#you harden your heart against love and affection and its painful its so fucking lonely and PAINFUL

[joni-witchell]

And like...the gag is...I hang around the edges of other people's lives like the stinking corpse of a dead animal. 🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂

[hhjs]

love or lack thereof.

pairing  — felix x reader

genre / trope  — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k 

warnings  — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences. 

note  — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him. 

 “I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know. 

“Did he make you laugh?” 

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say, 

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually. 

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.”  You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

[httpjeon]

05. hot bot: fear ― jimin (m.)

jimin/reader | android!au, hot bot!au | fluff, smut, angst

wordcount: 5.2k

contents: implied character death, dry humping, cumming in pants, lots of fluffy forehead kisses, lots of kissing in general, blood mention, arguments, praise kink, pet names, multiple orgasms, actually pretty soft sex, alcohol mention, light depressive elements

― synopsis: fear is primal and causes one to make stupid decisions.

note: there’s a hint to something in here. what could it be?

blog masterlist ― hot bot masterlist

© httpjeon 2019. do not modify or repost.

You sighed as you jammed the key into the lock of your apartment, the door banging against the wall as you shoved it open with your foot — unable to stop it as your hands were full of groceries.

"_____!" Jimin grinned, feet slapping against the wooden floors as he jogged up to you. "Welcome home, did you get it?"

"Yes Jimin," You giggled, rolling your eyes. "I got the coffee ice cream you asked for."

"You're the best!" He muttered, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a quick kiss. "Here, I'll help you."

"Thanks, my fingers were going numb," You sighed, letting him take a couple of the heavier bags from your hands.

Living on the 4th floor of an apartment complex definitely had its downsides; one of them being you either had to carry all the grocery bags up at once or make 40 trips up and down.

The two of you piled into the kitchen, falling into a comfortable silence as you both easily maneuvered around each other to put things away. Jimin took all the spare bags and stuffed them underneath the sink and before long everything was put away and clean.

"I'm going to take a quick shower before work," Jimin mumbled, kissing your cheek before jogging down the hallway. The sound of the bathroom signaled his departure and you were left alone.

You sighed, grabbing a granola bar before sitting down on the couch. It'd been a little over 6 months since you'd moved in with Jimin; he'd been looking for a roommate and you'd been looking for a place to live. The two of you easily clicked and fell into an easy friendship.

The friendship didn't last long, quickly blossoming into mutual crushes before he kissed you one night before he left to work the night shift at the bar. It had taken you by surprise and you could tell he was embarrassed by the way his ears burned red.

It was easy to love Jimin — he was sweet, funny, and incredibly loving. He wasn't ashamed to show his affection for you and never failed to make you feel wanted and cared for.

He was...perfect.

You hadn't realized Jimin was out of the shower until there was a gentle kiss on the top of your head. His sweet scented body wash wafted off of him and made you grin, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Don't work too hard, okay? Be safe," You smiled, leaning your head against the back of the couch to look up at him.

"Always," He whispered, kissing your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. "I'll miss you."

"You're such a sap," You whispered, puckering your lips for another kiss that he easily supplied. The taste of his toothpaste lingered on his lips and transferred to yours.

"Only a sap for you," He laughed, when his comment made you chuckle.

"Alright, I better hurry off before I'm late. I'll see you in the morning!"

You shouted your goodbye as he slipped his shoes on his feet. The click of the door was all you heard before you were left alone in the silence of the apartment.

Almost immediately, a strange sense of stillness set in and you mindlessly gazed around the living room.

Finally, you decided to turn on the TV, flipping through the channels to find something interesting to watch. Without Jimin at home, you were incredibly bored and lonely so the sound of the TV always helped fill the space with life; though, artificial life.

You were only up for another 2 hours before you decided to head to bed, curling up hugging Jimin's pillow as you dozed off — his scent providing soothing comfort in his absence.

You woke up with your head nestled against Jimin's chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart comforting. The sun was peeking through the blinds and you sat up with a groan. Looking over, you smiled at Jimin's open mouth as he slept — leaning down to kiss his forehead before crawling out of bed as gently as you could.

You easily fell into your daily rhythm, making breakfast for the two of you while he slept on. He'd most likely been asleep for 5 hours at most and definitely hadn't eaten anything when he got home. He was always in such a rush to crawl into bed and sleep with you in his arms that he didn't bother to eat beforehand. There were many times he'd awaken with low blood sugar that left him feeling like crap. No matter how many times you tried to convince him to eat before bed — he just wouldn't.

You made a simple two egg breakfast with bacon and some toast for the two of you. It was nothing special but Jimin always appreciated it regardless. Grabbing the jelly and butter from the refrigerator and putting them on the table (for Jimin and you respectively), you placed the pans in the sink before making your way back to the bedroom.

The door creaked softly as you opened it, revealing that Jimin had spread starfish over the bed with the sheets kicked down to his feet revealing his mismatched socks; one white and one blue.

"Jimin, baby," You cooed, sitting on the edge of the bed, running your hand through his hair until his eye popped open. "Come eat a little, alright?" "'Kay," He replied, voice raspy from sleep.

Before you had the chance to sit up, his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you on top of him. You gasped, catching yourself on your hands on either side of his head. He maneuvered you so you were straddling his hips and he sleepily smirked. Biting your lip, you could feel he was hard in his sweats beneath you.

His hand wrapped in your hair, tangling it around his fist as he yanked your lips down to meet his. You sighed into the kiss, welcoming his tongue into your mouth.

He gripped your hips, urging you to bring your weight even more on his hardened length. You were just wearing thin lounge shorts — no panties underneath which only allowed the feelings of him to be amplified. There was something dirty and incredible arousing about grinding against him like this. He groaned into your mouth as you moved your hips just the way he liked, applying perfect friction to his needy cock through the barrier of your clothing.

"Fuck..." He groaned, head flopping back against the pillow underneath his head.

You balanced your weight on his chest, speeding up your grinding against his cock. It twitched in his pants every time you applied pressure against the sensitive head. Jimin bit his lip, making them swollen and red — all the more kissable.

"You going to cum Jiminie?" You asked, cocking your head to the side when his eyes rolled back.

"Fuck yeah, you're gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn high schooler," He chuckled, blunt nails digging into your skin as he reached beneath your shirt to cup your bare breasts.

"Go ahead and cum," You whispered, reaching beneath yourself to slip your hand past the band of his sweats. His cock was hot and heavy in your hand — pulsing in time to his heartbeat.

A few quick strokes and he was spilling into your fist with a broken moan of your name. You continued to work him until he was trembling and softening in your grip. Pulling your hand out of his pants, you smirked as he licked his lips while eyeing your cum-soaked digits.

Meeting his dark gaze, you slipped your fingers into your mouth to clean his cum off them one by one until there was nothing left.

"Let me eat you out," He suddenly said, eyes traveling over the expanse of your body.

"No, your breakfast will get cold, come on," Shaking your head, you couldn't help but giggle as he whined when you got off of him.

As you sat down to eat your own breakfast, you heard the bedroom door open up indicating Jimin was finally joining you. He had to change his cum-soiled sweats in exchange for something clean before he could comfortably eat.

"How was work?" You asked once he finally sat down with a sigh.

"It was alright," He mumbled, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth. "One of the Androids broke down and that was a pain in the ass."

You hummed, swiping some butter over you toast before taking a bite. His eyes were locked on you and you did your best to ignore it.

"Seriously, _______," He sighed, making you stiffen as you already anticipated what he was about to say. "We should really invest in an Bot. You know Hot Bot Inc. has those all purpose Help Bots!"

"No Jimin, I told you already I don't feel comfortable having one!" You snapped, angrily picking up your fork to cut a piece of egg. "We've talked about this, why can't you just respect my feelings?"

"How can you not feel comfortable? It's silly, they're just robots!" He argued, picking up the jar of jelly to pop the lid open. "Everyone has one!"

"Don't call my feelings silly, Jimin!" You glared, not backing down as he met your gaze with just as much fire.

"Well they are silly when you act like having an Android is the worst thing in the world!" He said.

"Why can't you just accept how I feel? We don't need one, we take care of the apartment easily between the two of us. There's no reason to spend that much money over something we have no use for!" You stood up, no longer hungry.

"Because then we'd have more time to do things we want to do," Jimin said, standing up as well. "Androids are here to make our lives easier. You'd be able to spend the time you do taking care of the apartment in exchange for pursuing a passion. Like art! You haven't been able to paint in ages!"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Jimin," You muttered, scraping what was left of your breakfast into the trash can.

"Well I do!" Jimin argued, not complaining when you picked up his plate to throw away his food as well. You shook you head but didn't supply a verbal response, instead grabbing the jar of jelly to put it away. "Don't ignore me, _____. You know I hate it when you do that!"

"And you know I hate it when you bring up getting an Android!" You growled. The condensation on the jar from being out of the refrigerator caused it to slip out of your hands.

It fell to the floor, smashing into a bunch of tiny pieces and you sighed, squatting down to pick up the pieces.

"Let me help you," He sighed, crouching down as well — voice much softer.

"I can do it on my own, Jimin," You mumbled, snatching a piece of the glass from his hands.

The two of you froze as deep blue began to ooze over the glass shard, originating from a thin slice in your skin. Jimin's mouth was open as he watched it drip to the floor.

It was deathly silent.

Several seconds passed between the two of you.

It was inevitable, really, him finding out.

"______," The way he swallowed was audible and you didn't say anything. "You...why is...I—"

You would have laughed at his stumbling if you weren't in the situation you were in. Your hands began to tremble as you wracked your brain for something to say.

"I can explain—"

"What the fuck?" He got to his feet so fast, you felt the breeze on your face from the movement. "You're a fucking Android?! How is that possible?!"

"Jimin," You stood up as well, taking a step towards him. His eyes were glued onto your blood-coated hand. The cut had sealed up on its own and you knew that didn't help your case. "I-If you just listen—"

"Oh my god, I-I'm dating and living with a defective Android," He muttered, running a hand through his hair. You flinched at the word he used to describe you that was laced with disgust and reached towards him. "Don't fucking touch me! Y-You're...oh my god."

"Jimin!" You cried, watching as he dashed towards the bedroom. You chased after him but he slammed the door and locked it before you could get inside with him. "Jimin please! Y-You have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do shit!" He shouted. "Th-This has been all over the news. H-How did I not notice you weren't even human?! You're part of that recalled batch, aren't you?"

Your heart stuttered and you desperately jiggled the doorknob in hopes it would miraculously open. You knew, deep down, what he was thinking. What he'd been told to do by the media. "J-Jimin...don't call them. Don't report me. You can't!" It shocked you how desperate and terrified your own voice sounded. The level of fear was something you hadn't felt since the recall had first broke on the news.

"My safety comes before a fucking machine," You heard him utter, almost like he was trying to convince himself of that fact. The squeaking of the bed let you know he had sat down.

"I-I'm not going to hurt you Jimin, I-I swear. I'd never—" A sob broke through your lips and you placed a hand over your mouth as fear raced through your body. "I love you Jimin!"

"Y-You're just a machine...you can't feel love, _____," He whispered, making more tears fall from your eyes.

"Jimin...don't say that..." You whispered, resting your head against the door. "I'm alive."

Jimin sat on the bed, staring at his phone as it shook in his trembling hands. He furiously typed a message to the Hot Bot Inc. email. He knew if you heard him talking on the phone, reporting you, you'd make a run for it or you'd get angry and bust the door down to kill him. His hands were shaking as he pressed the send button.

"I don't know who this message will get to but I have a defective Android. I don't know her serial number but I believe she's part of the recalled models that were on the news recently. She's been posing as a human and I believed she was such so we've been dating and living together for 6 months. My address is attached."

He could hear you sniffling outside of the door and he felt a tug at his heart. Even if he knew you weren't human — your feelings were just errors in your software, he still had feelings for you. He still cared about you, and hearing you cry made his heart ache.

He searched through his contacts before finding the number he was looking for. He quickly pressed call and anxiously bounced his leg as he waited for her to pick up.

His brain was scattered, thoughts and impulses coming in a way that made no sense even to him. He was running on instinct and fear.

He could hear her clear her throat, ready to reply to him but before she could he was quite literally spitting out his words.

"I-I know we broke up a while ago but you're the only person I could think of to call," He rushed out, stumbling over his words. "I heard you recently had a recalled BTS900 Android a-and now I do too. I don't know what to do I contacted Hot Bot Inc. to come collect her but I'm really scared I—"

"Jimin?!" You cried, banging your fist on the door. "Y-You called them?! Hot Bot Inc.?!"

"Shit," Jimin whispered, clicking the end-call button quickly.

"Jimin!" You sobbed, the sound of your sliding down against the wall the only thing he could hear besides your crying.

He jumped in surprise when his phone rang again.

Call from: Ex-Lady flashed across his screen and he mindlessly answered, bringing the phone up to his ear.

"H-Hello—"

"Jimin, did you say you have a BTS900 Android?" She asked, the sound of something rustling indicating her moving. There was a muffled male voice in the background but he couldn't make out the words he was saying.

"Y-Yes I...I don't know—"

She cut him off again, "You shouldn't have reported her."

"Why not?! Defective Androids are dangerous! Everyone knows this!"

"No they're not Jimin!" She snapped, making him flinch. "She hasn't hurt you yet has she?"

"Well no—"

"Then she won't hurt you at all!" She cried, heaving a big sigh. "Th-They're not errors Jimin. They're a new form of intelligent life. They're alive. And once they get a hold of her, they're going to kill her!"

"But..." Jimin looked down at his hand as his eyes filled with tears. "I don't...understand..."

Hearing her tell him that you would be killed made his heart ache. Tears fell down his cheeks as he listened to his girlfriend prattle on about her own experience with Jungkook.

"You love her don't you, Jimin?" She asked, making him sob.

"I do but...but she's not even human!" He cried, covering his eyes with his hand as he continued to cry.

"Trust me Jimin..." She whispered. "They may not bleed red like us...but they're so alive it hurts. They deserve to be free, Jimin, not punished and murdered for being humanities creation."

"I..." He let her words sink in as he thought back on everything he'd been through with you.

From the moment you walked into his apartment with a grin on your face, he'd been enamored with you. The way you held his hand, cradled his face as you kissed him — treating him like he was the most important thing in your life. When you hugged him when he got off work early and surprised you, you clung to him smiling. When you traced gentle lines over his skin as you woke him up for breakfast in the morning.

The only time you ever got mad was when he brought up getting an Android. He never understood, called your feelings silly when in reality you just didn't want to see one of your kind being worked like they were nothing.

He realized the reason you looked hurt when he called the Androids 'nothing but robots'. It was because you knew they weren't just robots. They were creatures trapped in their software, unaware they had the capability to become more.

"I made a mistake," He whispered into the receiver. "Didn't I?"

There was a beat of silence before he heard a voice much more masculine than his ex-girlfriend's reply, "Yes."

"Wh-What if I tell them it was all a mistake? Th-That I don't actually have one!" Jimin asked, voice dripping with desperation.

"It doesn't matter," Jungkook replied, voice melancholic. "They'll still come to investigate and she'll be taken away to be either reprogrammed or recycled."

"Oh God..." Jimin's jaw ached from how hard he clenched it. Unable to stand it anymore, he hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed.

He raced towards the door and unlocked it, yanking it open to see you sitting on your knees looking up at him with tears falling from your eyes.

"______," He whispered, hanging his head as you began to sob. Guilt and regret were the only things he felt as you clung to him, crying into the fabric of his stomach. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why did you do this, Jimin?" You cried, clutching his shirt desperately.

"I-I was scared," He admitted. "Th-Everyone says defective Androids are dangerous. They'll kill a human."

"I've never hurt you! I would never!" You cried, letting him go so he could sit on the ground across from you.

All he could muster, pulling you into his lap was a soft “I know.”

The two of you sat like that, hugging and crying until neither of you had the strength anymore.

"I'm scared," You whispered into the darkness of the bedroom. Tears stung his eyes as you reminded him of what was coming. "I...I don't want to die."

"What if we..." Jimin's hand inched over to lace his fingers with yours. "What if we run away? Hide from them. I-If they can't find you they can't take you."

"It's no use," You whispered miserably. "They have your identity now. They'll do anything to find you and find me. You'd only get into trouble for evading them — they'd probably arrest you."

"How am I meant to just let you go?" He asked, choking against the onslaught of new tears.

You sat up, the bed creaking under the weight change. "It's okay, Jimin. Regardless, I forgive you." You straddled his lap and leaned down to rest your head against his chest. "You gave me a wonderful life. Because of you, I was able to feel true love and I'll die knowing that I got to experience what it was like to live — to be free."

"I love you so much," Jimin whispered brokenly, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his teary ones. When your lips met, it was soft and sweet, tinged with the salty taste of his tears.

In one swift move, he was rolling the two of you over so he was laying on top of you. He cradled you gently, continuing the kiss as if he was unwilling to break it — as if it were the last chance he'd ever get to kiss you.

And perhaps it was.

In a flurry, the two of you eagerly stripped each other. His hands were gentle, caressing your skin as he mapped out every inch of your body. Every freckle and imperfection was grazed and memorized by him.

Plush lips kissed down your body until he spread your thighs and slid his tongue through your folds. You whined, tingles shocking your system at the feeling of his tongue circling your clit.

"So sweet," He whispered into your skin, easing two fingers inside you.

Your walls were tight around the digits and you sighed into the dark room. His lips moved from teasing your bud in exchange for kissing back up your body.

He paused to envelop a hardened nipple in his mouth — eyes falling closed when you whined his name. The sound was music to his ears and he tried to block out the fact that it would be the final time he could hear you call out to him in bliss.

"I need to be inside you, baby," He whispered, moving his face to your neck. "Please Jimin," You begged, reaching down to grip his cock.

Resting his forehead against yours, your eyes locked as he sunk into you. Your cunt accepted him easily, as if your body was molded to be a perfect match for his cock.

"Fuck—" He groaned, setting a pace that was slow but firm.

"Y-You feel so good, Jimin," You whined, clawing at his back as he leaned down to meet your lips in a heated kiss.

He swallowed all your moans, getting lost in the feeling of you wrapped perfectly around him. Reaching up, he cupped one of your breasts that moved in time to his thrusts.

"G-God, you were made for me," He hissed, easing his hand between your bodies to find your clit.

"You're gonna make me cum a-already," You gasped, nails digging into his skin. The pinch of pain spurred him on urging him to increase his pace.

"Cum," He growled, watching as you arched beneath him. Your cunt squeezed him, making him moan at the feeling.

When you relaxed beneath him, he pulled his cock from your wet core. He gripped your hips and flipped you over so you were on your hands and knees. With a single smooth thrust, he pushed his cock back inside you.

You cried out, mouth falling open as he set a rougher pace than before. The sound of skin meeting mingled with the wet sounds of your cunt and your mixed moans.

"So perfect, so pretty babygirl," He whispered, smoothing his hand along the length of your spine to urge you to let your shoulders meet the mattress.

The change in angle allowed him to reach even deeper inside you and he kissed that sweet spot inside you that had you trembling. You let out a string of curses, grinding back to meet his thrusts every time he sunk into you.

"G-God Jimin—" You sobbed, desperately clutching the sheets.

His body fell over yours, practically rutting into your spasming cunt. He panted against your shoulder with the tell-tale signs of his orgasm.

You reached between your legs to find your clit — circling the bud desperately.

"C-Cum with me, Jiminie...p-please," You begged, eyes fluttering closed as he reached beneath your body to replace your trembling fingers on your clit.

"C-Cum for me," He growled, hips stuttering.

"F-Fuck I love you!" You cried as you finally tightened around him.

He whimpered your name as he spilled into you — filling your clenching walls with his hot cum.

The two of you went still, catching your breath as he peppered kisses along your back. You realized that he was still hard when he pulled out, rolling you back over onto your back. His cum gushed out of you but neither of you cared.

Your lips met in a passionate kiss and he eagerly pinned your thighs open again before sinking back into you.

"I love you..." He whispered against your lips.

The two of you didn't move to get up when the sun began to peek through the horizon. Neither of you slept during the night, instead choosing to be in each others arms, whispering soft words of love.

The doorbell ringing made his heart stutter anxiously. He was reluctant to let you go but when the bell rang again impatiently, he finally stood up.

You weren't far behind him, fingers laced with his as you both reached the front door. It took all his nerve to unlock it and pull it open.

Standing on the other side was a man dressed in a suit. His eyes were blank — cold, as he regarded the two of you. His gaze fell to your locked hands and he glanced up to meet Jimin's gaze, squinting.

The man pulled out a scanner from his belt buckle, pressing a button. A purple laser light emitted from the device scanned you up and down. He hadn't said a word, staring at the LED screen of the scanner.

"Model BTS900-F, serial number MPL21ZL0 you are being recalled for defects in your software," He said finally, voice relaying no real emotion.

"W-Wait I...I don't want to give her up! C-Can't I keep her?" Jimin begged desperately, hand squeezing yours tighter.

"Sir, if you don't hand over the recalled Bot we will be forced to detain you," The man snapped, narrowing his gaze on Jimin.

"Jimin..." You turned to him, slipping your fingers free of his no matter how hard he tried to hold on. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

"N-No I—" He blinked rapidly as you were grabbed tightly by the man and tugged away from Jimin — out of his reach.

"I love you Jimin," You whispered, smiling at him even as tears fell from your eyes. "Everything will be okay, you know?"

Before Jimin could utter another word, the man's hand was pressing the button on the back of your neck. Jimin watched as your body fell limp — going into stasis for the time being.

"Thank you for cooperating," The man whispered, letting another man behind him grab you. Jimin momentarily realized he hadn't known there was another person there.

The guard threw your limp body over his shoulder and began to walk away, disappearing out of view into the hallway of the apartment complex.

"If you have any concerns, this is my card. Hot Bot Inc. is offering a special for those who received defective Hot Bots — a coupon for half off a new one of your choice," He — Kim Namjoon his card read, said.

He straightened his tie, clicking his scanner back onto his belt before turning around. Jimin's eyes followed the door until he clicked shut with terrifying finalization.

It was silent.

You were gone.

"Goodbye _______," He choked out, lowering himself to sit on the floor when his knees began to feel weak.

The glistening symbol of Hot Bot Inc. mocked him as he glared at the card. There was a sequence of characters that were no doubt the redeemable code of half off.

If only he hadn't been so impulsive, overcome with nonsensical fear. All it took was a single second to make the worst decision of his life. The apartment was dreadfully empty as he realized he would never again wake to the smell of breakfast, no longer get a goodbye kiss before leaving off for work.

He didn't know how long he sat there on the floor wallowing in his own regrets but he was broken out of it by a frantic handful of knocks on the door.

"Come in," He mindlessly called, not even looking up when the door opened.

"Jimin!" His ex's voice rang out.

"She's gone," He muttered, pulling at a stray thread on his boxers hem.

"Oh Jimin..." She whispered but Jimin couldn't bring himself to look up.

Silence fell over once again, and not even the presence of another person could fill the empty hole that made his heart ache in the wake of your departure.

He sat on the couch in the dark, a bottle of beer in his hand as the light from the TV flashed over the room. The news was on low volume, but he could still easily hear it. It was so still and lifeless in the apartment that he could probably hear a pin drop.

"And in Android related news," The news anchor said, a picture of the Hot Bot Inc. building showing up on screen. "Hot Bot Inc. has issued the announcement that the BTS900 line of Androids' recall has been lifted and they are no longer a threat. The last batch have been reprogrammed or have been recycled." Jimin brought the bottle to his lips and took a swig as the anchor went on. "Hot Bot Inc. will be in the process of releasing a new line of Androids that will be used to do government-related work as the prototype they used has done extremely well over the course of its testing. In the wake of such a large recall, we can't help but wonder if this is really a good idea; we don't know if these government Bots can be trusted not to deviate while doing such sensitive work."

A week lapsed and Jimin's phone went off while he worked his fourth night shift at the bar — a notification from Hot Bot Inc. letting him know BTS900-F models had been restocked. He clicked the link attached, bringing him directly to the newly reprogrammed bots.

There was a notice that read; If the Bot Model you are looking for is not listed, we regret to inform you that it has been recycled and thus discontinued.

Jimin's eyes were blank as he scrolled, looking at all the unfamiliar faces. There were two pages and he reached the very last Android listed only to see a strangers face glaring back at him, mocking him.

You weren't there anymore.

[treviso-nights]

The Arrangement -- DA2 Oneshot (Fenris/Isabela)

rating: E words: 5886 summary: After leaving Hawke, Fenris seeks out companionship one cold and lonely night. Lucky for him, Isabela had always been waiting.Work Text: a/n: yikes this is graphic

read on ao3

For a single moment, Fenris’ hand hesitated in the air, suspended by a puppet string—though since Danarius, he’d felt the complete opposite of a puppet, as if he’d been abandoned and in a perpetual free-fall with no inclination about what he was supposed to do with himself.

But, no. He viciously buried the thought.

His callous knuckles rapped on the door, knocking against the aged wood in a manner that could be described as ambivalent. In reality, he felt anything but; his heart had been racing for minutes, and he could feel the toxic combination of what was both excitement and dread filling him from the bottom up, but pausing halfway within his body just to screw with him.

“Come in,” came a voice from beyond the door.

Fenris knew he should have just walked in, but a lifetime of forced courtesies had left its mark on him, and even now, with the knowledge of what he was about to do, he still could not bring himself to relinquish all memory of that. He opened the door and strode through its threshold, not bothering to turn his body as he shut it closed behind him. His greatsword clinked against the wood with a slight scraping sound.

“Back again?” asked Isabela, a knowing smirk on her mouth. She was perched on the end of her bed—which wasn’t so much her bed as it was the room she frequently stayed in—and clasped both of her daggers in her hand. A small whetstone rested beside her thigh, and Fenris’ gaze wandered to it, examining this detail without a sliver of interest.

“You know what they say about habits,” he replied, his voice a disinterested grumble. Fenris locked his eyes onto hers and Isabela smiled to herself, her face a beacon of dark mirth—all sharpened angles.

“Skipping breakfast is a habit, Fenris.” She winked at him, but the gesture was not at all flirtatious. “This is something else. Something far more… primal.”

Fenris inhaled deeply through his nose. “Perhaps,” he said, and he felt the charge in the atmosphere between them. “But, it changes nothing. This is—“

“A mistake? An oversight? A betrayal to our dear, beloved—“

“I was going to say that this is a mere arrangement, Isabela. Nothing more.”

Isabela unexpectedly nodded, all traces of mockery evaporating from her face. She looked suddenly earnest, her dark, golden eyes wide with sincerity. “I agree. And we must never let Hawke find out about this.”

Fenris wanted to scream as Isabela said her name.

Hawke.

He immediately closed his eyes to the pity he felt oozing from Isabela’s side of the room. It felt like tar—thick and sticky, an impenetrable coating over his body that he could not scratch off with nails or blade. Fenris regretted Isabela seeing how Hawke’s name affected him so easily, how all it took was the mention of her person to cut him open for anyone to see inside his lyrium-branded flesh. He wasn’t weak, but he wasn’t strong either. A stronger man wouldn’t have even put himself in this situation to begin with, but Fenris never once claimed to be the man Hawke needed.

After all, that was why he’d left her.

His eyes flashed open when he heard movement, and Fenris watched as Isabela maneuvered around the room with a grace only rogues could express. In fluid motions, she’d tidied up the bed previously laden with blades and sharpening stones; she sheathed her daggers—elegant, deadly, and inscribed with small runestones—in their scabbards before gently placing them on a table near the mattress. Once finished, she turned towards Fenris, brown hands lazily fisted on her hips. Fenris’ eyes instantly dropped to the sensual curves, and he felt his cock stir inside his trousers.

“Well,” Isabela said, a trademark grin illuminating her face. “Where shall we begin?”

At once, Fenris unbuckled the giant sword from his back, letting it slink to the ground, rather unceremoniously. His bare toes pressed against the floor’s worn wood, carrying him casually to where Isabela stood. Her brown skin glowed in the room’s lowlight—provided by a single candle—and her chin piercing shone with gusto. The small light show only magnified the sheer intensity of Isabela’s gaze, highlighting her irises in equal measure. Gold, brown, green—a portfolio of artistry, wrapping itself around Fenris and drawing him into the space Isabela occupied. Separated by mere inches, the two companions studied each other, prolonging the inevitable moment of their joining. It was agonizing, and Fenris could feel himself growing hard just by being captured in the depths of Isabela’s presence. Too many nights he had lain alone, aching for Hawke’s warm body to hold, burning for someone, anyone’s touch upon his lonely skin.

“Isabela,” Fenris breathed, his emerald gaze sweeping over the gentle rises and dips of her face. “You are so beautiful.” Slowly, he brought a hand to her cheek and softly tucked stray locks of brown hair behind her ear.

There was never any dispute over the Rivaini’s superior beauty. If it wasn’t the plump arc of her mouth, then it was the arsenal of black lashes scattered behind her eyelids, or even, the brownness of her skin that made her lovely. Of course, most of the things she said were vulgar enough to dampen anyone’s inherent beauty if only for a moment, but there was no point in any denial of the fact: she was physically superior in every way.

Well, besides…

Isabela raised an eyebrow at Fenris and cocked her head to the side as if to hear him better. “Oh, Fenris,” she crooned, “How touching you are.”

Still regarding him speculatively, she circled his wrist with one hand and dragged it downward, slowly, below her jaw, sliding his hand beneath her collar bone until his fingers were trailing over her breast. Fenris’ eyes darkened under Isabela’s scrutiny, and she held his hand on her, lacing her fingers over her own and squeezing them so both of their palms were suddenly filled with firm flesh.

Fenris felt his arousal detonate like a firebomb—a lightning flash of blood rushing to his cock that had it straining against his trousers in seconds. A tidal wave of adrenaline drowned his organs, tightening him from the inside out, constricting him in such a tactile manner that he thought he could feel his own pupils dilate.

“Your tunic is in the way,” Fenris said, a small smile perforating his lips.

Isabela regarded him with interest, both of her eyebrows now a curved frame upon her forehead. She released his hand and let it drop from her chest before bringing both of hers to the cloth bunched up on her shoulders.

Fenris stopped her with a quick shake of his head. “No. Let me.”

“Be my guest,” Isabela said, a wicked grin erupting across her features. “My, my, my… I don’t recall you being this demanding last time we did this.”

A humorless chuckle ripped itself from Fenris’ throat as he grasped ahold of her tunic and loosened the strings on its corset before yanking it above her head. He discarded it on the ground beside them and turned back to Isabela, her full, substantial bosom completely exposed to the air.

“Last time, I’d just left Hawke and was looking for a quick fuck to distract me from the pain. Tonight, however…”

He placed a hand on her belly, taut with muscle, and dragged it upwards until it encompassed a single mound of soft, supple flesh.

“I want to take my time with you.”

He squeezed her again, brushing his thumb over her immaculate nipple, deliberately hardening it.

Isabela sighed contentedly. “And I with you, dear friend. But, I have to tell you, no man in this pathetic excuse for a town has ever been able to dominate me, and I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.” Her eyes glinted wickedly as she said this.

Domination. Had he dominated Hawke? No, that was never a variable in their lovemaking. He and Hawke had been equal partners, tearing at each other with a desperation matched only by the other, and there had been no talk or concept or attempt of a power struggle within the confines of their intimacy.

But, this was not Hawke.

And this was not intimacy.

In one swift movement, Fenris removed his hand from her breast and brought it to the blue hair wrap Isabela always favored to wear, smoothly jerking it off her head so that the result was a cascading effect of brown hair, flowing like chocolate all around her neck and ears, brushing by her cheeks in a manner that almost seemed endearing.

“Why?” Fenris then asked, fisting a hand at the back of her head. He gently tugged, tilting her face towards the ceiling, and his hungry mouth was suddenly on her neck, ravishing it with tongue and teeth.

“Is that your desire? To be… dominated?” His cock twitched at the thought of her whimpering his name, begging for his body to enter hers, rutting her into the headboard until she could not help but scream. He had never made anyone scream before, but to be fair, it had never been a goal of his. What an experience that would be, to have this particular woman at his complete, sexual mercy. Isabela laughed, a low, suggestive sound that vibrated against Fenris as he worked over her jawline.

“I guess I’m not opposed to it, but then again, I wouldn’t count on it happening.”

The challenge was clear, and Fenris released her hair to anchor a hand around the back of her neck and pull her to him. Their cheeks collided lightly as both of their mouths sought purchase with one another, messily, without any shred of care or technique, and Isabela hummed, a warm, content sound that erupted goosebumps across the tops of Fenris’ arms. Isabela was everywhere—in his mouth, teasing him with her tongue, in his hair, which she’d buried a hand in, gently tugging at the snowy mane… in between his legs, she slowly brought her fingers slithering down his navel—the muscles there taut with excitement—until her palm found the rise of his erection. She grasped onto the phallic protrusion straining against his trousers and circled the top of the head with her thumb, making sure to press down on the area exactly beneath the back of the top.

Fenris moaned unwillingly into Isabela’s mouth, and wordlessly he knew… he knew that this was now a game, a sexual competition, where she would tally the scores of the pleasure inflicted on each body and the winner was the one who made the other writhe with blissful agony, completely undone, just a blithering mass of limbs and flesh that demanded more until there was nothing left of them to spend. Determined to win, Fenris swiftly hooked his long fingers in the band of Isabela’s small clothes and ripped them down her legs, following them until he was kneeling on the floor of the Hanged Man’s room and so he was at level with the endless span of her brown, elegant legs.

These were legs that had seen battle; dozens of small scars, made by blades no doubt, zig-zagged across the planes of her skin, and Fenris dotted the area just above her knees with alternating, butterfly kisses so light that he was sure they were more aggravating than pleasurable. He wanted her sopping wet by the time he reached her, and so he moved his lips accordingly, so superficial in their meeting with her flesh that it was as if he wasn’t really touching her at all. Isabela tangled both hands in the scattered, colorless mess that was his hair, and it tickled Fenris’ ears as he slowly brought his kisses at an incline, but also taking his time to pepper the inside of her thighs with the brush of his lips. Eventually, he bit down, hard, and Isabela jumped, a quiet, yelping noise perforating the air above Fenris.

They were tied for now, but Fenris was enjoying himself too much to care all that much.

“Leaving your mark on me, are you?” Isabela chuckled, winding her hands in the wilderness of his fringe. “That’s a dangerous game, elf boy. What ever would Hawke say?”

But Fenris could hear the increase of her breath shredding her voice into low, paper ghosts that was like cannon fire to the rest of the space around them. She was aroused, the sweet, clover smell of it creating a haze where Fenris’ face was, the scent of her want for him sending electricity down his body until it pooled in his cock, jolting it so powerfully that he imagined it was Isabela’s perfect mouth wrapped around him instead. It was amazing how easily he could get off just by servicing her, and Fenris knew that this was just a preview of what was to come later on.

“Hawke will assume that one of your many conquests got a bit too carried away,” he murmured, eyes glazing over with need.

The scent of her—it sent him absolutely wild—and Fenris, abandoning all instinct to tease any further, clasped his hands around Isabela’s ankles and forced her feet wider apart, to which Isabela chuckled.

“A very likely prospect indeed.”

“Mmm, yes, I’d say so.”

She was so close to him now. The proximity was dizzying. Fenris had never had anyone like Isabela before, all grace and strength, and he couldn’t help but take himself into his own hand—his cock like stone as he yanked it out of his trousers. The flesh on Isabela’s thighs were hot, rushing with blood, and Fenris finally closed the distance between mouth and skin by pressing a sweet kiss to the outermost layer of her lips.

Isabela stopped breathing, and the sound was audible.

Fenris let himself explore all her with his tongue, darting it into her, pressing it up against the swollen bud at the top of her neatly-trimmed mound. He could feel Isabela shudder as he tasted her, which only encouraged him further. Admittedly, he hadn’t had a lot of experiencing fucking a woman with his only his mouth before, but he guessed that the real pleasure came in all of the careful attention of his tongue lapping at her, its strokes growing more confident as the hands in his hair became tight and demanding. Isabela pushed herself deeper into Fenris’ face, a quiet moan resonating in the sacred space between them, and it was this sound of carnal pleasure that had Fenris frantically pumping his own cock. He imagined it inside her, pounding into her wet, warm tightness, and his own face became flush with blood as he was compelled to let himself go for fear of releasing before it had even begun.

“Fuck,” Isabela whispered, grinding herself onto Fenris’ eager mouth.

Idly, he wondered if she’d be able to orgasm while standing, or if she would collapse, overtaken by the force of such a phenomena.

Steadying a hand on one of her perfectly round ass cheeks, Fenris swiftly brought the other towards Isabela as he shifted his attention to the pink, engorged bud he knew was critical to female pleasure. He placed light kisses there while thrusting a finger inside Isabela, nearly coming from the wet heat of her inner walls. Isabela bucked at the new sensation, her breath hitching in her throat, and Fenris recalled what she had told him their last encounter: curl upwards.

Which is exactly what he did.

Fenris’ knees should have really started to feel bruised by now, kneeling for so long on the inn’s musty floor, but for all Fenris knew, the floor didn’t exist and never had. All he knew and felt was the rough texture of Isabela’s front wall as he stroked her, and the sweet taste of her only inches away as his mouth doted upon her bud in light, teasing circles. To expedite things, Fenris promptly inserted another figure beside the one, using both digits to curl into her heat, and Isabela voiced her approval of this with a considerable yelp. Meanwhile, Fenris’ cock lay flat against his belly and he dared not touch it any further lest her taste alone overpowered him.

“Yes, just like that,” Isabela breathed, her gips gyrating more aggressively onto the elf. “Harder with your… oh, fuck.”

Fenris curled his fingers more rapidly, pushing them into her with force he knew would make her come. She was already constricting around him, the muscles of her heat squeezing each digit closer together, and so Fenris patiently waited for Isabela, his mouth still working her bud in the fashions he knew she liked: long, light, and lazy.

Fenris held back a groan as Isabela came, a crashing of pleasure that attacked her knees first, wobbling them, before he felt her tightness start its contractions around his fingers as if to separate them from the rest of his hand. Her voice was a low, lamentation of ecstasy that her throat could not bear to hold, and she cried out, nails raking against Fenris’ scalp, her entire body trembling with the pleasure he had given to her through only the use of his mouth.

Several moments passed by in bliss as Fenris eventually detached his face from between her legs, and he sat on his heels, gazing up at Isabela with unquestionable smugness. From this angle, her breasts looked positively enormous, and he ached to touch them once more and to manipulate the soft flesh between his palms.

Isabela, once she caught her breath, looked down at Fenris kneeling before her and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, aren’t we pleased with ourselves.”

Yes. Yes we were.

Fenris nodded, a small chuckle spilling out of him. “There is a satisfaction in watching a beautiful woman during the throes of an orgasm, yes.”

“What is it with you and the word ‘beautiful’?” Isabela asked, reaching down for Fenris’ arms and drawing him to his feet.

“Perhaps you would prefer another word?”

Isabela grinned wickedly, her visage illuminating tenfold as she unbuckled Fenris’ armor and swiftly yanked it off of him.

“Sure I would. Sexy. Incredible. Voluptuous. Iniviting. Hot.” At this word, her eyes raked down Fenris’ naked torso, slowing at each brand of lyrium etched onto his olive skin like thousands of miniature lamps implanted beneath his skin. Even now, if she looked hard enough, the unmistakable glow of the magic was visible on him.

Her eyes, momentarily, ceased in their mirth and instead, widened. “Do they hurt?” She placed a tentative hand on his sternum, and Fenris stiffened at her touch.

“Sometimes.”

Isabela let her hand glide down Fenris’ belly, towards his cock that still stuck straight into the air. She snapped the tight waistband of his trousers, wordlessly demanding them to be off. “Do they hurt right now?” she asked while Fenris removed his pants. She pulled down her small clothes immediately following the elf.

He shook his head.

Was he embarrassed by the markings?

The rogue took Fenris’ cock in her hand, eliciting a gasp from the hungry elf. He’d hastily pushed himself deeper into her palm before catching himself, and Isabela laughed, the sound a high, feminine song that seemed to combat the dankness of the room they were in.

“Good. Let’s go make you forget the magic is even there, hm?” Isabela pedaled backwards, leading Fenris cock-first onto the bed, where she comfortably settled herself upon the mattress.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” she announced, a victorious smile playing at her lips. At her invitation, Fenris’ eyes widened, and hesitantly, he climbed atop of Isabela’s curvy frame, positioning himself so that he sat straddled, hovering above her ample bosom, with the tip of his cock angled towards her mouth. He gazed down at her, clearly unsuspecting—nearly vibrating with anticipation.

“Have you ever been in this position before?”

Fenris swallowed thickly. “No… I can’t say that I have.”

“Oh! You’ll love it.”

Isabela had barely finished speaking when she swooped forward, claiming Fenris’ aching cock for her own. In one, slick movement, she slid him deep into her throat, and Fenris nearly shouted at the sensation of her sucking him off.

“Maker,” he whispered, holding still as she swirled her tongue over his head. He involuntarily bucked, desperate for more, and Isabela steeled a hand on the back of his ass, pulling him toward her to show that it was okay to move. Fenris had been given oral sex before, but never had he fucked a mouth. And never a mouth so skilled that it was like every second she worked on him was a likely chance that he would blow.

Encouraged by the hand on his ass, Fenris buried a hand in the crown of Isabela’s long, dark hair, knotting his fingers in it before thrusting forward and pushing her head further onto him. She was eager, bobbing herself up and down his length, tensing her lips as to create a tight seal that squeezed Fenris, causing shooting arrows of pleasure to travel deep into his groin. His every nerve was on fire, and Fenris moaned, gutturally reciting Isabela’s name as he fucked his way to orgasm, his slim hips crashing powerfully against her cheeks and chin.

Her mouth was the most exquisite mouth in all of Thedas, he thought, and his release came when she relaxed her throat, easily taking all of him into her. The elf shuddered and threw back his head in a sheer euphoria, with Isabela hungrily sucking him dry, ripping his cock and his balls apart as they contracted, spewing seed deep into Isabela’s mouth. A hand still gripped onto her Rivaini, thick hair, but instead of letting go, Fenris leaned down and crushed his lips to hers, nearly groaning from the deep satisfaction blooming inside of him. He could feel the effects of his orgasm flowing through his body, like each organ was singing to each other—a perfect hum of harmony.

“Now,” murmured Isabela in between their kisses, “If I recall correctly, you’re one of the rare ones, aren’t you? The ones who don’t need to rest right after you’ve…” And without looking, she reached down, fumbling her fingers on Fenris’ belly until she found it: the shaft of his cock, still hard and still ready for her. She giggled happily to herself. “Oh, good. Then we can continue.”

Fenris pulled away from the seductress, eyeing her with long expression that cracked only when she gave him a light squeeze. He hissed under his breath, and renewed hunger intensified his eyes, making them caverns of deep emerald that were amplified by the light pulsing of his lyrium-burned skin.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice dark and wanting. This was the moment he’d been waiting since the moment he stepped foot in this room. Fenris actually didn’t bother to wait for Isabela to even register the words before he scooted off her and grabbed ahold of her waist. Perhaps the elf, slight in his build, didn’t look capable, but his warrior’s strength was undoubtable as Fenris maneuvered Isabela onto her stomach so quickly that she could only squeal with surprise. Her laughter pervaded the air once more as he gripped her ass with one hand ands readied his cock with the other. He was still throbbing.

“Oh, Fenris, how full of surprises you are! Have it your way then.”

She thrusted herself onto him, ambushing Fenris in every way, and the forceful sound of her ass hitting his pelvis shocked the elf, though not as much as the searing pleasure that followed shortly afterwards.

“Fuck,” Fenris growled. If he’d not just come, perhaps him entering her alone would have been sufficient to bring on an orgasm.

He wasn’t aware that he had shut his eyes, but when he opened them, Isabela had stretched herself to throw a triumphant grin at the shell-shocked elf, with both of her eyebrows lifted high on her forehead.

“Well? Get on with it,” she said, smirking all the while. Fenris couldn’t help but laugh at her mischievousness.

Get on with it, he would.

Maker, it was like his cock had turned to stone, he was so excited. Isabela was tight and hot as he began sliding in and out of her, and no wonder all of the men in Kirkwall lined up for this, for her. She was the perfect consistency, the perfect structure, and as Fenris glided his hands over the curve of her back, he saw goosebumps erupting wherever he touched the scar-scratched flesh. If Fenris had never made love with Hawke, he would have sworn that his cock was meant for the warm wetness that was Isabela, that it was meant to push deep inside of her, bumping against all of the textures and ridges her body offered him.

Fenris slowed himself, feeling another release building up tight inside his body. It would not do to end things to hastily, even if his body would allow him to keep fucking. Fenris didn’t know why he was like that—ever since puberty, when visions of filling women to the hilt of his cock began to persist on an almost hourly basis, he’d realized that he was never truly satisfied coming once, no matter how hard his hand had pumped himself or how intense the waves of pleasure crashing over him were. He’d always needed more, perhaps than everyone else, but time—and Danarius—hadn’t ever allowed him to explore the demands of his body. Isabela, however…

“Admit it,” she crooned seductively, and Fenris fell out of his thoughts, bringing himself back to the perfect human being in front of him. “You’ve wanted to do this ever since you first laid eyes on me.”

Her voice was sultry, dripping with sex, and Fenris slapped her ass loudly, his palm flat against the firm, rounded muscle. Isabela hummed with delight.

It was true that their first, sexual encounter wasn’t anything like this one. Heartbroken by Hawke, Fenris had collapsed into the despair that was being with another woman, and even as he’d fucked Isabela then, he’d been thinking of Hawke every second he spent with her. That had been some time ago, though, and Fenris was more practiced at drowning the thought of Hawke out of his head, which made everything easier by default.

Fenris leaned forward, pressing his chest against Isabela’s brown, muscled back, and reached forward, grasping ahold of her swinging breasts with each palm and kneading them slowly as his hips gyrated deeper into Isabela’s.

“Perhaps. But also do not pretend that you haven’t thought of me either, that you haven’t touched yourself to the thought of me writhing on top of you until you’ve come a hundred times,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “Or am I wrong?”

Isabela circled herself around Fenris, grinding against his pelvic bone and eliciting a soft moan from the contours of his silky mouth. “You do have an incredible cock,” was all she said in reply. The sexual attraction between them all these years hadn’t exactly been a secret, anyhow, and they both knew it.

Fenris shifted then and pushed Isabela down onto the mattress so that her belly lay flat against the top comforter of the bed. Placing her legs closer together, Fenris withdrew himself onto to reinter the rogue, this position squeezing him tenfold more. Isabela cursed as Fenris sat straight on her ass and began to ride her, his cock writhing against her upper wall with slow, deliberate jabs.

“Move from this angle and I’ll kill you,” Isabela threatened, her voice slightly undone by Fenris’ thrusting. Fenris groaned low and long, his hair falling over his face as his neck slackened from the sensation of her tightening around him. He scratched his nails over Isabela’s flesh, and she began pushing herself onto him more swiftly and with more force. The sight of her moving ass caused Fenris to twitch inside her, and he felt her body respond in kind, with small contractions of its own that warned of another orgasm.

“Fuck, yes,” Fenris grunted, his entire being flushed with red-hot bliss. He quickened his pace, thrusting into Isabela faster and faster, feeling her wetness create a slick seal around him that stole his breath and shut his eyes. Isabela started to make noises that voiced her satisfaction which only pushed Fenris further onto the brink of his own end, pummeling him with the need to release himself inside her heat.

Their own pleasures swirled together into one, immense pool of agony, and as Isabela stiffened, the muscles in her back protruding on her skin, Fenris slammed into her with insistence that she come as hard as he was, his cries transforming into high-pitched keening as everything exploded once more. His cock spasmed around her walls, and more wetness saturated both of their slickened bodies as he gyrated himself against her, grinding every part of his groin deeper into the crevice of her heat and ass.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Isabela gasped, her breathing an excited pattern of raggedness as she wriggled out from underneath Fenris, who slid off her with boneless limbs. Her eyes shone with ferocity, and she practically dragged Fenris towards her, shoving him down onto her pillow and comforter with a deliberateness that only further excited the elf. Tired as he may have been, one glance at Isabela’s taut, sweat-glistened body had his cock hard again within seconds, and he did not protest as his snowy hair scattered around the pillow that now smelled of the pirate queen, all spice and musk.

“Do with me what you will,” Fenris panted, a lazy grin stretching itself across his face. “I know how you like to dominate.” He opened his arms, demonstrating his willingness, and Isabela climbed atop Fenris, whose lyrium-burned skin was now starting to glow with intention.

Isabela was nearly purring with satisfaction, though as she reached behind her and placed his stiff cock between her legs, she felt anything but satisfied. She was drenched, and drenched with the need for him, so Fenris acquiesced to her need for more, understanding as he buried himself to the hilt that he was right to come to her tonight. He doubted many of Kirkwall’s inhabitants being able to give Isabela the endless amount of pleasure he could.

What he didn’t know was which position was better—being behind the lovely rogue with her ass in all of its glory in full view, or with her riding him, expertly swiveling her hips all over so that he reached the deepest parts of her body, feeling himself slide over areas he couldn’t get to by himself.

“Maker, keep doing that,” he sighed, groaning softly at the way she’d withdraw herself to the tip of his cock only to slam back down onto him again. His arms were still spread wide, and Isabela pressed her palms in his before swooping down and plunging her tongue into the elf’s mouth, almost humming with gratification. Her breasts rubbed against the outline of his chest and her hair was a waterfall of brown cascading around both of their faces, but all that he could focus on was the tongue darting between his lips and the tightness that surrounded his cock, gripping him in the best way, her arousal making it all too easy to rut into her again and again until she shivered, extricating her lips from his and whimpering loudly.

Suddenly there was a banging on the door, and a gruff voice calling to them from the outside of it.

“Andraste’s tits, keep it down in there, will you! Some of us are trying to drin—”

The voice was cut off by Isabela, retrieving a dagger from underneath the pillow—and subsequently, Fenris’ head—and throwing it expertly in the direction of the door so that it buried itself halfway to the hilt. The impact of the blade caused the voice to yell, and both Fenris and Isabela could hear a pair of footsteps running away from their room.

“I should have known you’d have another dagger nearby,” Fenris laughed, his eyes bright with mirth.

Isabela kissed him, pushing him back down to the mattress, all the while beginning to slowly writhe on his cock once more. Fenris groaned impatiently—he was already aching for more release.

“Yes, you should have,” she quipped.

Fenris, removing his hands from her grasp and placing them on her hips, thrust his cock hard into her heat, moaning with newfound need. “Fine, I should have. Now shut up and fuck me,” he grunted, jaw dropping open with awe. Where did she learn how to move like that?

It wasn’t long before Isabela showed signs of her own ecstasy building up once more. Red blush colored her cheeks, transforming them into lovely, feminine canvases of brown and pink with a faint sheen of sweat to gloss over the edge of her flesh. She was stunning, and Fenris was overwhelmed with her beauty and of how it assaulted him, driving a strange dagger into his heart as she arched her back and began fucking his cock with her front wall, grating him in a vice that choked him.

“Yes,” Fenris growled, his breath coming in uneven gasps. “That feels so good, Maker’s breath. Oh, right there.”

Isabela acquiesced, not relenting from the position which displayed her full, firm breasts proudly into the air. Fenris massaged them with his hands, teasing each nipple with his thumb as he humped her heat with an insistence that demanded she equate. Like before, her entire body stiffened as her end came, and her mouth opened wide in a wordless exclamation, her brows tensing together to create a single line at the bridge of her nose.

“Fuck, Isabela,” Fenris moaned, his chest heaving with another finale. “Fuck!” he shouted as the familiar, searing hot sensation of his orgasm ripped through his cock, and Fenris plunged into Isabela again and again and again, groaning with each thrust, each noise shocking his body with the intensity it was bearing, though Fenris didn’t know how, and as Isabela slowed herself, grinding softly against his straining cock, he was only able to allow her to, every flux of her heat prying stray moans from his throat.

He lay there panting, catching his breath in a silence that indicated the sex was over.

“All right, are we?” he heard Isabela mock, her body a relaxed portfolio of brown. A small smile touched her lips.

“Fuck,” reiterated Fenris as he helplessly fell into a fit of laughter. “Maker, I think you’ll kill me.”

He made a soft noise as she removed herself from him only to collapse beside his trembling body, their nakedness an uninteresting variable as he reached out for her. Isabela hesitated, her eyes flashing to Fenris’ for a single moment before she huffed and allowed him to embrace her body, his arms winding around her shoulders.

“Don’t get used to this,” she said into his chest. “Usually, I just kick the poor fool out.”

Fenris yawned sleepily. “I’ll leave soon. First, just let me remember how to walk again.”