they’re going soon. The last bout of happiness before they just give in.

You’re not gaining your spark back, you’re just giving in to what you think is inevitable. But it doesn’t have to be inevitable. You could fight back you just refuse to. He’s sure growing up the way you have, you don’t think it's possible to stand up for yourself.

But you don’t have to give in like this. You don’t have to roll over and let someone else dictate your life. Which is rich, coming from him. He’s practically Dutch’s lap dog now. Even when he disagrees he still follows along behind him.

He shouldn’t even be thinking like this. He can’t criticize you for not standing up for yourself when he’s the one thing standing between you and freedom. “Not hungry?” You nod towards the uneaten meat on his knife.

He shakes his head, plucking it off the blade and passing it to you. You give him an odd look before popping it in your mouth. “Ya know,” you mutter around a full mouth. You take a moment to swallow it down before smiling over at him. “I’ve grown up with private chefs my whole life, but there’s is something infinitely more satisfying about this.”

He takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair. He snorts at your comment, “I find that hard to believe.”

“No,” you shake your head, insistent, “I mean it. Being out here, hunting the game myself, I don’t know, it’s nice.” You shrug and lean back on your hands, gazing across the way at the trees and river.

“You can always get a bow and go hunting.” He speaks to you like it's a cut-and-dry truth that you’re just not accepting. Your face screws up and you give him an annoyed glare.

“No. I can’t,” you tell him again. Where your words were patient before, he can tell you’re growing irritated at how much he’s pushing this.

“Yes, you can,” he snaps. “You don’t have to keep yourself boxed up in some manor in the city. Get out, woman, do something with your life!” His voice echoes through the air and you flinch back from it, lips pulling down into a sneer.

“You know, that’s really easy for you to say, Arthur. You have a goddamn choice. Sure, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, little miss rich girl crying about being pampered.”

He lets out a rough sigh, “That’s not what I meant-”

You cut him off, getting to your feet and glaring down at him. “You got to grow up with a choice. What to do with your body, your life, your career. You get to have an education if you want it. Every goddamn door is open to you. You don’t get hated for not wanting to have a family. You get to choose. And as much as you insist I can too, you will never understand the position I am in.”

You kick dirt over the fire and head back towards Bullet. “It’s a double-edged sword, Arthur. Sure, my life might be comfortable, but it’s never really gonna be my life.” He stays there on the ground, too stunned to get up.

You glare down at him, impatiently waiting for him to get a move on. This isn’t how he wants things to end. He doesn’t want you to go off thinking he’s just some ignorant fool. But he is, much as he denies it, he’s always been a fool.

He should never have thought he could make a difference in your life. Not when he’s the one backing you into this corner. He could have helped you escape the very first night he saw you. But he was too selfish to let you go, now you’re both paying for it.

He mounts Diablo and you both head back to the roads silently. You’re moving faster now, leaving him behind if he lingers in one area for too long. You’re too pissed off to enjoy the rest of your day and he hates that he ruined it for you. You, at the very least, deserved a slower journey towards your future.

You’re in Strawberry before he’s ready, he’s sure you aren’t. “Hey, we could-”

“I think that’s him.” You cut him off before he says something stupid like spend another night in town before you go. He’ll miss you, he thinks. Odd, he’s known you such a short time but it’s been so different having someone beside him as he rides. It was nice, what he wished he and Mary could have had.

Arthur follows your gaze and lets out a tired sigh. Sure enough, some prim and proper ass is standing in front of the ticket station, foot tapping impatiently. He’s got a large bag beside him, gaze wandering around expectantly. He doesn’t doubt the man who looks like he’s got a five-foot stick up his ass is Mr. Crane’s associate. He’s got the same slimy glint.

You slide off Bullet and Arthur follows suit, taking the reigns of both horses and leading them towards the platform. The man’s eyes narrow in on you before lighting up. He calls out your name and it’s like a mask being dropped over your face.

The spark is gone once more, a subdued and demure smile resting on your face as you wave at him. “I apologize for my dress,” you tell him as you walk up the steps. “Pants were more conducive to such a long ride.”

He takes your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that makes Arthur roll his eyes. “No apologies necessary, I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you would be less than put together after such a journey. I’m only sorry I couldn’t accompany you.”

You scoff and nod along, “Okay,” you mutter, not believing a word of his bullshit. You take the bag from him and move towards the saloon to find a room to change in. They both watch you leave, though the other man with a much more devious glint in his eye.

Arthur’s hands tighten on the reigns of the horses, anything to keep him from reaching for his revolver. He’s already getting a bad feeling about this. There’s nothing trustworthy about the man in front of him.

“Mr. Finch,” he holds out his hand and Arthur gives it a distrusting look before reluctantly shaking. Finch attempts to squeeze the life out of his hand but Arthur can barely feel it. He tightens his own grip and revels in the way Finch’s face blanches.

“Arthur Morgan.”

Mr. Finch looks him up and down in the same way Crane had. He sees a commodity, not a person. “I trust,” he drawls, “nothing unsavory happened.”

Arthur feels rage bubbling in his gut. The only damn thing he cares about is whether or not you’re “pure.” Not if you were okay or injured during the journey. If he told him that he’d punched you out for talking back Finch would just ask if you were bruised.

“She’s fine,” Arthur grits out.

“Oh, good, good. Glad everything went smoothly.” Finch has a way of talking he’s found most self-important men do. He draws everything he says out, and forces you to listen to him speak. Makes you pay attention so he can pretend he has power for a moment.

His gaze darts behind Arthur and he turns just in time to see you slipping out of the saloon. The dress Finch has provided you is ridiculously large. It poofs out at the waist in a way that makes Arthur wonder how you’re going to fit into your seat.

You look beyond uncomfortable. Grimacing as you join them again. You try and plaster a smile on but it’s a struggle. You look to Arthur, a finality on your face that makes him want to throw you over his shoulder and run. He’s doing this for the others, he reminds himself. They’ll be on a boat to Tahiti in a week.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan, for everything.” The smile you leave him with is real, if just barely. Something lurks under your words that Mr. Finch will never understand and Arthur knows it will drive him crazy.

“Let’s go,” Finch grabs your hand, looping it through his arm and tugging you towards the doors of the station.

“Wait!” Arthur calls out, feeling foolish when you both look back at him with perplexed expressions. “You’ll be wanting Bullet, won’t you?”

Mr. Finch answers for you with a condescending tone, “She won’t be needing a horse, thank you.” You give him a knowing smile, turning away and slipping through the doors of the station and onto the train.

Arthur stays rooted where he is, something crawling up in his chest and rooting around restlessly. The whistle blows and the wheels start cranking slowly forward. Arthur just barely catches a glimpse of you through a window as the train chugs past.

“Shit!” He hisses. He tugs himself up onto Diablo’s saddle and urges him after the train. He was born a fool, he’s always going to be a damn fool. But he’d have to be a complete moron to just let you go.

Mr. Finch keeps a painfully tight grip on your elbow, jerking you through the passenger cars and practically throwing you into your seat. You land with a thud, your arm bouncing against the window painfully. You keep a stoic expression, trying not to let him break you so soon.

He takes a seat beside you, straightening out his jacket and tugging on his tie. Something white flashes in his jacket pocket and you lean forward, perplexed when you realize what it is. “What is that?” You question, not quite believing your eyes. Finch glances down at the thick wad of cash in his jacket and grins.

“Oh, this? Mr. Morgan must have forgotten to collect the rest of his payment.” He sends you a condescending smile and you flinch away in disgust. “He was too enamored with my fiancee to pay much attention, I’m afraid.”

“That’s his money,” you snap, the volume of your voice catching the attention of a few other passengers. Finch sends them apologetic smiles, making you seem like a mad woman. “He earned that!” You object, eyeing the money warily.

His hand snakes out, gripping you tightly around the arm and dragging you towards him until your noses are nearly touching. You nearly gag at the smell of his cigar-infused breath. It’s not like when Arthur would smoke one, you didn’t mind that. But this was making you sick to your stomach.

“Let's get a few things clear, I will not be dealing with an obstinate wife. You can either get yourself in order or I’ll do it for you.”

Your lips pull back in disgust and you jerk yourself out of his grip. He’s not as strong as he pretends to be and you’re not going to be scared into submission again. “I’m not your wife yet. My father still has time to pay.”

He laughs at you, spittle flying from your lips and sprinkling across your cheeks. “He has time to pay, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be getting you back, sweetheart.” Your eyes widen with the realization and you want to throw yourself off the side of the train.

You never had any chance to get out of this situation. Mr. Crane was always in control of it all. To even think of having a hope of getting back home was foolish. To believe for a second that you were going to escape this had been utter idiocy.

He sees the crestfallen expression and sinks into his seat with a satisfactory look on his face. He thinks you to be subdued. But now you’re nothing more than a cornered animal with no other choice of escape. You’ve got nothing left for you, nothing to hold onto.

As much as you’d thought you’d bonded with Arthur, you were still nothing more than a job to him. You were nothing more than a commodity to be traded between men. You would never have a say over your life.

You have nothing, you doubt you ever actually had anything left for you. You glance over at the man beside you and feel a cool dread blanket itself over you. Nothing left to lose.

There’s a solid weight tucked into the bodice of your dress. Its cool metal has been warmed by your skin. Its handle curves around your ribs and it only has one bullet left. You reach down the front of your dress, fingers curling around the revolver you’d stolen from a dead man.

Finch glowers at your inappropriate behavior “What are-” You pull the gun out, turning it on him. He jumps back in shock and throws his hands in the air on instinct. “Please-” you revel in his pathetic pleading only for a moment. Pulling the trigger a second time is surprisingly easy. The screams that ring out through the train car are less enjoyable. “Shit!” He cusses, hands coming up to try and staunch the flow of blood pouring from his stomach.

You slip your hand into his blazer, stealing the money before he can object. You run out of the passenger car, leaping to the flat car with all the cargo. It will take a few minutes for them to catch onto what happened and figure out where you went.

You don’t know what you’re going to do now. You’re stuck on a moving train, there’s nowhere for you to hide. You hadn’t thought when you’d shot him, you just wanted that smug look on his face to disappear.

“Where is she?” You hear the guards shouting out your name, flipping over crates to find you. They’re still at the front of the train, but you don’t have long until they start moving back here.

God, what have you done?

You just know, if you made it to that train station, you were never going to make it out. His men would be waiting there to transport you. You’d be watched every second of your life, you can’t do it again. You can’t be locked in a gilded cage, that’s not a life worth living.

There’s no escape for you. Nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. You glance over the left side of the train. There’s a slight dip into a deep ravine. The crashing water looks almost peaceful from up here.

You don’t know if it would be a quick death but you know it would be merciful compared to what’s waiting for you at your last stop. You keep your eyes on the water, see yourself taking control of your life for the first time, and take a step up on the rail.

Someone shouts your name from the right side of the train and you gasp, arms circling wildly as you almost go toppling over the edge. They shout your name again, panic laced in the tone. This doesn’t sound like Finch or any of the other guards. You whip around and find Arthur riding his horse beside the train.

“What the hell are you doing, woman?”

Your brows furrow in confusion and your eyes dart between him and the ravine. “Jumping! What the hell are you doing?”

His gaze narrows and he shouts to be heard over the rumble of the train tracks. “Stopping you from being a goddamn fool. Get over here!” You hear the guards getting closer as they storm down the rest of the train.

You don’t have long to make a decision, you can already see his horse struggling to keep up with the speed of the train. There’s a bridge coming up in a moment, he won’t be able to go any further and they won’t be able to come after you.

It’s a split-second decision, one that has you pushing off the railing of the car and rushing towards him. You don’t have time to doubt yourself or plan this out further, you take a running leap off the train, towards his outstretched arms.

He barely catches you in time, jerking on the reigns of the horse and bringing him to a sudden stop before all three of you go tumbling into the water. Shots fire off on the train, but they’re gone before they can do any real damage.

Your chest heaves as you dangle from his arms, fingers digging into his shirt desperately. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you almost can’t hear what he’s saying, but you get the gist of it.

“The hell were you thinking? Trying to jump off the damn train! You’re a fool, woman.” He tugs you onto the saddle the rest of the way. As much as he tries to sound angry you can feel his relief in the way he squeezes you close to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, head sinking into his neck and breathing in the familiar scent.

He sighs, struggling between yelling at you more and just enjoying the fact that he got to you before you did something neither of you could recover from. “You’re welcome, just,” he pauses, holding you a little closer, “don’t be so damn stupid again.”

You laugh and it’s a little wet as tears start to pool in your eyes. “I’m not planning on it.” You sit up, easing away from him and glancing over your shoulder. You watch as the train grows smaller until you can only see a plume of smoke and nothing more. “What the hell are we going to do?”

He sighs and turns the horse around. You maneuver yourself around, facing forward and pushing back against him. “I don’t know. Dutch ain’t gonna be happy about you comin’ back with me.”

You bite your lip, a hundred different possibilities swirling through your head. You’ve never been able to make a choice before, faced with it, you’re overwhelmed with options. You can’t pick one so you blurt out the first coherent thought you have.

“What if we don’t go back?”

Arthur stills behind you, “What?” His tone is low and filled with something you know means he’s ready to say no.

“Just for a little while,” you rush the words out quickly, trying to fight for a chance to get him to listen. “We can send this to the camp,” you tug out the wad of cash you’d stolen from Finch and Arthur barks out a laugh. You feel his chest tremble behind you and it makes you grin.

“Did you steal his money?”

“Your money, technically,” you correct, grinning over your shoulder at him. “Besides, he doesn’t need it anymore.” He gives you a concerned look but you just wave him off. “We can send the camp some money and go off on our own for a while.”

“I don’t know, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt, glaring at him. “It’ll only be for a little while, Arthur. Come on, I’m free for the first time in my life, enjoy it with me.”

He looks uncertain and you know it’s an odd notion to him, putting himself first instead of the camp or Dutch. You’re sure he’s never done it before. Breaking away from them instead of going about like the loyal soldier he is.

“Just a little while?”

You nod, turning just enough to tuck the money in his pocket. “Just a little while,” you swear.

“John Marston!” You frown, turning away from the oven and glancing out the window. Arthur’s grinning by the gates of the horse pen, leaping over the wood, and walking out to greet someone. You abandon the stew, heading towards the door of your home.

Outside are two horses, one with a woman and her son, and an abandoned one. The owner is currently bringing Arthur into a brief embrace, John, you presume. Arthur’s told you about him a bit. They weren’t always close but it was getting better before Arthur went away.

Sometimes you feel bad, having dragged him away from everything he was familiar with. You meant it when you said you only wanted to be gone for a little while. You knew if you went back immediately there would be hell to pay with Dutch and you’d both be put to work.

You’d be going from one owner to another. All you’d wanted was a few weeks on the road on your own. But a few weeks turned into six months and then a year, and it was Arthur telling you he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t stand what the gang was turning into. What Dutch was turning into. All you’d given him was an excuse to finally get out before it all blew up.

You walk down the steps of the home Arthur built, wiping your hands off on your apron. You give a brief wave to the woman you assume is Abigail. She waves back, slipping off the horse and helping Jack down.

Arthur pulls away from John, turning towards you and motioning you forward. John gives you an apprehensive look. “Do I know you?”

Arthur gives him your name, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in closer. “That job Dutch got from Crane.” John’s face lights up with recognition and he smirks.

“I see,” he shakes his head and gives Arthur a knowing look. “It’s always a woman with you, isn’t it?” You snort at how aggrieved Arthur looks. “Well,” John turns towards you and smiles, “nice to finally meet the woman that got him under control.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you smile lightly at him, pulling away from Arthur. “Are you going to be joining us for dinner?”

“No, he’s not,” Arthur answers at the same time John says, “I would love to.”

Arthur and John share a look you can’t understand. You glance past John and wave Abigail forward, “Come in, please. I’d enjoy the company.”

“Forgive my obstinate husband, he tends to linger where he ain’t wanted.” She brushes past him and you lead her inside your home. Leaving Arthur and John to bicker outside. Jack stays outside, smiling up at Arthur. You know he’s missed the boy, you’re sure he’s okay entertaining them for one night.

Abigail helps you set the table while Arthur and John catch up over a bottle of whiskey. Arthur tried to pull out a cigar but you’d shut that down quick. He’d had a cough a little while ago and the doctor advised cutting down on tobacco if he wanted it to go away. You know it’s hard but you’re cracking down on how much he smokes.

“We got the money you sent,” John’s telling Arthur as they come over to join you all at the table. Jack eagerly hops into the seat beside Arthur before you can snag it and you grin. “Dutch blew it all and wouldn’t tell us on what. He kept saying we still needed another score.”

John shakes his head and the distant look in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “You’re a lucky bastard you got out when you did, Arthur, truly.”

“Hosea?” Arthur questions and you grimace at the look on John’s face. You can see Arthur deflate as John shakes his head.

“There was a bank robbery, Molly told the Pinkertons we were going to be there, he didn’t make it.”

Arthur’s hand clenches around the fork and you wish you could say something that would make him realize it’s not his fault. “I should have been there,” he mutters.

“Wouldn’t have done anything, man. Hosea had given up in the end. We all had. It was so damn divided, the family was gone.”

“Still.” Arthur insists, glaring down at his plate like it had offended him.

“No,” to your surprise it’s Abigail that snaps. “Dutch was gone and that bastard Micah just kept pushing him over the edge. The only thing you would have done is get yourself killed. You’re damn lucky Arthur Morgan.”

You’re sure he’ll still blame himself later. Reason a hundred times over that had he been there something would have been different. Even if it was him on the other end of the gun he’d be happier knowing someone else hadn’t died when it could have been him. You couldn’t stand that these self-sacrificing ideals Dutch had drilled into him were still present.

But you know Abigail and John help ease the guilt slightly. It’s on Arthur to let it go entirely, though you doubt that will happen anytime soon. John picks up on the change in mood, he’s reluctant to let the night sour so soon.

He turns towards you with a look that makes you feel like you need to prepare for trouble. “So you did all that to escape getting married. And then you marry this moron?” He motions towards Arthur and you can’t help but laugh.

“John!” Abigail snaps but he only smiles at her. You can see the way she fights the twitch of her lips and it makes you smile in turn.

You correct him, “We’re not technically married-”

“Might as well be,” Arthur argues, glaring at John. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours and gently squeezing. You can’t help but laugh at him.

“Yeah, we might as well be,” you agree. “But it was never about not wanting to be a wife. I just wanted to have a damn choice. That’s what I got out here. I can hunt or cook. Sew or go out and make some money. And it’s a lot nicer being a wife out in the country than it is in the city, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Here’s hoping,” Abigail mutters. She glances towards Arthur, “That’s why we’re out here. We got word from a few people that you might be lurking around here. John’s thinking of getting a house, really settling down.”

Arthur sighs, leaning back in his chair and glaring at John. “That’s why you’re here? You want a handout,” he accuses.

“No!” John snaps. “Dammit, Arthur, why you always gotta assume the worst of me?”

“Because it’s usually true,” Arthur mutters. “If that’s not what you want then what is it?”

John purses his lips and lets out a spluttering breath. “A loan,” he lands on, struggling to find the right word.

Arthur barks out a laugh, slapping his hand on the table and poking a knowing finger into John’s chest. “I knew it!”

John swats his hand away and glares. “Look, Morgan, I only need a little. Just to buy some animals, get started on the house.”

“What’d ya want Marston, my whole damn house?”

Abigail lands a gentle hand on your arm and nods to the porch. “They’ll be at it for a while.” You nod and leave the table, following her to the swing out back. She settles down on it with a sigh, gazing out at the trees that line your home.

“You’ve got a nice life out here.”

You smile fondly, “I like to think so. We’re thinking about getting a few cows, maybe starting a proper ranch.”

Her face lights up at the idea and she laughs. “That’s what John wants. It’s unbelievable how similar they are, they’re too thick-headed to see it.”

You can still vaguely hear them bickering inside the house. You peer inside and see Jack sitting at the table, watching them both with an entranced expression. You can’t help but grin at the look on Arthur’s face. He’s laying into John but he looks happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

You know he’s missing everybody, has been for a long time. Maybe if Abigail and John are close by he’ll have that sense of familiarity again. “The others,” you start, turning back to Abigail. “Charles and Sadie, what happened to everyone else?”

“A few of them are living good lives, some of them aren’t. Most of them are drifting, not ready to give up the outlaw life just yet.”

“It’s hard to watch the world change while you’re still stuck in the same spot.” You brush some hair out of your eyes and smile at Abigail. “Me and Arthur are gonna help you and John. But I’d like it if you were both close by. It would be nice to have someone familiar near us, we’re pretty lonely up here.”

She gives you a brief smile back, “I think that would be nice.”

John’s voice picks up from inside and you jump, “Oh that’s a load of bull-”

Abigail’s smile drops and she leans over your shoulder to shout, “Watch it!” at John. You laugh when you see the perturbed look on his face. She motions towards his son and Arthur gives John a smug look.

“You gonna help him?” You ask Arthur as you settle into bed later. He opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace once you’re settled under the covers.

“John?” You nod, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, ‘course I’m gonna help him. But there’s nothing wrong with jerking him around a little bit first.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, tucking yourself under his chin. You almost think he’s asleep but then he’s speaking up again. “We should really do it.”

You pull back, brows furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

There’s a certain look in his eyes that causes something to swirl in your stomach. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, just an excited one, “Get married.”

You give him a bewildered look, shaking your head in disbelief. Nearly five years you’ve both been living out here and he’s never once mentioned getting married. You never thought you two actually needed it. You always knew what you were to each other, how much you meant to one another.

You were each other’s salvation. There’s no telling what graves you would be laying in were it not for Dutch bringing you both together. You hadn’t thought he wanted to be married, he always told you he’d given those dreams up. “You really mean that?”

He shrugs like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “Might as well, right?”

You shake your head, but there’s no fighting the way your lips curl up. “You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.”

He nods, dipping his head down to press a gentle kiss on your temple. He treats you so gently, it makes you want to cry. But then he goes and says something ridiculous like, “Yeah, a fool for you,” and he makes you laugh.

You tug him down, lips nearly touching his. “Yes,” you whisper, “I’ll marry you.” You were always scared of living a life like this. Being tied to one man for the rest of your time on earth. But he’s not some city man looking to make you into a pet. He lets you live, breathe, and be free. He’s a partner not a warden and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #Arthur Morgan #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x you #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Red dead redemption 2 x reader

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rafesangelita · 7 months ago

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poguesweethearts first time with rafe and he is just so so so so mushy with her 🥺

warnings: fluff, use of the nickname ‘sweetheart’, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft sex, multiple orgasms, soft aftercare

rafe had it bad. every touch, every glance, every laugh, he was fighting off things he never thought he’d have to. like right now for instance. “okay how do you like this? is it too pink?” you did a little spin for rafe, oblivious to the way his eyes danced down your figure.

you were currently trying on different outfits to meet his family in, your overthinking machine of a brain not resting until rafe decided for you. rafe leaned back in his seat, meeting your gaze. “you could wear a garbage bag, and i’ll still think you look perfect.”

you shook your head, a pout forming on your lips as you stepped closer to him. “rafe i’m serious! i want them to like me.” rafe pulled you down to sit on his lap, his hands bringing your legs up to rest over his thighs. “sweetheart, they are. my folks are already in love with you, they’re constantly telling me to bring you home already.”

rafe watched the worry etched in your brow melt away, his fingers cupping your chin. “please don’t stress yourself out about it. we still have a whole week before then.” you nodded, pecking rafe’s cheek. he shut his eyes the second he felt your lips against his skin. something so small like a kiss on the cheek was starting to become too much to handle.

“hey, do you uh- have any plans for the next few days?” he hoped you couldn’t feel the hard on in his jeans. leaning your head against his shoulder, you fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt as you hummed. “nope. my manager went on vacation with her husband so the icecream shop is closed, and i already baked what i needed to sell this week, so i’m all yours.” all yours, that was like music to his ears.

“good, that’s good.” you noticed the way he rubbed your knee as if to soothe himself, your eyebrows knitting in concern. “rafe?” you adjusted yourself in his lap, freezing when you felt something poke your thigh. both of you looked at each other, your eyes falling to his lips.

“are you busy the next few days?” you asked him, your chest rising and falling as your fingertips burned to touch him. “no..” without hesitation, both of you kissed each other desperately, your hands flying out to pull him closer as if he wasn’t already flushed to your side.

this kiss was everything you wanted it to be, and everything rafe needed. you wrapped an arm around his neck, letting him pick you up bridal style where he then lead you two to your bed. you swore your sheets have never felt this soft before, but then again, with the way rafe’s hands roamed your body, everything seemed, well, just sweeter.

you welcomed him between your thighs, your dress pooling around your waist as he pulled away to admire you underneath him. “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.” rafe traced the sweetheart neckline of your dress, your breasts peeking out just enough to drive him crazy.

you smiled softly, taking his hand in yours as you dragged it across your chest. “please take it off.” you didn’t have to tell him twice. in seconds, he had you in nothing but your white matching set, kissing your skin as if you’d disappear if he didn’t devour you right then and there.

everything about you was so perfect to him, for him. you slipped off his shirt, running your hands down the ridges of his abs. “i’ve wanted to do this since i first saw you walk into the country club.” you gasped softly when he cupped you through the lacey material of your bra. your hands worked to undo rafe’s belt, his cock straining painfully in his pants.

rafe cursed under his breath, taking his jeans and boxers off in one swift movement. you’ve imagined what rafe would look like; naked and ready to take you, but it didn’t come close to the sight of him right now. he stood glorious, the look in his eyes making you rub your thighs together.

“rafe?” you sat up, watching as he reached for your ankle. you don’t know what you were expecting, but rafe yanking you towards the edge of your bed definitely wasn’t it. “keep talking, sweetheart, ‘wanna hear your voice.” you swallowed thickly, your heart skipping a beat when he kneeled in front of you.

“i want to make you feel good..” you trailed off, letting him lay you down as he took your panties off. one look at your soaked cunt, and rafe couldn’t believe he had survived this long without it. “you already are.” your mouth fell open when you felt his breath tickle your skin.

“is it okay if i do this?” you looked down, the sight of rafe gazing up at you from between your thighs was something you didn’t know you needed. you whimpered, muttering a ‘yes.’ before you felt his tongue run between your folds.

rafe was quick to pin your thighs down on top of his shoulders, ensuring you couldn’t move away from him while he lapped at your clit. “feels s-so good, rafe..” you shuddered, your body jolting when his tongue prodded at your entrance.

rafe had finally gotten a taste of you, and now he was addicted. from your little whines, to the way your thighs threatened to close around his head, rafe couldn’t help but fist his cock at the idea of making you cum on his tongue. he groaned against your slick cunt, the vibrations shooting straight to your clit.

“oh!” your hands fisted the sheets underneath you, your back arching up from your bed at the sensation. rafe watched you fight to take a breath, his chest blooming with pride at your obvious display of struggle. “you look so pretty like this.” he pulled your bra down, your tits spilling out of the white lace.

it wasn’t long before your hips starting moving away from his face, your first orgasm of the night threatening to rip through you. “don’t make me chase you.” you shivered at rafe’s words, complying immediately as you let him pull you even closer. rafe knew you were close to making a mess for him, and he was going to watch you unravel if it was the last thing he did.

“rafe-” your hands scrambled to find his, the band in your stomach snapping as you borderline screamed at the white hot pleasure coursing through you. “i got you, baby,” rafe let you dig your nails into his skin, your cries making his cock twitch with need.

you couldn’t form a single thought, let alone a sentence, so when rafe kissed his way up to your lips and asked if you were okay, you settled for a broken moan. “shhh,” he moved you two further up your bed, making sure your head was resting on a pillow before pecking the tip of your nose.

if you felt fucked out with rafe’s mouth alone, you couldn’t even begin to think what you’d feel like after he was done fucking you with the same cock that currently rested on your tummy. you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when rafe caged you between his arms.

“you’re so perfect, you know that?” your breathing slowed to the sound of his voice in your ear. no one had ever made you feel like this. orgasm aside, you realized as you gazed up into rafe’s eyes, that he wasn’t rushing to have his way with you; instead, he was comforting you and smiling down at you as if you were the most precious thing to ever grace the earth.

he was selfless, even in this very moment when he had every right to be greedy, and that fact turned you on more than anything ever did. “rafe? please give it to me.” he blinked slowly, his jaw clenching at your words. looking down where he lined himself up with your entrance, you watched as his face contorted into full on bliss, a gasp leaving your lips as he filled you up inch by inch.

“holy fuck.” you ran your nails across the back of his head as he cursed against your skin. wrapping your legs around his waist, rafe interlocked his fingers with yours, both of you moaning in unison as he started thrusting into you. he stroked the side of your face, your eyes fluttering shut as you stretched deliciously around his length.

your heart felt like it could explode in your chest. the hand holding, the way rafe touched you as if you were made of glass, it was all making you melt into a puddle of sweet nothingness. “shit-” he hissed through gritted teeth, “you can’t be real.” he half laughed, kissing you ever so gently.

you couldn’t help but squeeze around his length, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot that sent you whimpering against his chest. rafe admired the way your eyes sparkled everytime you looked up at him. he fucked you hard and slow, every stroke bringing him closer to the edge of euphoria.

with his forehead resting on yours, your hand suddenly felt cold as he reached down for your clit, your hips stuttering when he circled your sensitive bundle of nerves. “oh my god!” you squealed, your eyes screwing shut as your high hit you in intense waves of ecstasy. alas, rafe was next to float on cloud nine, his jaw going slack as his thrusts came to a stop.

the feeling of rafe spilling his load inside of you was now etched into your mind, incapable of ever leaving. rafe unintentionally had a death grip on one of your tits, your whine of protest snapping him back to reality. “oh, i’m so sorry baby. did i hurt you?” he was panting when he popped his digits into his mouth to taste you one last time for the night. you shook your head, snuggling into his side as he rolled over.

“just a little, s’okay.” you reassured him, rubbing a palm over his chest. rafe looked over at you, moving away any stray hairs you might’ve had in your face. there was nothing you loved more than a man that turned all soft and mushy for you, and rafe certainly didn’t fall short. “it’s a good thing you’re going to meet my folks soon..” he traced the cupid’s bow of your lips. “cause i’m not going anywhere.” just when you thought things couldn’t get anymore sweeter than this, he spooned you.

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togament · 7 months ago

Text

suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1

"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?"

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, general cute stuff really. There isn't much to warn about :o!!! gn!reader, Togame is tall and awkward and cute and and--, Ume's precious as always!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

✦ when he’s doting on you way more, putting your wants over everything else.

He's attending to your every need even before you realize you even need it in the first place. Need tissues? He's already pulling them out of his bag. Got a migraine? He's already handing you a water bottle and an ibuprofen. He does it so naturally too like it's second nature to him.

✦ when he uncharacteristically gets heated when someone tries to harm you.

Listen. He's usually so, SO calm even in the most intense situations, always ready to analyze before acting--a real brain over heart typa guy. But when he finds you being cornered at an alleyway? He's sprinting towards you to beat whoever's planning on hurting you without even thinking twice. Someone's bothering you in town? He's shadowing you, protecting and keeping watch.

✦ he catches himself being flustered, blushing and folding at the sight of you.

Suo rarely shows any intense emotions. If anything, it's always just a slight smile and a little teasing remark here and there. But around you though? He's smiling widely, cheeks blushing. It's hard to hide sometimes. Goodness. He needs to keep himself in check, he often thinks. He doesn't want you to find out yet. Not yet.

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𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.

✦ when he looks for you FIRST whenever he achieves something, whenever he's having a bad day--for literally EVERYTHING.

his immediate thought is you. Every time. When he sees the hybrid tomato plant you both grew from seed blooming, he's immediately sending you photos. When he's having one of those nights, tossing and turning in his sleep, thoughts keeping him awake, the only thing that's tethering him down to earth is you.

✦ when he sees you get along with the family that he built for himself.

Ume is never subtle when it comes to this. My god. He's blushing, tripping over his words, movements ever so stiff--it's very unusual to see Ume in this state. He's just so happy to see you interacting with everybody, loving each member as much as he does. He can't just swoop you off your feet and kiss you right? Not right now. Not when he's been silently pining for you for years.

✦ when he realizes his thoughts about his future always has you in it.

He often talks about his future with others, what his plans are after he graduates, where he wants to go, what restaurants to go to. Everyone notices how his thoughts always seem to gravitate towards you, always easing you into his plans with a pensive little, "Hm. Y'think they'd like to go here too? I heard them talking about the spot a couple times!", "Maaaan I wanna go here with them soon. Should I just book the tickets? Surprise them? Yeah I think I should!" Everyone's just waiting for a confession at this point, really.

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𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

✦ when random things remind him of you.

he could be on their daily patrols, passing by some shops and his mind would drift off to you and how you would look in the shirt he passed by, how your face would probably light up at the taste of the anpan they're selling down the street. Goodness you never leave his mind. Day dreams about it sometimes. Suo and Nirei has caught him multiple times doing so. Always ends with an extremely flustered Sakura.

✦ when he thinks he hears your laughter or your voice, his head snaps towards the direction of the sound.

just like the above! But it's your voice. Nirei thinks Sakura's just on guard by how often he looks around quickly but Suo points out Sakura's reddening cheeks and they immediately know he's thinking about you again. Wants to fish his phone out of his pocket with trembling (and blushing) fingers to ask you where you are. Y'know... Just in case you run into trouble.

✦ when he gave you the other half of his food (he hasn't taken a single bite yet)

Sakura sometimes eats for at least 5 people so to have him offer half of his food to you when you're out eating is saying something. His hands are blushing and trembling as he's trying his best to steady them, slicing a portion of his food to place it on your plate. Of course, you give him the other half of your food too. Of course he's a blushing mess.

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𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Subtly.)

Ever noticed how Togame always seems to bump into you at spots you and your friends frequent? How he so happened to pass by the Furin school after your classes are dismissed? Gosh you're his first real crush so he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to see you and see you often. He awkwardly and adorably tries his damndest not to seem too obvious when he's trying to see you more to strike up a conversation but his blushing (and tall frame) doesn't help his case.

✦ when he always talks about you to the old men at the public baths he frequents.

Togame's a quiet guy. He rarely ever yaps, always getting cut off mid-sentence since he talks so.. SO slow. But when it's about you, his normal 0.75x speaking speed goes up to a full 1.0x or even, dare I say, 1.25x. He's smiling ear to ear, voice with an uncharacteristic shine to it while he's playing shogi with one of the old men. They already adore you before they even meet you. They often give Togame advice too--bring you your favorite flowers, they suggest. Take you out for a festival date, they suggest. "Soon," Togame responds, scratching the back of his neck, "M'nervous though. I can pull it off ri--" "Of course you can, kame-kun." he looks at the old men with the softest, most lovestruck eyes they've ever seen. Soon. He'll make his very first move.

✦ has caught himself staring at you from afar, smiling to himself like a damn lovesick puppy.

...on multiple ocassions, might I add. You could be yapping away with the Bofurin members, talking animatedly about the most mundane things, arms flinging to and fro to get your point across, snort laughing and head thrown back. Togame's just sat just outside the group, ever the introvert. Face propped on his hand, heart practically melting. He doesn't realize he's doing this before Choji points it out. Loudly. He's immediately looking in the other direction, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to keep the smaller Shishitoren member in check. While he's preoccupied, it's your turn to stare back at him, hiding a blush behind your hand. Suo notices this and points it out. Now the both of you are flustered messes.

a/n: tried my hand at a new layout!! eeeee inspired by my favorite perfume house but we're not opening that can of worms right now, lest I yap. ANYWHOSIES thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I am smooching your forehead tenderly with consent.

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#jo togame x reader #umemiya x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #haruka sakura x reader #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker fluff #togame x reader #wind breaker headcanons #hajime umemiya #suo hayato #sakura haruka

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astrowarr · 1 year ago

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i just watched scott's session 7 and noticed a pattern: every single person forgot about grian.

grian hasn't been caught yet, cleo and scott establish. barely a minute later, scott is leading cleo and bigb by the hands to his secret spot and saying "i think we're the last three." like the name has slipped right out of his hands.

as etho tells the other zombies that no, actually, he doesn't want to kill cleo, it occurs to him suddenly. "actually, i kind of want grian to succeed on this, don't i? he's my teammate," he says, not like he doesn't care for grian, but like he's shocked he even forgot in the first place. (seconds later, he lifts his gaze to the sky, and he sees where grian is hiding. he's the only one who sees. he carries this secret with him as he watches grian run, an apology of sorts; sorry I forgot. I hope this makes it better.)

but it got me thinking: this is what grian does, isn't it? even since 3rd life, where he hid in the shadow of scar, whose face was always, always in the light, as he burrowed under doorways, covered in redstone and days-old blood. no one thinks of him as scar sells them the coffins grian will put them in.

grian has mastered the art of becoming nothing. he's so nothing, in fact, that his presence glances off the skin of even his friends. his name slips away from them. he disappears time and time again, falling through their fingers like sand. there are brief moments: "where's grian?" someone asks, but their blood is boiling and their fingers are itching. the image is a mirage and the sand crumbles at their fingertips. it's gone as soon as it comes; back to cleo, green cleo, uninfected cleo.

a reminder, perhaps from the universe itself. he is nothing but a ghost of a memory, a whisper of a promise. this is by design. the universe is telling him this, as it strings grian up limb by limb: you were only ever meant to watch.

#poeticism is lost to me im half asleep is this nonsensical #i dont care let me sum this up #watcher grian #thats all #grian #secret life #secret life spoilers #desert duo #trafficblr #ethoslab #zombiecleo #scott smajor #roomies #watchers #scarian #kinda?#3rd life #third life #watercolor words

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rcmclachlan · 1 month ago

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He shoves his feet into his sneakers and then double checks that he has everything: keys, wallet, an old Trader Joe's bag filled with a lemon-blueberry pie, two almond-cranberry loaves, a bunch of cream puffs, ice cream bread, a fruitcake, and a cheese danish almost as big as the circumference of the bag opening, plus the stupid cue cards he spent an hour writing out.

Exhaling, Buck glances at his watch. 11:09pm. That gives him about 35 minutes to get to South Robertson, 10 minutes to hyperventilate in the Jeep, three minutes to do the most humiliating thing he's ever dreamed of doing, and one minute to hopefully ring in the new year before it officially starts.

The plan is foolproof, it's Chimney approved, and it's the only one he's got. He can't spend another two months baking and staring at his phone hoping to see bubbles dancing. And not just because none of the grocery stores within a ten mile radius of the loft will sell him small batch vanilla extract anymore.

He can't spend another two months feeling like he's suffering from something that Hen would normally use the LifePak to fix. Which is why this is going to work. It has to. Because he can't think about what the next year is going to be like if it doesn't.

"Okay," Buck murmurs, nodding to himself. "It's go time."

Slipping the bag handles over his wrist and tucking the cards under his arm, he pulls the door open and walks right into a brick wall.

"Shit, I'm sorry," the wall says, steadying Buck with big, familiar hands, then bends down to pick up the cards that had spilled to the floor. "I wouldn't have been standing there if I'd known you were gonna fly out like the place was on fire."

It's been a while since Buck's felt this wrong-footed—two months, to be exact—and that's the only reason why he opens his mouth and "You ruined my plan!" falls out.

Tommy looks up from the cue cards with a disbelieving smile. It's the same one that had spread across his face after bad coffee and a plea for a second chance. You already know I'm interested. "Were you going to Love, Actually me?"

He turns the cards in his hands and shows the top one to Buck. It says To me, you are perfect an asshole (but I want you anyway).

Buck puts down the Trader Joe's bag and gives himself a minute to drink Tommy in. He looks good, if wan. The bags under his eyes are new, but the way he curls his shoulders in, like he's trying to make himself smaller, turn himself into a smaller target, takes Buck right back to the last time Tommy was here.

"I-In my defense, Chimney thought it was a stroke of genius," Buck grouses. "Although I'm starting to suspect that he was just giving me shit."

Genuine amusement makes hills and valleys out of the corners of Tommy's eyes, and the way the sight of them makes something unknot inside of Buck feels like muscle memory. He used to wish that his own crow's feet were that pronounced; it always seemed like Tommy's were a mark of a life spent smiling. But even the knowledge that many of those smiles weren't real can't stop Buck from being charmed.

With shaking hands, Buck takes the cue cards from Tommy, who seems a little reluctant to let them go, and absolutely doesn't clutch them to his chest like a shield.

"What are you doing here?"

Tommy scratches at his forearm, a little tic that draws Buck's eye, and because of it he almost doesn't see the tremor in Tommy's bottom lip when he breathes out shakily and says, "I was on shift today, and Nico asked everyone what their New Year's resolutions were. I didn't have one. I never do. It's not something I ever—just getting through the year intact has always been my goal. You really can't call that a resolution."

Buck can't help but give a mystified nod, because he has no idea where this is going, but he honestly doesn't care. Tommy's here. He's here.

"But I couldn't stop thinking about it," Tommy continues, and the laugh he chokes out sounds like it scores the inside of his throat on its way out. "Tonight I had a little kid code in the back of my bird on the way to First Pres, and all I could think about was what my resolution would be if I had one."

"D-Did the kid make it?"

"No," Tommy sighs. "No, he didn't. And I sat on the roof of the hospital for, like, twenty minutes sobbing like a baby, because all I wanted was to hear the sound of your voice. I just wanted to call you and I wouldn't let myself."

The image of Tommy crying alone in a cockpit and denying himself even a little bit of comfort hits Buck like a sucker punch. "W-Why didn't you?"

"I was scared," Tommy admits with a smile that hurts to look at. The corners of his eyes crease anyway. "I was shit scared that I'd call and you'd, I don't know, tell me to go fuck myself, or tell me that I did you a favor by breaking things off. Or worse: the call wouldn't go through at all, because you'd blocked me. You had every right to do any of those things, but... I was too afraid to find out what it'd be. So I didn't."

The prickling heat in the corners of Buck's eyes and in his sinuses feels like a warning. He clears his throat, trying to head it off at the pass, but his eyes feel too wet to safely blink.

"But then why are you—"

"I was on my way home when it hit me out of nowhere: my resolution. Forty-something years and I finally had one."

Heart pounding, Buck takes a step forward and ventures, breathless, "Which was...?"

"My resolution was to be brave for once in my life." Tommy's nose scrunches like he's holding in a laugh, but his eyes look suspiciously glassy. "And suddenly I was parked outside your building."

"Y-You got a space?"

Tommy laughs wetly. "Believe it or not, it was the same one I got that night. And as I pulled in, I thought, 'See that, Kinard? Even the universe is telling you to stop being such a fucking coward.'"

"Your resolution is to be brave," Buck echoes, and just saying it feels like standing at the edge of a canyon and being unable to judge the distance from one side to the other because of the sun in his eyes. "T-That's a good one. We could all stand to be a bit braver this year."

Swallowing, Tommy shakes his head, but before Buck can flirt with the notion of a breakdown, he steps closer. Enough that Buck can count his individual lashes; enough to see the fear in his eyes, as well as the determination holding it at bay.

"I'm no expert, but I hear the best resolutions are the ones where there's someone to hold you to them." He stares into Buck's eyes as he talks but, with every other word, his gaze dips lower.

"I've made and broken a million resolutions in my life. I think that makes me an expert," Buck murmurs. "And yeah, having someone hold you accountable is the key to keeping them."

"I've still got—" Tommy glances down at his watch. "—forty-one minutes. Maybe I should wait until midnight, make it a clean start. What's your expert opinion on—"

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off when Buck drops the cue cards to the floor and presses his entire body into Tommy's. He hopes Tommy can feel every single vibration coming from his bones.

Whether or not he does is anyone's guess, but Tommy doesn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around Buck, sliding a hand up his back to cup the base of his skull, gasping a little in the space between their mouths when Buck rests his forehead against Tommy's. He's shaking even harder than Buck, but his hold is steadfast.

"I'm going to nail your ass to the wall if you break this resolution," Buck whispers.

"I'm counting on it," Tommy whispers back. "In the meantime, you should show me the cue cards. This is literally a fantasy of mine."

Snorting, Buck bites playfully at the bolt of his jaw, and tries not to go completely boneless in relief. "I'm so glad you fucked up my plan. That movie is so bad, Tommy, and I had to re-watch that stupid scene a hundred times to get the cue cards right. You don't deserve them."

"Say 'it's carol singers,'" Tommy nuzzles at his cheek. "Just once. I've been incredibly brave tonight and I deserve something."

"Suffer," Buck laughs, and kisses him into next year.

#bucktommy #just a little fluff piece to ring in the new year #here's to 2025‚ bucktommy nation!#rc's 911 fics

765 notes · View notes

bueckets · 13 hours ago

Text

Thin Walls

Pairing: roommate!Paige x reader

Genre: roommates to lovers, kinda funny?, smut, unbearable sexual tension, petty revenge, paper-thin walls, psychological warfare via moaning, paige bueckers menace era, girl failure x girl who never fails, competitive pining, mutual obsession, doomed from the start but in a fun way, vibrators n SEX, almost all ssmut

Description: When a sleep-deprived biomed student moves in with UConn’s most notorious heartbreaker, you expect late-night film study, protein shake graveyards, and an apartment perpetually scented like sweat and victory. What she doesn’t expect? Thin walls. And Paige Bueckers making absolutely no effort to keep her extracurricular activities quiet.

What starts as a battle for basic human decency turns into something far messier—petty revenge plots, mind games laced with innuendo, and an unspoken tension that neither of you is willing to name. Paige plays like she owns the court, like she owns the world, and maybe—just maybe—like she wants to own you, too.

They say pressure makes diamonds, but when it comes to Paige Bueckers, it just might make a disaster.

WC: 8.4k

There’s a certain satisfaction in watching rich people fight over throw pillows. Like, deep, existential satisfaction. The kind that settles into your bones, whispering at least you’re not that delusional while you scrape the bottom of your bank account for rent. That’s why Selling Sunset has become your new comfort show—nothing soothes the sting of your own financial ruin quite like watching a billionaire lose their shit over an ocean view.

The couch has practically absorbed your body at this point, molded to the exact slouch of your spine. The TV’s glow flickers against the walls, the only illumination in the apartment aside from the soft neon blur of the city outside. A bowl of Greek yogurt sits abandoned on the coffee table—your latest attempt at a “responsible” late-night snack, made in partnership with self-loathing. You’re too exhausted to move, too wired to sleep. Somewhere outside, a siren wails, stretching long and lonely through the night, and you think, for just a second, that if you squint hard enough, you can almost pretend your life is fine.

Then the door slams open like a fucking battering ram.

A mess of limbs and pure, unfiltered desperation stumbles in. Paige Bueckers and tonight’s lucky contestant.

They’re already kissing—no, consuming each other. Lips fused. Hands gripping. Hips aligning like they’re moments away from shifting the tectonic plates beneath them. It’s all sloppy giggles and breathy moans, the kind of shit that should come with a parental advisory warning.

Paige is in sweats and a hoodie that’s hanging halfway off her shoulder, her blonde hair a tousled wreck that suggests she either just left practice or got aggressively felt up in the Uber ride over. The girl—a brunette this time—has her fingers twisted into the hem of Paige’s hoodie like she might actually rip it in half. You’re 98% sure they don’t even notice they almost wipe out over the entryway rug.

You stare. They don’t. They’re too busy dry-humping against the door like horny teenagers who just discovered the concept of friction.

This is usually the part of the night where you’d be asleep. That’s the unspoken agreement. Paige does whatever (or whoever) she wants, and you exist in separate, peaceful universes where her sex life is not your problem. But tonight, insomnia had you in a chokehold, so instead of peacefully slipping into unconsciousness, you’re here, trapped in the splash zone of her latest conquest like some unwilling war correspondent reporting live from the trenches.

Paige finally clocks your presence. Her head jerks up mid-kiss, blinking at you through the haze of what you can only assume is either lust or a full-on brain shutdown.

“Oh. My bad.”

Her voice is husky, wrecked, but casual—so casual, like you just bumped into each other in line at Trader Joe’s, not like you just caught her halfway to third base in the shared living space. The brunette barely acknowledges you, too busy chasing Paige’s mouth again, fingers already curled into the waistband of her sweats like they’re pre-gaming for something much worse.

Your jaw clenches. It’s not jealousy. It’s not even annoyance, really. It’s just…the audacity of it all. You didn’t survive financial ruin, an eviction, and the world’s most soul-sucking job just to end up as an unwilling extra in Paige’s late-night softcore escapades.

Paige smirks, something smug and completely unbothered dancing in her blue eyes, and then—because apparently, she has to make sure you fully marinate in your suffering—she winks.

She fucking winks.

Then she grabs her conquest by the wrist and drags her toward her bedroom. The door swings shut with a decisive click.

You exhale sharply. Shift on the couch. Turn back to Selling Sunset.

A blonde woman in Louboutins slams a designer purse onto a marble counter, screaming about escrow like her life depends on it.

You grab your spoon, chew a bite of yogurt, and pretend this isn’t the worst night of your life.

At first, it’s nothing you can’t ignore—a muffled giggle, the faint creak of a mattress. You’ve had years of training in the fine art of selective hearing. Cheap apartments with walls thinner than a CVS receipt, noisy neighbors who lived for 3 AM karaoke, exes who had no concept of volume control—life has forged you into a soldier of endurance. A survivor. You could sleep through sirens. You could pretend not to hear the couple next door having a screaming match about a misplaced vape pen. You could—if the situation demanded it—completely erase the existence of an entire soundscape from your brain.

But then the giggling shifts. Turns breathy. Then it turns into something else entirely.

A rustle of sheets. A gasp. A low, pleased hum that shouldn’t make your stomach twist with secondhand mortification, but does.

Your grip tightens around the remote. The TV screen flickers in front of you, but you’re no longer absorbing the content. Christine Quinn is monologuing about open-concept kitchens—something about “flow” and “maximizing natural light”—but her voice isn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the escalating symphony from down the hall.

You turn the volume up. Way up.

It doesn’t help.

Paige’s conquest lets out a high, breathy whimper, the kind of sound that makes your entire body lock up like your nervous system just crashed. Paige’s voice follows, low and affectionate, murmuring something you absolutely do not want to hear, but your cursed, traitorous ears pick up anyway. Whatever she says makes the brunette giggle—another peal of laughter before it melts into something softer, more desperate.

Your eye twitches. Nope.

You launch off the couch like you’ve been personally attacked, storming down the hallway with all the righteous fury of someone who has had enough. The second you reach your room, you slam the door shut behind you. The walls rattle. The moaning does not stop.

Jesus. Are your walls are made of tissue paper? No, fuck that—tissue paper at least offer some resistance. This? This is sonic purgatory. Paige’s voice is clearer now, her tone teasing, low, smug. A pet name you can’t quite make out but absolutely wish you could bleach from your brain.

You groan. Loudly. Throw yourself onto your bed and yank a pillow over your head like that’s going to do anything.

It doesn’t.

Because the sounds are intermittent—waves of giggles followed by the kind of sighs that make your ears burn. The occasional shhh from Paige, followed by a breathless “like that?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Think of something else. Think of literally anything else. You focus on the fabric of your pillowcase, the way the cotton sticks to your cheek, the faint scent of detergent—Paige moans, and your brain short-circuits like a 2003 Dell desktop.

You don’t even have the energy to be properly mad. This is just Paige. Unbothered, self-contained, casually ruining your will to live Paige. She doesn’t try to be inconsiderate, but she also doesn’t try not to be.

Another moan—drawn out and shameless—curls through the air, and you nearly levitate out of your skin. You want to scream. Instead, you yank another pillow over your head for good measure, as if two pillows will somehow create a force field against whatever the fuck is happening in there.

Christine Quinn is still monologuing in your mind, her voice a distant echo beneath the carnal horror occurring in real time.

"It’s all about location, location, location."

Yeah. No shit.

You really should’ve picked a better one.

The morning drags itself into existence like a bad hangover—except you didn’t drink. You just endured. Survived. Battled through the night like some war veteran, only your battlefield wasn’t made of trenches and gunfire but moaning and drywall acoustics.

Sunlight filters through the too-thin blinds, stabbing into your retinas like a personal attack. It casts a harsh glow over the wreckage of your living room—your personal post-war scene. The coffee table is an abandoned crime scene: an empty takeout container, a spoon half-submerged in a sad puddle of yogurt, a crumpled napkin that might have been thrown in frustration during hour two of your sleepless torment. Your blanket is twisted in a heap on the couch, kicked off at some point in your desperate attempt to burrow away from the sounds of Paige Bueckers living her best, most inconsiderate life.

It’s quiet now. Blessedly quiet. A void. No hushed giggles, no rhythmic bedframe percussion, no doors slamming. No evidence of last night’s atrocity except for your residual irritation, clinging to the air like stale perfume.

You sit at the dining table, textbook open, pen in hand, attempting to refocus on something productive. Biomed homework. Neural pathways, synaptic transmission—things that matter. Unlike Paige, who—

A shuffle of feet. Soft, socked steps. You don’t even hear her door creak open—just the lazy, leisurely sound of someone who has never known suffering emerging from her room.

You refuse to look up.

“Morning,” Paige says, casual as ever, like she didn’t turn your living space into the set of a low-budget lesbian porno eight hours ago. She stretches, arms overhead, back arching slightly, exhaling like she just had the most restful night’s sleep of her life.

Meanwhile, you—who has never been more tired—physically recoil at the audacity.

She rubs her eyes, yawns, shuffles past you toward the kitchen like nothing happened. Not even a hint of acknowledgment. No sheepish oops, my bad for mentally scarring you with surround sound sex noise. No hey, sorry about your insomnia and emotional distress. Just a morning like everything is fine.

You blink at her. Unbelievable.

Your fingers tighten around your pencil as you force your gaze back to your notes. Ignore her. You are a scholar. A person of intellect. A higher being.

Paige, meanwhile, has fully migrated to the fridge. She rummages carelessly, like she owns this apartment, like she pays your therapy bills. She emerges with the orange juice carton, unscrews the cap, and—like an absolute menace to society—drinks straight from it.

The pencil in your grip creaks ominously.

“You’re up early,” she remarks, between gulps.

“I didn’t sleep,” you reply, flat, clipped. You don’t look at her. You refuse to.

Paige makes a small sound—something vaguely amused, vaguely disbelieving. “Damn. That sucks.”

That’s it? That’s all she has to say.

You inhale, deeply, willing yourself not to commit a violent felony before noon.

Slowly, slowly, you lift your head, turn your glare toward her like a sniper locking onto a target. Paige, in all her infuriating glory, is leaning against the counter, still drinking your orange juice, looking like someone who has never felt guilt a day in her life. Her expression is neutral, open. Not quite smug, but there’s something about the way she exists that makes you want to throw your textbook at her face and plead temporary insanity in court.

She swipes her thumb across her mouth, wiping away a drop of juice.

“You know what else sucks?” you say, voice deceptively calm. “The structural integrity of our walls. They’re paper-thin. Just an interesting fact I thought I’d share.”

Paige’s lips twitch. She knows. She fucking knows. She tilts her head slightly, like she’s considering whether she should poke the bear or let you stew in your suffering. Then she settles on:

“Huh.”

That’s it.

Your grip tightens on the pencil so hard you might actually snap it in half.

Paige drains the last of the orange juice, wipes her mouth again (like an animal), and sets the carton down with a satisfied sigh. Then, as if she hasn’t just mentally and emotionally destroyed you, she stretches again, rolling out her shoulders.

“Welp,” she says, tone light, completely unbothered. “I’m out. See ya.”

“Wait, what—”

But she’s already gone, disappearing back into her room for approximately thirty seconds before emerging again—this time with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

You stare at it. “You’re leaving?”

Paige nods like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Team stuff. Won’t be back tonight.”

Your brain malfunctions. Won’t be back tonight. This terrorist has held you emotionally hostage for an entire night and now she’s just leaving? Just walking away from the wreckage like some kind of villain in an action movie, casually strolling as the building explodes behind her?

She tugs on her sneakers at the door, slings her bag higher on her shoulder, and—because the universe is cruel—throws you a lazy, almost mocking little salute.

“Don’t wait up,” she tosses over her shoulder. Then she’s gone.

The door swings shut and the apartment is silent again.

You sit there, fingers clenched around your pencil, biomed notes glaring up at you like they’re personally offended by your suffering. Your eye twitches.

I fucking hate her.

Then you sigh, rub your temple, and force yourself back to work.

It’s been three days of silence. Three whole, glorious days of peace. Three nights where you didn’t have to contemplate smothering yourself with a pillow just to escape the torment of Paige’s complete disregard for basic human decency. The apartment has felt almost normal—like an actual home instead of a halfway house for Paige’s revolving door of hookups. You don’t have to brace yourself every time the front door swings open, because it hasn’t swung open. You don’t have to leave your headphones on while studying to shield yourself from the auditory terrorism of her sex life. You don’t have to walk into the kitchen at 1 AM and fear that you’ll be confronted with Paige, half-naked, wearing nothing but someone else’s lipstick and a hoodie that’s falling off her shoulder like she’s starring in a fucking romance movie.

The peace has been so uninterrupted, so unnatural, that you’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to live in a state of constant vigilance. You throw yourself into your biomed assignments, losing yourself in the clean, clinical world of neural pathways and synaptic transmission, your SZA playlist looping softly in the background. You almost start to believe this is real. That this is the new normal. That maybe Paige has finally, miraculously, learned self-control or, at the very least, found a new venue to conduct her business.

You are so fucking naïve.

The front door doesn’t just open—it explodes. A crack, a slam, a full-body collision with the wall that rattles the picture frames. The kind of entrance that belongs to either a SWAT team or a raging hurricane of bad decisions.

Your body locks up like an animal sensing an oncoming natural disaster. The pencil in your grip slips through your fingers, hitting the desk with a dull thunk. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for one brief, delusional second, you tell yourself that it wasn’t real. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe Paige forgot something and came back only to leave again. Maybe—

A thud. Then another. The unmistakable rhythm of someone kicking off their shoes, the soft scuff of footsteps across the floor.

You grit your teeth, pressing your palms flat against your desk. You are not going to react. You are not going to engage. If she wants to slam doors and stomp around like a feral beast, fine. You refuse to let her drag you into the chaos. You reach for your headphones, adjusting them over your ears, cranking up the volume until SZA drowns out the world.

It’s not enough.

A sound pierces through the music, slicing through the air like a warning shot. It’s high-pitched, sudden, obscene—so sharp that your entire body recoils. Your brain trips over itself, scrambling to make sense of what it just processed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you think someone is in distress. Like maybe—maybe—this is the night Paige finally made an enemy and brought home someone who wants to kill her. But no. No, that is not the sound of murder. That is the sound of someone who is very much alive and living their best fucking life at maximum volume.

Your grip tightens around your pencil so hard you genuinely worry it might snap in half.

Then it happens again—louder this time.

“Ooooh, Paige, baby it feel sooo good,” a long, drawn-out moan that echoes through the walls like a goddamn announcement.

Your jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear something crack.

You tell yourself to ignore it. You try to focus on the actual problems in your life—like the metabolic equation staring up at you from your notebook, the one that makes no fucking sense, the one you were just about to solve before Paige returned to single-handedly ruin your night. But this girl—whoever she is—sounds like she’s in a full-blown cinematic production, and Paige? Paige has zero concern for your sanity. No attempt to be discreet, no effort to maybe keep it down, no acknowledgment that she is actively breaking your spirit in real time.

A shhh from Paige, soft, teasing, followed by something breathless. While you– you black out for a second.

The chair scrapes against the floor as you shove away from your desk, adrenaline flooding your veins. You are this close to storming down the hallway, ripping Paige’s door off its hinges, and launching her entire bed out the fucking window. Instead, you flatten your hands against your desk, inhale deeply, and stare down at your notes like they personally wronged you.

This. This is it. You swear to yourself, you are getting revenge.

You don’t know how yet. But it’s happening.

Because if Paige wants to act like an inconsiderate, sex-obsessed demon hellbent on making your life miserable, then fine. Fine. Two can play at this game.

You’ve waited two days. Two agonizing, anticipation-filled days where you paced your room like a villain in the third act of a revenge flick, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every time you passed by Paige’s empty room, you could practically hear the ghosts of her past hookups mocking you. You had suffered. You had endured. And now, it was your time.

The front door swings open. Not as violently as before—no dramatic bang against the wall, no whirlwind of limbs stumbling over the entryway rug. Just the quiet shuffle of footsteps, the soft rustle of fabric, the barely-there whisper of a muffled giggle. It’s all very tame. Too tame. Like she thinks she can just slip back into this apartment unnoticed, like she didn’t shatter your will to live just days ago with her complete lack of shame or respect for human decency.

You sit up in bed, eyes gleaming in the dim glow of your laptop screen. Showtime.

It had taken an embarrassing amount of time to craft the perfect revenge strategy. You wanted something devastating. Something that would haunt Paige the way her late-night moanfest had haunted you. You considered various forms of psychological warfare—hiding her favorite hoodie, signing her up for weird spam emails, strategically microwaving fish at odd hours—but none of it felt impactful enough. You needed something biblical. Something that would scar.

And then, the answer came to you. Porn.

Loud, obnoxious, horrifically detailed porn. You smile at your glowing laptop and click play.

Instantly, the most sinful, ungodly, downright demonic sounds explode from your speakers. It’s graphic. Monstrous. A chorus of moans, screams, the unmistakable, wet, slapping of skin against skin. The kind of audio that makes you question humanity as a species. You’re pretty sure you hear someone begging in French.

It’s perfect. You crank the volume up.

Then, with the sheer dramatic commitment of a Broadway performer, you slam your bed frame against the wall.

The headboard cracks against the drywall with force, rattling like you’re in the throes of an earth-shattering experience. You moan. Not well, but loudly. Passionately. Over-the-top.

“Ohhh my GOD,” you scream, throwing in some unnecessary yes, yes, right there’s for added flair.

You can feel the disturbance in the force. But you don’t stop. Oh, no. You commit.

You keep the moans rolling, layering them with guttural, animalistic gasps. You bang the headboard again, harder this time, just to make sure Paige feels your suffering on a molecular level. You toss in a deep, satisfied sigh, dragging it out like you’re playing a villain savoring their monologue.

You keep the moans rolling, layering them with deep, broken gasps, the kind of sounds that should not be echoing through the walls of a shared living space. Your voice wavers just enough to sound shaken, overwhelmed, ruined, like you’ve ascended past the mortal plane and are now one with the universe.

The headboard collides with the wall again—harder this time, with a resounding crack that might actually fracture the drywall. Good. Good. Let her feel it. Let the vibrations of your suffering seep into her bones. Let her live what you lived.

You throw in a deep, satisfied sigh, dragging it out long, making it obscene. You let silence stretch, just for a moment, just long enough for Paige to think maybe—maybe—it’s over, that this nightmare has passed.

And then, with the full, unwavering conviction of a lunatic, you moan again.

It’s breathless. Shaky. The kind of sound that would make someone deeply uncomfortable in any setting, but especially when coming from the other side of a paper-thin wall.

A shuffle. A creak of bedsprings. A pause. You can feel her trying to process.

And then, like a gift from the heavens, Paige finally breaks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pure, unfiltered disbelief in her voice is a drug. It fuels you.

You slam your palm against the wall, a solid thunk that reverberates through the apartment. Then, in the single most unhinged act of pettiness you have ever committed, you howl a random man’s name.

Silence.

You shift in bed, letting out a shaky, devastated exhale, the kind of breathless, wrecked sound people make when they have been absolutely, thoroughly ruined. You make sure it carries through the wall, make sure it sinks into her skull.

There’s another pause. A long one. You can almost see Paige lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how her life has come to this exact moment.

Then—an aggressive rustling of sheets, a sharp inhale like she’s gearing up for a speech. You brace yourself.

Her response is immediate. A heavy thud—her fist against your wall. “Oh my God, have some fucking decency.”

That should be the end of it. A normal, sane person would stop here. But you? You are not a normal, sane person. You are a petty, wounded soldier, and you will see this through to the end.

So you shift, make sure your bedsprings let out a very suggestive creak, and then murmur, low and breathy, “Five more minutes.”

A second of pure, raw silence. Then, from her room—chaos.

The violent shuffle of blankets, a sound like something falling off her nightstand, an aggressively muttered string of words that you cannot hear, but you know they’re unholy.

Victory tastes sweet.

The next morning, you wake up feeling transformed. Cleansed. Vindicated. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of your own pettiness, reborn into a creature of pure, unadulterated vengeance. A god of retribution.

Last night was a triumph. A masterpiece of psychological warfare, orchestrated with the precision of a military strategist and the artistic flair of a Broadway performer. Paige had suffered—oh, she had suffered—and you had heard every ounce of that suffering in the sheer disbelief laced through her voice. You had sent her into an existential crisis without so much as stepping foot into her room. And the best part? You didn’t even have to talk about it. No awkward confrontation, no passive-aggressive exchange, no forced discussion about boundaries. Just a silent victory, the best kind of victory.

You stretch in bed, limbs loose and relaxed for the first time in days. No residual irritation, no ghosts of rage clinging to your skin. You won. You won.

The air feels different when you step into the kitchen, like the whole apartment is holding its breath. The atmosphere is charged, electric with something unspoken, a tension that exists only because you created it. You bask in it, inhale it like fresh air, let it fill your lungs as you roll your shoulders back and step into the room.

Paige is already there. She’s leaning against the counter, one hand wrapped around her ever-present protein shake, the other holding her phone, scrolling with the kind of casual indifference that feels fake. Too stiff. Too controlled.

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest. Good. That means you got to her.

You let the silence stretch, let her feel you watching her, reveling in the unspoken weight of last night’s events. Then, with all the exaggerated nonchalance you can muster, you open the fridge. You take your time, rummaging through it, making a show of your relaxed state, of your complete and total lack of shame or regret. Every movement is deliberate, every pause pointed.

The tension is thick enough to taste.Finally, after a long, drawn-out beat, you break the silence.

“Sleep well?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Paige just lifts her shake, takes a slow sip, and keeps scrolling, her gaze glued to her screen like you don’t exist.

You bite back a smirk. Oh, it’s like that, huh?

Fine. You love a challenge.

You grab a yogurt, pop the lid with exaggerated ease, and lean against the counter directly across from her. Mirroring her. Challenging her.

She knows you’re looking. She feels it.

The weight of your gaze drags over her jaw, the bare skin of her collarbone where her hoodie has slouched just a little too low. Over her hands—gripping her phone a fraction too tight, her knuckles taut with something just shy of restraint.

She lifts her protein shake. Takes a sip. Measured, deliberate.

You take a slow, obnoxiously slow, bite of yogurt.

“You seemed a little... tense last night.” Your voice is carefully neutral, the epitome of innocence, like you’re discussing the weather. But your eyes say otherwise.

A flicker. There. The tell.

It’s microscopic—her fingers tightening around her phone, a brief clench of her jaw before she lifts her shake again.

“I’m fine,” Paige says, monotone.

You hum, swirling your spoon through the yogurt, dragging it up in long, slow loops. “Really? You seemed a little... thrown off. Like you weren’t expecting something.”

Paige drinks. Swallows. Sets the bottle down with that same, mechanical precision.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, this is delicious.

“Hmm.” You take another lazy bite, then—just for effect—let your tongue flick over the spoon, slow, clean.

She doesn’t react.

But she sees it. You know she sees it.

The battle of wills unfolds in the silence. A quiet, blistering, psychological duel.

You stretch it, waiting, baiting. Letting the tension tighten between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

And then—she exhales.

A sharp, quiet breath, controlled but strained. Like she’s holding something back.

And finally, finally, she sets her phone down.

Lifts her head.

Meets your gaze.

And suddenly, the air shifts.

Because Paige’s expression isn’t annoyed, like you expected. It isn’t irritated, or bored, or vaguely exasperated.

It’s something else.

Something slower. Darker.

Your stomach tightens—not in fear, but in something far more dangerous.

She tilts her head just slightly, a fraction of an inch, but the weight of it is immense. A move so calculated it feels like a blade sliding from its sheath.

"You good?" she asks, her voice a study in casual ease. Too smooth. Too careful.

It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap.

But you don’t back down from fights.

“Better than ever.” You drag the words out, light, effortless. “Best sleep of my life.”

Her lips twitch. Just barely. A half-second away from a smirk.

“That right?”

You shrug, feigning boredom. “Guess loud, passionate sex really tires a person out.”

A beat. A single, suspended moment.

Then—

“I wouldn’t know,” Paige says, smooth as silk. Cool as ice. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

Your smirk falters.

Oh.

Oh, she’s good.

You recover quickly. “Really? You must sleep like the dead, then.”

Paige picks up her phone again, dismissive, her gaze flicking back to the screen like you’re not worth the effort.

But her lips? They’re curling. Slightly. Just enough to show teeth.

“Or maybe,” she murmurs, so damn casual, “it just wasn’t worth noticing.”

Oh, that bitch.

Heat flares up your spine, crackling, sharp.

You glare. Paige doesn’t even glance at you. The war has officially begun. And it’s on sight.

You’re not proud of yourself.

Not in the slightest. In fact, you don’t even know how you got here.

But this is what happens when you let your petty little battles spiral into something else, something darker and messier and impossible to ignore. You hate her. You loathe her. You think about her way too much—about how she gets under your skin, about her smug little smirks, about the way she acts like she owns the air you breathe just because she’s taller than you, because she can throw a ball into a hoop, because the entire fucking world looks at her like she’s something more than just a girl who’s in your goddamn way.

And maybe that’s why you’re here.

On your back. In your bed.

Hand between your thighs like an absolute fucking degenerate.

Because Paige is supposed to be gone. She’s supposed to be three states away at some game, doing her little interviews, getting her ego fed by an arena full of people. The apartment is supposed to be empty.

So you let yourself have this.

Let yourself chase the tension out of your muscles, let yourself melt into it, let yourself lose in it.

And God, you wish you were thinking about someone else.

But it’s her.

It’s her stupid fucking face.

It’s the way she taunts you, the way she stands too close in the kitchen, the way her sweatpants hang low on her hips in the morning, the way she stares you down like she’s daring you to push her, like she’s waiting for the exact moment you snap.

You hate her.

You hate how easy it is to imagine her hands on you instead of your own.

Your fingers are slick. Obscenely so. The vibrator hums against your clit like a live wire, like an electric pulse searing through your nerves, turning every inch of your body into a hypersensitive mess. Your thighs twitch, your stomach clenches, your hips keep jerking up, desperate for more, even though it's too much—too intense, too sharp, too unbearably fucking good.

The sheets are ruined beneath you, damp and twisted from how much you’ve writhed against them, chasing the high, riding the edge, dragging it out like you deserve to suffer for this. Like you deserve to ache for it. Your other hand is gripping the pillow, fisting the fabric, white-knuckled, because Paige, Paige, Paige—you can’t get her out of your fucking head.

That smug smirk, those broad shoulders, the way she leans against the kitchen counter like she owns it, owns you, waiting, watching, pushing, teasing—

God, you hate her.

You hate the way she gets under your skin, the way she’s there, always there, lingering in the space between, looking at you like she’s daring you to do something about it. You hate that you want to.

And you hate that you’re so fucking close just thinking about her.

Your toes curl, your breath breaks into little hiccuping moans, your body bows off the mattress. The vibrator sends another sharp burst of pleasure through your swollen, oversensitive clit, and it’s too much—your thighs slam shut around your hand, trying to temper the sensation, trying to trap it, hold it inside you, but it just makes everything sharper, stronger, unbearable—

You choke on a sound, a raw, desperate little whimper.

And then– a noise. Not yours. Not in your room.

On the other side of the fucking wall.

At first, your brain refuses to process it. Because no. No. No way. Paige is supposed to be gone, three states away, playing her stupid game, being her stupid self, not here.

But then you hear it again. A moan. Low, wrecked, unmistakably needy.

Your whole body locks up.

For a second, all you can do is lie there, frozen in place, vibrator still pressed against your clit, your own pulse hammering in your ears. Your skin goes hot, burning with shame, with realization.

She heard you. She fucking heard you.

Another shift. A creak of her bed. The rustle of sheets.

A sharp inhale escapes you, unbidden, and then you clap a hand over your mouth, mortified.

The vibrator is still humming against your clit, sending little aftershocks through you, but you can’t move, you can’t fucking move, because your brain is stuck on the fact that Paige is touching herself right now, that she’s lying in her bed, one wall away, listening to you, moaning for you, and you—

Oh. Fuck.

Your breath catches, your whole body locks up, your hand stills between your thighs—just for a second, just long enough for your brain to catch up to what the hell just happened.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, bite your lip so hard it hurts, and keep going.

You’re sick, a fucking degenerate. You have to be, because the thought of Paige, lying there in her bed, one flimsy wall away, fingering herself to the sound of you falling apart is the single hottest, most disgusting, most earth-shattering thing you’ve ever fucking imagined.

Your hips twitch up, chasing the feeling, chasing the high, chasing whatever this is, this tight, searing, unspeakable thing curling in your stomach. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should not be doing this. But your fingers are shaking, your whole body is on fire, and you can’t stop, you can’t fucking stop—

And then she makes another sound.

This time it’s louder, more desperate, like she doesn’t care if you hear her anymore. And it sends you spiraling.

Your eyes slam shut, your thighs squeeze together, your stomach clenches so hard you can’t breathe, and the pleasure—fuck, the pleasure—rips through you, tears you apart, drowns you, ruins you.

You come so hard you forget how to exist.

The air is still humming.Your skin is still hot, still damp, still sensitive in a way that makes every shift against the sheets feel like too much. Your breath hasn’t fully evened out, your body still shaking from the wreckage of it, from the way you lost yourself, let yourself drown.

It should be over. It should.

But then—

A sound. Distant, but there. A soft shuffle, the faintest creak of floorboards beyond your door.

Your breath catches. You stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, trying to ignore it. It’s late. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe you’re still stuck somewhere between dream and aftermath, still feeling the phantom weight of her—her hands, her voice, the way your mind kept slipping back to her even as you tried not to.

But then it happens again. A shift of movement. Closer.

A slow, deliberate pause just outside your door.

Your stomach tightens. No.

But the air is suddenly thick with something too real, something too electric—something that makes your pulse hammer in warning even before the first knock lands.

Knock. You stop breathing.

Another.

You jerk up, your body still too sensitive, your skin prickling under the weight of anticipation. You don’t move at first. Don’t respond. Just listen.

A pause. Silence. Maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll take the hint—

And then, the voice. Low. Steady. Unshaken.

"Open the door."

Your fingers tighten around the blanket, pulse kicking hard. Not a question. Not a request.

Just a command.

You should hesitate. You should stay still, let the moment pass, let it slip into the quiet, pretend it never happened.

But you know what’s waiting on the other side. And you know you’re already too far gone. But now she’s here.

You don’t move at first. Just stare at the door, heart picking up speed, hands pressed against the comfort of your blanket. A breath. Another. You tell yourself to stay still, stay quiet, maybe she’ll go away, maybe she’ll take the hint—

She knocks again.

“Open the door.”

Your skin prickles. Not a question. Not a request. Just a flat, patient command. Still, you hesitate. Seconds pass, stretching out between you like a tightrope, thin and fraying. And then, finally, you move.

The door creaks as you pull it open, slow and careful. Paige stands in the dim hallway, shoulders loose, hoodie hanging from her frame like she just threw it on without thinking. Her hair’s a mess—like she’s been running her hands through it, like she’s been restless all night. Her blue eyes flicker over you, unreadable, scanning, weighing.

Then she steps inside.

She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait for permission. Just walks past you, brushing close enough that you feel the heat of her body, the scent of her—something clean and sharp, faint sweat and warm fabric and something entirely, infuriatingly her.

The door clicks shut behind her. You don’t speak.

You don’t have to. She turns to you, slow, deliberate, expression unreadable. Then, voice low and measured:

“Lay on the bed.”

A prickle of heat races down your spine. You swallow, breath catching, fingers curling at your sides. But you don’t argue. Don’t hesitate. Just step back, moving without thought, without question, without sense—because it’s Paige, and because you want to know where this is going, and because something inside you is already unraveling at the edges.

The mattress dips as you crawl onto it, arms bracing, knees pressing into the sheets. You don’t dare look at her. You hear the shift of fabric, the quiet creak of the bed frame as she moves behind you, slow, careful. A pause. A breath.

Then—

“Where’s your vibrator?”

The words hit like a strike to the ribs. Sudden, shocking, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your fingers clutch the blankets, throat dry. You don’t answer.

Paige hums, thoughtful, unimpressed. Then you feel her—one hand at your lower back, pressing just enough to make you sink into the mattress, the other trailing up your spine, fingers grazing the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re gonna tell me,” she murmurs, voice steady, quiet, dangerous in its softness. “Or I’ll find it myself.”

Heat pools low in your stomach, twisting sharp and deep. Your breath stutters. Paige’s hand lingers at the back of your neck, fingers tracing, waiting.

Your voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Drawer.”

A pause. The ghost of a smile in her voice.

“Good girl.”

Then she moves.

You hear it—the slide of the drawer, the shift of objects, the quiet click of plastic against wood. A heartbeat. Two. Then the bed shifts again, and she’s behind you, close enough to feel the heat of her, the weight of her presence, the steady, unshaken confidence in every movement.

Her fingers skim your thigh, light, testing, teasing.

“You know what to do.” Your stomach clenches.

Slowly, breathlessly, you shift forward, sinking onto your hands, pressing your chest to the mattress. Your knees spread, thighs parting just enough to leave you open, vulnerable, trembling with something you can’t name.

The air is thick, charged, electric.

Then, Paige’s voice, low and certain:

“Don’t look at me.”

You shudder.

And then—she starts.

The first press of the vibrator against your clit is light—just a tease, barely there, a flicker of sensation that sends a sharp jolt straight through you. Your fingers tighten in the sheets, breath catching, body already wound so fucking tight you think you might shatter from just this.

Paige hums, pleased, lazy. Her other hand skims up your back, slow and deliberate, tracing the dip of your spine, the curve of your ribs, fingers spreading wide as she grips your hip, holding you in place. The bed shifts beneath her weight, but you don’t look back. You don’t dare. Not when you can already feel her eyes on you, watching every little reaction, every twitch, every shaky inhale.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “So fucking wet already.”

You let out a soft, helpless sound, pressing your forehead against the mattress, trying to steady yourself. It doesn’t help. The vibrator hums again, firmer this time, rolling against your clit in slow, torturous circles, and your hips jerk instinctively, seeking more, needing more.

Paige clicks her tongue. “Uh-uh. Stay still.”

The sharp sting of her palm against your ass is unexpected, quick and precise, more startling than painful—but fuck, it makes you tighten everywhere, makes you gasp, makes heat curl even deeper in your gut. Your nails dig into the sheets, thighs trembling.

Then—without warning—the vibrator presses harder, just enough to make your whole body tense, thighs twitching, stomach clenching. Your mouth falls open, a high, breathless moan spilling out before you can stop it.

“That’s it,” Paige murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

She drags the vibrator lower, just for a second, teasing the slick heat between your thighs, and then—fuck—you feel her fingers, tracing, pressing, testing. You whimper, hips bucking, and she chuckles, low and amused, before finally—finally—she sinks one finger inside.

Your breath stutters, back arching, body clenching tight around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” she exhales, voice rough, almost reverent. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight.”

The vibrator keeps buzzing against your clit, steady, relentless, a constant pulse of pleasure as her finger moves, slow and deliberate, curling just right, dragging along that sensitive spot that makes you tremble.

“God, you’re dripping,” Paige mutters, voice edged with something darker, something raw. “You want more?”

You nod frantically, too wrecked to form words, pushing back against her hand, chasing it, needing it.

She gives it to you.

Another finger presses in, stretching you, filling you, fucking into you in slow, deep strokes, pushing past that tight resistance, until she’s buried up to the knuckle. Your whole body shakes, heat coiling low in your stomach, sharp and overwhelming.

“Jesus,” Paige breathes, her voice tight, wrecked. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

She picks up the pace—fingers curling, twisting, pressing in deeper as the vibrator rolls against your clit, unrelenting, merciless. You’re gasping now, panting, your hips moving without thought, without control, grinding down, fucking yourself onto her fingers, onto the pulsing buzz of the toy, lost in the slick, obscene sound of it, the heat, the pressure, the unbearable, intoxicating pleasure building too fast, too much—

“Paige—”

She tightens her grip on your hip, holding you still, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, fingers thrusting deeper, sharper, hitting that spot over and over and over—

And you snap.

It crashes into you all at once—blinding, breathless, a shockwave of raw, shuddering pleasure that rips through your entire body. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, legs shaking, thighs clamping around her hand as the orgasm slams into you, wrecking you, drowning you.

Paige curses, low and filthy, working you through it, keeping the vibrator pressed firm against your clit as your body jerks, as you convulse, as pleasure spills over in wave after brutal wave.

You collapse forward, panting, trembling, barely able to hold yourself up. But Paige isn’t done.

She flips you onto your back in one smooth, effortless motion, her body pressing into yours, caging you in. Before you can even catch your breath, her mouth is on you.

The first kiss is rough, searing, a claim more than a kiss—teeth dragging against your lip, tongue pressing deep, swallowing the wrecked little sounds spilling from your throat.

Her hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, dragging your legs apart, squeezing your waist, your ribs, your tits, mapping every inch of you like she’s memorizing it.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum,” she murmurs, lips brushing yours, voice thick with hunger. “All fucked out and messy for me.”

Your breath stutters. Paige leans in again, dragging her mouth down your jaw, your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear that makes you shiver.

“I want you loud this time,” she mutters, fingers already slipping back between your thighs, spreading you open, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your overstimulated clit. “You gonna give me that?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, hips bucking up into her hand, desperate for more.

Paige smirks against your skin. “Good.”

The heat of her body presses you into the mattress, her grip firm, unrelenting, claiming every inch of you like she’s owed it, like she’s been waiting for this for so fucking long that holding back isn’t an option anymore.

And it’s not. It never was.

Her fingers curl inside you, deep and sharp, pressing right against that devastating spot that makes your whole body tighten and shudder. You’re soaked, dripping down onto her hand, onto the sheets, your thighs slick, trembling, spread wide as she takes what she wants—what she’s wanted for so fucking long.

“You have no idea,” Paige mutters, voice low, wrecked, breath warm against your neck as she drags her lips over your skin, teeth grazing, biting. “No fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

Your brain short-circuits. You gasp, clutching at her shoulders, legs wrapping around her waist, dragging her closer, needing her closer.

She groans, grinding against you, fingers moving faster, harder, pushing into you with a rhythm that’s obscene, ruthless, making you arch, making you cry out.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she growls. “The way you looked at me? The way you listened when I fucked other girls in this apartment?”

Your stomach clenches, a sharp pang of shame and arousal slamming through you.

Paige laughs. A low, breathy, utterly wicked sound.

“That’s right,” she purrs, slowing her fingers to a torturous, teasing drag. “I know what you’ve been doing. Lying in here, all hot and frustrated, touching yourself to the thought of me.”

Your breath catches.

“You ever wonder if I was thinking about you?” she continues, voice husky, lips dragging down your collarbone, your chest, your stomach. “Lying in bed, hearing you through the walls, touching myself to the sound of you coming?”

Your hips jerk up, a desperate, broken sound escaping you.

Paige chuckles, dark and amused, before she slams her fingers into you again, relentless, brutal, dragging you right back up that peak.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat ripping through your body, pleasure slamming into you all at once, sharp and unbearable, too much but not enough, never enough.

Then she’s everywhere—her mouth crushing against yours, teeth nipping, tongue pressing in deep as her fingers fuck into you, relentless, merciless, like she’s making up for every second she didn’t have you like this.

“Come for me,” she demands, voice ragged, forehead pressing against yours, blue eyes dark, wild, locked onto you like she’s daring you to fall apart.

Your whole body seizes up, back arching, mouth falling open on a silent scream as the orgasm tears through you, overwhelming, devastating, making your mind go blank, making your vision fucking blur.

Paige groans as you clench around her fingers, as you drip onto her hand, onto the sheets, onto her.

“Jesus fuck,” she breathes, watching you, drinking in every twitch, every shake, every shattered gasp. “You look so fucking good like this.”

And before you can even catch your breath, before you can even think, she’s flipping you over again, pressing you into the mattress, pinning you down, her body covering yours completely.

Her mouth is everywhere—hot, desperate, claiming every inch of you, kissing you like she wants to consume you, biting at your throat, your jaw, your lips.

“You’re mine now,” she mutters, breath ragged, hand gripping your hip, dragging you up against her. “You fucking get that?”

You nod frantically, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, needing more, needing everything.

“Say it,” she growls.

“I’m yours,” you gasp, voice wrecked, desperate.

Paige grins—wild, triumphant—before crashing her mouth against yours again, her hand slipping back between your legs, fingers dragging through the mess she’s already made of you.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” she murmurs, voice dark, teasing.

Your breath stutters, eyes going wide.

“You can’t—”

“I can.” She presses the vibrator back against your clit, fingers already sliding back inside you, making you sob. “And I will.”

Then she fucks you, properly, thoroughly, relentlessly, making you come again and again until you can barely breathe, barely think, until the only thing left in your head is her.

The room is wreckage. Pillows displaced, sheets tangled, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. Your limbs are jelly, nerves still sparking like frayed wires, pleasure still ghosting along the edges of your skin in aftershocks you can’t quite suppress. Paige—Paige fucking Bueckers—is lying beside you, her chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths, arm slung possessively across your stomach like she owns you now.

And maybe she does.

You blink up at the ceiling, brain still trying to reboot. The night—Jesus, the night—had unraveled into something primal, something endless, something that had pushed you past exhaustion, past coherence, past sanity. Paige had wrecked you, torn you apart, rebuilt you in the shape of something raw and ruined and aching for more. And now—

Now, she shifts beside you. A lazy stretch, muscles flexing, a small, satisfied hum escaping her lips. You don’t have the energy to turn your head, but you feel her, the weight of her gaze settling on your profile.

Then, voice still husky from exertion, smug and utterly fucking unbearable—

"So, do you want to get dinner with me?"

Your brain stalls.

Your head turns, slow, disbelieving, vision sharpening just enough to catch the absolute shit-eating grin tugging at her lips. She’s fucking with you. She has to be. After everything—after the way she spent hours making you come until you forgot your own name, until your body had nothing left to give, until you had collapsed against her, too spent to do anything but breathe—she’s asking you out. Like it’s casual. Like it’s normal.

Like this isn’t the most insane, deranged turn of events imaginable.

You stare.

Paige smirks.

And you—God help you—you might actually say yes.

513 notes · View notes

webuydiamond · 1 year ago

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onlymingyus · 9 months ago

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Shut Up

pairing; wen junhui x f reader (ft. xu minghao)

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, fluff

summary; You think you know about the world around you, but one day you find out you don't know anything. When you start to fall about it's your boss Wen Junhui who picks up the pieces and keeps you safe.

content warnings; a lot of dark themes including: sexual assault, murder, guns, knives, beating, fighting, selling of guns, selling/using drugs, alcohol/eating, crying and dealing with trauma, mild dubcon. mob boss!junhui, second in command!minghao, security!mingyu, assistant!reader.

smut warnings; hard mean dom!junhui, sub!reader, dom!minhao. unprotected/protected sex, creampie, threesome, multiple sex scenes, rough sex, impact play, degrading, pet names, degrading names, dumbfication/objectfication to a degree, hand job, fingering, oral (m&f receiving & giving), crying/dacryphilia, innocence kink (no explicitly said), breast play, body worship. I am very certain I have left something out.

w/c; 35.9k and some change | read the 900 bonus on my patreon

a/n; this fic is for my @onlyhuis. thank you for not only editing this for me but supporting me every single word along the way. i hope you enjoy this one so so much my little huihui. with that said -- this fic is VERY dark and could be a lot for some of you to read. please be sure to read the warnings before reading so that you are prepared for what you are reading.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“I literally don’t give a fuck. Get his ass out of my sight.”

Your brows raise as you look down at the tablet in your arms when the sound of your boss's voice rings through the bar. Someone had pissed him off and you were just happy it wasn’t you this time. Wen Junhui was an important man to a lot of people and for a lot of reasons, most of those reasons you chose to ignore and just do your job.

There were a lot of things in your job that you had to ignore in order to keep it. Things like money appearing in large quantities with little to no explanation and meeting someone only to never see them again after they opened their mouth just a little too much.

Glancing towards Jun’s office, you watch as one such man is being pulled out by Xu Minghao, Jun’s second in command. You meet the desperate man’s eyes only briefly before dropping yours, but it’s enough to give him hope as he pulls against Minghao’s arms, trying to move back towards the bar where you were standing.

“Hey! Hey, lady, pretty lady! I'm in here all the time. You ‘member me right?”

Scoffing, Minghao shakes his head, nodding towards security at the front door for help. You watch under lowered lashes as Kim Mingyu takes one of the man’s arms, helping Minghao drag him towards the exit as he continues to ask you for help.

“I had the fuckin’ money! This is bullshit!”

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding when Minghao walked back through the door, letting Mingyu shut it behind them. Wiping his hands off on the front of his shirt, the man lifts his eyebrows at you as you try to look busy with your previous task.

“You’ve been told not to look at trash when I’m taking it out. You don’t remember things very well to be so pretty, Y/N.”

Sighing, you finally meet Minghao’s eyes as he leans against the bar in front of you. You knew what you had been told; it was just that it was easier said than done to ignore something kicking and screaming as they were being dragged out of a building.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone to the back when I heard Mr. Wen ye–express his displeasure.”

You watch as a smirk pulls at one side of Minghao’s lips when you correct how you talk about your boss and his best friend. He had a soft spot for you and he knew you were doing your best.

“‘Least you know what you should've done.”

“Hao!”

Looking back towards Jun’s office when his name is called, Minghao purses his lips and pats the bar with his hand before giving you one more lingering look. You watch him until he disappears into your boss’s office and the door is left cracked so that only a low conversation can be heard.

You spent most of your days and nights at Moonlight Lounge. Since you had been introduced to Jun and taken on the unique position of his personal assistant, your life had changed dramatically. You were in charge of managing most of his personal accounts—but never his business accounts—and you were the one who kept his schedule to the minute.

“Y/N!”

Hearing your name being yelled by Jun wasn’t an unusual occurrence but he didn’t sound pleased, though that wasn’t a new fact either. You weren’t friends with your boss and you weren’t sure if you ever would be.

Holding the tablet closer to your chest, you glance towards Mingyu, who grimaces at how your name was said before turning away as you turn towards the office door. Everyone knew that one moment could make or break how your day was going to go at the lounge, and you had caused more of a disturbance by looking at the man as he had been dragged out.

Knocking on the door, you slip inside, feeling two sets of eyes on you as Minghao sits against a sidebar console on the right of Jun’s desk and Jun himself sits behind the large desk with a frown on his face. Lifting your eyes you try to skirt around Jun’s eyes but the man leans his head to catch your gaze before sighing and pushing his tongue into his cheek.

“Sit down. Jesus Christ…”

He was in a mood and there was nothing you could do to change it. Slipping into the leather chair, you clear your throat and rest your tablet on your lap, straightening your spine so that you feel taller and less small under Jun’s gaze. Lifting his hand, he pushes his glasses up his nose before reaching for the tumbler of whiskey in front of him, taking a sip and sitting it down hard.

“Tonight we have some important guests coming to the lounge. I want to make sure we have some of the girls prepared to serve them but I want you to steer clear of that section.”

Furrowing your brows, you give him a confused look when he doesn’t yell at you for what happened but instead goes to your task for the night. Glancing towards Minghao, you slide the pen from your tablet and stutter for a moment before opening the notepad to take notes.

“I–wh–oh…sure. Do I know who the guests are? So that I can tell them? And so that I can make sure there are adequate refreshments for their visit.”

Jun narrows his eyes at you before letting them move along your frame appraisingly as you switch into assistant mode and out of scared little kitten mode. You were stunning and when you wanted to be, you could be fierce. You had shown it on more than one occasion but Jun still had an urge to keep a close eye on you, like he did anything else that belonged to him.

“They are…” Smirking, Jun looks over to Minghao, lifting his hands in a question before sighing. “Competition and nothing more, darling. Don’t give them top shelf; we don’t serve that to those who don’t deserve it.”

Swallowing hard at the pet name, you make some limited notes as Jun watches you carefully. It wasn’t the first time he had called you darling or some other variation of a pet name, but it still made you nervous every single time. Rolling his eyes, Minghao crosses his arms and leans his head back as he watches Jun stare at you. He knew exactly what he was doing, even if you didn’t.

“I think that handles everything. Make sure they are happy, but not too happy. I want them to be jealous of what they can’t achieve. You get what I’m saying?”

Nodding, you bite at your bottom lip, making Jun tilt his head as he watches intently. You mutter to yourself, writing down a few of the waitress's names along with your suggestions for how the guests should be handled before looking up to meet Jun’s eyes and feeling your cheeks burn at how he is looking at you.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, yes, sir, Mr. Wen. I’ll take care of everything.”

Gesturing towards the door, Jun smirks as you pop up out of your seat quickly, ready to leave. He knew he was intense and he knew you were crumbling under him. He wanted you under him in more ways than one, but he had patience and an inkling of respect about him.

“Good girl. I’ll see you tonight then.”

Counting the bottles of alcohol as they are loaded onto the tray, you shake your head, reaching for one as one of the waitresses passes by you.

“I told you, Mr. Wen said, ‘no top shelf’.”

Stopping, the girl gives you a nervous look as she glances from you towards the VIP section that she had been tasked with by you. You could hear the loud laughter of the men over the music coming from the lounge, even from where you stood at the bar.

“I know, it’s just—they asked for it. They kinda scare me, Y/N. Can’t I just give them that bottle?”

Looking at the bottle of expensive vodka in your hand, you narrow your eyes at where you knew the men were before rolling your eyes at the girl’s words. It wasn’t her fault. Most of the clientele at the Moonlight Lounge could be rough around the edges but it seemed this particular group was even worse.

You could hear Jun’s voice echoing in your head as you put the bottle behind the bar and took the tray from the younger girl, making her whisper a small thank you in return. You knew you were going against what you had been told to do, the rules, and your better judgment… but it was better you than some helpless waitress.

Luckily, you had dressed for the night. Donning a tight black turtleneck sleeveless dress that ended at your thighs, your thigh high boots finished off your outfit, making you look classy enough to pass as management. Swallowing hard, you put on your best face as you approach the curved booth, seeing a group of three unfamiliar men. You could tell they at least felt important and had some money to their name from the amount on the table, the baggies of white powder, and gold on their fingers.

“Your drinks, gentlemen.”

Putting the tray down on the table, you can feel as the man to your right leans out to examine you from head to toe. There was no mistaking what he was looking at or how he was looking at you like a piece of meat as the other two laughed before reaching for the various bottles of booze in front of them.

“Hey, hey…nah, sweetheart. We ordered Beluga vodka, not this rubbing alcohol shit.”

Stepping back from the table, you try to stay out of reach of the man’s grasp, causing all three of the men to scoff at your reaction.

“Mm, I’m aware of your order... Mr. —?”

“You can just call me Sir, baby, and you can get your pretty little ass back to that bar and get me my fucking vodka if you are so goddamn aware of it.”

Pushing your tongue into your cheek, you can feel the frustration rising in you as you try to keep your composure. You didn’t want to insult the guests, but you also didn’t enjoy being talked to the way you were. Meeting the eye of the man who referred to himself as "Sir," you lift your brow and decide to stand your ground, shaking your head.

“I won’t be doing that. These are the drinks you are allowed to have by Mr. Wen and you will enjoy them or you won't, Sir. Have a good night.”

Turning on your heels, you feel good about how you ended the conversation. You can feel the pressure of the conflict lifting off you as you round the corner and enter the hallway, getting away from the constant bass of the music and the smell of the alcohol. You don’t see the pissed off look on the man’s face as you disrespect him and you don’t hear as he says he won’t let you get off that easy.

The rest of the night goes by like every other without incident. You find yourself yawning as you walk through the parking lot towards your car, your hand in your purse, when hands push you forward hard. The feeling of the breath being knocked out of your lungs is the first thing that you feel as your chest meets the side of your car, the next is lips against your cheek as you hear the sound of the man’s voice, Sir.

“Pretty little bitch... you have fun disrespecting me tonight?”

Pushing back against him, you find that you can’t move with how tightly his fingers dig into your arms as his body pushes into yours from behind. Tears well up in your eyes from anger and fear as you try to look around the dark parking lot for anyone, but you were almost always the last person to leave the bar every night.

“Please…stop.”

You feel the man’s lips pull up in a smirk as he pulls your arms behind you so he can hold them with one hand, freeing up one of his hands. With his free hand, he tugs at your dress, pulling it towards your hip, even as you stomp your feet back at his boots, making him laugh. That is when you hear the other two men, who had been with him inside, laugh.

“What’s your name? Nah, you know what? I don’t give a fuck. Just another little whore that works for Wen.” Hearing your boss’s name, you let out a loud scream, causing the man to push you against your car over your hood as his fingers trailed along your inner thigh upwards. “He likes to throw out the trash. We can show you where when we are done. Have you ever seen?”

The next sound you hear is a loud pop, followed by two others. You can only scream when the man collapses on top of you, something warm and wet soaking through the back of your dress as you struggle under him. The weight of his body is pulled from you and a hand is placed over your eyes as you start to flail your arms to fight.

“Y/N! Stop, it’s me. Shh…darling. Stop…I’ll move my hand, but keep your eyes closed for me?”

Jun’s voice and his arm moving around your waist to pull you back around against him like an anchor help calm you down. You hold his wrist tightly to your stomach, feeling his hand move from over your eyes as you keep them shut tightly out of fear of what you would see if you did open them. The smell of copper fills your nose.

You feel hands tug your dress back down around your thighs when Jun finally pries his arm from your grasp and then a warm coat placed around your shoulders. When he tries to step away, leaving you standing there with your eyes closed, you start to panic, prompting him to shush you, his fingers running over your cheek as he leans you against your car.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not leaving you. Keep those eyes closed.”

Nodding, you hold tightly to the leather and fur jacket around your arms as you listen to the hushed voices of Jun, Minghao, and Mingyu. You hear the sounds of something heavy being dragged along the pavement and then the slamming of a trunk causes you to jump.

Jun watches you as Mingyu grunts, lifting the last of the trash off the ground and into one of the trunks. He had gotten lucky that you had screamed and that he had known you hadn’t listened to him earlier. He knew you had gone to their table but he never thought something this drastic would happen.

“Motherfuckers…”

Nodding along with Minghao’s words, Jun runs his fingers through his hair before letting out a long sigh. He knew there were people who would come looking for those who had done this to you and there were those who had seen you talking to them at the table tonight.

“What do you wanna do about Y/N?”

Pursing his lips, Jun watches as you visibly tremble a few feet away from them. You weren’t safe anymore and he couldn’t just let you go back to your apartment and hope for the best.

“I’ll handle it.”

Furrowing his brows, Minghao lifts his hands in confusion before moving towards Mingyu to close the last trunk as Jun moves back to you. You can feel his hands ghost over your arms before they finally rest on your biceps and he takes a breath, tilting his head and looking at your furrowed brow.

“You can open your eyes now, Y/N.”

Shaking your head, you find you're afraid to. What would you see? Would there be blood everywhere? Bodies? Whimpering, you open one eye only to see Jun in front of you before you open both eyes and glance around you.

Tears stream down your cheeks when you notice the dark spots on the pavement, because you know what they are. You know what is running down your back through your dress and it makes your stomach tighten. Lifting his hand, Jun runs his fingers over your cheek and shakes his head.

“You can’t go home. It’s not safe… you understand that, right?”

Shrugging, you try to speak but all you can do is let out a sob. Jun’s thumb continues to stroke your cheek as he watches you intently, almost studying you.

“I’m going to take you to my penthouse. You can stay with me for a while. I’ll keep you safe.”

It doesn’t dawn on you where you are or what that means until you are standing in Jun’s living room, looking out of the large window to the city below. You can feel the weight of everything around you, just like you can feel the dried blood on your back, causing your dress to stick to your skin.

Furrowing his brows, Jun watches you as he keeps his voice low with his cellphone resting between his shoulder and his ear. You had been quiet since he had put you in his car and told you that you couldn’t go back to your apartment. He had told you at least three times why you couldn’t, but maybe now it was sinking in for you.

“No, just grab some of her clothes and put them in a bag. I’ll buy new shit if I need to, but for now, I think she’d want her own things.”

Rolling his eyes at Minghao’s response, Jun leans against his sofa, glancing down at his nails at some dried blood caked under them, making him grimace.

“Hao, just do it, alright? I don’t wanna fuckin’ argue with you right now. Drop it off in the morning.”

Hanging up the phone, Jun lifts his eyes back to you as he sighs. He knew you were scared and confused, but that was the world that he was living in and it was the world that you started living in the moment you took your job. He couldn’t help but want to protect you from it still, just like he had shielded your eyes at the lounge.

“Y/N, I am having Minghao pick up some of your personal items so that perhaps it will feel a bit more comfortable here.”

Scoffing, you pull the borrowed jacket around you tighter, hearing your boss get closer to you. In truth, you were frightened of him just as much as you were thankful to him for saving you. You weren’t sure how his large penthouse could ever feel comfortable for you.

Pushing his tongue into his cheek out of annoyance at your reaction, Jun moves to stand behind you, looking at your reflection in the window. Lifting his hands to your arms, Jun feels your body stiffen under his touch before he sighs, leaning forward to speak next to your ear.

“I will never hurt you, darling. I took care of those who did, remember?”

Watching you nod, Jun feels your shoulders relax some so that he can slide his jacket down your arms, making you whine at the feeling of what was left. Your dress felt stiff and ruined, making you shift uncomfortably.

“I know, Mr. Wen. I-I..I’m grateful. Could I just... I want to go home. I want to go take a shower and go to bed.”

Jun frowns as he watches you struggle with your words. He knew there was blood on your skin and it made him furious. Leaning back to look over your frame, he shakes his head at your words and at his own assessment of your condition, noting the trail of blood running down the back of your thigh.

“I’ve explained it to you multiple times. You aren’t safe there, but here you are.” Meeting your eyes in the reflection of the window, Jun lifts his brows as you frown at him. “You can shower here and I’ll find you something to wear. You’ll sleep just fine here with me, where you are safe. Do I make myself clear?”

When you don’t answer right away, Jun rolls his eyes, turning you towards him so that he can look you in the eyes instead of just at your reflection. The look in his eyes is a mixture of intense and concerned, making you flustered and confused as you find yourself nodding in agreement.

“Good girl. Come on.”

Taking your hand into his, Jun takes the time to point out various rooms before leading you into a large bedroom.

“You are welcome to anything in the kitchen and nothing is off limits to you. I just ask that you follow my rules while you are here.” Sighing, Jun gestures towards the ensuite as he continues to speak to you, dropping your hand. “You can use my shower.”

Moving towards the dresser across from the end of the bed, he mutters under his breath to himself, too low for you to understand, as you watch him in disbelief.

“Uh…Mr. Wen?”

Humming out a response, Jun furrows his brows, taking out one of his black cotton shirts and turning back towards you. He could see the confusion in your eyes, but he wasn’t sure what there was to be confused about. He had explained everything.

“What? Also, let’s cut the formality, shall we? Just call me Jun. I’m going to get annoyed with the ‘Mr. Wen’ bullshit.”

The idea of calling your boss by his first name makes your head spin, but you find yourself even more taken aback as he kneels in front of you to unzip your boots. Glancing up at you, Jun lifts his hand as if to say ‘go on’ before helping you lift your leg, slipping your foot out of your shoe.

“I—um…okay. I could do that… But I was just going to say, isn't there a guest bathroom that I can use the shower in?”

Lifting his brow as if you had just slapped him, Jun meets your eyes, removing your other boot and tossing it over his shoulder. You watch him stand as he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief at your obviously stupid question.

“Of course I do, kitten. Clearly, I have guest rooms, but I don’t want you to use those showers. I brought you to mine. It’s called keeping an eye on you. I’ve explained this.”

You could hear the annoyance in his breath at having to repeat himself. You were frustrated at having to hear him say it again and again, but it wasn’t making any sense. You were in some sort of twilight zone and you needed to wake up. Maybe that was all this was—a dream. You hadn’t been attacked. No one had been shot and your boss wasn’t lacing his fingers with yours, leading you into his bathroom.

Jun watches you as he leans into his large shower to turn on the water. You were standing with your eyes closed, almost as if you could make something appear or disappear in front of you, but as soon as the water turned on, you jumped, and he tightened his grip on your hand. You were right back to acting like that scared little kitten from his office earlier in the day. He could see your eyes darting around to avoid him and the moment his hand was away from yours, you were wandering away from him towards the counter, making him groan out of frustration.

“Do I need to do everything?”

Your eyes snap to Jun when he questions you and starts to move towards you once again. You can feel panic rise in your chest at the idea of what he might do even if you know he isn’t trying to hurt you. All you can think about in your head is the hand of the man from the lounge on your thigh tugging your dress up.

“No! I–I can! I can do it!”

Jun furrows his brows when you yell at him. He could see the fear in your eyes when you looked at him even though he had promised not to hurt you, but he couldn’t really fault you. Of course you would be scared of someone being that close after what happened. Taking a step back he puts up his hands to show you he’s not going to do something you don’t want.

“Okay, I’ll be right outside the room then. I’m not trying to upset you, Y/N. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you and I meant it. I’m… fuck—I’m trying to help you.”

You watch as Jun gives you one last look, a sad almost wounded look in his eyes as he watches your hands shake when you reach out to hold onto the counter in front of you for stability. You could tell he was struggling to leave you alone and the moment, but he was doing it for you.

Reaching the door Jun groans under this breath, lifting his hand to run it through his hair as he leans against the wall just outside of the bathroom. He remembered the desperation locked in your gaze and the confusion. As much as you wanted to play a tough act and go home, he could picture you wandering some dark, dingy apartment in your blood stained dress for hours. You needed someone to take care of you.

Closing your eyes for a moment once you are alone in the bathroom, you feel your legs tremble as the weight of the day seems to close in around you. The quartz of the counter under your fingertips feels like fragile glass and the silence feels like a roaring wave and you realize that this is what it would be like to be at home alone. You didn’t have a roommate, there was no family waiting for you. You would just be sitting on your bed completely alone stuck in a never ending silence as the world collapsed around you.

Tears stream down your face as you reach for the end of your dress trying to pull on it in an attempt to try to undress yourself but it’s all too much. Opening your eyes, you search the door for Jun letting out a soft sob of his name just wanting him to come back realizing you can’t do this without him. It didn’t make sense but he was a buoy keeping you from drifting off into the middle of the sea.

Hearing his name whispered between your sobs, Jun furrows his brows looking around the door frame to meet your eyes. The sight of you almost breaks his heart and makes him move to you taking your face into his hand as he rests his other against the counter. Sighing, Jun shakes his head studying your pretty face as you shake your head prompting him to help you.

“Y/N, you need to take your clothes off.” You lean into Jun’s touch as his thumb strums against your cheekbone. He waits for you to nod before he steps away and leans against the counter, glancing down trying to give you back some privacy. He was going to stay where you needed him, but he was going to let you try to do this yourself.

Sniffing back your tears you move your eyes from Jun and towards the mirror in front of you as you once again try to work up the courage to pull up your dress. When your eyes meet yourself in the steamed up mirror, they fall to a smear of dried blood on the side of your neck right above the top of your turtleneck.

Jun furrows his brows, listening to the sounds of your breath quickening to the point of panic, his hands tighten at his side before he mutters, ‘fuck, and looks up to see you still dressed, rubbing your hand at the blood on your neck. Moving to you, he takes your hand, with one hand wrapping the other around your waist, to pull you back against him, shushing you.

“Leave it. That’s what the water is for, baby. I was going to just—well, stand here and make sure you were okay but if you can’t even undress yourself—”

Fingers slide from your waist to your thigh, carefully bunching your dress up your thigh, making you put your hand over Jun’s. Lifting his brows, he meets your eyes in the mirror, waiting for you to move your trembling hand giving him permission to continue. Jun takes a step back and slides your dress up your body. You feel shame and something else wash over you as Jun hums softly, helping you work the dress over your head before dropping it onto the counter.

Luckily and unluckily for Jun, his eyes were moving over your back and to the dried blood that had transferred onto your body through your dress. While he was enjoying the view of your body on display in front of him, the idea of it being tainted by some piece of trash’s blood was enough to keep him from getting aroused. He needed to get you clean.

This was not a situation you ever thought you would find yourself in—in your underwear, in your boss’s bathroom as he undressed you—but as Jun ran his hands along your arms soothingly, you found yourself somehow relaxing. Even under his intense gaze, there was a calm in the storm.

“These next, okay, Y/N?”

Swallowing hard, you nod and lift your hands, resting them over the cups of your bra as you feel the garment give way as Jun’s fingers undo the clasp. The straps fall down your shoulders and you lower your eyes, moving one hand and then the other before covering your breasts once again.

Shaking his head at how you try to keep your modesty, Jun takes a breath, pushing his fingers into top of your panties at your hips and pushing them down before letting gravity do the rest. What was the point of your need for modesty now? You were stunning and if it weren’t for the blood spoiling his view, Jun would have let you know then.

“Go ahead, darling... I’ll be right here.”

Leaning back against the counter, Jun lifts his brow at you as you shift sideways, trying to keep yourself covered, sliding into the glass shower and pulling the door closed behind you. The steam gave you some privacy, but it still allowed you to see where Jun was, which for some reason, made you feel at ease.

Glancing back down at his nails, Jun takes a deep breath, hearing the water hitting your body before it hits the shower floor. It was a welcomed sound and one that he hoped to enjoy for himself once you were safely tucked away in his bed.

Running his thumbnail under his index nail to clean out the blood he had seen earlier, Jun glances towards the shower, watching you lean your head back as the water rains down over you. He could see the dark red washing down the drain at your feet and he hoped that you would be able to get it all off without him.

“Y/N…Let the water hit your back for a bit.”

You furrow your brows at Jun’s voice, looking over your shoulder at him meeting his eyes through the glass. You knew that was where your dress had been sticking to you the most. Nodding, you step to your right, letting the water hit your back before you glance down at your feet.

Jun is quick to open the door when you let out a loud gasp, your hand reaching for the door as you see the blood going down the drain. Tears mix with the water running down your face as Jun pulls you against him, stepping under the shower with you.

Your eyes drop back down to the drain where your feet rest between Jun’s. You see blood mixing with water running over his feet and yours before you lean your head back against his shoulder, feeling his wet shirt against your neck.

“You’re getting your clothes wet, Jun.” Sniffing between sobs, you look back down seeing less blood going down the drain but it was still enough to make you tremble in his arms. “And the blood… it’s on your feet.”

Jun shakes his head, stepping away from you, keeping one hand on your arm as he uses the other to run it over your lower back, rubbing away the blood before glancing up at your face.

“You’re worried about my clothes getting wet?”

Smiling into his words, Jun sighs and furrows his brows carefully, swiping at some blood on your ass before moving to your thighs as he keeps talking, feeling you looking back at him as he focuses.

“The blood isn’t yours or mine, that’s what is important. And it’s going down the drain where it belongs.” Pursing his lips, Jun meets your eyes briefly before wanting to once again distract you, protect you from looking at any more blood going down the drain. “What did I tell you when I hired you?”

Shaking your head, you look at Jun, confused at why he would even be asking you something like that when you are so upset. Lifting your hand you swipe at tears and water on your face scoffing until he speaks again.

“Tell me, Y/N.”

His voice is stern but there is a layer of kindness to it that you were starting to get used to tonight. It was comforting and made you want to recall the conversation for him.

“You—uh, you said that I was too sweet for the job. You said it would break me.”

Nodding, Jun tilts his head, turning you to face him and glancing down the length of your body. At first, you feel incredibly exposed and self conscious, but after a moment, you realize he doesn’t even seem to be looking at your body but instead for blood. Finally, his eyes lift to meet yours and he licks water from his lips, taking a step back from you.

“Now I have to put you back together...”

Running a towel over his wet hair, Jun leans against the door frame, looking at you curled up on his bed. You seemed to be finally resting after he had left you to get dressed in the t-shirt he had pulled from his dresser so he could take his own shower. In truth, he had worried you might try to wander off in the penthouse or even out of it, but he was happy to see you on his bed. Your bare legs were pulled up slightly as the comforter rested at your knees.

Before, Jun had been more focused on making sure you were okay. He had been able to keep himself from letting his eyes look over your body in anything other than concern, but now as you lay in his bed in his clothes, it was harder to do that.

Swallowing hard, Jun glances down at his bare chest, running the towel in his hand over some drops of water that had fallen from his hair before tossing the towel into the hamper and moving into the bedroom. He was already dressed in sweatpants, but he didn’t feel the need to put on anything else, knowing he was just going to lay down on the bed near you. Jun was tired, but he had a feeling it would be a restless night.

Your eyes follow Jun as he moves around his bed, lifting his hand to run his fingers through the wet strands. You can’t help but let your eyes move over his torso and arms. While you were having one of the worst days in your life, the man in front of you was treating you with the most care you had ever experienced on that worst day, and he looked like he was chiseled from stone.

Pushing your head down so that your lips are under your arm, you shift slightly when Jun lays down beside you. Staying quiet, your brows furrow as he groans under his breath, feeling the weight of the day in his back. He hadn’t looked over at you yet, but you find yourself furrowing your brows in concern as his eyes close tightly and he arches his back to stretch it.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice is soft, and Jun’s brows relax the moment it reaches his ears. He had thought you were asleep. His bed was big enough that he wasn’t that close to you and he knew he wasn’t being so loud that he would have woken you up, unless you were an incredibly light sleeper—clearly you hadn’t been asleep as he thought. Glancing over to you as he rests back on the bed, Jun lets his eyes move over your face as you hide half of it behind your arm. You were too pretty to hide like that but it wasn’t the time to make you do anything different.

“‘Course. Your turn to worry about me now?”

You can’t help but smile at Jun’s words before rolling your eyes, knowing he’s teasing you. You can see the small smile pulling at his lips as he turns on his side to face you; his arm is almost long enough that his fingers are able to brush your arm, but he doesn’t.

“I was just asking. You sounded like you were in pain. I–” Moving your arm so you can speak more clearly, you watch as Jun’s brows furrow once again when your arm ends up against his fingers. “I’m just… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want your apology and he didn’t need it. Sighing, Jun adjusts his head on his arm, testing the waters as he rests the back of his index finger against your arm and runs his thumb along the side of it gently as he talks, feeling goosebumps spread under his touch.

“Shit happens when you live like we do, Y/N. I told you that. I knew who those pricks were and what they were capable of. I didn’t want them around you for a reason.”

Your eyes shift to where Jun’s fingers rest against your arm as you listen to him speak. You know that you can move or ask him to stop, but you find yourself not wanting either of those things. There is comfort in his touch. It’s the same comfort that you felt from the moment he put his hands over your eyes to shield you from what he had done to save you.

“I know. I shouldn’t have gone against that… It’s just—if it hadn’t been me, it would have been one of the others. I think I know that now. None of the girls were comfortable.”

Taking in a deep breath, Jun nods, drawing a small circle with his thumb near your wrist before wrapping his fingers around it, lightly letting your arm rest in his palm.

“If we want to point fingers, there are plenty to point in all directions. I shouldn’t have allowed them into the bar. I knew what they were… I know who they work for.”

Your fingers tremble as you lift your eyes to meet Jun’s. With how he is holding your wrist in his, you are able to drop your hand and rest it on the inside of his forearm, the tips of your fingers brushing over his skin. You watch him for a moment, watching the way his lips fall open to the sensation before Jun licks his lips and glances at yours as you speak.

“I don’t blame you. I—well honestly, before... when we were in your car, I probably wanted to.”

A smile pulls at Jun’s lips when you confess your thoughts to him. Your touch was so light, yet it made his skin feel like it was on fire. It was such an innocent thing and it had him trying so hard to keep himself in check.

“Yeah? What changed?”

Furrowing your brows, you analyze Jun’s smile. You had seen many of his smiles in the few months that you had been working for him but this one was different. If anyone had asked you to describe your boss before tonight, you would have called him stern, cold, indifferent, and even cruel. Watching Jun now, the way his brows furrow and then relax with worry as you stay quiet for longer than he would like, you know it would be different. The man you were getting to know now was guarded, caring, and warm.

“You did.”

The sound of voices pulls you from your sleep. Glancing around the unfamiliar room, you start panicking at first, reaching for where Jun had been, only to find the smooth satin sheet under your fingers. It’s only the sound of his voice and that of his laughter that brings your heart rate back down, making you realize he hadn’t left you; he was just in another room.

Furrowing your brows, you try to listen carefully to what Jun is saying and who else is talking when it dawns on you that the other voice belongs to Minghao. The next thing that hits you is the smell of food and the sound of your stomach growling. It had been far too long since you had eaten and you were starting to feel it.

Sitting up, you glance around for something to put on your lower half, only for a smile to pull at your lips when you notice a familiar bag next to the end of the bed. Jun had told you that Minghao was going to bring you things from your place and it had seemed that both had kept their promise. Sliding from the bed, you glance towards the door before pulling the bag up and onto the floor, opening it to see what had been packed for you.

Jun glances back down the hall for the umpteenth time, making Minghao roll his eyes with a smirk on his face. He had seen Jun watch you at the bar, but it was never this bad. Sure, Minghao understood the gravity of what had happened, but it wasn’t like there was danger lingering in the doorway to the bedroom at all times. You were simply sleeping in after a difficult day.

“She’s fine. Stop being such a fuckin—”

Pointing the kitchen knife in the direction of his best friend, Jun stops Minghao before he starts. He knew he would never actually hurt him; however, that didn’t make Jun any less threatening with a sharp object in his hands. Lifting his hands from his thighs, Minghao leans back on the kitchen bar stool, his eyes falling to the vegetables that Jun had been cutting up to go into the omelette he was making for you.

“Fine… so sensitive in the morning. You’ve never cooked for me.”

Scoffing, Jun adds the chives to his bowl as he meets Minghao’s eyes, whisking them in with the eggs.

"Well, I don’t like you so...”

You couldn’t help the smile that was pulling at your lips as you watched the two men bantering in the kitchen. You didn’t want to interrupt them, but after you had gotten dressed in some of the jeans and a long sleeved shirt, you followed their voices and the smell of the food. Now you were leaning against the tall cabinets, biting at your thumbnail, trying to stay quiet until Minghao noticed you and his brows raised in interest.

Jun wasn’t the only one that found you attractive; maybe he was just a bit more forward with it, but Minghao couldn’t help but let his eyes move over you in the simple outfit. Taking a breath, the man drops his eyes when Jun notices him staring over his shoulder, making him curious at what could be so interesting that Minghao’s face had lit up. One glance in your direction told him everything he needed to know.

“Hey, morning. I’m making you some food. Come here… Do uh—you like eggs? I don’t actually know.”

Still smiling, you feel your cheeks burn at their attention as Minghao peeks back up to watch you moving closer, your bare feet on the tile as you glance into the pan, watching the omelette cook.

“It smells so good. I do like eggs. I should be cooking for you, though.”

Scoffing, Jun turns his body so there is no way you could take the pan from him after hearing you laugh softly. His eyes follow you as you move around the island to take a seat next to Minghao, who presses his lips together before looking over at you. Jun furrows his brows at the man’s reaction. It was like he was attracted to you, but that was ridiculous, right?

“Morning, Minghao. Thank you for bringing me stuff from my house.”

Smirking softly, Minghao nods, his eyes moving along your face as his fingers slowly tap against his arm.

“No problem. I didn’t have a choice anyway, but it wasn’t the worst thing this asshole has ever made me do.”

Jun rolls his eyes as he tilts the pan towards a plate, letting the omelette slide out onto it. He knew that while Minghao was teasing him, he also wasn’t lying. There had been plenty that he had asked of him, and asking him to pack up a few things from your house was one of the easiest things he had ever done.

Sliding the plate across the island, Jun watches as you smile up at him, taking it with a small thank you before you pick up the fork and glance at both of the men with a laugh. Neither of them had food in front of them and Jun was already cleaning up where he had been cooking.

“Wait? You aren’t going to eat too?”

Leaning back in his chair, Minghao shakes his head. He extends his arm to rest it on the back of your chair out of habit as he looks towards Jun, who sighs softly, using his forearm to turn on the sink.

“We already did. You slept in, Y/N. Don’t worry about us; eat up. You want something to drink?”

Cutting into the omelette, you sigh, glancing towards Minghao as he asks you about a drink. Why are both of them taking care of you now? The look in his eyes was so similar to Jun’s when he took the time to dry you off after your shower before pulling his shirt down over your body.

“Um… yes?”

Nodding as he slides out of his chair, Minghao moves around Jun as if he belongs in the penthouse, opening the fridge to take out a pitcher of juice. You watch as the men exchange a few words in passing, with Jun passing a glass to Minghao before the glass is then slid over to you. Taking your first bite of food, you let out a breath through your nose in disbelief at how both of them are acting compared to how you remember watching Minghao drag a man out of Jun’s office the day before.

“What? You don’t like orange juice? Everyone likes orange juice, doll.”

After a couple of days of being in Jun’s penthouse, you were starting to go stir crazy. You were feeling more like yourself and it was getting harder and harder to act normal around Jun while sleeping next to him every night. While Jun had his office in his penthouse and all of the comforts of his home around him, you were a visitor with a bag and wandering eyes.

Jun had gone to great lengths to try to keep you entertained. He had given you access to his credit cards and a laptop, which you refused to use. You had access to his entire penthouse, including a pool, and yet you were sitting on the reading sofa in his office. Glancing up from his desk over his glasses as you sigh for what he could only assume was the twentieth time in the last hour, his resolve breaks.

“Y/N… are you struggling to breathe, darling?”

Looking up from your phone, you pout at Jun as he uses his index finger to pull his glasses down his nose, getting a better look at you from the distance from the desk to the sofa. You could feel your mouth go dry at how he was looking at you. There was a sense of danger in his gaze. You could tell he was annoyed with you, but so were you. Worst of all, you were bored, and you were starting to get homesick.

“Maybe. It’s stuffy in this penthouse. I want to go out.”

Scoffing, Jun pushes his glasses back up his nose, looking back at his computer screen. You have already tried this a few times today. He knew you wanted to leave, but you were forgetting how much danger you were in. The trauma was starting to be masked by impatience. Meanwhile, he was often reminded of just how real the danger was.

“I bet you do. Go for a swim, then you’ll be outside, darling.”

Leaning your head back, you groan like a petulant child being told no. Smirking to himself at your reaction, Jun clicks through the pictures of the burned cars from his personal garage located at the bar. You hear him sigh, his brow lifting as he rolls his neck. That aura of danger is very present as anger washes over him.

“Motherfucker…”

Furrowing your brows, you sit up as if you are going to move towards him when Jun looks at you, making you change your mind.

“I–what’s wrong?”

Jun simply shakes his head and lifts his hand, pushing his lips hard with his thumb as he tries to think about how to phrase what he wants to tell you. He didn’t want you to be as terrified as you were when he first brought you home and he didn’t want you to be watching over your shoulder every second for the rest of your life. He knew he would have to take care of this problem but that wasn’t something you needed every detail of. No, that was something he could metaphorically shield your eyes from.

“Just… There was some property damage at the bar. Nothing for you to worry about. Nothing that I can’t handle from here.”

You could see there was more on Jun’s mind, but something about that look in his eye made you not want to push the subject much more.

“Okay… “

Furrowing your brows, you sit back on the sofa, watching Jun run his fingers through his hair before he pulls most of it back out of the way. Tilting your head as the minutes pass, you let your eyes move over his face and down to his hands as he works.

Jun glances towards you every few minutes, a smirk pulling up at one side of his lips each time he finds you looking at him, only for you to look away when you get caught. That was becoming a frequent occurrence, and one that he was starting to enjoy. It wasn’t just here that it happened, but also as the two of you lay in bed at night or early in the morning. He would wake up to find your eyes on him before you would close your eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

You were bored; Jun knew that… He also knew you kept thinking about what was going on outside of the penthouse. You were thinking about the bar, your house, friends and family perhaps. You needed a distraction. He could do that. Maybe he had just been holding back too much.

Biting his bottom lip, Jun hears you take a deep breath before he looks over at you to watch you once again look away quickly. You were painfully obvious and so fucking adorable. Reaching over with his left hand, Jun turns off his monitor as he tilts his head, watching you try to look busy scrolling through your phone.

“Kitten?”

Your cheeks burn at the pet name, and your eyes meet Jun’s as you glance at him over your phone. He had called you that name before and many others, but this time the name felt different and it made your thighs press together out of instinct.

Seeing you shift at his voice, Jun runs his tongue along his teeth. He knew you were listening to him and he had an effect on you. That’s all he needed to know. Lifting his right hand, palm up, he bends his index finger back twice, summoning you to him.

Just watching Jun’s finger move, the look on his face is enough to make your skin feel like it’s on fire. You curse at yourself under your breath for the reaction you have before glancing away. You know you shouldn't be acting like you are over your boss, but a sigh falls from his lips along with your name and you are on your feet, moving towards his desk.

Sliding his chair back slightly, Jun follows you with his eyes the entire way until you are standing in front of him. Leaning his head back, he smirks at you, really looking at you for the first time since you stepped into his penthouse. He had been respectful so far, but now you could feel him undressing you with his eyes and you felt exposed and aroused.

Leaning your hand against the desk at your right, you take a deep breath, waiting for Jun to speak. You had a good idea where this was headed, but you weren’t going to make a complete idiot out of yourself by throwing yourself at him. It was bad enough that you were pressing your thighs together in your jeans as you shifted your legs almost uncomfortably as you stood there waiting.

Jun was enjoying making you wait. You looked like a dog waiting for a treat. He had your treat, watching you do the stay command like such a good girl until he said the word. Shifting his legs apart, Jun lets out a breath as he lets his eyes finally move back up to your eyes.

“I’ll ask this first. Do you want this? I won’t make you do anything, but I don’t plan on going easy on you, darling.”

Blinking a few times, you feel your mouth go dry at Jun’s words. You hadn’t been wrong and you had never been so aroused in your entire life. You knew what had happened to you at the bar—the feeling of the man’s hand on your skin—but now, as your eyes move over Jun’s hand, remembering it on your skin as he took care of you afterwards, you find yourself wanting him to cover up that bad feeling with something good. You just didn’t want to give in so easily. Licking your lips, you tilt your head as Jun does the same.

“This? This… what? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Mr. Wen.”

Jun sucks his bottom lip between his teeth at your words, feeling his palm itch. You were being a brat and he knew it. You knew exactly what he meant—especially with your “Mr. Wen” bullshit. He could hear the purr in your voice and it was making his pants tight. Lifting his hand, Jun scratches his eyebrow, an unamused laugh slipping from between his lips as you shift to stand on one foot, your other allowing your toes to run along your ankle.

“Mmm, baby.” You can’t help the small smile that plays at your lips when you hear the frustration in Jun’s voice, his eyes moving over your legs and up your body as he speaks. “If you think you can tease me and get away with it, you are going to learn you are sorely mistaken. I’ll ask again, more clearly, and I won’t ask again. Do you want me to fuck you, or not?”

Jun watches as the confidence that you had been building to tease him quickly fades at his question. All that brain power that you had thinking up ways to get him riled up was now being used to picture getting your pussy filled by him. It was cute watching how quickly he could make you crumble. Such a smart girl goes dumb and just nods. Pointing at his lips, Jun signals for you to use your words. By clearing your throat, you try to sound louder than you actually are.

“I–I want you to.”

Nodding along with your words, Jun reaches out to slide his fingers along your hip, pulling you towards him and causing you to stumble, but he is quick to help you settle on his lap.

“Then that’s all you had to say. Isn’t that easier? Brats don’t get things they want, but good girls do. Remember that. I don’t like when my palm itches, kitten.”

Swallowing hard, you glance down to Jun’s hand as he runs it along your thigh. You can’t remember a time when you had fallen so hard in lust with another man. Resting your hand on his chest, you meet Jun’s eyes once again as he leans his head back to watch you closely, his thumb brushing your inner thigh going further up your leg.

“I… um—” Watching your legs spread as you struggle to think straight, Jun smirks, moving his hand to the button keeping your jeans clasped. “I don’t know what that means. What will you do to me if your palm itches?”

Jun grins, his brows lifting at your question. He wasn’t sure if you were still being bratty or seriously asking that question. Pushing his thumb against the clasp of your jeans, he uses his other fingers to work the metal button from its secure hold so that it gives way letting your jeans undo for him.

“Means I’d have to punish you, baby. Don’t make me do that. Understand?”

Lifting his free hand, Jun holds your chin so that you meet his eyes, his other hand sliding along your stomach under your shirt. You sucked in a breath, feeling his thumbnail circle your belly button, Jun’s lips pulled up in a smirk as his words seemed to dawn on your face and you nodded.

“Good girl. Stand up; let me get you out of these clothes. You don’t need them anymore.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you feel your hands tremble as you slide off Jun’s lap to stand between his legs. You didn’t want to be as easy as you were being with him or as quick as you were to listen to him, but his tone of voice had your mouth drooling and your panties sticking to your folds.

Jun tugs at your jeans, pulling them down your legs, letting his eyes move with them. He had seen almost every inch of your body already, but this was completely different. He was able to really drink you in this time. He could allow himself to actually look at you and you were the most stunning thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

Sucking in a breath, Jun’s eyes focus on the wet spot on the center front of your panties as you lift your legs for him, letting him remove your jeans all together. God, you were already so wet for him. He couldn’t wait to see just how wet you were.

Jun wanted to take his time with you but there would be plenty of time for that. He was impatient and his cock was straining against his pants as his hands tugged your panties down your legs. You listen to the groan that slips past his lips and your thighs push together in reaction. The sound was almost sinful as he saw how your folds were glistening in the light.

Glancing up at you, Jun pushes his hands up your stomach, letting you help him pull your shirt up and over your head. His eyes fall to your breasts, his mouth watering, brow lifting. He had wondered if you were wearing anything under your shirt earlier, but respect for you had stopped him from looking too close—now he knew his answer.

“Now you?”

Smirking at your question, Jun shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. He had no plans on getting as naked as you were. He enjoyed seeing you completely naked in front of him. You whine his name, and Jun gives you a faux pout of concern, lifting his hand to tug open the buttons of his shirt.

“You’ll take what I give you and thank me for it.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you try to process what Jun has said to you. No man has ever spoken to you like that and you enjoy it. You find yourself trying to fight the goosebumps that spread over your skin at the idea of him walking this fine line of meanness and caring. Your eyes follow his fingers to the end of his shirt as he tugs it loose from his pants, shifting in his chair. You had seen Jun’s body before, at least his torso and you had appreciated it, but this was different. You wanted to run your hands over every line and ridge of his muscles, but you find yourself standing as still as you can as he keeps his eyes on you, using one hand to undo his belt and pants slowly.

Lifting his hips, Jun pushes his pants and briefs down, letting them fall to his ankles as your mouth falls open in surprise. You had let your eyes wander to his sweatpants more than once. You had curiously looked at his bulge and wondered just how big he might be, but seeing his cock hard and resting back against his abdomen—your heart was racing.

Seeing the expression on your face, Jun couldn’t help feeling his ego expand. He knew he was big, perhaps bigger than some would expect and better than that, and he knew how to use what he had been given. Smirking, he leans his head back, reaching down to wrap his hand around his shaft, stroking himself from tip to base, knowing you were watching him closely.

“Kitten… Your mouth is watering. Tell me—do you want to sit on it or do you want to suck on it?”

Feeling your cheeks burning, you look from Jun’s hands to his eyes and back, stuttering over your words, not sure what to say. He was being so forward and that wasn’t something you were used to.

“Wha—I… I don’t—”

Laughing under his breath, Jun groans, pushing his thumb against his slit and arching his hips upwards towards the feeling as pre-cum drips down his thumb into his palm. Letting go of his cock, Jun lifts his hand and purses his lips once again, bending his finger back towards him to make you come to him. You watch the pre-cum slide over his skin towards his wrist, making your knees feel weak.

“It’s okay, darling. I know you don’t have any thoughts in your pretty head but getting fucked. Get on your knees and let me use that mouth to get my cock wet. Gotta make sure it’s wet enough to squeeze it into your little cunt, don’t we?”

Your head was spinning as Jun’s hand wrapped around your wrist and you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. In the past, you had cussed out guys for much less and turned down tinder dates when they asked to see your pussy, referring to it as your ‘cunt’. Yet, here you were on your knees, wanting Jun to fuck yours.

Kicking one of his legs out of his pants, Jun moves his hand from your wrist to your face as you move between his legs, looking up at him for direction. It was both the most adorable thing and the sexiest thing he had seen in his life. You looked just like that puppy waiting for a treat. Your lips slightly parted, your head tilted back, and your hands on his knees. He felt like he could cum on the spot just looking at you, but he had better control than that, and he had plans for you.

Guiding you forward, Jun uses his other hand to hold his cock, angling it so that his tip rests against your lips. You open your mouth as Jun bites at his bottom lip, a groan caught in his throat when his tip glides along your warm, wet tongue. Nails scratch at your jaw, fingers sliding down while Jun lifts his hips, just slightly pushing his cock even further into your mouth until you close your eyes and tighten your hand on his thigh.

You hadn’t taken all of his cock in your mouth—not even close. You could almost feel him in your throat as Jun held your head still for a moment. Letting go of your head, he lets you move on your own as he leans his head back, groaning your name under his breath.

Jun knew he wasn’t going to be able to let you keep your mouth on him for long. He had plans for you and they didn’t involve him cumming prematurely down your throat, no matter how good you were with your mouth. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it for a few minutes. It didn’t mean he couldn’t relish in the feeling of you gagging around him as you forced yourself down further on his cock. You weren’t a quitter… Jun could appreciate that.

“Fuuuckk—”

The word is drawn out on a groan as Jun looks down at you on your knees, feeling you finally pull back for air. He meets your eyes and he knows you are going to go back for more, but his hand catches your throat loosely and you stop in your tracks. The action scares you at first. You gasp, your eyes widening, but Jun purses his lips and shakes his head at your panicked whimper as he runs his thumb along your pulse point.

“You think I’d ever fucking hurt you? Princess…no. I’d wear your ass out and then kiss it better, but I’d never actually hurt you in a way you wouldn’t like.”

Using a bit of pressure to urge you to stand, Jun lifts you by your throat as you stand on your own. Looking up at you, he grins as you shiver in his grasp, leaning towards him, finally relaxing as he slides his hand towards your collarbone.

“Red, if you want me to stop; if anything hurts or scares you too much. Yellow, if you need to slow down or if you need a break. Green, if you are okay. If I ask you for your color, you don’t hesitate to tell me. Understand?”

Nodding, you lick your lips as Jun’s free hand slides over your hip before he guides you towards his desk.

“Good girl. Up you go.”

You give him a confused look until Jun stands, kicking his foot free of his pants as both his hands move to your waist, lifting you on to his desk. Stepping between your legs, Jun smirks down at you as you lean back slightly, trying to avoid pushing any of his paperwork or supplies out of your way.

“So timid and sweet after sucking my cock like a slut... what are you so worried about? Some pens and paper?”

Your cheeks burn when Jun degrades you. Leaning one hand against the desk, Jun reaches behind you to swipe most of the files and office supplies onto the floor with a loud clang. You can’t help but jump to the sound as he grins against your ear.

“Now you can lean back without worrying what you might hit. If the computer falls off, I’ll just buy another one. I have a feeling this will make breaking anything in my office worth it.”

Jun laughs when you whine his name and shake your head, trying to argue with him. Leaning back just enough to hover his face in front of yours, Jun watches your mouth fall open when he slides his fingers through your wet folds. His brows furrow at the feeling of your soft folds against his fingers and just how wet you were for him. It was one thing to see it, but it was another to feel it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re dripping on my fingers. You want my cock that bad?”

You can only moan and push your hips towards Jun’s fingers when you feel him push two against your entrance. You want to answer him and defend your dignity, but instead you only prove him right when you sob his name on another moan, feeling his fingers start to stretch you out.

Resting his forehead against yours, Jun smirks at hearing the sweet sounds slipping from between your lips. They were the sounds of his dreams and his daydreams. He could recall many days and nights spent with you in his head and him wondering how you would sound with his fingers stuffed in your pussy, and now he knew. You sounded angelic.

“That’s right… you got my cock all wet, kitten, but now I have to stretch out this tight little hole. Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you.”

Tears collect in your eyes as your nails scratch at the wood under you, feeling a third finger sliding into you. The stretch is intense but welcomed, just like the dirty words being whispered against your lips. Gasping for a breath, you roll your hips down over Jun’s fingers, tilting your head up to brush your lips against Jun’s, testing the waters. A bit of fear ripples through your body like waves in a pool when he doesn’t kiss you back at first. Instead, Jun groans—a sound similar to a growl in his throat—and his fingers push into you hard and deep before he bites at your lips, claiming your kiss for his own.

Jun had wanted to kiss you, but he had been worried. He had been afraid to scare you off with intimacy or perhaps to get too attached. All that faded away when your lips met his and he knew that he was fucked. You were his in every sense of the word as his lips pressed to yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth, and your walls began to tighten around his fingers like a vice.

You reach up to cling to Jun’s jacket, scratching at the soft linen, wishing you could get to the skin as he smirks against your lips, feeling you cum around his fingers. Squeezing your quivering thighs around his body, you try to beg for mercy. Jun laughs into a whispered groan of “again” against your lips, feeling you clamp down on his fingers, another orgasm ripping through your body.

As your body relaxes, Jun carefully slides his fingers out of you, lifting his hand towards his mouth to suck his fingers clean. Your heart races not only from the intensity of your orgasms, but also from the sight of Jun licking your cum from his fingers as he groans in appreciation.

“Delicious… I knew you would be, kitten. Been wanting to do this since the day I hired you.”

Jun grins around his index finger as you press your lips together, obviously embarrassed by his words and how forward he is being with you. He was enjoying every drop of you on his fingers. He wanted to bury his face between your legs and pull an orgasm out of you before he fucked you, but the painful throb of his cock was telling him otherwise.

“Color?”

Swallowing hard, you nod as you take a breath. You knew Jun wanted a verbal answer, you just needed to find the words and your voice after two orgasms. Your mouth felt like cotton and he looked impatient. Licking your dry lips, you let out your breath slowly and finally manage to speak quietly, but it’s enough for Jun.

“Green, I’m okay.”

To Jun, you were more than okay. He could see the look in your eye and he knew you wanted his cock. He had felt how your pussy was sucking his fingers back in, and he had a feeling you’d do the same with his cock. Nodding, Jun lifts his brows, using his hand to angle the head of his cock against your folds so that he pushes against your clit. Hearing you whine, still sensitive, he smirks and tilts his head, knowing he needs to ask more questions, though he wants to just bury himself in you.

“Tell me, darling. When was the last time you had something inside you?”

Your breath quickens as you answer Jun’s question. You were almost afraid to answer him, afraid he wouldn’t like the answer or, worse, that he would like it too much. You were a busy woman and it was his fault.

“A while… probably, I don’t know, six months, maybe closer to seven.”

Jun nods, enjoying the idea of no one has been close to you for the past few months. If he had his way now, no one would be except him. Licking his lips, Jun meets your eyes, leaning his head to the side as you try to look past him, feeling under pressure under his gaze.

“Are you on birth control? Hm?”

He could tell you were surprised by the question. That wasn’t something guys usually ask you. Typically, they would just put on a condom or wait for you to tell them, but Jun was different. When you look taken aback, Jun grins and rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to brush it over your warm cheek as he uses his other to tease your clit again with his cock. You can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth as you lift your hips, almost instinctively searching for Jun’s cock at the feeling, but Jun just tsks, pushing your hips back down.

“Not so fast, baby. Answer the question. Yes or no? I want to fill you up… but I won’t tonight if you aren’t on —”

“I am! Please, just, oh my god. Stop teasing me?”

Hearing you beg was something special and Jun knew he could get used to the sound of it. He could feel how he was leaking against your folds just from the sound of it and now he wasn’t going to make you wait. Jun watches your face as he pushes into you, the way your mouth falls open as he stretches you slowly.

You knew he had taken time to make you cum on his fingers twice and yet you were clinging to Jun as he slowly eased his cock into you, making sure you could handle him. It wasn’t painful, but by the time he rested his hand against the swell of your ass, scratching his nails against your skin to the feeling of you clenching around him, you felt the fullest you had ever felt.

“Please. Please… Oh, fuck…”

Begging again... Jun groans, feeling his head spin and his stomach tighten at the sound of your voice. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to control himself, but with how you were begging, he wasn’t sure you wanted him to and he had said he wasn’t going to go easy on you. Sliding his hand back to your throat, Jun feels you swallow hard under his palm as his hips meet yours hard, thrusting into you so deeply that tears instantly fall from the corners of your eyes.

You had been with several men over the years, but none of them had ever made you feel like you were simultaneously floating and drowning at the same time. It was hard to catch your breath between the panic of having Jun’s hand on your throat and the pleasure of Jun’s cock hitting you perfectly with every single thrust.

When Jun’s hand tightens around your throat, your hand moves quickly to grab his forearm out of fear of what he is going to do to you. Jun smirks at your reaction before his expression softens. He could tell you were scared, but he needed to show you there was nothing to be scared of.

Watching you carefully, Jun watches your lips fall open in pleasure as your walls tighten around him, your orgasm taking you back over the edge before he squeezes your neck just tight enough that you can’t catch your breath. You feel yourself let go; your brain goes fuzzy, but as soon as you relax around Jun, his hand loosens around your neck and his lips press to your cheek.

“Breathe. A big, deep breath for me, beautiful. There you go. Tell me how fucking good that felt?”

You find it hard to think straight, much less speak, as Jun lifts your knee to his hip, burying his cock so deep that you feel like he is in your stomach. Groaning against your neck, Jun turns his head to press his lips against your soft skin before latching on to it, sucking a deep mark so that you will remember where he was as his climax rolls through him.

With every thrust, Jun pushes his cum back into you until he finally comes to a stop with his hips pressed against yours. Feeling your thighs trembling on either side of him, Jun smiles against your neck with a groan. He knew he needed to move, get you cleaned up, and get all of his cum out of you, but keeping his cock and his cum in you was too tempting. You were warm, tight, and wet. Jun could get used to being inside of you and he could get used to the idea of stuffing you full of his cum.

Leaning back to look down at you, Jun tilts his head as he studies you. He wanted to get to know you better. He wanted to be able to just look at you and read your mind, he wasn’t at the point yet. If he wanted to know something now, he’d have to ask and hope that you told him the truth or that he knew you at least well enough that if you lied to him, he’d know.

“Mm, wasn’t that better than going out, darling?”

Sighing, you can’t stop yourself before you roll your eyes, causing Jun to laugh at your reaction. That was better than lying to him. You were a brat, but he was going to have fun breaking you out of it. Running his finger over your cheek, Jun watches you bite your lip as you run your thigh along his hip to rest your foot over his ass to get comfortable under him.

“It was fun, but I’d still like to go out.”

Taking a breath, Jun narrows his eyes before looking to the side at his computer, which luckily hadn’t fallen off his desk while fucking you. He remembered the pictures of several of his ruined cars and what it could mean for you if you were found by the prick who wanted you. You didn’t understand, and you didn’t really know the situation. Maybe he could compromise with you.

“Tomorrow... for no more than an hour, but you go with Minghao. You aren’t going anywhere alone. Do I make myself clear, Y/N?”

Meeting your eyes, Jun waits for you to nod before he leans to press his lips to yours. A groan slips from his lips as he slowly slips his cock out of you. Your brows furrow at the feeling of being empty and the sticky feeling of cum between your legs.

Stretching his back, Jun glances between your thighs, only to smirk at the sight of his cum starting to drip out of you. He feels his cock already twitch as he feels aroused at the sight. Shaking his head, he runs his fingers through your sensitive folds, pushing two fingers into you and slowly meeting your eyes as your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Mm, what? I don’t want my cum to drip on the floor. You can handle one more, can’t you, honey?”

Glancing over at you, one hand on the wheel, the other resting his thumbnail against his lips, Minghao listens to your sigh as you look at your phone. When he got to the penthouse, he could tell things were different. The air felt different, you looked different, and Jun looked even cockier. But then Jun had grabbed your chin and kissed you so hard that Minghao was sure he had knocked you out, and he knew what was different.

“You fucked him?”

Minghao had been quiet, uncharacteristically so, since he had gotten to the penthouse. You enjoyed Minghao’s company, even before all the drama or before what had happened between you and Jun, so his acting so odd was making you feel unsettled. You were trying to distract yourself and enjoy the feeling of not being cooped up in the penthouse when Minghao’s words shocked you back to reality.

“I—wha—”

“It’s actually not a question. I don’t know why I asked it like that. I know you did. He’s even cockier than normal.”

You feel heat rising along your neck and face as Minghao rolls his neck, a hint of annoyance dripping off his tongue with each word. Why did he care? Was he jealous? Furrowing your brows, you shift in the seat of Mingyu’s G Wagon. You were embarrassed and looking for anything else to talk about.

“I—uh. Why aren’t we… Where is your Ferrari? Did you bring Mingyu’s car to be less conspicuous? ‘Cause I don’t think a G Wagon is much better.”

Rolling his eyes, Minghao leans his head back, glancing over at you with a smirk. He could tell you were flustered and deflecting. It wasn’t going to work.

“Cute, nice try, doll. Uh, I hate this tank. It’s big and unnecessary, just like Gyu. But my car…”

Sighing, Minghao furrows his brows, looking out at the road turning onto the highway that would lead him towards your apartment. He didn’t like that it was where you wanted to go, but it was your request, and Jun had told him, “anywhere she wants to go for an hour”.

“It’s seen better days. It was in the garage when all the others got fucked.”

Furrowing your brows, you give Minghao a confused look, making him give you one right back before his face changes. Jun hadn’t told you what had happened and he had said too much. Clearing his throat, Minghao shakes his head and the corners of his lips turn down as he shrugs, trying to think of how to fix his big mouth.

“Minghao… What happened? You were the one who would usually tell me shit. Don’t do this to me. Don’t I deserve to know?”

You watch as Minghao lets out a drawn out breath once again, leaning his head back against the leather headrest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel before he nods and curses under his breath. He knew this was stupid and that Jun would be pissed off at him, but you weren’t wrong. You deserved to know.

“There was a hit at the lounge. The garage where Jun keeps his cars?” Minghao’s eyes meet yours to make sure you know what he is talking about. When you nod, he continues looking back out at the road. “Someone set every fucking car in that fuckin’ garage on fire. We got lucky that we have a fire suppression system so it kicked in before it spread to the bar.”

Lifting your hands to your lips, you feel your stomach flip with anxiety. You knew Jun had told you about some property damage but the way he had said it, you thought perhaps there was some graffiti on the side of the building or broken windows. This was more than some simple property damage. They were trying to kill people or at least make a point.

Minghao nods, seeing your reaction out of the corner of his eye as he pulls into your building complex’s parking lot. His eyes scan the parking lot before he reaches over your lap to open the glove box, taking out a 9 mm. Meeting your eyes, he lifts his brow at your reaction as he slips the gun into the back of his jeans.

“I just told you what happened at the bar; you think I’m going anywhere without one? Besides, you think I went anywhere without one before? Come on, doll... Use your head. Your time is ticking; your boyfriend wants you home soon.”

Not waiting for your response, Minghao opens his door and slides out of the car, the door slamming hard and making you sigh loudly. You wanted to tell him that Jun wasn’t your boyfriend, but in truth, you weren’t even sure what he was. By the time you start to get out of the car, Minghao has your door open, his brows lifted at your delayed movement. Rolling your eyes, you slide off the seat and stand next to him, closer than you anticipated, as he meets your eyes, letting them fall to your lips once before looking up and away.

Your breath quickens, and your heart begins to race even from the small look shared by the two of you. You find yourself wondering if he had felt the small thing or if you were just too much in your head after everything that had happened between you and Jun in such a short amount of time. Taking your wrist in his hand, Minghao’s eyes scan the parking lot as he slides the keys into his leather jacket, pulling you alongside him towards the building.

“You are walking so fast, Minghao... Why are you mad at me?”

Rolling his eyes at your question, Minghao uses his shoulder to push the door open, letting you move past him before he follows you, taking your hand in his to keep you close to him. You furrow your brows at the feeling, but as he keeps looking behind the two of you until you reach your apartment door, you can only frown at him until he finally answers, letting you take out your keys.

“I’m… It’s not that. I’m not mad at you. I’m doing a fucking job, Y/N. Stop—”

Reaching up with your key, you put your hand on your door when Minghao tells you to stop, but you feel your door giveaway under your touch. Your question had distracted him just enough that he hadn’t noticed the way your door looked ajar. Grabbing your wrist, Minghao pulls you behind him as he uses the other to take out the gun, flipping the safety with his thumb before pushing the door open with his shoulder, ready to pull the trigger if necessary.

You feel your heart in your throat as you cling to Minghao’s leather jacket, your fingernails scratching at the leather out of nerves. He keeps his hand on you even as he kicks your door back in place behind the two of you, not wanting someone to come in behind him. You swallow hard, afraid to close your eyes but also too afraid to peek around Minghao’s arm, nervous that someone will be there and that you will see him use his gun.

“I’m gonna move my hand, Y/N. Stay behind me; you got it.”

Nodding against his back, you sniff back tears, glancing down at your floor and seeing your things scattered. It was obvious that someone had been in your apartment and they were either looking for something or they were mad you weren’t there.

Minghao curses under his breath at the state of your apartment. It had only been a few days since he had been there. You kept a clean, organized place, and now your couch was turned over, your entertainment center was on the floor, and the TV was shattered. He could see empty frames, the pictures taken, or at least you were ripped out of the pictures.

Taking each room slowly, Minghao’s anxiety calms down with each one until he finally realizes that no one is there. Turning to face you, he cups your face with one hand, wiping your tears with his thumb as he puts the safety back on his gun, putting it back into his jeans. Taking out his cellphone, Minghao puts it to his ear and you hear Jun’s voice muffled against his ear as you finally look around, letting out a sob.

Jun sits up, hearing the sound of your fear and sorrow. He was ready to stand up and walk out the door if necessary, but Minghao’s sigh made his brows furrow. Something was wrong, but Minghao didn’t seem distressed, just pissed.

“What the fuck is going on, Hao?”

Lifting your head so he can wipe the other side of your face as you cry, Minghao shushes you, moving you to sit on your bed among some of your clothes that had been pulled from your closet and drawers. He watches you carefully as you pick up one of your dresses, your fingers holding it up realizing it had been ripped to the point that it wasn’t something you could repair. They had destroyed anything they could get their hands on to make a point.

"Fuckers broke into her place. They ransacked it, took pictures, and ripped up her shit.”

Jun’s teeth grind together for multiple reasons. One, he hadn’t wanted you to go back to your apartment. He knew that if this was reversed and he was going after someone, that was the first place he would sit, waiting for the mark to come back. Two, he was furious that they had gone through your stuff and taken personal items. This was worse than his cars. He could replace those, but could he repair your sense of security?

“I—are you fucking stupid? Get her out of there. I’m gonna kill the son of a bitch. Bring her home, Minghao! Or I’ll come get her myself.”

Jaw clenched at Jun’s words, Minghao listens to the phone go silent as Jun hangs up on him. He knew he was upset with him, but he also didn’t blame him. He hadn’t wanted to bring you here in the first place, but Minghao hadn’t wanted to upset you by telling you no. Maybe you needed to get used to hearing it from him.

“Come on, Y/N. I’m taking you home.”

Scoffing, you gesture around you as Minghao talks about taking you home.

“I am at home!”

Shaking his head, Minghao grabs your arm, pulling you up with some force and making you whine before he leans to rest his forehead against yours, muttering an apology. He didn’t want to scare you, but he needed you to understand how serious this was.

“I’m taking you back to Jun. I’m taking you home. Don’t fucking argue with me.”

You swallow hard, your eyes meeting Minghao’s eyes so close. You nod and lick your lips, turning your arm in his grasp. You wrap your hand around his wrist to make him relax his grip on you. Feeling his body relax under your touch, you nod again, and Minghao tilts his head back to press his lips against your forehead before sighing.

“Good girl. We’ll keep you safe.”

Minghao rests his hand on the small of your back as he watches you kick your shoes off in the entryway of the penthouse. You glance up, hearing Jun’s voice along with another you didn’t recognize. Turning to look at Minghao, he leans his head to the side, gesturing for you to go on as he lets out a breath, hearing how annoyed Jun was.

“Of course it’s Park Bonhwa. Don’t ask stupid fucking questions, Wonwoo. I pay you to be smart and get shit done.”

Looking up at you and Minghao as you move into the living room, Jun narrows his eyes at Minghao before he meets your eyes and sits up, extending his hand for you. You look towards the dark haired man sitting across from Jun as he pushes his glasses up his nose, his eyes avoiding yours as if he knows not to look at you for too long.

Taking Jun’s hand, you take a breath, feeling his thumb press into your palm. You watch as his brows lift, his eyes studying you, moving over every inch of you that he can see as if looking for any signs of injury. It’s only when he is satisfied to see you in one piece, with no damage, that Jun gently tugs at your hand, guiding you to sit down next to him.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry about your place, darling. Use my card to buy what you need, okay?”

You sigh, leaning into Jun’s touch as his fingers move over your cheek as if he has forgotten who was in the room, or more like he doesn’t care. Minghao pushes his tongue against his cheek, moving to the armchair near where you and Jun are sitting. You turn to meet his eyes, pulling away from Jun only slightly to do so, causing the man holding your hand to purse his lips.

“I don’t sue people, Wonwoo. I get even. He’s always been pathetic, but this is a new level of low.”

Wonwoo leans back on the sofa, glancing over to meet Minghao’s eyes as Jun speaks. He didn’t disagree with anything that he had learned or that was being said, but it wasn’t as black or white as Jun was trying to make it out to be. Shaking his head, Wonwoo drums his fingers on his thighs, tilting his head, before he looks back over towards you and Jun.

“He has his fingers in a lot of pots. His casino looks reputable, so I can’t touch that, but... we know that the—” Wonwoo laughs into his words, repeating Jun’s back to him, “‘trash’, had weaknesses. They were at your bar for a reason, right, Minghao?”

Shifting beside you, Jun lifts his hand, stopping Wonwoo and Minghao before they start. There was too much business talk with you present—too much that you didn’t need to know. There were still plenty of things that Jun was trying to protect you from. Both men freeze at just Jun lifting his hand, waiting for him to turn and look at you, a smile on his lips as he brushes his fingers over your cheek.

“Go get my card off my desk and the laptop. I want you to go into the bedroom and shop.”

Narrowing your eyes, you shake your head. You knew what Jun was trying to do. You wanted to know what was going on. You didn’t want to shop and be sent away as things were whispered just out of earshot from you.

“I—no. I don’t want to. Just talk. Why can’t I stay? I wanna know what��s going on, Jun. They fucked up my apartment. They took pictures of me and my family. I deserve to know!”

Minghao glances down at his hands in his lap as you dare to raise your voice at Jun. He didn’t disagree with you, but he also didn’t disagree with Jun. He understood why Jun was keeping you in the dark for so much of this. Jun was trying to keep you pure and fragile. Minghao was just worried that if he kept you fragile for too long, you might shatter.

Clenching his jaw when you raise your voice, Jun tightens his hand on your face, his thumb pressing against your jaw as his fingers hold your cheek, keeping your eyes on his. He could feel you try to turn from him, but he wasn’t going to let you. He knew you were upset, and maybe another day he would allow it, but today wasn’t the day for it. Today wasn’t the day for you to get bold and have strong opinions.

“Shut up. Don’t raise your voice at me again, understand me? I adore you, Y/N, but I won’t take that shit. You have no goddamn idea what’s going on or what I’m doing for you. So do as I told you and I’ll explain things later.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach when Jun tells you to shut up. You have mixed feelings about the man sitting in front of you and what he is saying to you. On one hand, you are furious that he would talk to you like that, especially in front of other people and on the other hand, you find yourself feeling bad for yelling at him. He was right; you didn’t understand and you should be grateful, but how were you supposed to understand if he never told you?

Loosening his grip on your face, Jun watches as your eyes widen only for a few seconds before you nod and lift your hand to wrap it around his wrist. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole to you; he was trying to protect you, even if that meant protecting you from yourself. Leaning in to brush his lips over yours, Jun sighs softly before he pulls back and lets go of you completely.

Sitting for a moment longer, you let your eyes move past Jun to Minghao, who runs his fingers over his lips. Feeling your eyes on him, he glances up to meet yours before looking away quickly. It was clear who was in charge in the room and it wasn’t him or you.

Jun watches you do as he told you to, the door to his office opening, the sound of you moving around for a few minutes before you come back out with a laptop against your chest and his black card in your hand. You walk past the men, meeting Jun’s eyes as he gives you a wink and gestures towards the bedroom.

You knew he probably wanted you to close the door but you also knew that from the living room, unless he stood up and looked, there was no way for him to know. Sitting down on the bed with a loud exhale, you open the laptop and type in a clothing brand to the search bar as you strain your ears to listen to the conversation happening a couple of rooms away.

Running his index finger against his lips, Jun furrows his brows, not hearing the sound of the bedroom door closing. He knew you were probably trying to be sneaky, thinking he wouldn’t know, but he also didn’t have time to deal with every little detail today. At least you weren’t in the room so close that you could catch every word. Turning his attention to Minghao, Jun narrows his eyes as his best friend takes in a deep breath, already ready to be berated for what had happened.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Leaning his head back, Minghao lifts his hands off the arms of the chair with a scoff.

“That she wanted to get some more of her shit from her place and that I was with her so I could protect her. You aren’t the only one who gives a shit—”

Stopping short, Minghao glances back over to Jun, who is obviously biting at his cheek. Taking in a breath to calm himself down, Minghao sits up straighter, leaning over his legs as Wonwoo chews at his lips, feeling like he shouldn’t be there for this conversation.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’ll run everything by you, always, from now on. Alright?”

Jun waits a moment, letting Minghao sit in his fuckup, before he nods and looks back over to Wonwoo, who looked like he was trying to be anywhere other than where he was. He liked Jeon Wonwoo; he was a talented lawyer with less than pristine morals. He paid him well for those questionable morals and they were going to come in handy today.

“I’m going to check on Y/N and then I want to go to the bar. Wonwoo, I want you to come with me. I want Bonhwa on the phone or in my office this afternoon. I’m tired of this bullshit.”

Sitting up and lifting his right hand as if to stop Jun before he stands, Wonwoo shakes his head and laughs, obviously confused.

“What— wait? You want to meet with him? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Minghao knew that Jun didn’t like to be questioned. Minghao also knew that Wonwoo knew that so he wasn’t sure why the man would be asking that, but he watched Jun scoff, looking down at his hands as he ran his fingers over his rings.

“I didn’t ask you for your fucking opinion. I told you what I paid you for. Get on your damn phone and make it happen. I’ll be back out here in about…” Looking at his watch, Jun shrugs a smirk on his face already knowing what he had planned. “Fifteen minutes, and then we can go. Minghao, you can stay here and babysit properly this time.”

Starting to speak, Minghao stops when Jun walks around him, slapping his hand down on his shoulder hard before moving through the kitchen towards the open bedroom door. Shaking his head, Jun leans against the doorframe, wondering how long it will take for you to realize he is there as you pout at the laptop in front of you.

“Bought anything cute?”

You had been trying to listen for more conversation, but it had gone silent. You hadn’t expected Jun to speak again so close to you. Jumping, you look towards him, lifting your hand to your chest in surprise, as if protecting your heart. Smirking, Jun moves further into the room, shutting the door behind him and pointing at it as it clicks closed.

“You know how to do that, don’t you? Close doors behind you?”

Rolling your eyes, you look away from him as Jun teases you. Your attitude amuses Jun, a smirk lifting at his lips as you turn your attention back to the laptop, clicking to add a few things to your cart without looking at them too closely. Now you are spending his money out of spite? He could already feel his cock getting hard.

“Aw, Princess, are you that pissed at me? Making me have to correct how you talk to me, and now you are just spending money to spend it?”

Looking up at Jun as you press buy, you lift your brow, not even looking at the total. You watch as his smirk grows and his head shakes. You needed an attitude adjustment. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy watching you spend his money; quite the opposite. In fact, he knew he could probably get off on it, looking over his bank statement, knowing that you had bought yourself nice things with his money, but doing it just to make him mad?

“Close the laptop and slide it out of the way. You need a reminder of a few things, kitten.”

Using your middle finger, you push the laptop closed as Jun chuckles in amusement, his hands already undoing his belt. He could see how you were looking at him. He could tell you were a fan of make-up sex, but that wasn’t what he was giving you. This was a punishment, you’d figure that out in time.

“Lick your fingers.”

Furrowing your brows, you pause for a beat until Jun lifts his brows making you rethink not listening to him. He watches you lift your right hand carefully, running your tongue along the length of your fingers as he pulls his cock from his pants standing in front of you. Running his fingers over your hair, Jun tilts his head knowing your eyes were on his cock, your lips parting wondering if you were going to ask him to put it in your mouth. You didn’t deserve it.

“Hand on my cock, darling. You know what to do. Make me cum, maybe then I’ll know how sorry you are.”

Wrapping your hand around Jun’s cock, you start to stroke him, only to stop at the last sentence he says. You were apologetic about some things, but not all of them. Starting to defy Jun, you loosen your fingers when his hand wraps around yours keeping you in place.

“This little fucking attitude you have today… I’m really damn tired of it. I let you go out, gave you someone to go with you and you used him to go the one place you knew I didn’t want you to go. Use your hand, Y/N or I won’t give you a fucking thing.”

Your breath quickens, your thighs pushing together as Jun looks down at you. You could see the disappointment and lust in his eyes. It was a strange mix, but it was making you feel so many things. You wanted him to forgive you, for it all. You were mad that you had upset him and you wanted him to make you feel good too.

Using your hand, Jun strokes himself a few times before letting you take it back over. You circle his tip with your palm, earning yourself a groan from his throat, before you quicken your pace, wanting to get your prize.

“Fuck, much better. See how good you can be? When you wanna be good?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you whine, shifting on the bed, trying to get some relief from the ache between your legs. You can feel how wet you’ve gotten from just jerking Jun off, listening to his lewd groans, and feeling his eyes burn at your skin as he stares at you.

“Ah–yes! Hold it tighter, shit… stick your tongue out, baby.”

Doing as you are told, you look up at Jun, feeling his hand wrap around yours again, putting more pressure around the base of his cock when you feel warm cum hit your tongue, lips, and chin. Leaning his head back, he smiles as his cock starts to soften in your grip. Sliding your hand under his, Jun shivers, feeling your fingers move over his head, his cum coating your fingers before he takes a step back, pushing himself back into his pants.

Looking down at your hand, you bring it to your lips, licking it clean for a moment, until you realize that Jun isn’t moving over to you. You watch as he uses the mirror on the dresser to fix his hair and jacket before clearing his throat. Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Jun grins at your shocked expression.

“What? Horny? You can wait. I’ll be back in a few hours. Hao is going to stay with you. Be a good girl.”

Your eyes follow Jun out of the room, a smirk on his lips as he moves back into the living room to find Wonwoo’s eyes attempting to stare into the coffee table. Minghao simply glances up at his best friend, rolling his eyes and letting a scoff slip from between his lips.

“You’re disgusting.”

Shrugging, Jun rolls his shoulders, looking over to Wonwoo gesturing for the man to move.

“Did you call him?”

Nodding, Wonwoo gets to his feet quickly, his fingers moving to push his glasses back up his nose as he tries to keep his composure after hearing Jun’s loud groans.

“I…yeah I did. He’s gonna be there in an hour. Said he wants a sample of your product for his time. I told him I’d see what I could do.”

Rolling his eyes, Jun glances back to Minghao as he grabs his keys, lifting his hands in question. Standing up, Minghao nods, and lets out a breath, taking out his cellphone and pressing on Mingyu’s name before putting the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, boss is coming in. No, shut the fuck up. I’m not bringing the wagon back. Listen to me, you fuck! The new product is in, on my end, a gram, nah, two. Put it on his desk.”

Nodding at Jun, Minghao sighs into the phone as Mingyu continues, even as Jun and Wonwoo close the door behind them.

“The fucker that—”

Stopping when he sees you standing in the kitchen with a scowl on your face, Minghao clears his throat and furrows his brows, turning away from you.

“He’s got an appointment. Get your shit together and watch his back. He’s got the lawyer with him, so you know how fucking useless he is. I don’t give a shit if you like him.”

Running your tongue along your teeth, you cross your arms, moving to lean against the end of the kitchen island, watching Minghao closely. You hadn’t exclusively promised to be good when Jun had told you to and he had left you in a less than ideal situation. You watch as Minghao shakes his head, putting his phone back into his pocket, his fingers running through his longer black hair before he turns back to look at you, his eyes moving over you from head to toe, finally landing on your eyes.

“Why do you look so pissed? Didn’t you just get fucked?”

The urge to throw something at Minghao is strong, but you can’t find anything at arm's length. Instead, you just stomp your feet and move towards the couch, falling onto it with a whine. Following you with his eyes, Minghao tilts his head before following you to sit on the arm of the couch, looking you over curiously.

“Why the fuck are you being so dramatic?”

Staring up at him, you can still feel how wet you are from Jun’s teasing. Your eyes move over Minghao’s face, his neck, and the low cut of his t-shirt under his leather jacket. You dare to let them move further to his black jeans, the slight bulge that you had always looked away from out of respect, but now you were so horny you could die. Maybe he was right, you were being dramatic.

His brow raised, Minghao can almost feel your eyes moving over his body, but when they rest over his lap, he can’t help the smirk that pulls up at his lips. Maybe Jun hadn’t fucked you. Was that your problem? Had he left you all hot and bothered?

Minghao knew he should respect you and Jun, especially the latter when it came to boundaries. He knew that Jun would probably kick his ass if he touched you, but maybe he could have a little fun. It was too tempting when you were looking at him like a five course meal and rubbing your thighs together. How had he not noticed that before?

“Ah…aww, doll. Did he leave you untouched? What did he do? Let me guess... from the sounds that were coming from that room, I’m gonna assume he got his rocks off, but he didn’t let his little kitten cum.”

Your eyes widen at Minghao’s words as you sit up on the couch, sliding your legs up towards your stomach. Were you that transparent? Of course, you were. It wasn’t like you were being inconspicuous with how you were looking at Minghao and you were panting like a cat in heat.

Laughing under his breath, Minghao slides down to sit on the couch, sliding his legs apart just enough that he wonders if you would picture yourself on your knees between them. He wonders if you would let him fuck you if he asked. Were you that wound up? He had to keep himself in line. Walk it but never cross it.

“Shut up…”

Your voice is so quiet that Minghao can’t help but lean closer to hear you better. You take in a deep breath and his cologne almost makes you moan. Biting your bottom lip, you look down at your knees as Minghao lifts his eyes to look at your face, his fingers brushing over your cheek, amused to find your skin hot under his touch.

“Isn’t that what Jun told you to do earlier? Is that what he did? Shut you up with his dick? Is that all it takes? A little cock and you straighten up your act.”

Leaning back from Minghao’s touch, you listen to him laugh again, his finger extending so he can tap your nose. Crossing his leg over his knee, Minghao takes a deep breath before sliding his phone out of his pocket to check his messages. Now he was going to ignore you. Granted, he did have a few messages from Mingyu and Jun, but he could also see you shifting beside him. It was cute to watch you squirm.

“Oh my god, doll. Did he say you couldn’t fuck your fingers or something? Or is that an unspoken rule? You are killing me. Making me feel bad for you.”

Whining, you cross your arms and turn away from Minghao. No, Jun hadn’t said specifically that you couldn’t take care of yourself, but you had a strong feeling that it was an unspoken rule. He had told you to be good, but it was getting harder and harder to figure out how to walk that line and again, you hadn’t promised.

“I—he told me to be good.” Sighing into your words, you glance back over to Minghao as he smirks at his phone, answering a message from Jun. “You smell good, Minghao.”

Lifting his brow, Minghao glances at you from the corner of his eye, hitting send on his text before lowering his phone to his lap.

“That so, doll? You so horny you are gonna try to fuck the help?”

Minghao watches your lips tighten into a frown. You shake your head, your brows furrowing tightly. You apparently didn’t approve of what he had said.

“You aren’t the help. Why would you call yourself that? You are Jun’s best friend. You are his most trusted—whatever it is that you do at the bar. I just know that you are important to him. You are important to me. Don’t call yourself the fucking help.”

That hadn’t been the point of what he was trying to say, but your words make Minghao swallow hard. He had been trying to tease you more, but now his mouth felt dry. He was important to you. You thought he was important to Jun. He was trying not to let that go to his head.

Jun pushes his tongue into his cheek as he flicks his finger against the baggie held between his thumb and forefinger. Mingyu had done exactly what Minghao had told him to do. There had been two gram bags on his desk when he had walked in, but looking at them now, he knew he wasn’t giving some piece of shit, low-life both of them. His eyes lift to Wonwoo, who sits across from him in one of the leather chairs as he slips one of the baggies into his jacket before leaning back in his chair, lifting his hands out of impatience.

“I’m getting real fuckin’ tired of waiting, Wonwoo.”

He had started to complain, Wonwoo shifting in his chair, ready to take the heat, when a knock at his office door drew Jun’s attention towards it. Sliding his hand down to his lap, Jun reaches under his desk for the .45 hidden in a holster he had fitted to the underside of a drawer. He didn’t know what to expect after all the bullshit that had happened, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Come in.”

Mingyu pushes the door open and gestures for the man to go in. Lifting his brow towards Jun, Mingyu uses his facial expression to ask the question he wants answered without words. Jun simply gives the man a nod to let him know he is okay, but he watches as Mingyu narrows his eyes at the back of Park Bonhwa’s head, pulling the door shut, leaving it cracked as he stands outside of it.

Looking around the room, Park Bonhwa grins, taking it all in. He was mildly successful. He owned a casino and ran a nice little underground operation of his own. Granted, it wasn’t as “clean” as Jun’s, but that was why he had sent his men into the Moonlight Lounge in the first place. He wanted to know where Jun got his coke, where he got his guns, and how he kept his nose so fucking clean.

Meeting Jun’s eyes, Bonhwa lifts his brows before looking over to Wonwoo, chuckling under his breath. That was half of the answer to his questions. A good lawyer who could sweep shit under the rug. He knew who Jeon Wonwoo was and he knew what Jeon Wonwoo could do in a courtroom.

Sliding into the chair next to the lawyer, Bonhwa gestures towards the baggie in front of Jun as he sucks on his teeth. That was, hopefully, the answer to another question. The cocaine looked clean. It didn’t look like it was cut with anything, which meant Jun was making bank off of pure product.

“That mine? You being that stingy with it, Wen?”

Rolling his eyes, Jun picks up the bag between two fingers, tossing it towards the end of his desk, letting Bonhwa have to reach out to stop it from falling to the floor. Narrowing his eyes, Bonhwa scoffs, holding the bag up to the light before opening it and dipping a finger into the powder.

“That’s a gram that I’m giving you from the generosity of my heart when you deserve nothing. I should beat your ass into the ground, but I don’t like getting blood on my clothes. I hate blood on my shoes.”

Smirking at Jun’s gall, Bonhwa presses his pinky to his tongue, tasting the coke with a tilt of his head. He knew he could get more for this than he was getting for the meth he was running out of the casino, but meth was cheaper and it was hard to find something this pure without an in.

“Such a bitch when I’m the one holding the cards. You can’t touch me and you know it. You fucked me over. Three of my best guys, dead because of some little bitch. So now what do I gotta do?”

Wonwoo starts to speak, hearing the sound of the holster under Jun’s desk click, but Bonhwa tsks, moving his jacket to show Jun his own gun. Closing the baggie in his hand, the man slips it into his jacket and glances at Wonwoo with a smile before looking back at Jun.

“I’d have his brains on the wall before you got that gun from under your desk and even if you managed to shoot me, you think I don’t know where your whore is?” Bonhwa unholsters his gun, laying it in his lap, his thumb flicking the safety off as he leaves it pointed in the direction of Wonwoo. “I had them take her pictures from her apartment for a reason. Her face is in the hands of every single man on my payroll.”

Jun’s jaw tightens, his eyes on the gun in Bonhwa’s lap, as Wonwoo’s fingers tighten on the arm of the chair under him. Cursing under his breath, Jun moves his hand from under his desk, showing the man in front of him that he didn’t bring his gun with him so that he wouldn’t kill his lawyer.

“Your men touched something they shouldn’t have. Can you blame me for protecting something that belongs to me? You’d react the same way.”

Nodding, Bonhwa flicks the safety back in place but keeps his gun on his lap, looking back over to Jun.

“You took three from me. Three for one woman. Doesn’t seem fair now, does it? The way I see it, you owe me an eye for an eye.”

Jun narrows his eyes, watching Bonhwa smirk, a laugh slipping from his lips as he adjusts in his seat, lifting his hand to gesture towards him.

“Or something of equal value. Information perhaps, like where your product is shipped in from.”

Wonwoo meets Jun’s eyes and gives him a quick shake of his head to tell him to keep that information to himself. Jun starts to speak when Bonhwa’s hand moves quicker than his, the gun smacking Wonwoo across the side of the head with a deafening thud. Moving to his feet quickly, Jun hears the door open as Bonhwa laughs at being pulled up from his chair by Mingyu.

With his hand to his head, Wonwoo blinks as blood runs down his face, his glasses in his lap, listening to the sounds of fists hitting muscle. He groans at the pain radiating through his head and face as Bonhwa laughs through his own pain before Jun tells Mingyu to stop.

With his hand in Bonhwa’s shirt, Jun pulls him close, putting his own gun against his jaw as Mingyu pins him against the wall. He wants to pull the trigger, but he knows what problems that could bring him. There was enough happening right now, but if he killed Park Bonhwa, his entire organization would come down on him and he wasn’t prepared for something like that.

“I will give you nothing! Do you fucking understand?!”

Reaching into the man’s pocket, Jun takes the baggie out of it, throwing it on the ground as he pushes Bonhwa into Mingyu’s chest, taking a step back from them both.

“Not my information and not my woman. Get the fuck out of my sight. If I see you again, if I see any of your men, it’s on sight. That’s your last fucking warning, Park.”

Laughing still as he’s dragged out of the building, Bonhwa grunts when Mingyu pushes him against the side of the Cadillac. Pulling the gun from his side, when two men step out to help their boss, the large man points the weapon at them and gestures with his head towards the bleeding man.

“He got his warning; now I’ll give you yours. Stay the fuck away from the bar and from Mr. Wen, his employees, and associates. If you get near Miss Y/L/N again, I’ll stick my gun up your ass.”

Narrowing his eyes at Mingyu, one of the men starts to take a step forward when the other shakes his head, pointing towards Bonhwa, who groans in pain, holding his side.

“Sounds like he’s got some broken ribs. Take your daddy home and patch him up.”

Inside Jun’s office, Jun hands a bottle of whiskey to Wonwoo as he takes a knee in front of him, pushing his head up to look at the damage. He had already thrown the gun he had taken from Bonhwa on his desk with the intention of letting Wonwoo keep it. Clearly, the man needed to learn how to take care of himself.

Taking a sip of the alcohol, Wonwoo hisses as Jun pushes on his brow. Jun could feel the bone shift under his thumb so he knew there was a problem.

“Probably a fracture. I’ll have Mingyu take you to my guy. He’ll get you patched up… I’ll uh… fuck— I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo winces as he tries to open his eyes, feeling already too swollen to open fully. It wasn’t the first time he had been hit, but it was the first time he had been hit by a gun. He knew the path he was taking was dangerous, but the money was worth it.

“I’ll live. Make today worth my fucking time.”

Nodding, Jun helps Wonwoo to his feet, leaning his head back, and gestures for Mingyu to come in and help him. He watches as Mingyu slides his arm under the lawyer's, helping him walk in a straight line out of the office. Running his hand through his hair, Jun glances back at the gun on his desk and sighs. He would get it to Wonwoo another time. Right now, Jun just wanted to get back to you.

The couple of hours that Jun had been gone had been full of tension for you and Minghao. Between the teasing on his part and the fact that you couldn’t seem to get your mind off the idea of the teasing becoming a reality, you were worse off than you had been before Jun left. So by the time he walked into the living room, you were on your knees on the couch, happy to see him, only for your smile to fade at the annoyed look on his face.

Shaking his head, Jun takes off his jacket and tosses it onto the table before falling back on the couch on the other side of you as Minghao’s eyes fall to the table. Minghao had kept what he knew about the meeting with Park Bonhwa a secret from you. He had done exactly what Jun had wanted and babysat you. He had kept you distracted so that you wouldn’t ask questions, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t know the meeting had gone sour.

Turning towards Jun, you look him over and finally lift his hand into yours, pushing your thumb over the bruising skin. Things hadn’t gone well; one glance back at Minghao and how he was avoiding your eyes told you that he already knew. Why was everyone keeping things from you?

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Jun offers you a half smile, turning his hand in yours to run his fingers along your wrist before he pulls you towards him so that your body rests against his. He didn’t want to talk about Park Bonhwa anymore. He didn’t want to talk about the bar or what had happened. He didn’t want to think at all. He just wanted to let go.

Leaning towards the table, Minghao picks up the baggie that had fallen out of Jun’s pocket, holding it in his palm, before glancing over at his best friend. He knew that Jun would sometimes test the product, sometimes just for recreational purposes, but he hadn’t expected him to bring it with him today. Things must have gone very badly.

Seeing Minghao move, you look back at him and then to his hand at the baggie with white powder. You had seen bags like that at the bar. In particular, you had seen them on the table of the men who had tried to hurt you, but you didn’t know they had come from the bar. You were starting to realize that maybe you were being naive. There was a lot of money that came into the bar and it had to come from somewhere.

“What’s that?” You try to think of different drug names, tilting your head as you reach for the baggie, only for Minghao to keep it from your reach. “Meth?”

Scoffing, Jun looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve offended him. Leaning forward, he puts out his hand for Minghao to put the baggie into his hand. Once he has it, he holds it between his fingers and lifts his brow, looking at it in the light.

“Meth is for poor people, darling. People who sell that are weak and desperate. This is cocaine, sophisticated and pure. I like pure things.”

Minghao knew that Jun wasn’t really upset with you. He knew that Jun was talking more about Park Bonhwa and his business. You had no way to know who sold what when you didn’t even know the real ins and outs of Jun’s business.

Furrowing your brows, you look at the baggie in Jun’s hand before sitting back and trying to understand what he was telling you. You had never done drugs in your life. You drank some, but even that was social. You were starting to understand what Jun had meant by this world breaking you. It was a lot darker than you realized, but you wanted to understand it. You wanted to understand Jun.

Looking over at Minghao, Jun purses his lips, seeing how close he was sitting to you. He hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten back. He hadn’t assessed the situation, but clearly something had happened while he was gone. Lifting his brow, Jun tilts his head, leaning back, to give you a good once over as he watches your ears practically smoke at how hard you were thinking.

“Baby, don’t worry so much. This isn’t part of your job. Your job is to look pretty and keep up with me. Keep me on schedule. You don’t need to understand what’s behind the curtain.” Smirking, Jun watches you pout as he lifts his hand to push his thumb against your chin. “What I wanna know is if you had a good time with Hao while I was out.”

Shrugging, you glance over to Minghao as he takes a deep breath and looks away. He had been so confident before Jun had gotten home. You were having fun with him. He was teasing you and you were flirting with him; now he was acting like a scared puppy.

“Kinda… I like spending time with Minghao, but you are both mean to me.”

Jun smirks at your words, a curious look on his face as Minghao looks up, suddenly shifting a bit nervously at what you might be telling Jun. Lifting his hand to stop Minghao before he starts, Jun runs the fingers of his other hand along your thigh as he nods for you to continue.

“Tell me what you mean. How are we both mean to you?”

Deciding to just bite the bullet, you sigh, feeling Minghao’s hand slide against your leg, trying to grab your wrist in an effort to ask for mercy. The look in Jun’s eye tells you that maybe he doesn’t need that mercy.

“Well, you left me wanting after I helped you. I think that was very mean.”

Jun grins, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he shrugs. Taking a breath, he drops his lip as he lets out the breath with a sigh.

“You need a punishment. You need to be reminded that if you have a smart mouth, you don’t get what you want, kitten. But tell me, how was Hao mean to you?”

Glancing over your shoulder at Minghao, Jun smirks at him as he gives him a pleading look, asking for forgiveness before you even speak. Jun wasn’t stupid; he could feel the tension in the room.

“He teased me. He knew I was suffering and that I’m needy but he just teased me the entire time that you were gone. Made me want to break rules and... you know.”

His brows lifting, Jun can’t help the amusement on his face. He wasn’t mad at Minghao for teasing you. He probably would have given him permission to do it if he had asked to, but what was most amusing was that you avoided saying what you wanted. Leaning towards you, Jun grabs your chin gently, brushing his thumb across your lips as Minghao swallows hard, watching carefully.

“I don’t know; tell me. What did he make you want? What rules did you want to break?”

You can feel yourself getting wet all over again. Your thighs push together as you whimper, leaning into Jun’s touch but also feeling the desire to reach back for Minghao, knowing he was so close.

“I—well. He made me want him. You said I belong to you, but I want him too. I wanted to sit on his cock while you were gone and stop feeling so empty since you didn’t give me anything. You were so mean.”

Running his thumb down your lip, Jun chuckles at your confession and how Minghao groans in frustration, afraid of how he will react. Glancing over your shoulder at the other man, Jun meets his eyes and lifts his brow in question, causing Minghao to open and close his mouth a few times before his shoulders sink in defeat.

“Fuck… Yeah, she’s not lying. I teased her. I knew what I was doin’. I’m sorry, alright? I can get the fuck out.”

Starting to stand up, Minghao furrows his brows when Jun leans over you to grab his wrist, pulling him back down.

“I didn’t tell you to fucking leave. Sit your ass down. My kitten wants your cock, Hao.” Smirking to himself, Jun glances at you to see your reaction before he looks back at Minghao. “I upset her. She said I was mean to her. We can’t have that. I need to make it up to her. So I think I should let her have what she wants, don’t you?”

Minghao lets out a breath, trying to wrap his head around what Jun had just said to him as he feels you settle back into the couch. Your cheeks were on fire. You hadn’t expected Jun to actually act on what you had said, and so quickly, but here you were sitting between the two of them.

Shaking his head, Jun watches you and Minghao, a laugh slipping from between his lips as he moves his hand from Minghao to your jaw, turning your face towards him.

“If this happens, there are rules. I don’t share easily. I think you both know that.”

Nodding, you bite at your bottom lip, drawing Jun’s eyes down to your lips as he smirks. He could see Minghao shifting behind you. If the man didn’t want to participate, all he needed to do was get up and leave, but he had a feeling he would stay right where he was until he was told otherwise.

“Hao will wear a condom and he won’t cum in your mouth or on you. Don’t even ask for it. Understand?”

You whine out a small yes, and Jun coos at you, tightening his grip on your chin ever so slightly at how innocent you appear. He knew you weren’t innocent, but you were pure to him, and he planned on keeping you that way. Looking past you to Minghao, Jun lifts his brow, meeting the other man’s eyes before Minghao nods in understanding.

“Good, as long as we all understand who’s house this is and who Y/N belongs to, we can go play. I think it will be a fun night. I could use some fucking fun after today.”

Letting go of your face, Jun swipes the baggie from the couch and puts out his other hand for yours. Looking up at him, you look a little apprehensive until you meet Jun’s eyes and he nods. You knew you could trust him. It was a strange feeling. You didn’t even really understand why you trusted him. You didn’t understand why you wanted to or why you felt the way you did about him. All that mattered was that you did and that made it easy to take his hand and stand up.

Minghao closes his eyes for a moment, running his hand over his mouth, before watching you with Jun. He wanted this. He wanted it more than anything. He had wanted you since the day you had interviewed with Jun, but then he saw the look in Jun’s eyes and it was confirmed by Jun’s words. Then Minghao knew—or thought he knew—you were off limits. Now he was looking at your outstretched hand as you beckoned him to join you and Jun. It was too good to be true, but he wasn’t going to give up the chance, even if it was a one time thing.

Giving the guest room a quick appraising look, Jun drops your hand before sitting at the top of the bed. You stand at the door with Minghao, hand in hand, as the two of you watch him curiously as he opens the nightstand, taking out a strip of condoms and laying them on top of the nightstand next to the baggie.

Furrowing his brows, Jun scoffs at seeing you and Minghao standing like statues in the doorway. Rolling his eyes, he leans his neck from side to side with a groan as he gestures for you to come to him.

“You both act like you haven’t done this before. Come here, baby. You need to loosen up.”

Pouting, you kneel on the bed in front of Jun as he pouts at you, furrowing his brow and teasing you with faux concern at the tense look on your face. His fingers trail over your cheek down to your jaw before his fingers reach your throat, making you swallow hard. Leaning forward, Jun’s lips brush over yours, a smile pulling up at his lips when he hears how your breath hitches from just a simple kiss.

“Are you that touch starved? Did I rile you up that much before I left?”

Nodding to the words spoken on your lips, you whine Jun’s name, reaching up to wrap your hand around his wrist, trying to pull him closer as you push your lips against his. Jun laughs on your lips before pulling back with a sigh, leaning to glance at Minghao in the doorway.

“And Hao didn’t touch you at all. What an asshole.”

Tsking at his best friend, Jun smirks, watching Minghao scoff and roll his eyes. He knew he wasn’t allowed to touch you. He knew what Jun was doing, and now his cock was straining against his jeans at the sight of you on your knees on a bed. Lifting his hand, Minghao sighs, running his hand through his hair as Jun claims your lips once again before pulling back, causing you to whimper at the loss of his kiss.

“Minghao, come here and touch her. It’s what you both want. I’m giving you both a gift tonight. Don’t waste it or my time.”

Swallowing hard, Minghao nods, taking a few steps to kneel on the bed behind you as you glance back at him. Just the heat of your eyes on him has him cursing under his breath and his hands running along your sides, pushing your shirt up your back.

"I—fuck, you are so pretty, doll.”

Smiling at Minghao’s words, you lean back into his chest and his touch so you can feel his breath against your ear. Groaning, Minghao meets Jun’s eyes, getting a nod before he tilts his head and presses his lips to your neck right under your ear, earning himself a soft, happy moan from your lips.

This wasn’t the first time Jun had shared a girl with Minghao before, but this time was different. You were more important. You were different. Watching Minghao’s lips move over your skin sends Jun’s thoughts racing. Some were very good, and others were possessive and bordering on obsessive. Jun knew that if it were anyone else, he would have killed them for even wanting you, but it was Minghao so that made it something he could handle.

As Minghao slides his hands along your stomach, Jun makes a soft sound drawing Minghao’s attention to him. Leaning back, Minghao moves his hands, seeming to understand without words, exactly what Jun wants. You whine breathlessly, not wanting either of them to stop, until you feel both sets of hands undressing you. Both sets of hands are similar, yet you can tell that Minghao’s have more calluses as they scratch at your skin just a bit more roughly. Jun’s fingers are more familiar, but you can feel the possession behind the way he grips at your body, pulling you a bit closer to him as Minghao’s fingers undo your pants, his lips pressed against your bare back.

“My beautiful little kitten is getting spoiled tonight. You like having two men touch you, baby?”

You meet Jun’s eyes, nodding to watch him smirk at you. His thumbs and forefingers roll your nipples between them as Minghao lifts at your hips so he can tug your pants down your legs, a soft groan escaping his throat at the sight of your ass. Jun chuckles at both you and Minghao’s reactions, his eyes falling to his hands as he nods in appreciation of the view in front of him.

“Then you can listen closely tonight, can’t you? Be a good little slut for Daddy.”

Fingers slide around your hip, pulling you back against Minghao. You can’t help but let out a moan, your brows furrowing to the feeling of his bulge, still trapped behind his jeans pushed up against your ass. Jun lifts his brows as he waits for you to answer him. His fingers squeeze your nipples as your back arches against Minghao’s chest and you nod frantically, whining out “yes”.

“That’s all you had to say, Y/N.”

Minghao grins against the back of your neck, speaking between kisses. He was feeling more like himself and bolder with each passing minute. He could feel you wiggle your hips back against his cock and just knowing how badly you wanted him made his ego soar. He knew he could follow Jun’s rules, and he’d do what he had to do to get his cock inside of you.

Jun grins watching you with Minghao, the way your skin erupts with chill bumps at his words and how you nod again, agreeing with him. You were being a very good girl for them both. Sitting back, he lets Minghao get the rest of your clothes off until you are sitting bare in front of them, your cheeks warm as your eyes move from either man, both still fully clothed. Jun just chuckles under his breath as you start to cross your arms to gain some of your modesty back before he lifts his hand, pulling your arm down as he shakes his head.

“Why would you hide how fucking perfect you are?”

Whining, you look him over as if that should answer his question, but one look at his face tells you that he wants words.

“You and Minghao are still dressed. It’s not fair…”

Moving his hand to your chin, Jun leans to press his lips against yours softly, making you relax. He could feel you pouting against your lips, wanting to get your way. Using his free hand, Jun moves your hand to his shirt, the button resting over his chest, feeling you smile against his lips as he lets you undress him for the first time. The way your hands shake as you undo the buttons makes Jun chuckle against your lips until your head drops so you can see what you are doing. The eagerness is evident in the way your breath hitches and you move closer to him, tugging at his shirt to pull it open.

“Careful, kitten. Don’t scratch me.” You whine his name, trying to get Jun to stop teasing you as he smiles, running his fingers over your hair. “Do you want Hao to get undressed too?”

Nodding, you glance back to Minghao, who smiles at you, lifting his hand to run the back of his index finger over your cheek as your fingers rest on Jun’s pants.

“You are spoiled. I never thought I’d see Wen Junhui spoil a girl so rotten.”

His brows raised, Jun tilts his head at Minghao as you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. Tugging down his zipper, you lift your eyes to meet Jun’s eyes, finding him watching you carefully.

“Is that true? Do I spoil you?”

Jun lifts his hips, letting you help him pull his jeans down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers as he waits for you to answer him. Glancing back at Minghao, you start to chastise him for getting you in trouble with his words until you see him significantly less clothed than he was a few minutes earlier. Your eyes move over his toned torso and down to where his thumbs rest in the top of his boxers, a smirk on his face while he waits for you to answer Jun.

You stumble over your words, finding your mind going blank, only thoughts of Jun and Minghao filling it back up until Jun turns your face back towards him. You feel his fingers press against your jaw as he coos at you, finding the blank expression on your face cute and desperate.

“Answer me, darling.”

Shaking your head, you try to scoot closer to Jun, sliding over his thigh so that your wet folds meet his skin. Jun hisses into a groan at the feeling, his hands moving to your waist to hold you tight, not letting you get any relief.

“Maybe Hao is right.”

With a surprised breath, you find yourself on your back, your wrists pinned to the bed as Jun hovers over you, his knee pressed between your thighs. Arching your back, you rub your lips together as you shake your head, trying to argue. You want to prove that both of them are wrong, but as soon as you can’t feel Jun’s thigh close enough that you can rub yourself on his skin, you manage to do the opposite. A whimpered cry slips from your lips and Jun grins, his thumbs sliding along your wrists to keep you calm.

“My spoiled little princess is already crying before she’s had any cock.” Glancing over his shoulder towards Minghao, Jun lifts his brows and tilts his head towards the nightstand. “Just wait until you hear her while she’s stuffed full of one.”

Groaning under his breath, Minghao slides on the bed towards the nightstand to swipe the strip of condoms from it. Tearing one off, he tosses the rest to the side as his breath quickens at Jun’s words. He could hear your moaned sobs as Jun teased you, and the idea of hearing you be even louder as he fucked you was driving him crazy.

You close your hands into fists, trying to plead with Jun to touch you as you wait for Minghao to put on the condom. You knew Jun didn’t need or want one, so he could so easily slip out of his boxers and bury his cock into your aching pussy... But he only nods to your begging, feeling his cock twitching hard as he practices patience.

“Shh..shh… kitten. Are you that empty? Do you need it that badly?”

Fingers slide through your wet folds and a moan echoes off the walls at the same time as a groan is suppressed behind clenched teeth. Jun knew you’d be wet. He had felt you on his thigh, but feeling just how wet you were after all the teasing as he pushed two of his fingers into you—that was enough to make his cock leak in his boxers.

“Fuck… I don’t think I even need to stretch you. You are so damn wet. Are you that excited about having us both?”

Turning your head, you feel your check burn at Jun’s question, but slender fingers turn your face back towards him. Minghao lifts his brow and you hear Jun laugh as the other man’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. Your eyes move from either man until you finally meet Jun’s eyes as tears run from the corners of your eyes. You clench around his fingers as he slides a third finger into you, his teeth catching his bottom lip and biting down lightly, waiting for you to answer him.

“Y–yeah. Ah! Jun… please? Please, please… Can I cum?” Licking your lips, you search Jun’s eyes for your answer, but when he doesn’t answer right away, you push him further. “Daddy… please?”

Minghao smirks when you call Jun Daddy. He listens to the way his breath changes, a groan bordering on a growl rising in his friend’s chest as Jun puts his thumb against your clit and his forehead against yours. You were good at getting what you wanted. Minghao wasn’t sure if you even meant it or if you were just using the name to get what you wanted, but either way, it was hot, and you were getting exactly what you were asking for.

With your mouth falling open and Minghao’s hand falling to your throat, you find it hard to make any sound when you cum. Nothing over a gasped breath of a moan makes it out of your lips as your cum seeps around Jun’s fingers. Closing your eyes and feeling your head spin almost as if you are going to pass out from the intensity of your orgasm, you scratch at Minghao’s arm, feeling his fingers lightly tighten around your throat. He wasn’t like Jun when it came to putting his hand on your throat. If it had been Jun’s hand there, you knew it would have felt like danger in the most sinfully erotic way; but Minghao’s hand felt like a necklace, keeping you grounded to the bed as you soared.

Jun groans, sliding his fingers from your tight walls, feeling your body start to relax under him. He knew you wanted more and that you needed more. Glancing over to Minghao, Jun smirks, seeing his friend’s lips parted as he takes in deep breaths, obviously trying to keep himself in check until he is told he could do more.

You lean your head back against the pillows, reaching out for Jun’s arm when you feel him sit up on the bed. Your eyes follow him when he lifts his hips to push his boxers down and he swipes the baggie from the nightstand.

“I’m feeling generous.” Jun’s eyes meet yours, his smirk pulling back up at his lips as you tilt your head, curious to hear his words. “I’m going to let Minghao fuck you first, baby. Let him see what he’s been missing out on.”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, Minghao runs his fingers through his hair when you look over at him. You were stunning. He could see where the tears had run along your temples from where you had cried in pleasure from your first orgasm. He could feel his cock almost aching from how hard it was at the idea of being inside of you and being the reason you’d cry again.

“Does that make you happy, kitten?”

Jun watches you and Minghao carefully before turning his attention to the baggie in his hand. Opening it, he turns on the bed, running his fingers along your leg to pull your knee up so that your thigh is exposed and your legs are spread. Not only could he have his way with you in this position but he also knew that Minghao’s eyes were on your pussy now.

He could almost see the man’s mouth watering at the sight of your wet folds. You whine out his name before nodding, your fingers reaching for Jun’s wrist once again, only for him to shake his head and pull away so he can keep doing what he has his mind set on.

“Good girl. I like making you happy. I guess I do spoil you.” Meeting your eyes, Jun bites his bottom lip and lifts his brows as if to make sure you are paying attention to him before he continues. “Keep your leg just like this. Keep being my good girl.”

Running his fingers along your other thigh, Minghao furrows his brows, watching Jun. He had a good idea of what was going to happen, but knowing and seeing were another thing altogether. Taking a deep breath, Minghao shakes his head as Jun taps the baggie against your inner thigh, leaving a small, thin line of powder on your skin. While he didn’t partake in what he sold, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate the visual or the sentiment.

Your lips part in a small, surprised gasp when you feel Jun lean down to snort the line from your thigh. Without much thought, you run your fingers through his hair, your skin erupting with chill bumps as his nose brushes along your skin. With a small, satisfied groan, Jun hovers over your leg, taking a deep breath in from his nose and feeling his head start to rush. Smiling as the feeling of euphoria spreads over him, Jun presses his lips against your thigh before once again meeting your eyes.

“You are so fucking perfect... Mmm, you wanted to fuck Hao?” Nodding to Jun’s question, as he moves up your body, you smile as he lays over you, his lips hovering yours. “I’ll give you anything you want, princess.”

You could see how Jun’s eyes had dilated. You knew that there were limits to what he would give you on a normal basis, but you hadn’t been with him like this before. Right now, Jun was looking at you like you were his world. You could feel your heart beating hard in your chest as his hands ran along your sides and his lips gently pressed to yours between words.

“My pretty angel. I’m gonna watch you fall apart for him and then I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

Pulling back from you, Jun leaves you breathless from just his words before he gestures to Minghao and you barely have time to think. Hands slide along your hips as Minghao pulls you on the mattress towards him and kneels between your thighs. Leaning down over you, he smirks at your surprised expression, running his right hand between your breasts as he traces the trail of your tears with his left thumb.

“Is that what you’re going to do, doll? Fall apart for me.”

Nodding quickly, you listen to Minghao laugh almost darkly as his lips glide along your cheek before he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss doesn’t last for nearly as long as you want it to, his lips pulling away from yours, making you chase him for more. Running his fingers over your hair, Minghao smirks at how eager you are. Yes, he wanted you, but it was powerful to feel your body shiver under his every time he would pull away from you.

“Please, oh my god. I can’t take it.”

You finally close your eyes, tears on the rims of your eyes as you feel your walls clench around nothing. Minghao smiles, his finger tracing your hard nipple as you arch into his touch. He knew you weren’t his, but he could pretend, even if it was just for a short time. Jun cocks his head to the side, his eyes focused on Minghao’s hand as he presses his thumb against your nipple, pulling a moan from your mouth. He knew that Minghao wanted to tease you for longer, but his heart was racing, his hands tightening into fists at how thirsty he was already feeling for you. Impatience was starting to kick back in for him.

“If you don’t fuck her, Hao... I’ll show you how it’s done. Stop teasing— put your fucking cock—”

Meeting Jun’s eyes, Minghao is the one who gives the warning look this time. He knew Jun wasn’t in the same state of mind that he had been when the three of you had gotten into bed. Lifting his hand, Jun rubs his nose hard, leaning back with a groan of annoyance, pushing the same fingers through his hair. Minghao just shakes his head as you run your fingers up his arm out of some concern, a look of curiosity in your eyes.

“He’s fine. He’ll get all that energy out once I’m done. He said he was being generous, now he can wait and watch.”

Smirking at how your eyes widen. The confidence that he was displaying even in front of someone that you had seen reduced him to something resembling an obedient puppy. It had your pussy almost weeping for him.

“You can handle this, can’t you?” Tilting his head, Minghao’s smirk pulls into a full grin as his hand pushes your knee up towards your stomach. You feel the stretch in the back of one thigh as he repeats the process with the other leg and puts your hands on the back of your knees. “‘Course you can, doll. Stay still.”

You start to question him, but any question you have leaves your head along with any thoughts when Minghao lines his cock up with you and buries himself in you in one smooth motion. Closing your eyes, you dig your nails into the back of your legs as you let out a soft, crying moan.

The stretch isn’t so much that you are in pain. You can tell he isn’t as big as Jun, but that didn’t seem to matter that much because his cock was long and he knew what he was doing. With each deep, slow thrust, Minghao manages to let the tip of his cock push against your g-spot.

Finally, you take a deep breath and the tears he had hoped to see slip from your eyes start to stream along your temples once again. Minghao groans your name at the sight. He feels his stomach tighten, his pace picking up, and the sound of skin meeting skin loudly bouncing around the room.

Licking his lips Jun tries to swallow, but his mouth is so dry he can only groan, shifting on the bed, wanting to get closer to you. He wanted to be patient, but one more sobbing moan slipped between your pretty lips as he tugged on the bed so he could lean on his arm next to you. He was so thirsty, but looking at you, he knew that you’d somehow take care of it all.

Familiar fingers tighten around your jaw, turning your head to the left as you open your eyes. Meeting Jun’s intense gaze, you whimper his name as Minghao thrusts into the hardest that he had the entire night. Your orgasm rips through your body as Jun’s lips brush over your lips. He works his kisses towards your lips with a groan as Minghao’s fingers bruise your ass with how hard he holds you.

Leaning his head back, Minghao curses into a groan, feeling you clench around him. You were so tight, it was hard to move. Now he had to work that much harder to fuck you the way he wanted to; you were driving him to the point that he was going to follow you right over that edge.

Groaning your name, Minghao watches Jun lay back, a smirk on the man’s lips after the rough kiss. The moment your eyes meet his, Minghao loses any control he once had. His movement becomes messy, each thrust deep and hard as he cums hard, wishing the condom keeping him separated from you was gone.

Trying to catch his breath, Minghao moves your legs down and around his hips as he lays over you. You gasp, feeling his hips roll towards you so that his cock is as deep as he can possibly be before he comes to a stop. You smile against Minghao’s lips, your nails pressing into the back of his biceps when he nips at your lips before slowly pulling back from you.

The absence of Minghao sends a shiver through your body. Chill bumps spread along your skin and Jun smiles, running his fingers along your collarbone, marveling at the sight as Minghao moves off the bed. You were all his again. Jun was trying to give you a moment to come down from your orgasm, but the more his eyes moved over your body, the more he felt like he was going crazy.

Sliding over the bed, Jun smirks at hearing you sigh out his name. Leaning down, he presses his lips to your stomach, his hand pushing your hip back down as you try to arch off the bed towards him.

“You just got fucked and you are still acting like a bitch in heat.”

Your cheeks burn as Jun degrades you, his eyes meeting yours from between your legs. You can’t help the chill that runs through your body at how intense he looks, his eyes darker from how dilated his pupils are and how hungry he looks. Fingers scratch over your soft skin, as Jun sits back on his knees, his hands finally resting on your hips, his eyes still locked with yours.

"Kitten, you are always so fucking pretty. Have I told you that?”

Starting to look away, you hear Jun tsk in warning so you keep your eyes on him. The bed sinks beside you as Minghao lays back, resting on his elbow, watching intently. He knew Jun had been waiting for this moment and he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t been waiting for it a bit himself. He enjoyed watching.

“It’s true. I used to watch you all the time at the bar, but this... baby, you are the prettiest when you are on your back for me.”

Your lips part at Jun’s words and his confession. You hadn’t noticed him looking at you, but you had also kept your head down. You had tried for months to keep yourself off his shit list, when perhaps you should have been enjoying his eyes moving over your body.

Seeing the realization clicking in your eyes, Jun laughs and lifts his hand, rubbing at his nose as he shakes his head, feeling it spinning. He needed to do something with all of this pent up energy and you were right here, waiting to get fucked again. He had promised to fuck you hard, and he planned on keeping that promise.

Leaning over you, Jun slides your hands up the bed, grinning down at you as he lifts his brow at your reaction. You wanted to touch him and he knew it. You had been the same way in his office, but he wasn’t ready to give you what you wanted. This was still his house and you were his to use as he saw fit.

“Hold her arms.”

You look up as Minghao’s hands take the place of Jun's, pinning your wrists to the bed. Giving a small test tug just to see if Minghao would let you go, you pout when he shakes his head at you, keeping a firm grip. Your attention is brought back to Jun when his hands pull your legs up so that your ass rests on his thighs, your knee almost at his hips.

Biting at his bottom lip, Jun moves his hand from your hip to his shaft, pushing himself down so that his tip rubs between your wet, swollen folds on the way to your waiting entrance. Warmth wraps around him as Jun rolls his hips to meet yours. At first he keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, but watching you arch off the bed, trying to roll your hips down to take more of him, does something to Jun. The corners of his lips pull up into a cocky smirk as he uses his hand still on your hip to pull you down over him like a toy.

The stretch of taking Jun reminds you just how much bigger he is than Minghao. Gasping through a moan, you try to scratch at Minghao’s hands as Jun continues to move you over his cock, harder and faster. You feel your brain start to go fuzzy, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let him use you and you just let go completely.

Whimpered groans slip between Jun’s lips as his jaw tightens almost to the point where it’s painful as he clenches his teeth, feeling his climax right on the edge of a cliff. It’s as if he is looking over at the rocks as waves crash over them, but your velvet walls are sucking him back in, keeping him warm, and pushing him to hold out longer.

“So fucking good. Baby, you’re perfect. Gonna cum for Daddy?”

Nodding, you tug at Minghao’s hands as your eyes move over Jun’s torso and his hands as they rest on your waist. You want nothing more than to grab at his skin and feel him under your fingertips but Minghao holds you tight. Sobbing into a moan, you arch your back off the bed and push down over Jun’s cock as you cum around him. Your mouth falls open and your body is completely pliable when your brain goes blank during your orgasm, just a toy for Jun to take his cum.

His eyes move over your body, your skin glistening with sweat as soft moans slip out of your mouth and into the air like the most beautiful song he has ever heard. Jun shakes his head, feeling himself starting to lose momentum as he fills you with his cum. His hands start to shake against your hips with a few final hard thrusts that send you towards Minghao. Falling over your body, Jun whispers your name against your ear, a smile on his lips when he feels you nod, letting him know you are okay.

Letting go of your hands, Minghao watches you weakly move them to Jun. He furrows his brows, following your fingers through Jun’s hair and over his shoulders as you hold the man laying on top of you. You had been gentle with him after he had fucked you, but this was different. You were tender with Jun and he was the same with you. Suddenly, Minghao was feeling like he was intruding somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

Swallowing hard, Jun groans, his head starting to ache as the high that he had been riding starts to crash. Rolling off of you, he sighs, lifting his hand to run it over his face as you watch him concerned. You turn on your side carefully observing him as he licks his lips and makes a face like he’s tasted something bad in the air, his eyes still closed.

“His mouth is probably dry as fuck.”

Furrowing your brows, you look up at Minghao as he leans back against the headboard. You didn’t know anything about what Jun had taken, but clearly he did. Sighing softly, Minghao slips off the bed and out of the room towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Jun, wondering if you need to get up and get him some water, when Minghao comes back into the room with a bottle of water, making your chest tighten. Clearly, he had done this before.

Sitting up, you reach out for the water, taking it from Minghao. Making an unsure sound, you look at Jun lying flat on the bed and Minghao chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“Let me move him into the bed and get his head on the pillows. He’s gonna pass out, but... he’s fine, alright?”

You weren’t so sure, but you just nodded, trying your best to help Minghao move the larger man up in the bed. You take charge of pulling the sheets from under him and placing them over his body as Minghao adjusts a pillow under his friend’s neck. Pouting to yourself, you open the bottle of water as you lean over Jun, putting the bottle to his lips and letting him take sips of the water. Your eyes meet Minghao’s a few times before you finally smile and let out a slow, long breath.

“Thanks. I guess I’m kinda useless when it comes to this.”

Shaking his head, Minghao moves to the dresser, taking out a pair of spare pajama pants and slipping them on as he glances back at you and Jun. He knew he could just leave, but he didn’t want to. You looked like a lost bird and Jun could be a bit unpredictable coming down. No, he’d stay, at least until he knew that you’d both be okay without him.

Sitting back on the side of the bed near you, Minghao leans down to pick up his cell phone that had fallen out of his jeans to read over a few missed texts as you fuss over Jun. At least nothing had burned down, metaphorically or physically, in the time he and Jun had been busy.

You look up at him curiously, hearing a sigh of relief before your eyes move to his phone, watching his thumbs move over it quickly. You knew there was more going on than Jun was willing to tell you, but Minghao was a bit more forthcoming. Of course, that had been before the apartment fiasco and getting his ass chewed out by Jun, but maybe if you approached it right...

“He’s been so stressed out. I guess this was good for him. Ya know, to just let go? Not worry about the bar, all the shit that’s going on there.”

Lifting his brows, Minghao scoffs, thinking your words were an understatement. Writing one more reply to Mingyu, he sighs and glances over to you as you put the lid back on the water, putting it on the nightstand, as Jun snores quietly beside the two of you.

“Mm, yeah. He doesn’t do shit like this often. He doesn’t go crazy with it either, but shit has been fucked up lately.”

Nodding, you run your fingers over Jun’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead, before sliding off the bed, feeling Minghao’s eyes following you. Gesturing towards the door, you smile and tilt your head to the side.

“I’m gonna get some clothes and something to eat. You wanna join me?”

Giving one last glance to Jun as he sleeps a bit restlessly, Minghao frowns before giving you a nod. He could hear his stomach growling and he could use some water himself after everything that had happened.

Slipping one of Jun’s shirts over your head, you feel the end of it rest just under where your shorts end. You stretch your arms as you move back into the kitchen to find Minghao sitting at the island, his head turned back towards the guest room where Jun was sleeping. From where he was sitting, with the door open, he could keep an eye on him. You feel your lips pull up into a smile before you force yourself to relax and clear your throat. You loved how close he and Jun clearly were. You had never noticed it before, but there was something about fucking them both that made it easier to see.

Looking over to you as you clear your throat, Minghao gives you a half smile, lifting a fresh bottle of water to his lips as his eyes move over you from head to toe. He knew you were wearing Jun’s clothes, but he didn’t hate it. You looked cute in them.

"So, what’s for dinner?”

Your lips pull back up in a smile as you turn towards the fridge, opening it up so you can lean against it looking at the choices. Taking out the milk, you show it to Minghao before reaching up for a box of cereal. You watch the man’s half smile turn into a full grin before he laughs and nods approvingly at your choice.

“Alright, chef.”

Cereal is in front of you and Minghao, and you join him in occasional glances towards the guest room. The restlessness that had been evident before seemed to have calmed as Jun lay on his back, one arm across his stomach, the other threatening to fall off the side of the bed. Minghao watches you for a moment, bringing his spoon to his lips to take a bite of his cereal as your brows furrow watching Jun.

“You’re whipped.”

Your cheeks burn hearing Minghao’s words, even muffled by food as he chews. Meeting his eyes, you scoff and shake your head, trying to play off how you feel, but even you know that you feel something for Jun. If you didn't, you wouldn’t let him keep you “safe” and in the dark.

“Whatever… He grew on me.”

Smirking, Minghao rests his spoon against his lips before sighing as you take a bite of your own cereal, eating it quietly. He starts to let his guard down before your next words cause him to take a deep breath and his eyes to fall back down to his bowl.

“Minghao? Tell me what’s going on. What happened today? Please?”

He knew he could tell you no. He knew he could tell you to ask Jun, but he also knew Jun wouldn’t tell you. He knew that Jun would tell you that it was safer not knowing, but Minghao was starting to wonder if that was true. You not knowing was going to make you complacent. Not knowing is what made you walk up to the idiots in the bar the way you did in the first place. Being in the dark about everything is what made you feel safe enough to walk to your car alone after saying what you did to them.

“Uh… he—fuck, Y/N. He’s gonna kick my ass, but listen, alright? I think you should know. It’s better to know what you are up against so you can avoid it.”

Your brows furrow as you lean towards Minghao, waiting for him to continue. You weren’t sure if you agreed with his logic any more than you agreed with Jun’s. They both wanted to treat you like some little lamb. Yes, you had been terrified after what had happened to you in the parking lot, but after what had happened to your apartment and what you were seeing happening to Jun, you were pissed. You needed to understand it before you could really see it. Your eyes couldn’t be closed anymore.

“I’ll deal with Jun. I do need to know. It involves me, but it’s also fucking everything up. I fucked it all up.”

Reaching out to take your wrist into his hand, Minghao is quick to shake his head. His eyes fall to where his thumb glides over your skin at your pulse point. He knew he shouldn’t be touching you while Jun was asleep, but after what had just happened in bed with you, he felt maybe he could get by with just a little.

“You didn’t, doll. It wasn’t your—shit… I won’t lie. You shouldn’t have gone up to those fuckers without knowing who and what they could do, but that doesn’t make this your fault.” Minghao sighs into his words as you turn your hand in his, letting him have better access to your skin. “Jun met with their boss today. That’s the man who wants your head on a stick. He blames you for three of his idiots not walking around today.”

You try to picture Jun meeting with someone who could be in charge of the men who had attacked you and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. Anyone who could be worse than those men... you didn’t want someone around Jun, you didn’t want him around Minghao, and you didn’t want him around the bar. The thought passes through your head, but then you remember that Jun is just as frightening.

"I—well, he’s not wrong, but why did Jun—”

“Fuck that, Y/N!” Looking over to where Jun turns in bed when he raises his voice, Minghao furrows his brows and lowers his voice before continuing. “No, they would have gotten into some shit and ended up the same way on their own with or without what happened that night. It was just a matter of time.”

Sighing, you just nod, closing your fingers around Minghao’s. You knew he was probably right, but it still didn’t change how you felt. It was getting easier for you to understand that people died around Jun and Minghao. You understood that they were probably going to die around you if you stayed in this world. You just needed to understand why. Tilting your head, you lift your other hand, gesturing for Minghao to continue getting a nod.

“Anyway, he met with him. His name is Park Bonhwa. Don’t look him up; don’t look for him. I’ll know if you do.”

As if reading your mind, the warning makes you sit up as Minghao’s eyes meet yours. You can only press your lips together as his eyes search yours, waiting for you to nod. Only when he is satisfied that you understand does he look back towards Jun and continue with his story.

“You know he took Wonwoo, the lawyer. I know Mingyu was there; that’s how I know most of this. I just know it went bad. Wonwoo got hurt, but he’s alright. He’s alive…”

Your hand tightens around Minghao’s and he sighs, knowing that piece of information would make you upset. You didn’t even know Wonwoo, but you were a caring person. That was why he wanted you to avoid all this, and that was why Jun shut your eyes.

“Jun beat the shit out of Bonhwa and Mingyu threw his ass out. They warned him to leave you alone and I think he got the message.”

Looking in the direction of Jun, you remember how red and swollen his knuckles were when he came home from the bar. You remember the dried blood and cracked skin and your stomach tightens. While you feel some fear for Jun, you also feel a sense of pride knowing that he was not only doing it for you but also defending Wonwoo.

“And Wonwoo? Is he okay?”

Smiling to one side, Minghao shakes his head when your first question isn’t about Park Bonhwa or about how they know he will stay away, but instead about your concern for Wonwoo’s health. Your kind heart shows through the tough exterior you were trying to build.

“He’s alright. Mingyu took him to Jun’s doctor. Got him patched up, and I’m pretty sure he’s on a retreat so he can heal.”

Lifting your brows, you try to imagine what Minghao means by his last words. You knew it had something to do with Jun and that the lawyer was probably somewhere very nice and being taken care of very well. The idea of that makes you feel much better about the situation.

“That’s good. I’m glad he’s being taken care of. I’d like to see him again once he’s feeling better.”

Sliding his fingers along your palm, Minghao chuckles under his breath as he leans back in the bar stool chair before nodding.

“I’m sure he’ll be around the bar in a couple months.”

Meeting his eyes, you smile, having had so many of your questions answered. You still feel a weight on your chest that Jun wasn’t the one to tell you, but the strength of knowing lets you breathe. Leaning forward, you feel Minghao freeze when your lips brush over his. At first, he doesn’t kiss you back until you meet his eyes at such a close distance and he knows you won’t take no for an answer.

Your lips press against Minghao’s and you take in a deep breath through your nose when his fingers slide back over your hand to wrap around your wrist. The kiss is tender; it takes your breath away, but it is brief. When Minghao pulls away, you almost pout, but upon meeting his eyes, you know that he feels the same way.

“Thank you for telling me everything, Minghao.”

Minghao takes a deep breath to calm his nerves as he nods. He didn’t regret telling you, but he was already mentally preparing himself for the lashing he was bound to receive the following day.

Jun’s head was busting, but turning to his side, he couldn’t help smiling. You were sleeping next to him. He was still in the guest room, and that meant you had chosen to sleep beside him. You could have gone to the bedroom the two of you had been sharing since he had brought you to his penthouse, but you had laid down beside him instead.

You were beautiful. He had told you that many times, but today more so. The light from the window on this side of the building was able to peek through the blinds and it was playing against your skin. Jun furrowed his brows, letting his eyes follow the rays of light as they danced where he wanted to run his fingers.

While he didn’t regret the night before, he knew that it would be hard to share you again. It would be a rare thing to let anyone else—Minghao included—be that close to you. Taking a deep breath, Jun scoots closer to you, lifting his hand to very carefully brush his index finger along your cheek. He smiles again, watching how your face scrunches up at the feeling. He wasn’t really trying to wake you up, but that desire to touch you was too much. He knew what he was feeling, but he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. He had never felt like this about anyone else before.

You whine in your sleep, feeling yourself starting to wake up as Jun’s fingers move over your hair. It was a nice way to wake up. He wasn’t rushing you. You were warm and you felt safe. Slowly, your eyes open, and you can’t help but smile when the first thing you see is Jun’s face so close to yours. It wasn’t a horrible way to start your day, and it was becoming something you looked forward to.

“Morning.”

Humming in response, Jun traces the shape of your ear as he swallows hard, feeling how dry his mouth was. He couldn’t stay with you much longer like this, no matter if he wanted to or not. He needed something to drink and his stomach was growling to the point that your eyes were glancing down at the bed. Watching your smile turn into a laugh at the sound, Jun shakes his head, leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead before sitting up with a groan. He was sore. His hands felt stiff. His knuckles almost needed to be forced to move as bruises had formed over the night.

Sitting up with Jun, you glance down at his hands before your pretty smile falls into a frown. Reaching for the hand closest to you, you take a breath, running your thumb over the cracked skin and hearing Jun wince. The adrenaline from the night before had made it easy for him to ignore the pain, but now it was evident—even if he wanted to pretend like he didn’t feel it.

“I don’t blame you for doing it, but you need to clean your hands better. I know he deserved to have his ass kicked.”

Jun’s brows furrow slowly as he lifts his head in confusion. Had he told you what happened while he was high? No, he hadn’t been that high. He would remember. Looking over at you, Jun pulls his hand from you, rubbing his knuckles hard as you sigh at him, unhappy that he is treating his hands with so little care.

“Who deserved it? I’m fine, Y/N. I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.”

Watching Jun slide out of bed, you furrow your brows knowing exactly what he was doing. He was trying to hide things from you again. You thought if you caught him off guard with what you knew he would just tell you, not needing to be prompted to do it, but instead he was just lying.

Following behind him, you cross your arms as Jun opens the fridge harder than necessary to take out a bottle of water. Tossing the lid on to the kitchen island, he meets your eyes as he quickly drains the bottle and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He could see you were upset with him, but he wasn’t pleased with you. He was trying to figure out how you could know anything, but the more he thought about it, only one person came to mind, Minghao.

“I’m not doing this.”

Shaking his head, Jun watches you scoff, your eyes rolling as he turns towards the bedroom. Your eyes move over his bare body, noticing scars that you had either ignored before or hadn’t taken the time to really look at. Now your eyes were open and you were seeing everything. He had been through a lot more than you could ever really understand, but you wanted to.

Jun tugs open his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants, not looking at you as you follow him into the room. He had a feeling you weren’t going to give up, but that still didn’t mean he was going to tell you anything. The only thing on Jun’s mind was how badly he wanted to kick Minghao’s ass.

Standing behind Jun, you watch him pull the pants up to his hips before you reach out to run your fingers over his hip, your index finger tracing a long scar. You find yourself wondering if the scar was from something as simple as an accident or if someone else had given it to him. The line was jagged and the more your imagination got away from you, you could almost picture it being made by a knife. A chill runs through your body, and your hand shakes as Jun’s hand rests over yours.

“I want you to tell me things, Jun. I need to know what’s going on. I still work at the bar. I can’t sit in this fucking penthouse for the rest of my life.”

Fingers tighten around yours as Jun scoffs. You were infuriating. Shaking his head, Jun turns to face you, dropping your hand as he walks towards you, watching you take a step back.

“And why the fuck not? Do you seriously still not get it? If you are so goddamn smart and you think you already know so much because your buddy Minghao has given you all the details—”

Jun stops for a moment when he sees your brows furrow, tears starting to coat your eyes. He knew he was upsetting you, but maybe that’s what it was going to take. Leaning down to take both your wrists to keep you in front of him, Jun meets your eyes.

“You don’t know shit. He barely knows what the fuck he’s talking about, Y/N. You are safe here! In these walls. I don’t want you at the bar!”

Tugging your arms in Jun’s grasp, you feel your anger rising. The tears that had started to collect in your eyes spill over onto your cheeks from frustration when he keeps a firm grip not letting you get your way.

“I–Jun! Let me go. What do you mean, you don’t want me there? I work there! You hired me to work there. I have to understand what—”

“Fine! You’re fired!”

You stop struggling and stand in front of Jun in shock when he cuts you off. You knew that he didn’t want to explain things to you and that he wanted to protect you but you never thought he would go as far as to fire you. You were good at your job. You loved working with the people at the bar. You weren’t close with your family so over time they had become like your family, and now Jun was keeping you from them.

Jun watches anger turn to pain on your face as your tears flow more freely down your face. His heart was aching, but he needed to make you understand his way. Yes, Park Bonhwa had hopefully gotten his message, but he also knew that every single one of his men had your face in their hands. It terrified him because he lov— no, he couldn’t even think about it.

“What did you just say to me?”

Swallowing hard, Jun loosens his grip on you, trying to get his own footing as you make him repeat himself. It was harder the second time.

“I–I said, you’re fired, Y/N.”

Jerking your arms from Jun’s grasp, you pull from him as he watches, running his fingers through his hair as you start to move through the bedroom, picking up bits and pieces of your clothing. His heart was pounding in his chest; this hadn’t been what he wanted. He didn’t want you at the bar, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want or need you here.

“Wait… baby. What—no. What are you doing?”

Jun’s hand pulls at your wrist as you push your things into the bag that Minghao had brought for you the first night you had been brought to the penthouse. Pulling away from him again, you hear Jun’s breath get caught in his throat—almost the sound of a choked sob—but you don’t look at him. You were too busy blinking away your own tears and making up your mind.

“I’m packing, Mr. Wen. What does it look like?”

Hearing you call him Mr. Wen cuts like a knife. Groaning under his breath, Jun shakes his head and reaches for your bag this time, only for you to meet his eyes and for that look to stop him in his tracks. You looked furious and hurt.

“If I’m no longer your employee, you have no fucking reason to make me stay. I can walk out the door. I don’t have any ties to you.”

That was worse than his name. You were twisting the knife. Jun wasn’t sure if you knew how he felt about you, but those words were breaking him. Pulling your bag over your shoulder, you try to push past Jun, tears dripping from your cheeks as he pulls you back against his chest, wrapping his arm around your chest.

“You don’t have anywhere to go. Don’t do this, please? I—I’m sorry. I need…”

Jun’s voice trails off and you feel his fingers tremble against your shoulder. You knew you could probably pull his arm down and away from you, but leaning back against his chest, you could feel his body shake. You had never seen or heard Jun cry. There was no way he was crying over you.

“I can figure out somewhere to go.” Trying to look back at him, you see Jun close his eyes, turning his face away from you as if he’s hiding something. “What do you need? Finish the sentence.”

Groaning, Jun lets you go, feeling you turn your body towards him. He was trying to keep his emotions in check, but his cheeks were wet. You can’t stop yourself from frowning, you have to fight yourself to keep your hands at your sides as the urge to wipe the tears from his cheeks becomes strong. You were shocked to see him crying; it was breaking your heart, but it wasn’t going to change your mind, not if Jun couldn’t finish what he had started to say.

“I–I need you. I need you to stay here.”

The first part of Jun’s explanation makes your head feel light, almost as if you are going to faint. You take a breath to steady yourself. You had never been needed by anyone, especially not by someone like Wen Junhui, but hearing him admit it made you feel weak in the knees. The second part made your brows furrow, that seemed like what he had been saying over and over again.

“I can’t just live inside this penthouse for the rest of my life and not be able to go—”

“No, no, I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. Please, let me explain.”

Jun’s eyes open, and his hands move to cautiously hold your arms as if he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him. This time he doesn’t force you to stand in front of him, but he guides you to stay watching and nod so he can continue.

“I’m so fucking scared someone will hurt you and I won’t be there to stop it. I thought—I was hoping that by keeping you inside the house, you’d be safe and happy.”

Your head tilts, your eyes narrow, and Jun lets out a whining groan, knowing that he is wrong.

“I know; I see it now. You aren’t happy—not happy like I wanted. I just get so fucking obsessed with wanting to keep you safe because—well, because…”

Lifting your brow, you watch Jun struggle with his words. He had always been so well spoken at the bar, even when he was yelling at someone. You had never seen him so tongue tied and unable to get his words to connect from his brain to his mouth. Shifting in his hands, you lift your hand to finally wipe at one of his cheeks with your thumb, and Jun almost melts at your touch. Leaning into your hand, he closes his eyes and lets out a soft, content sound, happy to feel your hand on his skin. He knows what he wants to say and what he needs to say, but it’s terrifying.

“Just say it, Jun. This is what is driving me crazy. I can’t live my life around you if you don’t tell me what’s going on. I can’t read your mind. I can’t understand things if I’m not told.”

Nodding, Jun’s hand gently wraps around your wrist so he can turn your hand in his leaning to press his lips to the heel of your hand. This was going to change everything. You were changing everything. Jun’s entire worldview was on its head because of some innocent girl that he thought was cute and he decided to hire her. He just had to go and fall in love with you.

“I’ll do better. I promise. Give me a chance. Don’t leave me. You can come back to the bar. I need you.”

There was still so much left unsaid, but you were getting the feeling that they were words that he needed time to process and to say. The words that he was able to say were enough to make your shoulders relax and for you to nod. You just wanted to compromise with him. You weren’t trying to rebuild his entire world; you were just trying to be part of it.

Moving his hands to either side of your face, Jun furrows his brows, watching your expression. Your eyes stay locked on his and Jun finally lets out a breath, not seeing any sign that you were going to pull away from him again. Leaning forward, he pushes his lips against yours, gently letting the kiss hopefully say everything he can’t seem to get out.

The kiss is different. Jun doesn’t rush. Instead, his thumbs brush against your cheeks as his tongue glides along yours slowly. You find yourself having to wrap your fingers around his wrists to keep yourself steady as your head once again feels woozy. When you sway in his arms, Jun furrows his brows, only then pulling back to look at you to see your eyes still closed and your lips barely parted, waiting for another kiss. Smiling, he brushes his lips back against yours before pulling your bag from your shoulder and letting it fall to the floor as he walks you backward towards the bed.

The back of your legs hit the bed before you feel Jun lay you back on the bed. His hand behind your head doesn’t let you fall; he rests one knee against the mattress as he lowers you down, making sure you never slip from his hold. Whispering his name, you start to slide your hands along Jun’s chest as he hovers above you, but remembering how every time you had been with him, he hadn’t let you touch him, you pause.

Jun furrows his brows, seeing the uncertainty in your eyes and the way your voice wavers. There was something intimate about having someone touch you. That had been why he hadn’t wanted your hands on him often. He liked you too much. He had been falling in love with you too quickly and it scared the shit out of him. If he kept your hands off his skin as much as possible as he fucked you into a mattress or on top of his desk, then he couldn’t feel as connected to you.

Looking at you now, as you lay under him, your lips parted as you took deep breaths. All Jun wants is your hands on him. Reaching for your hand, Jun lifts it and puts your palm against his chest, near his heart. You feel it beating hard and fast in his chest, almost faster than yours. Your eyes fall to where your fingers rest over Jun’s skin as you carefully move your hand before bringing your other hand up to run it along his side. You could really see each scar now; you could trace them with your fingers, but you could also count each mole and freckle. You were able to appreciate how beautiful Jun was without being told not to touch him or being rushed to do something else.

Licking his lips, Jun feels chill bumps spread along his skin under your touch. You were being gentle, almost as if you were afraid he was going to make you stop. That wouldn’t happen again. He was yours just as much as he claims you as his own now. He should tell you that, Jun thinks to himself as his thumb glides under the borrowed shirt that had ridden up on your torso. Shaking his head to himself, he just smiles instead and meets your eyes before pressing his lips to yours once again, his hips rutting against yours, begging for relief.

You had fallen for this man. You were breathless from his kiss and the way his mouth felt on your skin. You hadn’t let yourself admit it, not even when Minghao teased you, but as Jun’s kisses trailed along your jaw to your neck, you knew it was true. You couldn’t see yourself anywhere else but with him now.

“Wanna do this forever.”

Jun’s words make you clench around nothing; your thighs tighten around his hips. Groaning next to your ear at your reaction, Jun scratches his fingers up under your shirt, pushing it up your chest. If this were any other day, he would have already had you naked and split you open with his cock, but not this time. Jun didn’t make love, but he did this time. He would make love to you.

“Sound so pretty. Sound like an angel, kitten.”

Whimpering as Jun speaks, you lean your head back, scratching your nails lightly over his shoulders and feeling his fingers massage at your breasts. This was better than any other time that he had fucked you. Yes, all the other times had felt great, but you were already so wet that you were uncomfortable and Jun had barely touched you.

“Don’t tease. Please, not today, Junnie.”

The name slips out of your mouth before you even think about it. Pressing your lips together, you wait for Jun to get upset or have at least a negative reaction, but instead he leans back to look down at you, a smile on his lips. Leaning down, Jun pecks at your lips as his brows furrow curiously.

“Call me that again.”

Licking your lips, you watch Jun lean back, his hands pulling the shirt up and over your head so he can toss it behind him.

“Junnie…”

Chuckling under his breath, Jun shakes his head at how much he enjoys the sweet name on your lips. He hated nicknames and most pet names. They were degrading to someone of his standing, but this one coming out of your mouth made his chest feel light.

You sigh happily when Jun’s lips brush over the top of your breast, his kisses moving slowly over your skin until he reaches your nipple. Lacing your fingers through his hair, your grip gets tighter when Jun’s tongue laps at your nipple, causing it to harden. So much of your time with Jun has been centered on him. Anything he had done at the end of the day had been to prepare you to take him, but now he was taking his time, almost worshiping you as he worked his way from one breast to the other.

“Ah… feels good.”

Grazing his teeth over your pebbled nipple, Jun smiles when you arch your chest towards his mouth. He hadn’t been lying when he said you sounded like an angel. Every moan and whimper out of your mouth was driving him crazy. He could feel himself leaking against the front of his sweatpants as he worked his kisses lower, over your stomach, and down to where your panties sat low on your hips.

Glancing up at you, Jun watches you lift your hand to brush your fingers at your lips, trying to be quieter, only to fail to feel his warm breath fan across your panties. He didn’t want you to be quiet and he had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to once he got started.

Using his index finger, Jun tugs your panties to the side, marveling at how wet your folds are. Carefully, he separates your lips using his thumb, letting out a soft groan as his eyes move from your clit down to your clenching hole. He knew how good it felt to be inside of you, and he wanted that more than anything, but he could be patient. Today, for you, he could do just about anything.

When Jun’s tongue glides between your folds, you almost start to cry. Tears of pleasure sit on the rims of your eyes as you scratch the bedding under your hands. The warmth of his mouth, mixed with the fact that he clearly knows what he is doing, is enough to make you see stars.

Stiffening his tongue, Jun wraps one arm under your leg, pulling you closer to his mouth as he furrows his brows to your taste. Pushing his tongue into you, he can’t help the deep groan that escapes his mouth and causes his mouth to almost vibrate against your pussy. Muttering fuck, against your folds, Jun shakes his head as he leans back to spit on your already soaking folds. Watching his spit drip down your skin, he smirks and is right back to what he was doing, his lips and tongue moving over your clit, making your thighs shake.

When you cum, you don’t have time to warn Jun. You only have enough time to push your fingers into his hair and hold him tighter between your legs as you cry out in pleasure. Letting go of his head, you start to apologize when you feel Jun laugh, his lips pressing against your thigh. Shaking his head, he groans and turns his attention back to your pussy. Jun can feel your thighs shaking around his head as he laps at the cum dripping from you but he only stops when you whine and tell him it’s too much.

"Sorry, baby, you taste so good. I should have done that earlier.”

Covering your face, you feel your cheeks burning under his attention. Fingers work your soaked panties down your legs before Jun kicks his sweatpants off and to the side. Gently, he moves your hand from your face as he settles back between your legs, resting on top of you. He knew that you were shy, but, in his opinion, you had nothing to be shy about.

Taking your hand in his, Jun presses his lips to the tips of your fingers before leaning to capture your lips with his own. You sigh into the kiss, only for the sigh to turn into a moan when you feel Jun push the head of his cock against your pussy. You are so wet that he slips in with much more ease than any time before, but the stretch still makes you tense up at first.

Resting his forehead against yours, Jun groans your name quietly as he thrusts into you with slow and steady movements. You had gotten used to him being rough and quick, but now you were feeling every inch of him as he pressed his hips flush with yours with every thrust. Mouth falling open with a breathless moan, you close your eyes tightly, and Jun can only nod in agreement as you clench around him tightly.

“Fuck, so perfect. Want you to be mine, kitten. I just—” Groaning, Jun buries his head against your neck, kissing up to your ear before he finally speaks again and says what he had been so afraid to say. “I just love you so fucking much.”

The words both shock you and send you over the edge. Clinging to Jun, you gasp his name in a loud moan as he kisses your neck, letting you roll your hips over him to ride out your orgasm. Throwing your head back, your brows furrowed tightly, you watch as Jun follows your same patch a few moments later. Pushing back on his hand so that he isn’t laying on top of you, Jun holds your hip tightly with his free hand as he thrusts into you once more hard, filling you full of his cum.

Moments pass silently, just quickened breath as you and Jun come down from your climax. You brush your fingers over his forehead, pushing his hair back from where it sticks to his damp skin as he licks his lips. Finally meeting your eyes, Jun almost looks shy, knowing you heard what he said. It wasn’t as if he had said it quietly and been in your ear. Seeming to know what the look is for, you smile and trail your fingers along the side of his face, stopping to brush your thumb over his lips, feeling him kiss the pad of your finger.

“It scares me, but I love you too.”

Jun furrows his brows at your wording. He could understand it. His world was a lot. You had already been hurt and seen or heard about others being hurt. It wouldn’t surprise him if you told him you never wanted to see him again after he kept you locked in his penthouse like some princess he wanted to keep away from the world. Instead, you were saying it back to him and his heart was racing so hard that he was afraid it might explode.

“I—yeah? I mean, I’m scared shitless. So fucking scared. I’ve never said that to anyone before. I don’t wanna fuc—”

Sensing Jun was rambling, you laugh and lean up on your elbows a few inches to press your lips to his to stop him before he really gets started. Jun’s lips pull up at the sides in a smile before he really lets himself give into the kiss. Turning on to the side, Jun pulls you with him, feeling his softening cock slip from you, knowing it would cause a mess, but he couldn’t find a reason to care as long as you were in his arms and his lips were on yours.

After a few moments, you are the first to wrinkle your nose, and the sticky feeling becomes unbearable. Pulling back from the kiss, you watch Jun pout and lean his head to the side like a puppy being disciplined. Shaking your head, you smile, and your cheeks once again heat up at how sweet he was acting around you after all of the tough guy acts you had seen over the months of knowing him.

“Um, we—well I need a shower.”

Gesturing down at your body, Jun follows your fingers with his eyes before pursing his lips. He knew you were right, but that didn’t make it any less bothersome. If you needed a shower, he was coming with you. When you gasp next to his ear, feeling Jun’s hands lifting you from the bed to carry you towards the bathroom, he just grins and meets your eyes.

“What? I thought you needed a shower. I need one too.”

Sighing, you kick your legs a bit as if that should answer your question, but Jun leans to nip at your jaw before sitting you on the counter. Looking around the bathroom as Jun turns on the shower, you find yourself remembering the first night you had been in the penthouse and how this was mildly similar to it. You felt much better, but Jun was still taking care of you. He was starting your shower and keeping a watchful eye on you.

“Thank you, Jun.”

Humming out a confused sound, Jun looks at you as he turns back from the shower, testing the water on his fingers. The look on your face makes his smile drop a bit before he moves back towards you, stepping between your thighs. He could see there was something on your mind.

“For what? What’s wrong?”

Looking around, you shake your head and enjoy the feeling of his hands running along your arms.

“For protecting me, bringing me here, and now for trusting me that I can handle it.”

Jun sighs and leans his head towards you so his forehead can rest against yours. It was a terrifying thought, letting you into his world completely, but he knew you weren’t going to give up. He would just keep you safer by his side. Teach you how to protect yourself until he was sure you could do it.

“Mm, thank you for staying.”

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