#and you can tell my studies have fucking suffered because of it
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i have been thinking about this for a while and i love how you write, so what do you think of biker!könig with a gf that studies in uni? how did they meet? does he get jealous easily of her classmates? what is the aftermath of his jealousy (😏)?
thank you so much 🩷
-🌵
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fem (afab) reader, suggestive, but mostly just two sillies attempting to flirt.
They first cross paths at a gas station. Sundown and desolate apart from the woman who approaches the tiny shop on foot whilst he straddles his bike at the pump.
She doesn’t notice him, and that’s just fine. More often than not, people do but for the wrong reasons. It’s always the height or the face only his mother could love. This is a good thing, shows she’s not hasty with her judgment, shows she’s just unaware enough to let something like him in.
It’s stupid, completely ridiculous at how he feels his heart thump to life, ribcage squeezing and stomach a whirl with butterflies at the mere sight. The furthest thing from love comes to mind at the sight: plush thighs peeking out against the hem of shorts that cut off just below her bum, the tight tanktop that displays her cleavage in a way so enticing. But that’s what he immediately thinks of, that word that seems foreign to him even in his mother tongue.
Love.
König could be a gentleman, lie her down in his bed instead of fucking her over the bike, if she were kind enough to follow him home. That offer feels heavy as lead on his tongue, lost someplace in his throat when he really gets a good view of her.
He’s never been good with talking to women, anyway. Especially not an angel so far out of his league she would surely only scoff with her sweet drink in hand, turn away from him with her nose held high and dark circles under her eyes as she suffers through another paper back at her dorm or wherever she came from.
So, he leaves her be as much as he can and should, only watches her with his helmet in place and that dark visor masking where his eyes wander from her face down to the retreating view of her legs as she walks.
The next time time is during the rain.
König is good at refraining from acting on base instinct. There’s a lot to consider before stealing away some miserable dove on the sidewalk, the light drizzle from above soaking into her dress and battering her lashes as she sits and waits for a ride that just doesn’t seem to be coming. He’s got his military background, keeps his house tidy and rarely muddles in the affairs of other people.
It’s just that she’s cold.
He tells himself that the only reason he stops his bike some meters away is because she will get sick if he doesn’t offer her a ride. He’s just being a gentleman. There’s nothing more to it.
So he does. Keeps his helmet on and masks his face as well as the weird excitement and nervousness in his voice when the muffled offer taints the wet air.
It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t have never considered any of this if she weren’t so cute. If she didn’t look so fragile and sweet. She smiles and nods immediately, fusses with her dress a bit when she climbs onto the bike behind him when she tells him that she’s only just been on a date. It just hadn’t turned out well and whoever the bastard had been had dipped before even the entree was served.
It sends his mind spiraling when it shouldn’t.
It’s deranged to think of her misfortune as fate when it isn’t.
“I’m sorry… I don’t know where to put my hands,” she laughs someplace against his shoulder, chin just slightly tilted up to bump his damp t-shirt. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard, not mocking at all, only shy.
“Around me.”
He sounds like an old pervert, feels just like one when he takes her hands into his own and guides them around his middle. Presses in a bit too tight, because it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman so close and it feels good to be held like this.
She makes some quiet noise, a soft gasp, then presses her face into the darkness of his shirt to hide away from the rain or maybe…
“You can come home with me. It’s close.”
She laughs again, and he’s reminded of just how little tact that he has with the fairer sex. She must think him an idiot, some hopeful vigilante that scoops women up from the street after nightmare dates with bad food or bad dick. It sounds so stupid to his own ears, he knows he’s burning crimson beneath the black helmet.
Until she squeezes him a bit, gives what must be her best attempt at a hug from their positioning. Again, too, maybe out of surprise that there’s muscle there. Something a woman like her might like.
“I’ve got nothing to lose, huh?” and then “You seem a lot nicer than he was, anyway.”
The air gets stolen from his lungs and his jaw grows loose. She had only told him yes to maybe sitting on his couch, watching some miserable war film until he brought her back to her academic wasteland, but not a part of him had expected that.
It takes a moment for him to realize he hasn’t said a word, that he’s sat panting like some stay being offered a meaty bone. He takes a moment to reposition her grip around him, too ashamed of the way his cock springs to life at her closeness and the ridiculous fantasy playing out in his head.
“Right… you can dry off there.”
He doesn’t immediately remove the helmet when she steps into his abode, just guides her over to the washroom when she asks if he would mind if she used his shower and lets her be. That room has never known a woman’s touch, and the shirt he gives her to change into isn’t comparable to the cute, floral thing she was wearing.
He takes her dress to the dryer to distract himself from the fact that she’s naked in there, just a flimsy door away. Changes out of his own sopping wet clothes after considering that maybe she would want to touch him again. Maybe it felt nice for her too, just to hold someone. He could hold her too, if she wanted that, bring her right to his bed and keep her safe and warm.
“You’re out of conditioner,” she peeps as she steps back out of the bathroom. “Just thought you would want to…”
Her eyes trail over him for a time as her words taper off to nothing. Then, they’re locked to his face and any hope goes up in an inferno. The scars are probably scary, the dark circles from weeks of minimal sleep are probably even worse. She probably thinks him some sort of monster or a demon, something no girl should be left alone with.
Then, she smiles.
“Wow…”
“What…?”
He expects the worst and instinctively casts a sideways glance toward the helmet sat by the door. The perfect covering to avoid situations like this. It’s not that he’s dependent on it, but… maybe he would have had some sort of chance had he not taken it off.
“I’m sorry for staring, you’re just really…”
Ugly. Scary. Whatever words she’s considering, he doesn’t care to hear them. She could just ask to go home, save herself some fear and save him from another rejection.
“… cute.”
“Okay.”
Scheisse.
That wasn’t a “thank you” or anything of substance, but this is more mortifying than anything prior. Even the women who had pitied him with a date before had never called him something so endearing, never likened him to some adorable little thing or stared up at him like she does now. She only seems giddy, a fire burning behind her eyes like she’s just discovered some secret treasure.
“… cuter than your date?,” he hazards, rolls his shoulders and tilts his head at her. His attempt at sounding confident only comes across bitter and jealous. Maybe he is, but that fucker blew his chance, and she’s blessing König with far too many.
“Definitely.”
The tension feels tangible, despite the absurdity of all of this. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say or how long to take between breaths.
She’s stood there in his shirt, looking as if she’s already his and he’s the one left feeling ashamed and embarrassed.
“I think you’re pretty.”
“Yeah?”
“Ever since I first saw you, I…” He’s babbling too much, losing any composure because she just keeps her eyes trained on him, that adorable smile curling at her lips. If he sounded creepy, like he’s been following her, she doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Maybe you could take me on a date sometime,” she suggests, her voice coming as a breathy little whisper. Maybe she is shy, but she’s giving him the OK to push and prod and see just how far he can go, to expend all of his luck on this very night.
The rain outside only grows louder, threatening to cut the power and leave this docile angel in some dark pit with a mad king. He wishes it would, it grows harder to keep the prominent excitement in his crotch concealed the more that she talks and bats her eyelashes at him.
Being over-eager was a turn-off, right? He weighs his next words the best he can, considers playing it safe for just half a moment before they escape him anyway.
“Come here.”
There’s a darker storm brewing in his eyes when she takes those first, fragile steps toward him. But she graces him with the light of a spark when her hand finds his chest and presses there, feels his heart beating like it’s a normal thing to search for, like she’s just as mesmerized and surprised as she is now.
She’s snared in an instant with a face buried into her damp hair, lifted up with her legs guided to wrap around his waist. A decade worth of luck spent just like that, but he’s always been greedy.
The demand for more comes with a callused hand guiding her chin up. Her lips part immediately, eyelashes fluttering until they rest atop her cheeks, already warmed with the anticipation of what’s to come. His kissing begins gentle, soft for a second as he tries to memorize the plushness and curvature of her lips with his mouth alone.
Then, it’s only punishing.
He tries to hold himself back, but knowing he could have had this weeks ago while she was wandering about barely dressed drives him insane. The moment she gasps against his mouth, his tongue slips inside to find hers, rolls over it with such a ferocity that the corner of her mouth begins to glisten with their shared drool. She whines, then moans as her hands curl over his neck, petting at the short hair at the base of his skull.
His hands fall to her ass to keep her in place, gives her a pinch and then a grope when he realizes she’s not wearing underwear at all.
And that’s where the well must have run dry, because she tilts her face away with a series of soft pants, squeezes her trembling thighs around him as if to make a silent demand to stop, or maybe not. Everything she does makes him feel both hot and crazy; she doesn’t even attempt to wind out of his grip here, only looks up at him sultry and helpless. She must be wet, he can smell it, practically taste her already, but he doesn’t persist when she halts this dance.
“Wait… waitwait. I don’t even know your name.”
“König.”
She laughs breathlessly, then dips her head to press against his shoulder. His hand immediately rises to pet at her hair, twirling a few strands between his fingers as she tells him her name in turn.
“I don’t really want this to just be… one night, you know?,” she says, and that intrigues him.
“That so..?”
“Mhm…”
He slowly lowers her back down until her feet meet the carpeted floor, then takes her face into both hands while she gives him a cute pout. He could be sympathetic, could make her love him even… she’s left the door open for him already, after all.
“I could just hold you,” he mutters, tracing a circle into her cheek, savoring in the way her eyes seem to light up at that.
“I would like that.”
#könig x reader#konig x reader#being gifted this ask after that one anon put the thought in my head to begin with? you all are a godsend actually
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every now and then ill think "yeah im probably exaggerating theres no way my stomach pains get that bad" just to be hit with the both metaphorical and literal punch in the gut of realizing that my stomach pains do in fact get that bad.
#personal#i cant move my fucking legs because it hurts that much#and this shit happens regularly too#its been worse this year pressumably because i changed my meds#and you can tell my studies have fucking suffered because of it#gotta love being unable to even touch my notebooks for a week straight because my entire body hurts so much i cant think#and nothing fixes it. the closest to fixes i can get will only make the pain somewhat more bearable#which isnt a particularly high standard when the usual threshold is 'cant fucking think much less move'#the few meds that actually do something usually knock me out almost instantly#and by the time i wake up everything hurts again#and i barely have enough time or money to do shit about it bc the cheap healthcare is far from my apartment#yes im having a tummyache again and im so so SO tired of having to be brave about this
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It's fucked up that the sober population straight up ignores how a huge portion of addicts have chronic illnesses
#was thinking about my stepdad and his plethora of health issues and how they shape his life#and then i thought about sewercentipede and Then i thought about the huge population of bipolar people who are alcoholics#and then after all that i thought about a convo i had with a straight edge friend who was like 'using illegal drugs Should result in jail#time because they could just Not do those drugs. they do it just for fun'#like i understand where he is coming from but i literally think he is wrong af.#i think the people who do drugs (esp hard drugs) recreationally are outnumbered 2 to 1 by people who#are self medicating with illegal drugs. i think most people totally ignore how chronic illnesses#and severe mental illnesses can hurt you on a profound level and because they dont know about that suffering#they do not understand the urge to numb that pain. and people have no sympathy for what they dont understand#lately im so bothered by people who share their opinions with me about complicated issues but clearly havent ever done any research on them#everyone thinks their opinion is so smart and special and no one is studying#especially not studying human behavior. most people think that socialization and political topics are a fucking joke#with 0 relevance to their personal lives. like no one is ever going to be truly informed about All the things#and i know i certainly am not but it is so annoying to speak with people who make no effort at all to learn about a subject#before they try and tell people the business about it. like that guy. his only understanding of drug use#comes from his own relationship to alcohol. but he was not an alcoholic he was just a perv who decided to go christian#like its so egotistical to assume that your experience and emotions can apply to everyone and yet he is not the only guy i know#who has no interest in any perspective other than his own but thinks his perspective is well informed#im sure women piss me off with this behavior too its just that atm i can only think of examples of men acting like this
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.
#shower thoughts realizing that silva could have literally acted as the replacement for using a fuck ton of pokemon#to charge the weapon 🙃#i forget if the game actually does this but i do remember the manga doing it after they lose xerneas......#because i know the rocks are there. because thats the method AZ used for at least one of the blasts depending on hcs#[my hcs are that he used 50% of the legend for both and then the other 50% for both firings was filled with pokemon]#🙃 literally silva acts as a double failsafe.............#for both if the legendary manages to escape + if they dont wanna use the pokemon tied to rocks for a charging grid....#they can just use the kid who's been collecting a fuck ton of energy inside her body.#allievate the total amount of suffering pokemon#🙃 fucked up i tell you. she really shouldnt be able to survive. but yveltalness proves otherwise.#ooc ;; pterodolphin has no devil fruit#<- i will turn this into a study post later#needed to get my tboughts down#before i forget#verse ;; pokemon ;; beyond destructing and falling petals#;; ask to tag ;;
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How do you make interesting male character designs, male fashion is so fucking boring and bad, and you seem to have a good sense of fashion, please help im suffering
two important tools you must remember:
1) there is no such thing as 'mens clothing' and 'women's clothing' theres just clothing and if you see something a lady is wearing and it looks good you dont have to say 'aww but a guy can't where that' yuuuup buddy you can. draw whatever and wear whatever you want forever. my wardrobe is completely mixed in terms of 'men's' and 'women's' clothing bc it's just MY clothing not anyone else's
2) pinterest
almost went on this entire rant about 'women's fashion is more expansive in part due to misogynistic double standards of appearance and men's fashion is only bad/boring because of years of being funneled through capitalism patriachal expectations of power homo/transphobia and racism' but if i do that people will start throwing rocks at me with the intention to kill and if i write multiple paragraphs of reflection on the false gender divide within fashion and the patriarchy and someone only reads 2 sentences to get mad at ill start blowing things up gotham city style
anyway these are the secrets to good mens fashion there is no brand that will save you there is no purchase that will save you utilmately you must study what you like blind to gender and then mix and match what you believe looks good. because i cannot just tell anyone 'this is fashionable' it is about going and finding what you specifically feel reflects yourself (or a character in this instance)
#long post#o yah also like look at what men in other countries wear#diff cultural expectations of masculinity have lent themselves to diff developments of style#mailbox
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Creep | Oliver Quick
Though you can’t grasp exactly what, you know something is very off with your boyfriend’s peculiar new friend.
Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Stalking, Voyeurism, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Drinking, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamic
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
Felix’s long digits drum over your back as he pouts, “You really brought me here just to study, babe?” His raspy, flirtatious tone tugs your lips skyward. Still, your attention doesn’t stray from your laptop screen. Sentences bleed from your fingertips at a quick-fire pace. A little under three thousand words on Bentham’s theory of utilitarianism, due by Monday. The topic isn’t exactly thrilling but you have to hand it over in time.
“If I don’t ace this essay, I’m going to fail this class,” you absently reply. Failure. The one thing you literally can’t afford right now, though you forbear sharing that particular bit with Felix. Best he perceives your single-minded determination as a core stare of your character rather than what it actually is…a necessity, one born of dire circumstances.
He takes a long drag off his cigarette. Grey smoke floats around you, smudging the words on your screen. You repress tears as your eyes burn. You wished he’d curb the nasty habit. You’ve dropped hints before.
But no one tells Felix Catton what to do. Many would kill to even breathe the same nicotin-infused air as him. Felix is the sun and everyone on campus craves to be in his orbit, eager for the slightest chance to bask in his warmth, shower in his light.
You’re no different. The day he asked you out, a little over a year ago, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Felix Catton wanted…you? It couldn’t be real.
This was the boy you held in your heart for a decade, the only one you ever had eyes for.
And while your relationship suffered its share of hardships, namely Felix’s wandering eyes, you couldn’t picture life without him at your side.
He’s your everything.
He could hurt you a thousand times and you’d forgive him each of those times.
Felix’s bare shoulder grazes yours as he states, “They won’t fail you, not with who your dad is.”
Your stomach knots with his comment. Still, you shrug, pretending away the guilt steadily gnawing your insides.
“I don’t want to get special treatment just because of my family name, Felix,” you say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.
Though his smile never falters, his jaw ticks. “And I do?”
The ice in his tone scatters in your veins. Immediately, you discard your homework, concerned gaze finding his.
“I’m not saying that.” When Felix doesn’t respond, panic roars inside you. You touch his exposed chest to bring his attention to you. He doesn’t move. “I didn’t say that.”
A thick blanket of silence engulfs the room and your airways constrict. It feels as if your heart is on the verge of collapse as you wait for a reaction from your boyfriend, his chestnut gaze glued to the ceiling.
His head turns to you slowly. He releases a large puff of smoke in your face. Tears rush to your eyes, filling them to the brim.
Felix shrugs.
“It sounded like you did. A little. But that’s okay.” His tone is mellow in that way that oozes displeasure. “I’m just a legacy kid getting by on his trust fund and good looks, right?”
Your mouth quakes and he bursts out a chuckle. He cups your cheek, a wide grin breaking onto his face. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”
You swallow your budding tears, wiping your eyes swiftly as Felix reaches around you to put out his cig in the ashtray.
You punch him in the chest, your own laughter bubbling out.
“You’re an arsehole.”
His grin expands. Twining your fingers with his, Felix’s tone gets softer.
“I wanted to ask…” He trails off, brown gaze clinging to yours. “Can Ollie come to the party you and Anabel are throwing tonight?”
You tilt your head in befuddlement. “Ollie?”
He traces the lines in your palm, adding absently, “Yeah, Oliver. I told you about him. Saved my arse when my bike broke.”
“Right, bike guy,” you say, remembrance hitting you. You tilt your head. “What’s he like?”
Felix sighs.
“He doesn't have too many friends. He's also had a rough upbringing. So I thought we could help him a little, you know?” You study him. However casual your boyfriend attempts to sound, you instantly recognize what this is. Yet another try at playing knight in shining armor. Whoever this Oliver guy is, he’s now become your boyfriend’s side project. His charity case possibly.
“He’s not like us so we could try to be nice.”
Not like us. You mask your discomfort with a bright smile.
About a year ago, your dad’s company filed for bankruptcy. Thankfully your scholarship still allows you to attend Oxford, but your lifestyle has drastically changed. No more shopping sprees. No more casual leisure trips to Europe. No more frivolous spendings with daddy’s black card.
The last straw was when your father emptied every account, including your trust, and left the country without as much as a goodbye text. Since those events, your mother has taken refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle. You can barely get a hold of her these days.
So not only are you penniless, you might as well be an orphan.
Felix is all you have left. You can’t risk him finding out the truth. He can never know about the part time jobs you’ve had to take to cover tuition costs or the small flat your mum had to move into after your father had to sell the family manor. He might think you’re beneath him now, working class, destitute. Or worse, he might pity you, treat you like a charity case too.
You follow the curve of his dark brow with your thumb, sweeping over his silver stud.
“Hm, sure. I can be nice,” you promise.
“I know you can,” he teases, large hands pulling on your thighs to spread you across his lap.
You squeal before scolding him, “Felix…I really really need to finish this essay.”
His eyes darken with lust as he licks his lips. He wiggles his hips, causing the bulge in his jeans to rub against your clothed center. Your breath hitches. “And I really really need you to take care of this for me.” His hoarse, desperate inflection makes your core clench. His palms run over your thighs beneath your short dress. “Just five minutes? Come on, I’ve been hard for like an hour, babe.”
He hums, already playfully fiddling with the edge of your lace panties.
“It’s your fault for wearing this fucking pink dress. You know the way your ass looks in it drives me crazy.”
You resolve crumbles beneath Felix’s heated stare. You can never tell him no. And he knows that. Releasing a deep sigh, you relent.
“Five minutes,” you offer.
He slides one finger inside your weeping core. As you draw a sharp breath, Felix beams.
“It’s all I need,” he coos.
The party’s at his height, loud music blasting from the gigantic speakers and glow sticks waving in the pitch blackness of the underground cellar. You thread your way between tipsy students, carrying two cups of beer in your hands.
As you reach the VIP corner, you hand Annabel her drink. The redhead mumbles her thanks as she bobs her head to the music. You peer at your surroundings, glad to see everyone having fun.
It’s a frank success. Pride trickles inside you at that. It’s been hard collecting pockets of free time to put it together between classes and assignments. But you did it.
Truthfully, you’re also craving some fun tonight. All you’ve done lately is studying. You miss the days when you were more carefree, unconcerned about your grades deciding the course of your future.
You glance down at your watch, scowling as you notice the time. He was supposed to be here three hours ago.
“Where’s Felix?” you ask Venetia. Your boyfriend’s sister lazily opens her eyes, a drunken smile spreading onto her lips. She shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.”
You pivot to the rest of the group.
“Have you guys seen him tonight?”
Annabel shakes her head apologetically while Farleigh brings his blunt to his mouth with a taunting smile.
“Desperate much?” he teases.
“Farleigh, come on,” Anabel chastises. She bumps her shoulder into yours, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t mind him, you know he’s always a jerk after a few drinks.”
Farleigh sighs. “Darling, you know I love you. It was just a joke.”
“A joke, right…” you mumble. Your cheeks heat though you try not to let your feelings show. Still, Farleigh’s words linger in your head. Maybe you’re being too clingy. It’s something you should mind. What if you became too needy and Felix grew bored of you? It’s not like he wouldn’t find a replacement for you in a heartbeat.
You lie back on the plush couch, sipping from your beer cup as your friends continue their chat. The conversation has long since stopped making sense, fueled by drug-inspired ramblings. Your attention is halved by your straying train of thoughts, the current whereabouts of your boyfriend still at the forefront of your brain.
Another hour flies by before Felix’s towering frame finally pierces through the crowd. A smaller boy trails behind him, his expression mirroring that of a lost puppy. He adjusts his glasses, awkwardly avoiding the drunken bodies around him. The word “Sorry” doesn’t stop pouring from his mouth.
You realize this must be Oliver. Astonishment flows through you. This isn’t the kind of company Felix traditionally keeps. But you elect to try your best to be nice and welcoming.
It’s what Felix asked of you after all. Besides, entering a new group of people cannot be easy, your tight-knit circle having known each other since kindergarten for some.
You don’t miss Anabel’s fleeting, condescending glance as she takes in Oliver though. Getting her assent to let him come had been a hassle, as she regards him as some weird, scholarship kid who’d just bring the mood down. But you insisted and she finally caved.
You trade a meaningful look with her, silently nudging her to be nice. The redhead practically rolls her eyes but squeezes her lips shut. Annabel may be one of your best friends but even you’re aware that she can be quite snobbish at times.
A sullen expression decorates your face as Felix enters the private booth.
“You’re late,” you blurt out. Farleigh snickers behind you and your cheeks flare. But everything around you fades as Felix grabs your face and presses feverish lips over yours. Your irritation melts in the heat of the passionate kiss.
When he frees your mouth, his thumb runs over your swollen bottom lip as he explains casually, “Yeah we were just hanging out and we lost track of time.”
He then introduces the shy boy.
“That’s Ollie.”
“Nice to meet you,” he stutters.
“Likewise,’ you reply smiling.
You gauge him. Beneath the large glasses, you note the slanted blue eyes and soft, round boyish features. Felix’s friend is cute. If only he weren’t so painfully awkward.
“You should sit with us. There’s plenty of space,” you say.
Felix draws you onto his lap as he sits. Oliver takes a nervous seat next to the two of you. His eyes keep rising to Felix, as if seeking perpetual approval from your boyfriend. You’re a little perplexed. Farleigh hands Felix a spliff and he lets his hand rest on your thigh while taking a long drag from it.
“So, where are you from exactly?” you ask Oliver.
His gaze on you and Felix is sharp, somehow constantly darting to where your boyfriend’s holding you.
“Prescott,” he answers.
You mull over his response. It’s a few hours away from Oxford. You don’t know much about it. Though, based on what Felix implied about the way he grew up, you expected him to originate from a rougher area. Prescott doesn’t seem too awful.
“Prescott? They must be proud of you back home, especially your parents.”
“Probably not, actually.”
Your curiosity is piqued. “Why are you saying that?”
Oliver shrugs. His eyes find the floor before meeting yours again.
“Just don’t talk to them much,” he mutters. “They got problems and stuff…”
You slant your head. “Problems?”
Felix’s hand tightens atop your thigh. “Babe, that’s enough prying, don’t you think?”
“I’m just making conversation, trying to get to know him.”
“You’re embarrassing him, babe.”
Oliver’s blue gaze lifts to yours, his face unreadable.
“No, it’s fine,” he says, though you detect a slight edge to his timbre that wasn’t there before. A small smile tugs his lips. “I don’t mind questions. Got nothing to hide.”
You nod. An icy tickle blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward as Oliver’s intense focus doesn’t leave you. You turn away, shifting your attention to your boyfriend. Throughout the entire night, a strange sensation thunders through you, like the lightning before the storm. You can’t explain it. It’s like the world shifted off its axis, though you can’t pinpoint the reason.
Thankfully the strangeness is cast aside by Felix’s soft lips and heady, masculine scent. As the party goes on in the background, the two of you sneak away. You end up making out in a dark corner, Felix’s greedy hands slipping beneath your short skirt to grab a fistful of your ass. He pinches your flesh and you squeal.
A warm chuckle spills from his lips as he peppers tender kisses alongside your neck.
“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.
You readily agree. He takes your hand and the two of you hitch a ride back to campus. The two of you giggle in the backseat of the car every time the driver berates you for getting too handsy with each other. You laugh it off all the way back to his room, lips locking as you cross the threshold. You jump to wrap your legs around Felix’s tapered waist. He purrs, his hands latching around your hips, pulling you closer. He pushes you against a wall, tracing a scorching path in the valley between your breasts. Moaning, you toss your head back.
As your eyes flutter however, you catch sight of a silhouette standing outside Felix’s window. Your heart bounces, your eyes growing saucer-wide. You gasp and leap away from Felix.
“What the fuck?” he curses as you race to the window. Chest pulsing with your quick heartbeats, you peel the window open to peek outside. The cold night air whisks inside the room. Goosebumps break out on your skin.
Your gaze wanders, searching the darkness. Confusion swells within you as you find nothing. Nothing but greenery, the same trees and grass flanking your path whenever you stroll through campus.
“There was someone outside, w-watching us,” you stammer.
Felix’s frustrated breath grazes the back of your neck. “Babe, there’s no one out there.”
You squint, dumbfounded when nothing but pitch blackness stares back at you. For a minute, you really believed someone stood there. In fact, whoever they were bore a peculiar resemblance to…
You catch yourself before finishing the thought.
Now that’s just crazy.
“But I saw…”
Felix shifts your body towards him. He cups your cheeks and rasps, “Hey. Hey, look at me. There’s no one but us here.” His lips collide with yours. He starts groping you again and you push him off you, stunned that he wants to have sex at a time like this.
“No, Felix, I-I can’t.”
He stumbles back and scoffs, “Oh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, glowering at him.
His gaze flicks over you, his expression cold. “All that teasing just to leave me high and dry?”
“Felix, wait…”
He avoids your touch, collecting his jacket from the bed when your fingers stretch towards him.
“It’s fine. I’m just gonna have a smoke. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Your stomach sinks.
“O-Okay,” you say as your hand retreats to your side.
The door slams shut and you collapse on Felix’s bed. Your eyes veer to the window once more. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of someone. Maybe all those late nights writing essays and revising for the upcoming exams are slowly catching up to you, dragging you to the brink of madness.
Felix doesn’t call you the following day. Of course he doesn’t. You broke the mood. You acted weird. What reason does he have to want to be around you again? It’s bad enough you neglected him in favor of your assignments and club activities for the last few weeks. Now you can’t even enjoy the sparse time you have together.
Still, you flip your phone open all day long, longing for a word from him, any trivial, insignificant word.
You get nothing.
You gloomily drag your feet around campus and somehow find your way in one of the empty student lounges, save Farleigh and Venetia. Lying flat on the carpeted floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, the two of them are sharing a spliff. You wedge yourself between them, lying on your back also. You steal the roll from Venetia’s fingers and bring it to your lips. Your throat burns and you cough as you inhale a puff. Venetia’s lips curve upward as your eyes water.
“You gotta take it easy the first time,” she says, amusement lighting her olive orbs. “Tiny inhales.” She shows you how and you mimic her gestures. You go slower the second time and a pleasant numbness sets into your limbs. Your eyes shut. You kind of get it now. For the first time in several weeks, your mind’s almost at rest, your stormy thoughts quieted.
“You don’t smoke,” Farleigh notes near you.
“I am today.”
“You guys will be fine,” Venetia assures. “You’re always fine.”
Your eyes open, settling on the pristine white ceiling.
“I fucking hate him sometimes.” You pause, sucking a deep breath. “But I love him more.”
“Yep, that’s Felix,” they utter in unison.
You heave out a weary sigh. They grew up with him. They know better than anyone, how sweet and wonderful he can be, but also cruel and careless sometimes.
Just like the sun, Felix’s light can also burn whoever gets too close.
For a while, the three of you hang out in silence, the spliff switching hands every once in a while. Eventually, each of them rises, leaving you to your mopey thoughts.
Before taking his leave however, Farleigh whispers in your ear,
“Oh and darling, next time you wear a rental…make sure the price tag isn’t sticking out. It gives you away.”
You sit up immediately. A smile dances on the boy’s lips as he disappears. You grab the back of your neck, face warming as you feel the tag poking through the collar of your shirt.
You nearly forgot you’re due to return the designer piece in two days’ time. You can’t believe someone noticed. Though you suppose if anybody would, it’d be Farleigh. Nothing gets past his keen eye. You surmise it was a necessity with the way he grew up. Learning to read people, knowing what makes them tick, being able to spot a pretender from a mile away…which you are now.
Maybe it’s ludicrous, acting like you can still afford to live like this, like your life wasn’t turned upside down.
Still, you can’t fathom the alternative. The judgement, the pity, from your friends…from Felix. The thought alone makes you sick. The echo of Anabel’s voice as she disparaged Oliver’s background a few days ago never left you.
Dunno what Felix even sees in him. He’s some weird scholarship kid who buys his clothes at Oxfam.
That was harsh…and made you wonder what your best friend would have to say about your current situation.
So you’d rather lie, even if you sometimes look like a fool doing so.
You swallow a wide lungful, willing yourself to be calm. You repeat the mantra, again and again. You’re okay. You’re okay. You just need to keep your grades up and get through the semester.
The rest of the week is hell. Felix all but ignores you, not even sparing you a glance when he brushes past you in the university corridors. The itch to talk to him sears inside you. Unfortunately, he’s always surrounded by a swarm of people, the center of attention as usual, making approaching him near impossible. You can’t picture bringing up your relationship problems in front of so many eyes.
Besides, you don’t want to project desperation, Farleigh’s pointed gibe still resonating in your mind. You need to play it cool, wrap yourself in a disguise of indifference…despite the way you wither away every second he’s not texting you back.
The agonizing wait is made worse by him. He’s everywhere now. Wherever Felix goes, he goes too. Oliver Quick has essentially become your boyfriend’s shadow. Whether in class, at pub meetups, at parties, the quiet, nervous boy never abandons Felix’s side, always peering up at him with those round baby blues of his, a strange mix of admiration, devotion and…something else you can’t pinpoint etched on his face.
It’s sort of creepy in your opinion.
Though you’d never say it aloud. For some reason, Oliver’s his new toy. And you’re acutely aware of how Felix is with his toys. He plays with them for a while then moves on to the next fancy, shiny new one. He did it to Eddie before. Now Oliver.
And maybe it’ll be your turn one day…if you don’t do something.
It’s how you end up in front of his dorm one night, already tipsy from half a bottle of vodka. Liquid courage to get you to knock on his door. It’s pathetic. Of course it is, but you just can’t wait anymore.
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shaking off your nerves. Your knuckles are less than an inch from the door when a broken whimper reaches you from the other side of Felix’s door.
Brows furrowing, you place your ear against the wood. You hear a moan this time. Deep, distinctive, masculine…familiar. Your heart stops.
You plummet to your knees, peering through the keyhole. You feel wrong for doing so, for invading Felix’s privacy like this. But guilt crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak at what you witness.
You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t looked. Almost.
Rivulets of anguish flow down your face as you watch your best friend and boyfriend lip-locked, practically swallowing each other’s faces. Their clothes aren’t off but the urgent way they’re grinding against each other is a dead giveaway as to what’s to come.
Legs trembling, you stumble back from the door. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. You’re a fool.
You drunkenly stagger through the corridors, clinging to the walls each time you almost trip over your own feet.
You wind up slumped on some stairs, too inebriated to carry yourself much further. Your lids sag as you exhale. More hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest aches, a knife piercing through your heart as the memory of Annabel and Felix lost in the throes of passion fleets across your brain. Why are you even shocked? It’s not like you never caught Anabel leering at him while she thought you weren’t looking. And it’s not like Felix is some kind of saint. Still, you can’t help but feel massively betrayed. You thought you meant more to him. You thought they wouldn’t…not with each other.
When your eyes flutter open, you find a pair of intense cobalt orbs studying you.
“Oliver…” you mumble. In your drunken stupor, you don’t bother wondering how he got here, seemingly materializing from thin hair.
He hunkers in front of you. His scent tickles your nose and it twitches. The smell of his cologne is so strikingly reminiscent of the one Felix wears. A wave of emotion engulfs you. Sobs shake your frame as you shrink against the wall.
Oliver’s gaze rises to your weeping face as he questions, “Are you okay?”
“M’fine…” you slur, wiping your snotty nose. You must look a fright, a pathetic heap of tears aimlessly wandering the university corridors.
He tilts his head. “You don’t look fine.”
You consider Oliver. He is cute, which you noticed before. And in the dimly lit stairway, his blue eyes burn even brighter. You loathe that Felix is allowed to hurt you the way he did and can just…keep on. If your friends aren’t off-limits, why would his be?
You bat your lashes at Oliver.
“You got any alcohol?”
His lips curve upward as he rasps, “Would you like me to have alcohol?”
How did you end up there? The question keeps swirling in your head as Oliver’s mouth hungrily devours yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. He trails fevered kisses down your neck and you squirm. As his teeth sink into the flesh at the crook of your neck, you let out a sharp cry. You tug on his dark locks and Oliver growls against your skin. The pain mixes with pleasure in your haze. His tongue then circles where he punctured your flesh, dragging slowly as an elated purr rises from his chest. His hard-on presses into your thigh. Alarm bells ring inside your mind.
It’s all a little too real, you realize. You got carried away. You draw back, pushing against his chest. “Oliver, wait…”
You might as well have said nothing, your words falling to unlistening ears as Oliver grabs your wrists and nudges you on the bed on your back. You peer up at him. Lust darkens his blue gaze, making him appear almost inhuman in the darkness.
Your mouth wobbles.
Pinning your wrists at your sides, Oliver kisses you senseless. Soon his lips are tracing a scorching path down your body, his hands moving to peel off your short skirt and panties.
His attentive gaze doesn’t leave yours as he sluggishly drags the tiny layer of lace down your legs.
His throat bobs when your bare cunt is exposed to him.
Biting his bottom lip, Oliver crawls his way to your core. Your legs quake. There is a strange glow in his eyes that sends chills down your back.
“Oli-” you start, but the protest dwindles in a helpless whimper when Oiver buries his head between your thighs and flicks his tongue against your bundle of nerves. Oliver’s firm hands clasp around your thighs, keeping you in place when you attempt to close your legs. He greedily eats you out, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He suckles your tender button in his mouth and your eyes roll back. Your fingers get lost in his dark mane as your back arches against the sheets. Oliver’s feverish tongue sweeps around your folds and you grow weaker, slumping against the pillow.
Quickly, stars dangle in your vision. Your fists tighten around the sheets while your legs turn to jelly. A long breath flows from your lips.
You don’t remember ever coming that hard before, not even with Felix.
Tingles are still dancing over your legs as a sliver of clarity returns to you.
Oliver’s tongue slowly moves, collecting the remnants of your essence off his lips as a look of sheer bliss decorates his face. You shiver.
You try to move off the bed. “I think that’s enough,” you say, folding your knees.
Oliver’s mouth quirks lopsidedly. “Oh, we’re nowhere near done, luv.”
Much quicker than you, Oliver slithers his way up your body and cages you beneath his frame. He steals your lips in a hungry kiss, trapping your wrists above your head. His fingers are tight enough that you just know it’ll bruise. You taste your own bittersweet flavor on his tongue. His hand creeps under your shirt, groping your tits. He plants urgent pecks on your face, dragging his teeth along your jaw.
“Oliver, please…” you beseech, shock making your voice shake.
He sinks a finger between your slick walls. Your stomach tightens.
Oliver releases your swollen lips and twists his finger inside your core. Your breath hitches.
He smiles down at you.
“But you’re gushing down there, luv. This is what you want.”
Your face warms. You hate that he’s right, that your body clings to him, making space you wish it didn’t…almost inviting his actions.
But Oliver’s mouth and hands are far too good at knowing which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering mess. Shame pools in your gut as sharp keens leave your lips.
He pumps inside you at a steady pace, his thumb teasing your heap of sensitive nerves every once in a while, pressing until you cry out. He adds another finger and the air in your lungs falters. His hands feel everywhere at once, his teeth and mouth scattering marks all over your body.
He doesn’t stop until you clench around him, soaking his hand with your juices when you shatter with a high-pitched wail.
You crash over the pillows. Your body is still coming off the high. Half-lidded eyes blindly rise to the ceiling. Oliver yanking off his shirt and discarding his pants doesn’t register, not fully, the entire bottle of vodka you emptied before making your mind slow.
He’s suddenly inside you, his thick length splitting you apart as he places his forearms besides your head.
Your lips part in a quiet shout. It feels like if you might break, your walls aching as they stretch around him.
He begins to rail into you, each of his thrusts blunt and animalistic. As if he were possessed by some beast. You know it’s ludicrous. But as the lewd clapping of your damp skin against his rises each time he buries himself balls-deep inside you…it’s how you feel. Like a wild animal somehow broke free and started rutting into you.
Your head lolls against the pillows, your thoughts going blank every time he grazes your sweet spots. Your fingernails rake down his back.
“Does Felix fuck you like this?” he rasps. He presses his chest against yours, his cock hitting an angle that draws a lengthy moan from you. A crooked smile ghosts over Oliver’s lips. “Or maybe more like this…”
His warm breath fans over your earshell.
“Tell me luv… How do our cocks compare?”
When you don’t respond, he roughly shoves inside you, his fingers cinching around your windpipe. You gasp in horror, gaping at him through tear-filled eyes.
“Answer me,” he instructs, his voice deeper than before.
“Y-You’re bigger than he is,” you sputter, struggling to get the words out with his hand squeezing your throat.
A peculiar blend of excitement and disappointment swims in his gaze when you answer.
You weakly claw at his chest, squirming beneath him. He doesn’t let you go, bending to shove his tongue in your mouth. He drags his tongue over your face, licking your hot tears. Sobs jostle your frame.
“Oliver, please,” you repeat.
He shushes you, framing your chin. His thumb follows the outline of your bottom lip, bleeding and swollen from all his rough kisses.
“Stop fighting it. Be a good girl.” He showers tender pecks across your collarbone before softly whispering against your temple, “Or I’ll tell Felix everything. That you came onto me, begging me to fuck you.” His devilish smile sears into your skin. “I’ll tell him what a good little slut you were for me.”
Your stomach drops. Oliver collects your tears with his fingertips. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, emitting a throaty moan at the taste of your despair. He then dips those same fingers in your mouth, his pelvis snapping into yours.
“It’s beautiful, how much you love him,” Oliver mumbles, growing harder inside you as a fresh wave of tears brim beneath your lashes. “You’re beautiful. I can see why he always comes back.” He rests his forehead against yours, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.
“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself when this is all done.”
The awakening in the early morning is rude, the wicked headache and ache in your limbs reminding you of last night’s events right away. Strips of sunlight sneak between the curtains, caressing your face. The usually pleasant warmth does nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Your stomach clenches as you peer at your side. Oliver’s completely naked, only wearing the silver chain always around his neck. His arm is lazily spread over your belly. You don’t dare move, fearing he’ll wake up.
What would you even say?
This is a disaster. You somehow ended up in Oliver’s room and…had sex with him.
You swallow a shaky sob as your gaze travels low. Your panties are torn, which you didn’t notice last night. At least your clothes can still be worn, lying in a messy heap at the bottom of the bed. Carefully, you writhe your way out of Oliver’s hold and grab your clothes.
You hastily put your skirt and shirt back on, trying not to cry when you realize you’re going to have to walk back to your dorm without your knickers. Heat rushes to your cheeks.
You toss a glance behind you, relieved when you find him still sleeping soundly.
You climb off the bed. Your heart leaps when the mattress squeaks as you rise.
Pulse quickening, you head for the door.
Pain radiates through your lower body when you move. You stagger the rest of the way, constantly tugging on your short skirt as you pray not to encounter any strong gust of wind on the way back.
Before leaving, you look back.
Oliver’s still sprawled on his side on the bed but his eyes are wide open now.
No word leaves his mouth as he studies you in silence.
A wide, lazy smile slowly unfans on his lips.
Your blood turns to ice. Fumbling with the doorknob, you scurry outside the door.
Once you’re outside, you slam the door closed.
You dart panicked glances around the corridor. Relief fills you when you note that it’s empty. For now. It won’t be long before students start milling about.
You shamefully return to your dorm. The entire walk back, paranoia lurks at the edge of your mind. You keep wondering if every stranger you come across can tell what you did.
And you keep hoping not to run across anyone you know.
When you reach your bedroom, you lock the door. You make a beeline for the bathroom. You need a shower, expeditiously. Oliver’s smell still lingers on you. When you catch your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, you’re shocked. You approach the mirror on unsteady legs. You crane your neck, your fingertips skimming over the two puncture wounds on your neck. A cool wave ripples down your back. It’s twisted. You feel like a character in a Polidori’s tale. Except this is reality somehow.
The one where you have to face the fact that you shagged your boyfriend’s new friend…and you’re not even entirely sure that you wanted it. Your mind throbs as you search through your memories. You changed your mind midway through. Oliver did not care.
Oliver did not care…
The ghastly realization has you keel over the toilet bowl to empty the meagre contents of your stomach. You slump to the floor and start quivering over the bathroom floor.
A sudden knock on your door has you rising from the floor.
Your heart skips a beat when you glance through the peephole.
“F-Felix?” you stutter, panic hitting a peak inside you.
His deep voice penetrates through the door.
“Hey, can we talk?” he asks.
He sounds heartbroken, desperate. You almost unleash a sigh. You recognize this. You’ve been there before. This is a rollercoaster you can never get off of, the thrill when you’re high up entirely too intoxicating.
“Right now is not the best time.”
He heaves out a deep sigh. You can literally picture his kicked puppy expression, even with the door between you two. Your heartstrings flutter as you lean against the door. The craving to toss yourself in his arms wars with the sizzling betrayal still sitting in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck. Are you still mad at me?”
Swallowing the surge of tears, you reply, “No. Just feeling a bit rough. Had a tad too much to drink last night.”
“I could take care of you…”
You nibble your lip. It’s tempting. He’s done it before. Bought you pastries and showered you with kisses and cuddles until you got better. When he wants, Felix can be the perfect boyfriend. When he wants.
“No,” you say firmly. “What do you want, Felix?”
“Can’t you just let me in, just for a minute, babe?” His pleading inflection shatters your meek fences.
“The park. In two hours,” you concede. “I got microeconomics right now, can’t miss it.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
He’s overjoyed. You can’t bear it anymore. You race back to the bathroom as another wave of queasiness engulfs your insides.
Jittery steps lead you through the park as you rejoin him under an oak tree. You spent the last hour in class totally unfocused, your chest tight as you dreaded how this conversation would go.
“Felix,” you greet.
He wraps his arms around you. You remain still in his embrace, the distinctive scent of his cologne floating around you. You feel sick. Now it doesn’t remind you of Felix anymore.
“I really missed you.”
“Didn’t seem like it,” you mumble coolly.
His long exhale tickles your shoulder. “I know. I’m a wanker.”
“More like a selfish arsehole.”
His hold on you slackens as he draws back a little.
A look of hurt and shock covers his face. He isn’t used to you speaking to him so harshly. To him, you’ve only ever been sweet and forgiving. His brows crumple.
“I deserve that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Listen I… I almost did something awful last night.”
“What thing?” You fiddle with the scarf around your neck. It’s the sole last minute resort you found to conceal the mark decorating your throat.
Of course you know exactly what thing Felix is referring to. You saw it with your own eyes, that thing. If it weren’t for that, you may not be a complete wreck today.
“Doesn’t matter, cause I stopped. It’s not who I want to be anymore.” He cups your face, warm brown gaze diving into yours. “You make me better.”
Words leave your mouth without forethought.
“Who was it this time?”
He hesitates, his jaw tensing. But beneath your heavy stare, he finally caves in.
“It was Annabel.”
“Oh.”
The knife inside your chest twists. It’s one thing to know, to have seen. It’s another to hear it confirmed from your boyfriend’s own mouth. Last night wasn’t some dragged out nightmare; it was reality. When you turn your head, Felix pivots it back to him.
Sincerity vibrates in his tone.
“I ended up kicking her out though.” He wipes the single tear that spills down your cheek. “All I could think about was you, the entire time.” He strokes your face. “You’re the only one for me, babe. This is the last time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Fuck…”
You spot something you never heard in Felix’s voice before. Fear. And instantly, you break.
He leans his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he states.
You’re dumbstruck. Those words have crossed Felix’s lips at least a thousand times. He’s said them to so many, even strangers…but never to you.
He came close a few times, but never has he been this clear, firm, his meaning unmistakable. Butterflies swarm your stomach.
“I love you,” he repeats.
Felix plants a feverish kiss on your lips, leaving them tingling when he releases you.
“I love you too,” you whisper as your hot breaths mingle.
A sunny smile breaks out on his face.
“No more lies from now on.”
A sinking feeling spreads through you, but you ignore it, returning his smile.
“No more lies,” you echo. Guilt eats at you the second you utter the words.
Felix’s attention veers from you as he waves at someone behind you.
“Hey, Ollie,” he shouts.
The air around you plummets to a few degrees. You go still against Felix, nudging a shaky smile onto your lips.
“I need to go to class,” you chime.
You don’t even turn around, his presence alone sending your senses into alert.
Confusion scrunches Felix’s features.
“Your next class isn’t for another hour.”
You pat his chest, willing yourself to sound more cheerful than you feel.
“Just got some studying to catch up on beforehand.”
Felix’s fingers cling to yours as you try to leave.
“I’ll see you tonight at the pub?”
“Sure.”
He doesn’t let you go until you give him another lengthy kiss. You’re uncomfortable, the weight of a certain somebody’s stare drilling holes into your back.
Things recede to relative normalcy, in some ways better than before, and in others worse. Better because of your relationship with Felix. It improves tremendously. He dotes on you more than he ever has, showering you with gifts and small attentions.
Worse because he’s still there, his unsettling presence the dark cloud over your rekindled romance. Each time you’re forced to be around him, there’s a knowing, smug glint dancing in his eyes, a subtle smile tugging his lips skywards. Perpetual fright eclipses your happiness, all because of Oliver Quick.
What if he told Felix everything? This was a mistake and you’re fairly sure you tried to stop it. You still have nightmares about that night, the way he held you down and wrapped his hand around your neck, stealing your air and ability to defend yourself.
You were helpless. Even letting Felix touch you is hard now, the memory of what Oliver did to you seeping through the cracks whenever you expect it least.
He branded you. And while the marks on your body may have faded, the ones engraved on your soul won’t vanish so easily.
It’s a blessing when Felix finally grows bored with him. You have no idea how it occurred. You simply know that they seem stitched at the hip for months then, suddenly, Oliver is gone. Felix shows up at group meetups without him and stops mentioning him altogether.
As if he took an eraser and wiped him from existence. Just like he did to Eddie back in the day.
You’re relieved…for an ephemeral while alas.
Oliver’s dad's abrupt passing changes everything overnight.
Once more, Felix feels the need to be Oliver’s knight in shining armor.
And once more the two of them are inseparable. Two peas in a pod.
You elect to take some distance. While you understand that Felix wants to help him, it doesn’t mean you have to. Thankfully, with summer fastly approaching, you won’t have to bear with Oliver Quick for much longer.
As usual, James and Elspeth urged you to come spend the summer at Saltburn, particularly Elspeth who couldn’t stop gushing about what a gorgeous couple you and Felix are. And while you may have tried to decline every other year, finding his family to be an awful lot, this year is different. This year, more than ever before, you long for an escape.
Even the pits of hell would be a suitable vacation spot if it meant not having to run across Oliver Quick for two whole months.
It’s a thrilling prospect. These days you can’t be around Felix as much because being around him means being around Oliver, and you just can’t do it. You look forward to having your boyfriend all to yourself. All day long, you dream about lazy afternoons by the pool and cloud-gazing in the grassy fields.
These are the balmy thoughts floating through your mind as you return to your dorm that day after classes end. A carefree smile decorates your face. You can’t wait to finish packing your suitcase. You saved every penny from your part-time job to buy a new swimsuit. And while it made a small dent in your savings, imagining Felix’s face the first time he’ll see you in it makes the tiny sacrifice worth it.
But the smile on your lips dies when you cross the door to your bedroom. Your jaw drops, the stack of books in your hands crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
“What are you doing here?” you whisper. You shrink against the door, maintaining as wide a distance as the small room allows.
Oliver doesn’t even spare you a glance, casually lying on your bed with one knee bent like it’s his.
“Your taste in books. A bit of a letdown I gotta say, luv,” he says, flipping the yellowed pages of one of your favourite novels.
You lick your lips. “Look, I’m sorry about your dad…but you can’t be here.” He doesn’t leave your bed, engulfed in his reading. Your brows knit. “Get out of my room, Oliver,” you repeat, folding your arms as you approach the bed.
His cobalt gaze finally settles on you. He places the book on the night table, slow and unhurried as he gets to his feet.
Your pulse soars as he inches closer.
“Or what? You’ll scream?” he challenges. He circles you, gauging you in a way that summons a picture of a lion stalking its prey in your head. Your blood curdles when Oliver’s breath caresses your nape. “Then you’ll have to explain what I’m doing in your room and make a scene.” His voice lowers to a taunting rasp. “Do you want to make a scene?”
Your voice comes out shaky. “What do you want?”
Oliver takes a deep breath while placing his hands on your shoulders. His thumbs trace a slow path along the column of your neck. His lips graze your earshell.
“I want you to come over here, lie on this bed and spread your legs like a good girl for me.” You suck in a sharp breath. His fingers drag down your arm as he adds, “I’m feeling…peckish.”
When you don’t move, he releases a deep sigh.
“...Or I can tell Felix everything.”
Your heart starts hammering in your chest. “What?” you exhale, spinning to face him.
Oliver smiles.
“You guys are great right now. He says you’re the best you’ve ever been. No more lies. No more secrets.” Oliver bends close to you, his smile expanding. “How do you think he’ll react when I tell him that we fucked…” He pauses and you hold your breath. “And that you’ve lied to him about your family this entire year.”
Goosebumps spread across your flesh. You stumble back, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. “H-How do you know about that?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, Oliver takes small steps forward, causing you to retreat until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He places his hands on each side of you. His gaze traces the motion of your neck as you swallow the lump in your throat.
“I…It’s not the right time of the month right now,” you lamely offer.
Oliver’s blue eyes rise as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Tingles bounce over your skin as he rolls your plaid skirt up your thighs.
“And you think it’s something I’m worried about?”
A moan tears from your throat when he buries two fingers inside your core without a warning.
“From now on when I tell you to spread your legs for me, you do as I say,” Oliver informs, his fingers curving inside you. You choke on your breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?” The threat laced in his tone scatters ice in your veins.
“Y-Yes.”
“Yes, Oliver,” he corrects.
“Yes…Oliver,” you sputter, legs tensing as his digits reach deeper inside you.
“I’m sure it’ll be a summer to remember.”
Between uneven breaths, you stammer, “W-What do you mean?”
He strokes under your thigh absently.
“Oh didn’t Felix tell you?” He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “I’ve been invited to Saltburn, as a guest.”
When Oliver leans away, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Excitement sways in his cobalt orbs as he studies your crestfallen expression.
“I know. I’m looking forward to it too.”
#saltburn#saltburn fanfiction#oliver quick#oliver quick x reader#dark!oliver quick#dark!oliver quick x reader#dark!fic
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———
Hades’ favourite thing to rant about is how much his family forgets about and sidelines him. Nico has literally never once given the lecture his full attention, because why the fresh fuck would he subject himself to that, but he discovers, lying facedown on the floor of Cabin Three, that he must have internalised enough of it to remember some key points.
He is loathe to admit it, but Father is right. How come the Poseidon cabin floors are so nice and comfortable? The floor of Cabin Thirteen sucks. Whenever he has Floor Time in his own cabin, he gets bruised and cold. Injustice.
“Could you suffer quieter? I’m trying to study.”
“Shut up, Percy.”
“I’m not the one groaning in misery.”
“Shut up, Percy.”
Percy sighs heavily. There’s a loud thud as he snaps his textbook shut, and the creak of mattress springs as he shifts.
“You’re so fuckin’ irritating, you know that?”
“Coming from you,” Nico says indignantly, pushing up to glare at him. Percy makes a face back. “I am here, having a crisis, being vulnerable in front of you —”
“Oh my gods.”
“— like you suggested, to rebuild our tenuous relationship —”
“I wish the prophecy had killed me. Either one, I’m not picky.”
“— and you are studying! Nose in a book! You hate reading! You are doing this just to spite me!”
“I am doing this to pass my classes,” Percy snips. “Someone should send you to public school. You need to experience that particular level of hell.”
“Experienced hell already, thanks. Don’t need a redo.”
“Tartarus references don’t shut me up, Zombie Boy. I’ve been there too.”
“Ugh.”
Percy rolls his eyes, turning back to his textbook. Nico contemplates rolling back on the floor to Ruminate and Think (after the second failure in a row he has a much to think about, like what the fuck is he supposed to do, should he even fucking bother, is he doomed to life without love, etc, etc) but finds himself, instead, sitting upright. Watching his — friend. Watching his heavy frown, listening to the bit-back curses and the crinkle of pages when he holds the book too tightly.
He’s moody, today. Sullen. Ate his breakfast in silence and stomped off to the sword fighting arena, raising hurricane downpour around the open theatre to deter anyone from joining him. Coincidentally, Annabeth has not been seen all day.
“Are you okay?” Nico asks quietly.
Percy shrugs, glancing over then glancing quickly away. “Fine.”
“I mean. You flooded half the camp. So.”
“Just drop it, Nico. If you’re going to stay in here, be quiet.”
Nico bites back the automatic, scathing retort. Be quiet, Nicolò! Lalalalala! Don’t tell me what to do! Ugh! I hate having a little brother! Yeah, well, I hate you too!
A quick, cut-off choking sound cuts through his thoughts. He looks up, startled, to find Percy’s face red, to find him swiping angrily at his cheeks.
“Woah,” he murmurs, climbing hastily upright. He ignores the loud chanting in his brain telling him to leave, the discomfort swirling in his stomach at seeing someone cry, seeing another man cry, instead hovering awkwardly. Percy shrugs off the hand he touches hesitantly to his shoulder, and Nico holds it there, suspended, in between and outstretched.
“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
Nico hesitates. Of all people, he…nobody wants Nico around, when they’re —whatever Percy is. Upset. The only thing he can probably do is make it worse.
But what can he do? Leave him? Get Annabeth? Jason? None of it seems right. Instead he stands, frozen, hand still half-outstretched, eyes wide.
“You can —” He clears his throat. “Um. Did something happen?”
Percy shrugs. His eyes remain glued resolutely to his textbook, although the pages are wet and warped.
“Cause you can tell me, you know. I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything.”
Gods, he is so far out of his depth. Could Kampe come back and attack? That would be easier to deal with. Nico could handle that.
“I don’t —” the pages of the textbook crinkle under Percy’s grip — “it’s fucking stupid, is what it is.”
Hovering is not the right call. He knows that much. He scans the cabin, evaluating his options — sitting back on the floor feels like a bad plan. He doesn’t think any kind of touch would be welcomed, nor is he entirely comfortable in giving it. He doesn’t want to crowd. He doesn’t want to seem too distant.
Slowly, carefully gauging Percy’s reaction, he sits on the bed, across from him. He leaves the textbook between them, letting Percy keep pretending to read it, and tucks his legs up under his knees. He fiddles absentmindedly with his ring, chewing his lip every time Percy sniffles.
“Why’s it stupid?”
Percy shrugs again. Nico resists the urge to shake him. How does anyone deal with this shit? What the hell is he even supposed to do? He’s not Jason. He’s not Annabeth. Hell, he’s not Will, who seems to read emotions intuitively, who seems to know exactly what to do when someone is scared, when someone is upset. Even when someone is angry. He tries to imagine Will, in his position. Sitting across from a crying Percy Jackson, saviour of the world. Yesterday, one of the younger kids had tripped and scraped half the skin off their arm on the basketball court. Will had been there with a soft smile and gentle, glowing hands, speaking quietly and cracking small jokes until the kid was laughing again. Nico tries to imagine that here, soft words and lighthearted jokes. It doesn’t seem right. Would he — touch Percy’s wrist, like he did with Clarisse? Drag the fight right out of him?
Is Percy even angry? Nico has seen him angry before. Murderous. Fuming.
He’s never seen him cry.
Percy’s voice is like palms scraping hard over sharp gravel stones. “I made Annabeth cry this morning.”
The way he says it makes it hard for Nico to actually understand his words. His tone of voice is — volatile, is the best way he can describe it. Loathing. Based on the curling self-hatred dripping from the sentence Nico would assume he’d tried to kill her — he says I made her cry like he doesn’t deserve to live for it. Like he’s hoping to be punished.
“That happens,” Nico says. He swallows. “When you — love people.”
He and Bianca made each other cry a lot. He just never — stopped, never gave her half a second. Sometimes she looked at him and he knew she wanted to hit him. She never did. But he knew and she knew he knew and sometimes it would well up in her eyes, and she would lock herself in the bathroom of their room and turn on the sink and cry and cry and cry. And it ached something nasty in the cavity of his chest.
Percy sneers at his hands, flexing his fingers. “People who love you don’t make you cry. That’s just — hurting. That’s people who hurt everyone around them.”
Nico frowns. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” he says venomously. “I’m supposed to be — I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to keep her safe, keep her from people who cause her pain.”
“People like you?”
Percy nods.
Nico drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He thinks of bleeding fingers clinging to a tiny shaft of rock, thinks of dangerous green eyes, hard voices; thinks of a thick web clinging to a broken ankle and an abyss. Thinks of promises and oaths and choosing. Thinks of falling. Thinks of letting go.
“People who want to harm Annabeth do not jump into the Pit for her.”
The pages of Percy’s textbook have started to dry. The ink has bled, dark splotches in perfect circles. The fountain bubbles gently behind them, mattress creaking under shifting legs.
“You don’t understand what I —” He pauses, swallowing. “Did, down there.”
“D’you hurt her?”
“…I scared her.”
“Oh, well — Christ, Percy! Is that really what this — brooding is about?” He scoffs. “No shit you scared her!”
“…What?”
Percy looks at him, wide-eyed. Nico rolls his eyes.
“Aw, when you were fighting for your life in the place meant to tear your essence into atoms, did you do things that make you question your personhood? Your morals?”
“I —”
“Of course you did, dumbass! Of course you —” he takes a breath, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his brain — “of course the physical manifestation of darkness and distortion made you act differently than you would usually, Percy. Of course it — affected you. Gods. Of course you’re struggling.” He flicks Percy’s knee, looking at him with exaggerated exasperation. “Use your brain, why don’t you.”
A small smile quirks the corners of Percy’s mouth, although it fades as quickly as it comes. He wipes his face with his sleeve, breath shuddering.
“She didn’t scare me, though.”
“Not even once?”
“Not in the same way,” Percy admits. “I was scared, once, when I looked at her. In the death mist. But that wasn’t — her, you know? She could never scare me.”
“I mean,” Nico wrinkles his nose, trying to articulate, “I think that’s kind of abnormal?”
Percy tilts his head.
“I just mean that you have a very high threshold, Percy. For…what you’ll tolerate from people you care about.”
“Everyone has that.”
“Not in the same way you do.” He taps his knuckles, considering. “Tell me the truth — if Annabeth stabbed someone to death in front of you, in total cold blood, would you help her hide the body?”
“Yes,” he says immediately. He shrinks, a little. “Oh.”
Nico rushes to assure, placing a fleeting touch on his wrist. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think. It’s just —” He shrugs. “I’m used to scaring people, too. I don’t mean to. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I — do, it’s not intentional.”
Percy opens his mouth, but Nico stumbles on.
“But you’re not — a monster, Percy, gods. No one thinks you’re a monster. Especially not Annabeth.”
Percy wiggles his finger under his watch strap, turning it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the circulation. Nico watches but doesn’t say anything.
“You’re not, either.”
Nico blinks. “Huh?”
“A monster,” he explains. “You’re not, either.”
“Oh.” Nico shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”
“No, I mean it, dude, I — look. Listen.” Percy sighs. “You got baggage. I put some of it on you. I’m sorry.”
Hands around his — throat — angry, angry eyes — harder — bruising — you promised! you promised! you promised!
“It’s fine.” A pause. “I did shit to you, too.”
“It’s not fine. And I know you did. We can still —”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. He sighs again, a long, defeated sound, and curls in on himself.
“One day you’ll forgive yourself,” Nico murmurs. “One day I’ll — me too, I guess. Me and you.”
Percy smiles tiredly. “And we’ll be okay?”
“No. You’ll still be annoying.”
He snorts. “Whatever. Drama queen.”
“Oh, I’m the drama queen, Mr. I Don’t Deserve To Be Loved.”
Percy snorts. He turns back to his textbook, fiddling with the dried page, and snorts again, trying to duck his head. Nico bites the corner of his mouth, hard. Percy glances up again, and Nico meets his eyes, and they —
Gods, they’re bad at this.
But suddenly Percy can’t choke back his laughter, and it’s wheezing and self-deprecating and still kind of teary and Nico is laughing, too, because thank the gods that shit is over. Percy’s red-cheeked and Nico is red-cheeked and neither of them are going to look at each other for a week, Nico’s sure, but for now he can roll his eyes at Percy’s melodrama and dodge his embarrassed shoving, and it’s fine.
“You should talk to Annabeth,” Nico suggests, when the giggling has toned down.
Percy picks at the torn-up skin around his nails. “Probably.”
“Are you going to?”
“Why were you lying on the floor?” Percy asks instead. It is the least subtle subject change of all time, but Nico takes it as the hint it is and drops the subject. It’s not his business, anyway. They’ll talk. He knows Annabeth better than to think she’ll let it fester, at least.
“Oh, you know. Crushing weight of being alive, mortifying ordeal of being known, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Oh my gods. I’m sorry I asked.”
“Well, serves you right then, you selfish bitch.”
Percy snorts. “What, I cry all over you and now it’s your turn to vent?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it works. Transactional and eye-for-an-eye. Exactly as friendship should be.”
“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Percy says, but he can’t tamp down his smile any more than he can stop his eyes from rolling, so there. Nico is exactly as funny as he thinks he is, thank you very much. A regular comedian.
Percy snaps textbook closed and sets it on the bedside table. “So.”
“So.”
Nico squirms. Suddenly he’s not sure why the hell he came in here in the first place. Are the floors in Cabin Thirteen really that bad? Surely not. Surely Floor Time didn’t have to be in Percy’s cabin.
(He blames Father for this. He’s horribly nosy. No doubt he’s passed his nosiness onto Nico, irregardless of his lack of DNA, and made Nico the way that he is. He can’t think of a single other reason he ducked into the cabin after lunch, when Percy still hadn’t shown his face.)
“Dude, come on. You came in here and whined and huffed and made a nuisance of yourself for literally forty minutes, and now that I’m giving you the attention you begged for you don’t want it? Nuh-uh. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill about,” Nico protests, “gods, can’t a man just complain in peace —”
“Ha! Not sure you can call yourself a ‘man’ if you’re voice is still cracking, squirt.”
“I literally hate you. Not joking.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.” Percy raises an eyebrow. “Well, since my guts are already spilled out and flopping all over the floor —”
“Disgusting.”
“—so it’s your turn, now.” He pokes Nico’s bicep. Nico bats him away, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor, scooting over to put more space between them. Thankfully, Percy doesn’t follow, and he exhales, settling his back against the bed frame. The mattress springs creak again as he readjusts. “You can tell me, you know.” Nico can hear the smile in his voice at the cheeky repitition. “I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything. Ahem.”
“You’re so annoying.” Nico picks at a loose thread in the knees of his pants, looping it around his finger.
Will thinks ripped jeans are stupid. He hadn’t said so outright, when Nico came back from his Aphrodite-Cabin-enforced shopping trip, but Nico had noticed his pursed lips and deliberately schooled face. When he’d pressed about it, pestering him until he’d given up with the very southern passive aggressive if you like, Nico, I love, don’t you worry about it answer, he’d gotten a forty minute rant about jeans that “sold less jean for more fuckin’ money” that made him laugh until he cried.
He yanks the thread and pulls. The hole widens.
“Oh my gods, you’re actually whipped. Is that what this is?”
Nico flushes. “Shut up.”
“It is!” Percy grins widely, wicked delight in his eyes. “You are literally thinking about him right now! You might as well be kicking your feet! You —”
“Shut up, Percy, gods.”
“I’ve never seen you so red,” he says instead, because he is incapable of following instructions. His smile fades, face softening into something more pensive. “You must really like him.”
Nico shrugs. Is that what he feels for Will? Gorgeous. I’ve been crushing on you forever. He likes a lot of people. You always know just what I need. A lot of people aren’t Will.
“He’s not scared of me.” No matter how much he fiddles with it, the metal of his ring is always cold. Cold hands, he supposes. He never heats up much. “Or. intimated. Creeped out. He thinks I’m —”
He clamps his mouth shut. A bubble of something expands in his chest, growing out of his lungs, past his shoulders, pushing his throat closed. He swallows, hard, trying to shove it back, but — Nico! Hey! You think I couldn’t stand to see a friendly face? No way, Death Boy, no more Underworld-y magic for you! I can literally feel you fading! My hands are still shaking — here, feel.
“Gorgeous?” The smile on Percy’s face is teasing, but much softer than before. “I heard he — said.”
Maybe it’s the redness of Percy’s nose that hasn’t quite faded, or his still-puffy eyes, but finally the bubble pops, and Nico sighs, tipping his head back until it rests on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. After a beat of hesitation, callused fingers brush through his hair, ruffling it, lingering awkwardly before pulling away. He smiles.
“Yes.”
“…Really? He just up and told you, that he had a —”
Percy stumbles on the words. Nico peeks one eye open and grinning wryly. “Yeah. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am. Or maybe he’s just shameless.”
“He was always really intense about being your friend.” Percy screws up his face, tilting his head as if envisioning it. “I didn’t understand what that meant, at first. I didn’t get…the reason? Behind it? If that makes sense.”
“You forgot about gay people,” Nico says drily. “I know.”
“This is true,” Percy admits. He grins, sheepish. “That’s an L on my part. Every time me and Annabeth went looking for you he’d somehow know about it and ask us a bajillion questions when we got back. I just thought he was really into necromancy, or something, but now it’s like…damn.”
Nico covers his eyes with his hand, fighting back an embarrassed smile. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering. There is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you.
“You’d think it would be easier to get him to go out with me, then.”
“It hasn’t been?”
Nico throws his hands up. “No! He doesn’t — I got him flowers, Percy, and he ground them up to make a poultice. He thought the rock I got him was a bribe. I open every door for him and I always pull out a chair for him at counsellor meetings. I make sure to stand up first when we’re sitting together and offer him a hand. I don’t know what else I can — do, gods.” He makes a noise of frustration, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m being as obvious as I can be. What am I gonna have to do to get him to realise? Fuckin’ — tattoo his name on my forehead?”
Percy slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out his pen. He twists it around his fingers, fiddling with the cap, picking at the plastic casing. He uses the end of it to trace mindless swirls on his thigh, which Nico can’t help but feel is dangerous. One wrong move and he better hope Nico can drag him to the fountain fast enough to stabilize him. But his eyes are far away, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.
“There is a chance,” he says slowly, “that he…knows.”
Nico frowns, turning to face him properly. He looks resolutely at his lap. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I — well.” He does finally uncap his blade, staring at the soft glow of the bronze, rubbing his thumbnail over the leather handle. “I. Knew,” he says haltingly. “That Annabeth liked me. I —”
Nico watches him carefully. This is…news, to him. He didn’t keep up much on camp drama about the two of them — for obvious reasons — but he hardly had to. Even during his brief, one or two day stops at Camp, Percy and Annabeth gossip was impossible to avoid. People talked about them constantly, about how much they obviously cared for each other, how oblivious, especially, Percy was. It used to give him a twisted sort of hope.
“You…knew? And you didn’t do anything?”
Percy winces. “She got frustrated with hiding it. She kissed me, once, before I blew up St. Helens. And I just —” He shrugs. “I couldn’t believe that someone like her would want anything to do with someone like me.”
It’s impossible to miss his meaning, to miss the self-directed bitterness at the end of his words. Nico recognises it because he practically invented it. Someone like me. Someone disgusting, ugly, unworthy. Someone bitter and twisted and wrong. Someone so undeserving.
“I think Will is like me,” Percy continues softly. “That — insecurity.” He says the word quickly, like he might be able to hide it in the rest of the sentence. “I think he thinks very highly of you. And I think it’s hard for him to believe that you want to — to lower yourself, to be with him.”
“That’s inane,” Nico argues. “He’s — bright and kind and smart and — he’s fucking everything, what is he —!”
“He grew up a healer in a camp full of warriors. Full of talented people,” Percy murmurs. “When you’re surrounded by people who know what they’re doing, it’s easy to feel like a loser.”
Nico opens his mouth, closing it again. On principle he doesn’t agree with Percy. It doesn’t make sense. Every single person at this camp has relied on Will in more than one way for as long as he’s been here — as long as he’s been healing them. How could he not know what his purpose is? How could he not realise his talents?
Ace bandage, sound and unwound. Hard blue eyes, self-directed sneer. I’m just a healer.
“He’s not a loser,” Nico says eventually. “I don’t think he’s a — loser.”
Nico thinks he’s quite a bit more than that, actually. In fact if all words in the any language he knows, ‘loser’ is probably the least apt to describe him.
“How do I make him realise? Make him —”
Percy shrugs. “Took Annabeth several years and I still think I’m — well. I still struggle. You’ll have to be patient.” He glances over, and that mischevious smile is back on his face, the one that promises trouble and guarantees Nico an excuse to kick him. “Or, you know, you could just tell him that you think he’s bright, and kind, and smart, and beautiful, and —”
Nico does indeed kick him. He falls back against his pillow, laughing, curled against his side.
“I did not — I did not say beautiful,” Nico says hotly, “that was not on the list, you total jackass —”
Percy only laughs harder, no matter how many times Nico kicks him.
———
next
#oh the percy nico dynamic….i literally want to put them in a cage and study them#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#percy jackson#percy & nico#percy jackson & nico di angelo#complicated relationships#angst#hurt/comfort#percy jackson angst#solangelo#nico/will#will/nico#nico di angelo/will solace#pining nico di angelo#modern courting#my writing#fic#longpost#WILL AND PERCY PARALLELS BABEY
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—seven days. [ ii ]
pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.
summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.
author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.
masterlist.
For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.
“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.
“Well, I don't want you close.”
Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.
So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.
It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.
Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.
And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.
Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.
you: you doin good there?
Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)
And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.
him: not really no
him: can you bring me coffee
you: on it champ
Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.
“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.
You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”
A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.
You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.
Oh… You still haven't told him yet.
“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.
You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.
“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.
“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”
Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.
Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.
“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.
Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”
“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”
“Okay.”
Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.
“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.
“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”
Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.
“No, it isn't.”
You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”
Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”
“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”
Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.
You groan.
“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”
He flips you off.
Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?
Except Max sends you a message at high noon.
him: sos
you: is your kitchen burning
him: no
him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick
him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel
you: succ it up
him: you can’t do this to me
him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi
you: where are you
him: home
him: i also need help in cooking
Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.
“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.
“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.
“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.
“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”
You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.
“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.
“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”
You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”
Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”
“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I thought you said you were cooking.”
“I said I needed help with cooking.”
Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”
“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”
A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.
Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.
“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.
“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”
You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.
“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.
Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.
“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”
“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.
But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.
But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.
And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.
Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.
“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.
“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”
“How about you, Max?”
“Can we not talk about this please?”
The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.
“You can stay for dinner.”
Max’s offer surprises you.
“No.”
His face drops as quickly as your answer came.
“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”
“No, I’ll cook.”
You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.
“I swear, I’ll cook.”
“What if I get poisoned?”
“You won't get poisoned.”
When you continue staring at him, he sighs.
“Just stay please?”
Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.
You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.
“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.
“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”
You blink. He blinks back.
“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”
Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.
God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.
#max verstappen x you#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#manager!reader#fluff#formula one#formula 1#f1 x reader#f1 imagines#f1 fanfic#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv33#mv33 x reader
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💀 when he fucks you soo good, you forget his name and you can't scream it when you are about to cum.
You start giggling, after you had your orgasm, and he asks you "what?", when he is still panting on top of you. And with the most adorable heart eyes and giggles you tell him "it felt so good, I forgot your name for a second, Javier (or any other Pedro Boy that is on your mind)"
No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: I know it fits Javi perfectly my beautiful anon, but I've been suffering from Joel brain rot and he's the only thing I think of and crave day and night 😭😭😭
• being railed by Joel was an experience you were sure you would never be able to get used to; he was intense, caring, and well balanced between rough and sweet; having sex with him was something every woman should have the right to experiment
• too bad they never will because he's yours and only yours and no one touched your man 🔪
• some days he's more romantic, sometimes he gets straight to the point or he just enjoys teasing you, it really depends on the mood, but it's undeniable it's always good nonetheless
• he makes sure to give you all the attention you need, knowing exactly where to touch you, where his mouth goes and he doesn't shy away from his manly obligations, no matter how tired he might be
• in other words, Joel makes sure you cum at least once a day, that's the least he can do for his baby girl, because she deserves to be cared for by him
• to Joel, it's simply another night he's getting himself lost into you, the pleasure of being inside your pulsing, slippery tight cunt while he throbs and waits for his release, he knows you and your body, he can tell you are close to it after being eaten up and stimulated to the point your clit is puffy and sensitive
• he can't wait any longer, so he fastens his pace and grunts, his hands gripping your hips as the two of you reach your orgasm; it feels so good to reach your bliss with him on top of you: his grunts, his heavy breathing, his weight on you, and then you let out a giggle
"what?!"
• he asks raising how eyebrow as he studies your face, he's panting and still inside, wondering if he'd done something embarrassing unaware or anything like that, but you just stroke his cheek, giving him the heart eyes and chuckles again
"nothing. It felt so good I forgot your name for a while, Joel"
• you admitted and pulled his head closer, kissing his lips and resting your forehead against his, enjoying the intimate and calm moment between the two of you
"you're silly and I love you"
• he blurted out and earned another giggle, closing his eyes at the feel of your hands toying with his curls
"you're right Joel, I am silly and I also love you"
• he rolled over and rested on his back, pulling you to him, he didn't want to get off you, not yet, so his cock remained inside of you for a while at the same time your bodies were against each other's and you fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#joel miller#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller headcanons#joel miller headcanon
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LOSING MY MIND OVER UNKNOWN EPISODE 8
Another week, another incredible episode of Unknown, another shout into the ether that they do not fuck this up for me in the final four episodes. Chris and Kurt are so good together as scene partners, but I am definitely dubbing Episode 8, The Chris Episode because holy hell was Chris juggling so many different emotions from Qian throughout the entire episode in all its tense and awkward glory.
I think I want to talk about eyes. Because I just recently rewatched Episode 6, and was losing it all over again at Qian’s complete refusal to make eye contact with Yuan from the moment Yuan says he’s suffering until he returns from the United States. Especially because in Episode 8, he barely makes eye contact with Yuan but for very different reasons.
Bedroom
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Qian wakes up the morning after Yuan’s return to find Yuan sleeping at his side. Now, knowing that Yuan is really only pretending to be asleep, and that he will continue to terrorize Qian throughout the episode, Yuan has positioned himself in such a way that the very first thing Qian has the ability to see when he wakes up is Yuan’s face. In the initial moment of wakefulness, Qian uses this private, quiet moment to study Yuan’s face, after years.
And similarly to the end of Episode 7, we look through Qian’s eyes via close up of Yuan’s face on screen only to hear Yuan say “seen enough?” Which is where we get a very good microexpression from Chris because Qian’s eyes go slightly wider, surprised that Yuan is a) actually awake and b) able to tell that he is Looking. But Qian does not look away.
Yuan opens his eyes, and Qian shifts, lifting his head up slightly as if he’s dialed in…but he is only able to maintain eye contact with Yuan for (literally) 2 seconds, before snapping himself out of it and sitting upright to take himself out of physical line (or plane) with Yuan. But he immediately looks back down at Yuan looking very dazed and at least slightly confused, and from my perspective a lot of that is informed by the fact that Qian is having to adjust to Yuan being back home. But the longest Qian can bear to look at Yuan is approximately 5 seconds.
gif by @thecasualfkfan
Qian, man of few words, tries to cut the thick silence with a caregiving question ‘are you hungry?” cut to the mirror where we see a reflection of only Qian, a jarring site because typically when Qian and Yuan are in the same room, they are framed together. “I’ll take you to the hotpot place,” and Yuan says nothing, so Qian tries to cut the tension again by saying he’ll message San Pang and Xiong.
“No need for the trouble. We can eat at home.” Yuan replies, and it gives Qian pause. Years have passed since he last saw Yuan, Yuan is established in his adulthood, successful, independent, confident, and sure. Qian has not been coping well, and the easy relationship, the familiar dynamic that he once had with Yuan is gone, he has no idea how to exist around Yuan right now. Qian turns his head slowly, to look at Yuan once more, but Yuan is up and out the door, leaving Qian to just stare at the space he left behind for a moment.
We get the second isolated framing of Qian in the mirror as his eyes move from the space by his bed where Yuan sat towards the door that Yuan just walked through.
So what I love about this episode is that Yuan knows his feelings, and I think he has a pretty good understanding of where Qian’s feelings rest now that Qian has called him home. Yuan has a goal, Yuan knows what he wants, the distance has very much helped to calm the storm of feelings that Yuan was having a hard time keeping a handle on when he was younger. Qian on the other hand, has a few more crises to work through before he can feel grounded in his changing feelings for Yuan. Which is what I think we are watching him parse through right before the intro when his eyes follow Yuan out the door and then close accompanied by a deep intake of breath. A moment to process what just happened.
This episode is very aptly titled The Distance Between Us and Love because Yuan is doing nothing but playing with distance. He is being petty, he is pushing buttons, he is- I would claim -essentially edging Qian by getting just close enough to inspire physiological responses in Qian without completely closing the distance.
Dinner
And that distance also includes a demonstration to Qian about how Yuan is capable of maintaining an emotional distance from him now that Yuan’s priorities have changed and he is no longer blindly, overwhelmingly devoted to Qian. And it’s funny in the show because it feels petty, because it is a little petty, but under the surface there is a lot of richness in understanding that Yuan’s position as an adoptee, as a traumatized child, as someone that was saved and probably felt the need to maintain his place, who didn’t have the same level of security in the household as Xiao Bao has had, Yuan has made Qian his number one priority for a significant part of his life, so much so that Qian has fallen right back in to the routine of anticipating being cared for by Yuan upon his return, but it is subject to change. To me, this entire episode reads like Yuan telling Qian “you have the choice not to engage in a relationship with me, but the emotional distance and deprioritization you are experiencing right now will be the new normal, can you bear that?”
gif by @ueasking
Qian walks up to the table and sees a truly impressive layout of food in front of him, and he looks somewhat shocked between the food and Yuan, the food and Yuan. Yuan has always been a helpful person, he has been trying to ease Qian’s burdens his entire life, but he’s an adult now and thus his reciprocated care means actually being able to provide for and support Qian holistically. Yuan walks out of the kitchen with a hangover cure, and Chris performs an inspired bit of improv and reaches for the glass, because Qian has slipped back into a world where someone cares about him first. But like I said, Yuan isn’t acting that way right now.
I love that Qian looks to his right to see if San Pang caught his #awkwardmoment and that is sustained throughout the dinner as Qian keeps stealing glances at Yuan, but looking away before he can have any silent interactions with Yuan at all. My favorite part of this scene is Yuan’s interaction with San Pang who is also absolutely awkward with Yuan. In this scene we get a massive dig from Yuan to both San Pang and Qian, and on the surface it’s petty but if you look in an additional layer, there is so much disrespect behind Yuan’s words.
gif by @ueasking
“San Pang. Thank you. I’ve thought a lot during my time abroad. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the chance to go to the US and get what I have now. I’m grateful to you. Thank you.”
It is important, in my mind, that the end of this statement is followed with a cut to Qian’s face and not San Pang’s because it wasn’t San Pang that sent Yuan to the US. He was the one who delivered the news for sure, but it was the money Qian had saved over the course of years that sent Yuan abroad. There is soooo much disrespect in this statement because Yuan is ignoring Qian’s contribution to his time abroad and he is telling San Pang, essentially, that anything that happens between Yuan and Qian moving forward is directly because of him.
And now, a commercial break for the funniest scene in the show to date:
Bedroom 2
Here we start with the hands :) Yuan enters Qian’s room and immediately moves behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Qian is mad about San Pang and Lili and he is fully not making eye contact with Yuan, barely even turns in his direction when he enters the room, puts as much distance between himself and Yuan as he can in his room.
“Ge. Have you ever thought that we can’t accept changes because we’re too used to the way things were?”
gif by @ueasking
And we get Qian finally and slowly looking in Yuan’s general direction, Yuan moves to the bed, to Qian’s side and over the course of the conversation Qian looks towards Yuan about three more times, but he never turns completely, he never looks directly. Not even when Yuan calls him “Wei Qian” which was a brilliant fucking move on his part when he’s trying to drive home the point that the nature of people’s relationships to one another can change. Yuan leaves and the camera cuts to him leaving exiting Qian’s room and entering his own and a few seconds later, Qian opens his door, standing in the doorway in a similar fashion to how we saw him at the end of Episode 6 right after Yuan had left the house to go to the States.
At the Computer
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
As time continues, and Qian has not verbalized his own feelings for Yuan, Yuan starts pushing him a little harder. At first there was distance, then touch, and now he is getting bolder, literally getting in Qian’s face when he isn’t paying attention so that Qian is forced to look on in surprise and he’s asking Qian a question with his face so close there is literally no where for Qian to turn to. And Qian responds not only by looking at him, but by scanning his face, eyes flitting down to Yuan’s lips two separate times. Yuan lets the moment hang long enough for Qian to show his uncertainty around what is about to happen (is Yuan going in for a kiss?) before he breaks the tension by asking Qian a business question. But he’s been successful in shaking Qian because Qian looks back at Yuan twice in ten seconds, while Yuan just continues to stare directly at Qian to prevent Qian from stealing glances.
Being Fed
gif by @ueasking
We cut to probably my favorite scene of the episode with Yuan feeding Qian, mostly because Qian has no fucking idea what to do about it. Also because it has absolutely one of my favorite blocking moments when Qian reaches for the bowl in Yuan’s hand at the same time Yuan leans forward to feed him. I love this moment a) because the execution of the motion is so smooth and b) because of the concept of food as love. Qian here is trying to take the food from Yuan while Yuan is reaching out with the spoon to feed Qian his love. Qian takes the proffered bite apprehensively, and then rejects the continued action by taking the bowl from Yuan.
And Yuan as he usually is, spends all his time staring straight at Qian, so that Qian is forced to catch his eye if and when he looks in Yuan’s general direction. Qian is really struggling with his feelings for Yuan this episode so he rushes to finish his food and get the fuck out of dodge. Between each bite he looks to Yuan for just a second before turning his head further and further to the side so as not to catch Yuan in his periphery.
“They say if you like someone, even if you wear a mask you can see it in their eyes” Qian cannot look at Yuan, because Yuan is bleeding his feelings for Qian. Qian cannot look at Yuan because Qian is bleeding his feelings for Yuan. But unfortunately for Qian, it is not just his eyes that give him away. Because he has not reckoned with his new feelings, Qian is incapable of interacting with Yuan without being the most awkward motherfucker alive. Because Yuan is confident in what he wants and Qian is still having to adjust. Qian finishes the food and hands the empty bowl back to Yuan, and just as he is about to remove himself from the situation, Yuan scoops up the very last remnants of the meal and starts to feed it to Qian.
gif by @coffeelover5eva
Qian for just a second jerks his head back, in the same way that he moved his head slightly backwards when he turned to find Yuan staring at him in his bedroom. Much in the same way that he will take a step back later when Yuan moves to fix his collar. But because Qian does have feelings for Yuan and is fighting a losing battle, that instinctual reaction to put some distance between them, to not be cared for, quickly makes way into a deflated submission as he lets Yuan feed him those last little morsels. Yuan walks away as Qian just sits in quiet, annoyed, resignation. Chris’ face throughout this entire scene is just absolutely hysterical.
Yet another commercial break, because I am dying at Yuan being a menace
I do think it is worth noting that Qian’s reaction to this is very similar to his reaction to Yuan saying he liked him in that first attempt where he physically and emotionally disengages, gives him a little pat and tries to remove himself from the situation at hand.
Car
gif by @ueasking
Absolutely the most normal and relaxed Qian has acted around Yuan for this entire episode is in the scene where Lili is bailing on the family trip and he and Yuan are discussing what to do next. Is that little hand stopping the trunk from opening all the way a little desperate? Yeah I think so. But holy shit is it the least tense Qian has been with Yuan in quite some time.
That does not last long though because once they get in the car, Qian sits there expectantly, waiting for the charged sexual tension that would come with Yuan reaching over him to buckle his seat belt. I love this show for giving us the parallel fishing trips, because Yuan originally tried to pull the BL Seatbelt Staple years prior without complete success, Qian does not get the luxury of a second chance to get butterflies in his stomach having Yuan that close. It’s fucking brilliant to have had the buckle before, because it means the audience very clearly knows what Qian is thinking and expecting when he makes no move of his own to buckle up.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
What I love so much about this moment is that Qian has been trying to avoid these feelings time and time again since Yuan returned. And here we know he’s lost because for the first time in the entire episode he is waiting for Yuan to make a move. He wants Yuan to buckle him in. He can’t say it out loud, it’s embarrassing for him to have Yuan not buckle him in while having Yuan passively calling him out on his expectations.
If Qian’s absolute inability to function with Yuan gone was not enough of an indication that Qian has lost this fight already, this is absolutely the point in which we know Yuan has won. Because after all the avoidance, those split seconds of jumping back, of adding distance, of trying to shorten the time the two of them are alone together, Qian doesn’t bail on the trip and Qian waits for Yuan to make a move.
Fishing
First, it must be acknowledged that under the sunlight, Qian’s hair is very red. In other words. The boy has uke hair.
“When did you get so good at fishing” Qian asks
“When I was abroad I used to go hiking and fishing by myself. I didn’t feel lonely when I imagined you were by my side,” Yuan replies
and Qian furrows his brow slightly because Qian did that too. Not the hiking-and-fishing part, but the curbing the loneliness by imagining-Yuan-was-there part. We can see it in Episode 7 when he smiles and toasts the air at his side with his beer can after Lili and San Pang leave for the Christmas market, and if you didn’t catch that moment the first time (I did not) we get it again in the flashback Qian has, remembering the brightness and the chaos of Lili and Yuan being in the house.
“Ge, do you have something to say?”
“Zhiyuan, don’t keep your feelings for me anymore. Nothing will come of them” Yuan chuckles, which like…valid buddy, cause that is fucking hilarious. Not because Yuan doesn’t have feelings for Qian, but because something will definitely come of them. Because this is Qian’s last attempt at trying to maintain the status quo. Trying to be responsible and keep their feelings for each other at a non-romantic level. But it’s too late, Qian, you’re a goner. Qian looks at Yuan, but only in his peripheral vision, he dares not look at Yuan flat out at this point.
“What makes you think I still have feelings for you?” Qian looks at Yuan immediately after he says that, and not just looks at his face, but down his body, and then out in to his own thoughts.
“Ge, do you remember a long time ago you asked me what I would do if the person I liked got married?”
“You said you’d go crazy”
“My answer’s changed.”
And with that Qian has the sharpest, fastest head turn we’ve seen from him all episode but for the first time in the entire episode, Yuan is not looking a Qian. He is giving Qian the space to look, to think. He tells Qian that he will be happy as long as the person that he likes is happy, and we immediately see this tension release itself from Qian’s forehead. Qian is looking pensive throughout the conversation, and his eyes only move once Yuan moves again that Qian’s eyes follow the motion of the lid. Yuan moves to sit on the container, which places Qian not only below him, but the camera angle shrinks Qian down so he appears even smaller than usual next to Yuan.
Qian looks at Yuan when he sits down
“Wei Qian. Don’t you like Wei Zhiyuan?” Yuan asks, and the moment his question finishes, Qian looks away, because Qian has been incapable of maintaining eye contact where any romantic feelings are involved, but he is actually thinking here. You can see that question weighing heavy on Qian’s mind. And he can’t just run away from it so he closes his eyes and looks away again.
“If you do, is it only because we’re brothers?” and Qian’s jaw tenses considerably as he processes the question. You can see his lip move, you can see the twitching of his cheek as he clenches his teeth. But Yuan is done teasing Qian. Qian has become increasingly more obvious in his reactions to Yuan and now that Yuan has successfully riled Qian up over the past few days and they are alone where they had their first conversation about Yuan’s crush on an unknown boy. @romchat has already pointed out the reverse imagery for the parallel here but Yuan reaches out and clasps Qian’s cheek, the same way that Qian has done for Yuan countless times.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
When Yuan’s hand first makes contact, Qian looks at it but keeps his eyes trained downward. But the second time that Yuan’s thumb slides gently across his cheek, Qian looks up, looks straight into Yuan’s eyes. He does not tense any further, he does not fight against it, he does not shy away from Yuan’s touch or Yuan’s gaze. (@respectthepetty has a very lovely little breakdown of this scene herself here)
“This thing about us, is it that you don’t want, or you don’t dare?” Yuan asks and we move back to a wide angle shot that closes out the episode with the little title card. But Chris doesn’t stop acting just because there isn’t a close up on his face, oh no. No. Instead Qian’s face relaxes eeeeeever so slightly, and you can see him swallow hard. This is not a question he wants to be faced with because we all know what the answer is, and the answer is that he does want, but doesn’t dare. And the second that his fear of losing Yuan for a second time becomes stronger than his fear of changing their relationship? Game over.
This show is putting so many worms in my brain, I love it so much, and I am so looking forward to episode 9 where I get to see my boys being put through hell at the hands of the gang. Torture my boys! They don’t have enough angst!!
#unknown#unknown the series#unknown episode 8#unknown the series analysis#unknown the series meta#wka long post#chris chiu#kurt huang#taiwanese bl
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seven — kinda nice
fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader
you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?
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word count. 2.6k
content. swearing, oral (m receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, handjob, use of pet names, aftercare
“Don’t,” Yukie says, holding a hand up as if to stop you from speaking.
You frown. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, but you were going to.” She keeps her head down, focused on her notes. “You were going to talk about wanting to drop out again.”
“I was not.”
“Were too.”
“Was not.”
Yachi hushes you. “Are we studying or not?”
You point an accusatory finger at Yukie. “She started it!”
“Y/N, I love you, but can you just please focus,” Kiyoko joins in, looking at you desperately. “Your next exam’s worth 40% of your grade.”
You cross your arms and lean back against your seat. Like a stubborn child. “I know that,” you say. Although you were pretty sure it was only 30%. Maybe you actually should have been studying. You shake your head at the thought, then, “Can I have my phone now?”
“No!” they all say in unison.
“But what if ‘Tsumu texted?”
Yachi groans. “That’s exactly why you can’t have your phone,” she tells you. “You get way too distracted.”
“I do not.”
“Do too!”
“Oh my fucking god!” Kiyoko exclaims. She stands up and marches over to the corner of the room, furiously opening a drawer then slamming it shut. When she gets back to the table, she slides your phone over to you. “Just be quiet.”
“Okay,” you whisper, grinning as you take your phone to check it.
tsumu: u better be studying
You scream, hurling your phone across the room. The three girls look at you in disbelief as you offer them a guilty smile. “Sorry.”
The summer semester rolls away unceremoniously. You spend two weeks hunched over your desk, finishing papers and preparing for your final exams, getting an average of three hours of sleep every night. You run on nothing but coffee and instant noodles, only leaving your room to study in a different setting with your friends who are suffering too.
When you finally pass your last exam—your professor only nodding to acknowledge your existence—a wave of relief washes over you. The war has been fought. The battle is won. And you’re absolutely exhausted.
“I’m gonna sleep forever,” you say excitedly, digging into the salmon bento Atsumu brought you. “Fuck me, this is good.”
“I’ll tell ‘Samu ya like it,” he says, eating his own with gusto. “Ya can say no, but d’ya wanna come to my place tonight? We can watch movies and eat and sleep.”
You nod your head vigorously. “I’d like that,” you tell him. “I’d like that a lot.”
He smiles. “Good.”
Things between the two of you have been going well. You’ve been hanging out for more than two months now and you surprisingly feel no urge to bolt just yet. He’s a good friend and a good person, you like spending time with him. You’ve even started getting close with his friends and the rest of the volleyball team—much to Oikawa’s dismay.
It’s even given you a reason to see Suna more, which is always nice. You’ve learned that he’s pretty much the same person when he’s around his friends. Quieter, maybe, and a little colder towards you (because you aren’t supposed to be close), but still the same Suna that you’re used to. It’s been interesting getting to know him this way. You don’t mind it at all.
Everything’s been good. You’re having a lot of fun.
Atsumu drops you off at your residence hall after lunch, promising to pick you up later. You give him a kiss and thank him before sending him on his way.
Your room is empty when you get there. Kiyoko’s probably out with Tanaka, you think as you flop onto your bed. The blankets are warm and soft and freshly washed thanks to your roommate who freaked out when you told her you hadn’t washed them in weeks.
You’ll have to get up eventually. Take a proper shower and put on something comfortable. Pack a bag for Atsumu’s place. Maybe grab a cup of coffee. But, for now, you set an alarm and let yourself sleep.
You deserve it.
The twins’ apartment isn’t what you expect at all. You’ve been to other boys’ places before and they all have a recurring theme—Suna with his dirty socks by the door, Oikawa with his hoard of unreturned clothes with price tags still on them, Iwaizumi with his giant Godzilla stuffed toy that he never acknowledges (which you should never acknowledge either)—you thought you’d find something similar in Atsumu and Osamu’s place.
But no.
All you’re met with is a barren wasteland. A living room with nothing but a plain couch and a television. A kitchen with no plates or cups or cutlery. An entryway with no shoes, no mat, no coat rack. Empty. Completely devoid of any signs of life.
“Did you get robbed?” you can’t help yourself from asking.
Atsumu lets out the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard. “It’s not that bad!”
“‘Tsumu.” Your wide gaze meets his. “Do you need money?”
He rolls his eyes at your theatrics. “C’mon,” he says, leading you to what you assume is his room. “Stop starin’ at my kitchen.”
“No, but, ‘Tsumu, seriously. There aren’t any curtains—”
When he opens the door, you’re met with, well, a regular room. A little messy, but bursting with life. The complete opposite of the rest of the apartment.
“What?”
He leads you inside and closes the door behind him. “People get a little rowdy when we throw parties here,” he explains, “So we keep all the common areas clear of anythin’ they might break or steal.”
“Ohhh,” you say, everything clicking into place. “I get it now… I think.”
After the initial shock of his apartment wears off, you realize that you’re standing in his room and decide to look around. Now, this makes more sense.
His bed has been made, albeit a little hastily, and he’s obviously shoved a bunch of clutter under the frame. He has shelves, mostly empty, save for a few textbooks and a volleyball signed by someone Oikawa would probably scream about if he knew. His desk is the tidiest part of the room, with nothing but his laptop and a stack of notebooks to the side. It makes you smile thinking about what he might look like when he’s sitting there and doing his homework.
He picks his laptop up and hops onto his bed, patting the space beside him for you to sit down. “C’mon,” he says, pulling out a bunch of snacks from his bag. “I promised ya a movie.”
You take your place beside him, letting him put his arm around you as you snuggle into his side. “And sleep,” you say, opening a pack of sour gummy worms. “You promised sleep.”
“‘Course.” He smiles, opening his laptop and going to Netflix. “So, what d’ya wanna watch?”
You settle on a romcom—10 Things I Hate About You—and you do exactly what Atsumu said you’d do. You watch and eat and drift in and out of sleep. It’s nice having him beside you, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breath. It makes you feel safe.
When the movie ends, you decide it’s still too early for dinner, so you put on something else. This time, Atsumu picks. A horror film. The Cabin in the Woods.
As the characters on screen scream, you and Atsumu find yourselves in a rather heated makeout session. You’re straddling him, holding yourself up with both your hands on his shoulders. His legs are bent to keep you closer to him, his arms wrapped around you, hands going dangerously low.
He pulls away from your lips and starts kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at the vulnerable skin. You throw your head back and whimper, unable to bring yourself to complain about the marks he’s leaving. It just feels so good.
Without even realizing it, your hips start to grind against him, searching for some relief for the growing heat in your stomach. It’s only when you feel just how hard he is underneath his sweatpants that you come to your senses.
You look down to see him kissing your collarbone, eyes blown as he looks at you.
“Do ya wanna—”
“Yes.”
A smirk falls over his lips as he moves his mouth away from you and closes his laptop, pulling your t-shirt over your head. His hand slips behind you and unhooks your bra with practiced ease, yanking it off and tossing it to the side. He descends on your breasts, holding each with one hand, licking one nipple and playing with the other with his thumb.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, kissing the soft flesh. Then, he’s undressing you again, this time pulling down your bottoms, leaving you completely naked on top of him. He runs his large hands over your body. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
“Not fair,” you whine, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You’re still dressed.”
Atsumu laughs at that. “Yer impatient, huh?” He cranes his neck to kiss you. “Gotta learn to wait, baby.”
Despite his words, he gets rid of his clothes anyway, helping you off of him so that he can remove his jeans and boxers. He stands at the side of the bed, rolling his clothes into a ball, his cock on full display.
You feel yourself swallow. He’s big.
“Like what ya see?” he asks when he catches you staring.
Instead of answering him, you crawl over to the edge of the bed and take him in your hands, pumping his cock before licking the tip and wrapping your lips around it. He groans. You move your mouth up and down, using your hands to rub the parts you can’t fit. Pulling back, you swirl your tongue over the tip before moving down again.
He watches as you work, trying to memorize the way you look right now. It’s an unholy sight—you stark naked, your head bobbing up and down, sucking him off like nothing in the world matters. He could die right then and there and he’d be a happy man.
“Fuck, Y/N, yer gonna make me come,” he says before pulling your head away. You stare at him with a raised brow and he adds, “I wanna fuck ya first.”
You grin, moving aside for him to sit on the mattress before you straddle him again. “‘Tsumu,” you moan as you slide your cunt over his length. “Want you to fuck me.”
He reaches for your core and touches your clit, listening to your reactions to see what you like, dipping a finger into you and bending it until he hits the right spot. Soon, you’re nothing more than a moaning mess slumped over his shoulder.
“Ya close?” he asks, nipping at the skin near your ear.
You nod wordlessly, whimpers pouring out of your lips.
“Come for me, then.”
Your orgasm hits you like a train. It crashes into you as you stop grinding against Atsumu, your body wracked with pleasure. You hold onto him as he whispers praises into your ear.
“Did so good, baby,” he tells you, a soothing hand coming up to rub your back. “Still want me to fuck ya?”
You nod, coming down from your high.
“I need ya to say it, baby.”
“P-please fuck me, ‘Tsumu,” you say. “Please.”
He smirks. “Yer so polite,” he says, reaching over to a drawer on his bedside table and pulling out a condom. He rips the package open and slides the latex down his cock. You gulp, reminded of just how big he actually is. “Yer such a good girl. Think ya can ride me, huh, good girl?”
You move your head mindlessly, practically drooling at the sight of him. “Yes, ‘Tsumu.”
“Go ahead then.” He nods. “Ride me.”
You lift your hips a little and take his cock in your hands. He hisses at the contact. Slowly, you line him up with your core and sink down onto him. Your eyes close at the feeling of him filling you up. When you’ve taken all of him, he gives you a moment to get settled. Then, you lift yourself up then fall back down again. The sound of slapping skin fills the room as the two of you moan at the feeling.
You do it slowly a few more times before you're bouncing on his cock, slamming yourself down again and again. You feel so full. “Feel so good, ‘Tsumu!” You moan. “So fucking good!”
His hands come up to cup your ass, fingers wrapping around the expanse of flesh. He halts your movements before drilling up into you, hard and fast. He watches as you throw your head back and your hands come up to hair.
“Yer so hot,” he says, pressing his face into your chest as he continues to thrust. “Takin’ me so well. So tight, baby.”
You can feel your second orgasm approaching. “I’m close, ‘Tsumu.”
“Let go, baby,” he tells you, voice straining slightly. He’s close too. It’s hard not to be when your pussy is gripping onto him that way, all warm and tight. “Let go for me, yeah? Like the good girl y’are.”
You let your high hit you again, hands scrambling to grab onto his shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin, scratching the flesh as he continues to move. “Fuck, ‘Tsumu!” Feeling his grip on you loosen, you start bouncing to meet his thrusts. “Come for me, baby.”
“Can I come on yer tits?”
You almost laugh at how meek the question sounds compared to everything else he’s said. “‘Course, baby.”
You get off of him and let your knees fall to the bed. You lean down and press your chest to his groin, slipping off the rubber and pumping his cock. Your eyes stay on him as you move. He looks absolutely divine.
In the darkness of his room, his blond hair catches a hint of light and shimmers above his head like a halo. He stares at you through his hazy gaze, the picture of a fallen angel.
Then, he throws his head back and cum shoots onto your skin. You keep moving until he puts his hand on your arm and pulls you up to kiss him. Your lips melt onto his. The kiss is nice and slow, the two of you holding onto each other as your heartbeats begin to level.
He pulls away first, grinning that boyish grin of his.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” you say.
“Are ya hungry now?”
“Starved.”
“Let’s see if ‘Samu’s home. Get ‘im to make us dinner.”
“I hope he isn’t.” You wince. “We were kinda… loud.”
Atsumu shrugs. “Oh well.”
You hit his arm playfully as the two of you start laughing.
He gets dressed and helps you get cleaned up, grabbing a damp towel from his bathroom and placing himself between your legs. “Sorry, sorry!” he says when you hiss as he wipes you down. “Still learning.”
“It’s okay.” You smile at him, endeared by his concern. “Just a little sensitive.”
When he’s done, he gives you one of his shirts (a jersey from his highschool team) and a pair of boxers to change into. There’s something so careful about the way he moves. Like he doesn’t want to scare you away. As you watch him go around his room—asking what you want, asking you if you’re sure you’re okay, insisting you at least drink some water—you feel your heart swell a little. It all just feels so… nice.
In fact, you’re so swept up in Atsumu that you don’t even see your phone light up in the darkness of the room. A text message just waiting for your reply.
rin: u wanna have dinner?
notes. atsumu babes hi <3 i have not forgotten about you <3 anyway!! before the plot continues plotting, lmk what team you guys are on ;)
#hqbaby.fyi#hqbaby#haikyuu#suna rintarou#suna#suna rintarou x reader#suna x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu x reader#haikyuu x reader#suna rintarou fic#suna fic#miya atsumu fic#atsumu fic#atsumu smut#haikyuu fic
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The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 3
Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!
SERIES MASTERLIST
pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: E (18+ MDNI)
wc: 3.2k
summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.
tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, riding a horse together, one mention of pee, hand touching, strip tease I guess, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, moth never uses y/n
authors note: Been holding onto this chapter since I haven't finished the next one but I really want to share this with you! Thank you @ezrasbirdie for beta and helping me untangle this mess and being the wind beneath my wings.
There are six links in the chain that separate you from Joel Miller. You count them over and over again. As you lay awake by the dying campfire. When he rattles them just after dawn to rouse you from the sleep you’d finally fallen into. While you drink the rancid coffee he boils over the fire.
You imagine them leaving an imprint on Joel’s tanned neck. Red, purple, bruising his skin as you use it to choke him to death.
You spend the morning following him to and fro as he and Ellie pack up camp.
“You know how to whistle?” Ellie asks you.
She’s been sticking her forefinger and thumb between her lips trying to get a sound out of them.
“Afraid not,” you tell her.
“You’re with me,” Joel says. He stands beside his horse, hand on his hip.
“I have to wear this damn bracelet the whole way?” you ask.
He nods.
“Do you think I’m crazy enough I’d jump off a horse?” you ask.
His eyes rake up and down your body and you try to ignore the heat that flashes across your skin. “Yep.”
Once he’s in the saddle, he hauls you up behind him. Not like you have much choice.
“You go for my gun and—“
“I know, I know,” you tell him.
You have ample opportunity to study the outlaw, at least the back side of him, as you ride behind him. He’s broad and sits tall in the saddle like he was born for it. You watch his shoulders under the fabric of his shirt, tempted to smooth your palms over them. With your wrists connected, you’ve got to keep your hands at his middle. His narrow hips roll with the movements of the animal beneath him, and you grip onto his shirt imagining how powerful it would feel to take him from behind.
He barely acknowledges you. There are a couple of times when you rest your cheek against his back just because you know it’ll annoy him. It works. He looks over his shoulder at you and you can hear the grumble vibrate through his body.
The three of you ride all day, stopping only twice to stretch your legs. Both times, Joel helps you down with his hands on your waist. You shouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do but his hands are big and his eyes dart away from yours. He stops touching you as quick as he can, as if you’re a hot kettle that might burn his fingers.
Your amusement is short lived as you have to suffer the indignity of squatting behind a bush with your arm outstretched towards fucking Joel Miller while you take a piss.
It’s dusk when you reach your destination— an old two-story roadhouse with a sign that reads The Dusty Boot. There’s nothing else around but a barn, an outhouse, and open country. Seems like an ideal place to keep a hideout.
Joel hands you down from the saddle again but before you head inside, he rounds on you.
“Now listen here, missy,” he says. “When we go in there, you keep that trap shut. No talking about bounties or the like. Not a peep out of you. Understand?” Joel asks you.
You twist your pinched fingers in front of your lips as if you’re locking your mouth the same as your wrist is locked in that cuff. It’s a command you have absolutely no intention of following.
By the frown on his face, it seems he knows that.
“And you let me do the talking,” he tells Ellie.
“Maria’s got a stick up her ass,” she laughs.
“Ellie,” Joel scolds.
“You said it yourself!” she says.
Joel sighs and trudges forward, dragging you along with him.
The inside of the Boot is cozy and rustic. There’s a large parlor with a number of tables, the paneled walls are decorated with antlers and horse shoes. After a full day bouncing on horseback, you’d love to sit your ass down in one of the winged back chairs in front of the fireplace. Most importantly for your new companions, the place is empty. If there are other guests, they’re up in their rooms.
At one end of the room, a man in an apron with a rag thrown over his shoulder stands behind a modest bar.
“Hey, brother!” he calls, a smile lighting his face.
You can see a resemblance between the two men– the same dark eyes and tan complexion, though Joel’s has been kissed by the sun.
“Tommy?” you whisper to Ellie.
She nods.
Tommy’s as slim as Joel is broad and he looks a bit younger. If Joel ever bothered to smile maybe he’d lose a few years off his face, too.
“Been a while, stranger,” he says. “How’s it going, kid? Still giving him hell?”
“We need a place to lay low for a bit,” Joel says, cutting the pleasantries.
You’re not sure if Tommy’s disappointed that this isn’t a social call but he nods and says, “Yeah, alright. You gonna introduce me to your lady friend?”
Joel bristles at the suggestion that you might be anything other than his prisoner. You give a smile and lift your fingers to your brow as if to tip your hat. As you do, the chain rattles obnoxiously and Joel glares at you.
“What the hell, Joel!” Tommy’s jovial expression has transformed to a look of horror.
“She’s got a bounty on her. I’m taking her to Jackson,” Joel explains.
“Maria ain’t gonna be happy about that,” Tommy says.
“Isn’t going be happy about what?”
A lean woman has appeared at the top of the stairs. She stands tall, shoulders back with a cool air. Her simple, grey dress is neat and spotless just like, you note, the room around you.
Joel quickly takes his hat off. He nudges Ellie to do the same. He’s tense and you can’t tell if he resents this woman or he’s afraid of her. Maybe a little of both.
You like her.
She sighs heavily as she descends the steps.
“Tommy, please tell me I’m seeing things because it looks to me like your brother has a woman shackled to himself in my parlor,” she says.
“You ain’t,” Tommy replies. He sounds just as exasperated.
Maria sizes you up with a look that’s half pity, half disdain. She’s a beautiful woman. Deep brown skin and sharp, appraising eyes. You can only imagine what she thinks of you. A night sleeping in the dirt can’t have done you any favors and certainly neither did a day bouncing around on horseback.
“How’d she get that bruise, Joel?” Maria asks.
You stroke the spot on your face gently as though it really hurts. In truth, you’ve pretty much forgotten that it’s there.
“She came by it on her own,” Joel says.
“That true, darlin’?” Tommy asks you, his voice full of concern.
Joel’s face contorts in what you can only describe as disgust that his brother would think him capable of such a thing.
You give a noncommittal shrug.
“That’s courtesy of the Pinkerton man she was with before we picked her up. Joel gave him what for,” Ellie explains.
Tommy nods.
“We’re just wanting a couple nights to keep our heads down. Ain’t nothing we ain’t asked for before,” Joel says.
“That’s fine. If you unlock her,” Maria says.
“She’s a murderer. You want me to let her loose around your nice customers?” Joel asks.
“I’ve already got three criminals in here. What’s one more?” she says.
“Come on, Joel. Let her be,” Tommy says. “She ain’t gonna give you the slip. Are you, darlin’?”
“Well, if given the opportunity—“ you admit.
“Joel, take that damn cuff off her. And you,” Maria turns on you, “give him your word you won’t try to run while you’re under this roof. Or so help me god I will throw all three of you out.”
“The hell did I do?” Ellie asks.
You’re beginning to understand why you sensed fear on Joel. For a second there, you’re more afraid of enduring her wrath than you are facing the executioner.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say almost involuntarily.
“Shake on it,” Tommy suggests.
You extend your hand to Joel with a saccharine smile. Tommy’s obviously gone soft since he left the gang if he believes somebody like you would be beholden to a handshake promise. It’s sweetly naive.
Joel’s thinking the same thing. You can see it all over his face. He grinds his molars.
“You do what I say when I say it,” he insists.
“Sure thing, boss,” you say.
He shakes your hand.
Joel watches your every move.
He’s been wanting to get Tommy aside to talk but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes off you. You’re unleashed and eager to run and he’s not willing to lose his bounty just because his sister-in-law is so sanctimonious.
“Hey, Tommy. Why did the cowboy go to the doctor?” Ellie asks.
Evening has descended on the Boot. A stage coach pulls in for the night. Its two passengers take their supper at the bar while their driver warms his hands at the hearth. Ellie and Joel sit across from you in the corner, bowls of hot stew on the table. Hers is empty before Joel’s even managed to bring his spoon to his lips.
Joel notices things about you. He wishes he would stop noticing how attractive you are.
Your eyes are sharp and fast. He can tell you’re making note of anything and everything that might help you escape. You massage at your wrist which is now naked with delicate fingers. You lick your lips jealously when Tommy sets a whiskey down in front of his brother.
You don’t have good table manners. The way you stab at potatoes is particularly violent. You probably wish those tines were going into his eyeball.
“How come?” Tommy asks. He wipes his hands with his bar rag, eyes twinkling with delight.
“He was feeling a little hoarse!” Ellie cackles.
Joel shakes his head. The kid is a handful but she’s grown on him. Her puns have not.
He looks up to find you smirking. Not because you find the joke funny. No, you’re laughing at Joel.
He reaches across the table and puts his hand around yours. He shouldn’t touch you again, not since he shook your hand and felt the softness of your skin on his. He spent all day with you practically pressed against his back, getting hints of lavender each time he turned his head in your direction. Such a sweet scent for somebody like you. It’s been a long time since he felt the weight of a woman on him. His body doesn’t know that you’re as dangerous as a mountain lion and slippery as an eel. It just cares that you’re pretty and you’re closer than you ought to be. And it wants more of that.
Your muscles tense around the horn handle of your fork. Joel unwraps your fingers from the utensil, focusing on the task at hand not the feel of you under his fingertips or the wide eyed stare you give him. His heart is beating double time when he replaces your pointed fork with a spoon.
Your shoulders soften when he releases you. You remind yourself to sit up straight.
“Enough jokes,” Joel tells Ellie.
“He ain’t no fun,” Tommy laughs.
You continue to keep your big eyes on Joel as you finish your stew.
“That was good eating Miss Maria,” you say when she clears bowls from the table. “I don’t rightly remember the last time I had a proper meal.”
You’re a fool if you think you’ve got an ally in Maria. Just because she got you unlocked doesn’t mean she thinks you’re anything better than trash. Her daddy was a justice of the peace and she’s never taken kindly to criminals either. It still vexed him that she’d fallen for Tommy but then again she blamed Joel for all of his brother’s failings.
“I know a thing or two about cooking. I’d be happy to lend a hand,” you tell her.
Joel lets out a sharp laugh. Your voice is sweeter than Joel’s heard and you're laying it on thick buttering Maria up.
“What’s funny about that?” you demand.
“You don’t know a thing about cooking but I’m sure you’d like to get a knife in your hand,” Joel says.
“As a matter of fact, I do know how to cook. More than cowboy beans,” you spit.
“I appreciate the offer. It'd be nice to get a hand in the kitchen for once,” Maria says probably just to get a rise out of him.
“That’s too bad. I ain’t letting you out of my sight,” he says.
He stands, stretching out the sore muscles in his lower back.
“Got the front room for ya,” Tommy says. “I’m guessing you’re not looking to sleep in the common room.” He glances towards the other guests.
Joel and Ellie have stayed amongst the strangers in the big room on the second floor when the rest of the private accommodations are taken. With you ready to bolt, though, it’s not an option.
“I want my own room. Take it out of my share,” Ellie tells Joel when he gives her a stern look. “I’m sick of listening to you snore.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Maria says.
Despite her contempt for their criminal lifestyle, Maria dotes on Ellie. Like she’s leaving a saucer of milk out for a feral cat, hoping one day it’ll come inside to lay by the fire. “Tommy’ll set that up for you.”
“I’ll bunk with the kid,” you say.
“Nice try,” Joel says.
“Ain’t this cozy,” you say.
You’ve stepped into the room you’ll be sharing with Joel.
Cozy’s one way of putting it. There’s barely enough space to open the door without hitting the iron framed bed. Beside that is a night stand with a porcelain wash basin, a chair, and a window. There’s about two paces of open floor in either direction. It’s hardly big enough for the both of you.
But that works to Joel’s advantage. He doesn’t want you going far.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, he clamps the handcuff around your wrist once again.
“Come on now,” you whine. “What about our truce?”
“That’s for Maria’s benefit. And she ain’t here,” Joel says.
You’re well beyond arguing and rolling your eyes.
“Well you can’t expect me to sleep in these dirty clothes again. Can you at least give me my arm for a minute so I can get out of ‘em?” you ask.
Joel’s eyes travel over you and he swirls his tongue over his teeth. It’s not a difficult decision for him. If you want to undress and lay in bed in your underthings, he’s not going to stop you. He unlocks the cuff and moseys over to lean against the door. You’re not going to run out of there.
“You going to stand there and watch?” you ask, fingers pausing at the buttons on the top of your bodice.
Joel presses his shoulders against the door, making himself comfortable.
“How do I know you ain’t got a weapon in them petticoats?” he asks.
“If there was, you’d already be dead,” you say.
He lets out a chuckle.
“Suit yourself,” you say.
A cool smile comes over your features. You continue undoing the buttons as you turn towards him so he can see you straight on. Slowly, you reveal what’s underneath– the lines of your corset, a sweet ribbon at the top of your chemise, and an expanse of decolletage. You slide the bodice off of your shoulders and toss it onto the floor, then continue on to your skirts.
“That brother of yours is handsome,” you tell him. One skirt falls away. “Did he leave you for that woman or she come after that?”
Joel doesn’t answer. You don’t seem to care.
“She don’t like you,” you tease.
You square him with defiant eyes, inviting him to look, daring him to stay in control. More flesh is revealed. Your blue corset presses the swell of your breasts above the chemise and you bend forward to give him a little show. Ripe, soft. He salivates.
Joel tries not to enjoy himself too much. He shouldn’t. And not just because this could easily turn into a trap.
“She don’t like you neither,” he says.
You shrug.
He could have you any which way he wanted with just the promise of letting you go. He wouldn’t even have to do it. Just say the word and you’d get on your knees for him. It doesn’t feel right, though, taking advantage of somebody so desperate. So he just watches, trying to keep his features indifferent as each piece of frilly fabric hits the floorboards. He hooks his thumb into his gun belt, hoping that it might obscure the growing strain in his dungarees.
By the time you’re undoing the metal fasteners at the front of your corset, he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood when there’s nothing more separating him from your body than a gauzy chemise and cotton drawers.
You go to the wash basin and splash water on your face and neck. Some droplets fall and make your chemise cling to your damp skin.Y ou moan happily, refreshed. The noise is obviously exaggerated but it still makes Joel ache.
You linger like that for a moment, lazily swaying your bare shoulders. Finally, you step towards Joel, crowding him against the door. The space between the two of you is hot and his breath shallows. He can see the outline of your peaked nipples beneath the flimsy material. The thought passes his mind again, how easy it would be to toss you back onto the mattress and help himself to all of you.
You raise your hand to him and for a moment, he’s forgotten what’s going on here. The sly grin on your lips tells him that you’re well aware of the effect your nearly naked body is having on him. He swallows and slips the cuff around you again. His knuckles graze the inside of your wrist as he locks it. Delicate, warm skin.
Pleased with yourself, you crawl onto the bed. Joel wills his cock to behave as he slips out of his boots and coat. He soaks his bandana in the wash basin and cools the back of his neck. Once he’s in his union suit, he sets his holster down on the floor beside his pillow and swings his legs into the bed. He locks himself to you and tucks the key next to his gun.
“Well ain’t this romantic,” you say from your spot against the wall. “Feels like my wedding night all over again.”
Joel stares at the ceiling. The bed’s a tight fit, his shoulders touch yours when he lays on his back. You’re leaned on your elbow smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He smells that lavender again.
He rolls onto his side, away from your leering. You laugh to yourself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a very long night.
Comments and reblogs always appreciated!
Chapter 4
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#outlaw!Joel Miller#joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character#ellie williams#tommy miller#maria tlou#tlou
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Make It Right
Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary → Bucky Barnes broke your heart, can he fix it? Can he make it right?
Word Count → 1.6k words
Warnings → angst, heartbreak, swearing.
Beta → none.
Prompts/Bingo Cards
AFG Square Fill → “I don’t want you to be with anyone else.” - @anyfandomgoesbingo
AF Angst Square Fill → smudged makeup - @anyfandomangstbingo
Writer's Note → well, this is a little angsty one that's been sat in my drafts for a while… hope you enjoy! ✨
“I hate you,” you slurred down the phone, “I wish I'd never met you!”
Bucky’s heart broke at your words but he couldn't do anything about them, he hated himself for the pain he was causing you. He realised long ago that you weren't just friends with benefits. A few weeks into the arrangement, all of the rules went straight out the window.
What was wrong with spending time together, going to the college football games, studying in the library until darkness had fallen or hiding out at house parties when it was too rowdy for either of you to handle?
How could he not let you stay over when you looked like an Angel sleeping in his arms? The post-sex glow, the warmth of your body and the so-familiar scent of peach and vanilla filled his head with fantasies of the casual relationship being so much more.
It was perfect, you were perfect.
Until your ex-boyfriend started making threats.
The corridor was empty and it was just typical that your snivelling ex-boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, decided to make an appearance. Bucky didn’t engage with him, just brushed straight past him. In an instant he was pinned against the wall, winded by the blow.
Brock’s grip on Bucky’s collar tightened, yanking him forward and back against the wall. He growled and snarled at Bucky to retaliate but he just smirked at him.
“Oh, you think this is funny do you?” Brock spit out, “Well, you won’t find it funny when I tell the Dean that you were the one that caused that fight with Alex."
Bucky paled at the thought of being used as a scapegoat, he’d already had a few run-ins with Alex Pierce for making derogatory comments about you. If the Dean heard of this, Bucky was certain he’d lose his scholarship.
“Oh and if you go near my girl again, I’ll make sure that she gets caught up in all that mess too,” Brock shoved him again, “I’m sure she’d love to know how much of a violent person you really are.”
Brock walked backwards, laughing as Bucky dropped to the floor.
The words of your ex-boyfriend had taken over his mind and fuelled Bucky’s actions. It was all to protect you, he couldn't care less what happened to him. He wasn’t going to let you suffer because things went too far.
It pained him to see Rumlow’s arm draped around your shoulders at the last Panthers game. His eyes stung as he watched you kiss in the depths of the library. It broke his heart when you tugged Rumlow into a bedroom at Grant’s frat party, the seductive smirk on your lips.
“Saw you with Yelena. I came by your dorm today,” Your voice cracked over the line, “she's pretty, smart and witty.”
Bucky's mind raced, you had come to visit him? What has Yelena got to do with this conversation? You answered for him.
“Just wanted to give you back your leather jacket.” You hiccuped then your tone changed, “She's more your type, better than me.”
“I'm not-” Bucky tried to interrupt you to no avail.
“I thought you loved me.”
He heard the signature sound of the call ending. Without a moment spared, Bucky shoved on his combat boots and grabbed the leather jacket that Steve had found on their doorstep earlier.
It smelt of you, it was intoxicating. It encouraged Bucky to do what he needed to do. To tell you everything. He couldn't let you think he didn't care, that he didn't love you. Fuck Rumlow.
Bucky raced to your dorm. He should have come to you first, told you what happened and come up with a plan to stop Rumlow’s threats from coming true. Now you were drunk and vulnerable. He stopped in his tracks, he didn't know where you were. Scrolling through his contacts, he called Wanda, fully expecting an earful from your best friend.
“Barnes?”
“Wan, where’s Angel? She called and sounds wasted.”
“Why should I tell you?” Wanda snapped.
“Please? I need to tell her the truth.”
“Oh shit.” The sound of the phone being dropped echoed in Bucky’s ears, the panic rushed through his veins.
Your voice, the person he was looking for could be heard at a distance, “tell him to ‘fuck off.’”
“I wanna go to bed now.” You whined, Bucky could imagine the pout and blurry eyes you were giving your friend.
He started to walk to your dorm in the hopes that you or Wanda would give away your location if you weren't at home.
“It's okay,” Wanda's soothing voice was louder, no doubt comforting you.
“Need blanky please.”
“I'll get it in a minute, let's get you cleaned up first.”
The mention of your childhood blanket kicked Bucky into gear. You were at home. He ran. his legs moved as fast as they could to get to the shared apartment.
He was a panting mess by the time he reached the building. No clue what he was going to say. The stairs were neverending, the physical pain pressuring his body to stop. It was nothing compared to the thought of losing you forever.
Bucky pounded on the door, attempting to catch his breath at the same time. His fist didn’t stop hitting until he almost fell through when it was opened by Wanda.
She shook her head, “this is not a good idea, she’s a mess.”
“I’ve got to make this right. I fucked up,” Bucky pleaded with her.
Wanda opened the door wider for Bucky to enter and he sighed in relief.
You were sat on the couch with the blanket wrapped tightly around you, but even with the comforter, he could see your frame had shrunken in on itself. Your head was resting on a cushion, eyes closed as the sobs wreaked havoc.
Bucky’s heart broke at the sight and rushed to your side, wiping your hair away from your face.
You pushed at him, “Go away, Wanda.”
“It’s me, it’s Bucky.”
Your eyes burst open and he felt your shoulders go rigid. The crying had been silenced but tears still streaked down your face along with the mascara and eyeliner you must have been wearing earlier.
“Why are you here?” Your voice cracked.
“I’m so sorry,” Bucky cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, “I should have told you about Brock, and what happened with Alex. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
Your eyebrows knitted together, “What are you talking about?”
“Brock said he’d get us both kicked out of college, you know it would only take one conversation with his stepdad.”
You listened intently with tears in your eyes.
“I got into a fight with Alex, over something stupid.”
Wanda interrupted, “It wasn’t stupid, he called your girl a slut. He deserved it and more.”
You winced, “You did that, for me?”
“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Bucky reassured her.
You couldn’t stop the hiccups but tried to speak, “Brock’s -hic- gone. He was transferred. Something about his dad -hic- getting a better job at a better school.”
Wanda passed you a glass of water, “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
You lifted your legs to sit up straight. Bucky took the seat beside, afraid of what would come next. A scholarship-sized weight had been lifted but he still felt the pressure of you wanting to be with Brock, that you might not choose him after everything.
“I ended it. That’s why I came to see you, not just about the jacket,” You dipped your head.
Bucky’s index finger lifted your chin to look into your eyes and show you that he meant his words with all his heart and soul, “I want to be with you.”
“But what about Yelena?” Your gaze didn’t waiver, giving Bucky hope.
“We’re working on a project together, I am not interested in her like that.”
“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” You whispered as if uncertain that you wanted him to hear.
“I was an idiot, I thought I could do this whole fuck buddies thing with you,” he shook his head, “I was wrong, I want to be your boyfriend, I want to show you how much you mean to me and tell anyone that will listen.”
“Are you sure?” You looked down, your hands anxiously twisted together.
Bucky took your hands in his. He was a fool, a fool in love with an amazing woman who thought he didn’t care.
“I love you, with all my heart.”
“I love you too.” You whispered.
Bucky felt like the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. He should have known all along that this was where he was meant to be; with you.
“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, wanting to show you how much he loved and cared for you.
Bucky leant forward, giving you the power to make the decision. It might hurt his ego for a moment if you chose to pull away but he wouldn’t hold it against you. As he waited, he vowed to do whatever you wanted, whether that was to be your partner or friend. If you asked him to leave, and even though it would be hard, then he’d go.
“Well, are you going to kiss me or just stare at my lips?" You quipped, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.
Bucky pressed his lips to yours, sealing his promise to be with you ‘til the end of the line.
~ Tag List ~
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#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes#sebastian stan
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satisfy 05
summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do?
pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader
word count⇢ 15.9k
genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda)
warnings⇢ 😇😇😇😇 *chin hands sweetly* STRAP IN, FOLKS!!: GANGBANG. this chapter will include three brothers having sex with the reader at the same time (but not with each other). if this bothers you, please feel free to skip!, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (f+m giving/receiving), fingering, face fucking, exhibitionism, voyuerism, da booty getting ate like groceries, assplay, name calling, daddy kink, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, marking, spitroasting, cumplay, bukakke 😭, honestly this is a hot ass MESS and i should be sorry but i’m not 🤷🏽♀️
a/n⇢ well, hello~ long time no see!!!! i'm super pumped about this chapter because it has literally been in the works since i planned this whole fic out years ago 😭 a lot of planning and struggling later, and WE FINALLY HERE 🙌🏾 🙌🏾 i am so relieved that this finally exists in the world and not just in my head lmao. thank you all for hanging with me for this long and being so patient. i hope this chapter lives up to your expectations 😈 only the epilogue left! 😮💨👀
mood for this chapter is this song~ hope everyone enjoys!
chapters⇢ previous | next | series masterlist
Days quickly morphed into weeks, time continuing to flow even without you consciously noticing it pass you by. You were just so busy, both your schoolwork and your unconventional part-time job a whirlwind of activity that left you too preoccupied to do much else. Your already scant social life was starting to suffer, but honestly? You were completely fine with that—a neverending schedule of sex, sleep, and studying was more than enough, and it was highly unlikely you would be able to fit anything else onto your overflowing plate anyway.
It was expected for you to not have that much free time, anyway. Jimin’s was waning too, as the further the two of you got into your studies, the busier you both became. You still texted often to make sure each other was alive, but with your differing schedules, the new normal became not getting to see him in person for weeks on end.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t losing steam. Burning the candle at both ends was finally starting to catch up with you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it other than focusing on powering through it. This was the career path you chose—your dream—and so you simply just had to bear everything that came along with it. You were willing to put the work in to reach your goals, and you just kept reminding yourself that how you were living now was just a means to an end.
Not that you at all only found the Kims to be a means to an end. Yes, they were paying your way through school, but you still really enjoyed the time you spent with each of them. They were all great company in different ways, and at this point, the only time you were freed from the library’s clutches was when one of them wanted to take you somewhere, so you found them to be more of a welcome distraction than anything else.
Unfortunately, that still didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, you were bone tired.
You had always been good at compartmentalizing. But though you tried your best to not let your slowly-building fatigue show, even your new employers could tell that you were being ran a bit ragged. Namjoon came to pick you up for a date one day, and all it took was one long look at you while you were trying to buckle your seatbelt for him to put the car in park and hustle you back upstairs instead, despite your protests. You thought that maybe he decided to forgo your movie plans for much more carnal activities, but once you were back inside your apartment, he sprawled himself onto your couch and reached for you. You were confused, but when you reflexively took his hand, he simply pulled you down with him and easily folded you into his body.
God, he smelled good. And was comfortable and warm, so it didn’t take long for you to nod off, despite only being fifteen minutes into whatever Netflix movie he had put on. Namjoon spent his scheduled date letting you snore into his chest, and when you woke up hours later, groggy and discombobulated, you found him already gone and a blanket thrown over you.
It didn’t take a genius to realize he must have said something to his brothers. The next day, seemingly out of the blue, you got an email notification that Wendy, Seokjin’s assistant, had canceled an upcoming work lunch that had been on the calendar for weeks. (You highly doubted the lunch itself was canceled—just that Jin had decided to go alone.) And you were so used to Taehyung’s frequent visits that when he didn’t stop by for four days in a row, it became blatantly obvious that something was amiss.
They were giving you space.
But if you were honest, though you appreciated the sudden breathing room in your schedule, all of them suddenly pulling out of the arrangement was making you uneasy. This was a job, after all, and you weren’t fully holding up your end of the bargain. Hell, the week before had been your period, so you hadn’t slept with any of them then, either. And, considering the fact that all three Kims were set to go on an overseas business trip soon, the amount of leave you were inadvertently taking was quickly adding up.
You needed this money. You needed this money, this was not what they agreed to, and you were nervous you were starting to frustrate them.
To their credit, none of them ever seemed to be. Early on, when your period made its first appearance as the perpetual wrench in your plans, Seokjin had casually informed you that he was totally fine with just putting a towel down. However, when he saw you weren’t nearly as enthused with the idea, he simply gave you an easy shrug and said, “Then take whatever time you need.” His brothers had been equally as accommodating, and have been ever since (though Taehyung sometimes still liked to playfully pout at you when you told him Aunt Flo was in town).
But the fact was, you ultimately weren’t holding up your end of the bargain, and that knowledge was constantly hovering in the back of your mind and making you a bit anxious. That was why, days before he was scheduled to leave for his three week business trip, you took initiative and asked Taehyung if he wanted to come over.
Both Seokjin and Namjoon had already graciously canceled their standing appointments with you for the second week in a row, but Taehyung had never had a standing appointment. He was always much more spontaneous than his brothers, and that personality trait was no different when it came to you, so that’s what you were counting on.
[1:32] Hey! Did you want to come over tomorrow?
[1:32] Or later today, I guess
Despite it being so late, Tae apparently hadn’t gone to bed yet. He was a bit of a night owl, like you.
Taehyung [1:34] Well hello~
Taehyung [1:34] So nice to hear from you, sweetcheeks. How’s it been going?
[1:35] Sweetcheeks, Taehyung? Really?
Taehyung [1:35] What? They’ve always looked pretty sweet to me 😌👀
You scoffed, amused and fond. Always an incorrigible flirt, that one.
[1:35] Yeah, okay lol
[1:36] So if they’re so sweet, what are you gonna do about it?
A pause, one slightly too long for someone whose phone was in their hand and had been actively responding to you only moments before. You knew you had him even before his reply finally came through.
Taehyung [1:37] What time?
The next day, you focused on getting as much of your work done as you could before the hard stop of when you knew you had to start getting ready. You took a long shower, letting the hot water relax your stiff muscles before carefully maneuvering into the lingerie that was still prettily packaged in the bag from the boutique you got it from, untouched on the floor of your closet since you bought it.
You hadn’t seen him a while, so it only made sense to you to make things a little more exciting than usual. Spice it up. Honestly, sex with Taehyung was always anything with boring, but the thigh-highs you slipped into were just as much for you as him. You had been so focused on your studies that you couldn’t remember the last time you wore anything other than court-approved suits, sweatpants, or pajamas. It would be nice to feel something other than just tired again. To feel desired. Sexy.
And even you could admit the outfit you had chosen was sexy. A crimson, lacy bodysuit thing that did little to obscure the dusk of your nipples and disappeared between your asscheeks. The matching thigh-highs, joined with garters. You even had a pair of heels that you planned to wear—ones that made your legs look a mile long, but hurt like a bitch every time you attempted to wear them out. Despite their shortcomings, you were willing to slip on the deathtraps because luckily, for this particular occasion, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere in them, nor would they stay on you for very long.
You were even planning on putting on a little makeup, on properly doing your hair for the first time in weeks and giving the bun you had been sporting a rest. However, all it took was a knock on your door to put an end to all those extras.
You frowned at the sound and padded over to your front door, happy you had already thrown on one of your law school hoodies to keep yourself warm until the festivities properly started. The sight of a familiar man through the peephole, hands resting comfortably in his slacks, threw you off.
Automatically, your hands were disengaging all the locks, were swinging the door open. “You’re early—”
Whatever words you had next immediately dissipated on your tongue. Taehyung was there, but he apparently came with company. Your mind whirred, trying to come up with a perfectly logical reason for why all three Kim brothers were at your doorstep right now.
“Your hair,” you blurted, your scrambled brain latching onto the easiest subject first.
“Hmm?” Taehyung ruffled his newly dyed locks, the onyx hue a stark difference from the silver you were used to. “Oh yeah, I guess I haven’t seen you all week. My dad wanted me to dye it to a more ‘appropriate’ color before the conference. But whatever—it was time for a change, anyway. And this will be much easier to upkeep.”
You could only continue to stare at him as he spoke, your eyes naturally drifting over his shoulder at your additional visitors.
All three of them were dressed pretty casually, which was normal for Taehyung and Namjoon, but less so for Seokjin when not in the comfort of his own home. The soft pink of his sweatsuit was a stark contrast to the sharp intelligence of his eyes, and he met your gaze for only a few seconds before he was turning to meet Namjoon’s instead, a pinch in his brow.
Taehyung spoke again before either of them could say anything. “You gonna keep us out here?” he teased, casually leaning against the doorframe.
That finally jumpstarted you out of your haze, scrambling to move out of the way and gesture them inside. “Yes, of course. Come in!” Before your nosy neighbor caught them and assumed you were slutting it up.
(She would technically be right, but still. It was the principle. Your life was none of that judgy old shrew’s business.)
Tae strolled in like he always did—like he owned the place—but you noticed his brothers’ strides seemed a bit more hesitant than the confidence you were usually witness to. Namjoon’s mouth was slightly pursed in the way you’d long learned meant he was thinking. Why did they seem as confused as you did?
“Hi,” you hedged anyway, a small, puzzled smile on your lips. “It’s been a while. Sorry if I’m acting weird—I just wasn’t expecting you, so I’m a little thrown off.”
Understanding immediately crossed Seokjin’s features, but you only got a second to see it before he was whipping towards his youngest brother, appalled.
Namjoon was looking at him too, clearly irritated. “Are you serious, Taehyung?”
“What?” you asked, gaze flitting between the three of them in hope of finding some sort of clarity.
“You never asked her?” Seokjin snapped.
“You know that’s not cool, man,” Namjoon sighed, an agitated hand running though blond locks.
Why were they standing in your hallway and having whole conversations in front of you like you weren’t even there? “Never asked me what?” you cut in bemusedly, a little louder than you intended. It worked, at least, all three men immediately turning back to you.
Taehyung, for his part, looked properly contrite, cringing a little at the exasperation in your voice. “I’m sorry,” he told the room before placing his attention solidly back on you. His eyes were soft and sincere. “It truly slipped my mind, and I’m sorry, _____. I didn’t think.”
“When do you ever?” Seokjin snarked, but you ignored him, focused solely on Taehyung.
“What, Tae?” you encouraged gently. “What are you sorry for?”
It was clear from the hunch of his shoulders that he felt bad. “Um…”
“He invited us to come with him to meet you today,” Namjoon supplied. He gave his little brother a disappointed shake of his head. “But that’s not a decision for him to make. Is it, Tae.”
“I just knew that none of us have seen her in a while,” Tae whined. “And _____, when you reached out yesterday, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity since we’re about to leave the country for a few weeks.”
“I should have known better,” Seokjin muttered below his breath, looking heavenward in his annoyance. “I’m really sorry about this, _____. You never marked group activities as a no and I assumed Taehyung actually asked you like an adult, so I thought you were on board. I can leave.”
You blinked, still trying to grasp what was going on. “You were…trying to share your time?” you asked Taehyung slowly.
He nodded meekly. “I don’t mind sharing,” came his honest answer.
“But does she,” Seokjin scoffed, rubbing his temples in irritation. “That’s the only thing that matters. And to think otherwise is just selfish, Taehyung.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” The words left your lips before your brain could even register them, likely spurred on by how the increasingly chastened expression on Taehyung’s face. The three of them looked at you in surprise.
“It’s okay?” Namjoon parroted, an eyebrow raised in question.
You swallowed, mind racing to actually consider the consequences of what your mouth had just offered. But your nod of confirmation came almost immediately, because you knew Taehyung had never been trying to trap you. One of the qualities that simply made him him was his spontaneity, and while that made him fun and interesting to be around, it also was a double-edged sword that could easily make you end up in situations like this.
Tae knew none of them had seen you in a while, he knew they were soon going to jet out of the country, and had simply been trying to be nice in inviting his brothers along. He didn’t mean any harm.
“It’s okay,” you repeated, giving him a reassuring smile that visibly loosened some of the tension in his body. “You can all stay.”
The words settled between the four of you, heavy in the resulting quiet. Teeming with implication. You still weren’t completely sure what you were agreeing to, but what you did know was that you were going to need something to help stave off the nerves slowly bubbling beneath your skin. You cleared your throat, turning to make your way to the kitchen. “I think I need a drink.”
You didn’t glance back at them, but you could still feel them trailing you. Feel the heat of their gaze, and even the distinct heat of a body against your back, only a whisper away. Instead, you busied yourself with rooting around in your pantry and pulling out a handle of tequila.
“This for me?” hummed a familiar velvety voice, close enough for you to easily deduce who had invited himself into your space so intimately. Taehyung.
You looked over your shoulder at him, immediately frozen with what you saw. His eyes were blatantly trailing your figure, undeterred by the obstacle of your sweatshirt and easily roving your stockinged legs and feet. A dangerous smirk crawled across his face that had a delighted shiver racing down your spine in anticipation. “What?” came your stupefied reply.
“This.” His gaze lingered on your toes, but quickly rose so he could playfully flick the zipper of your sweatshirt. “Whatever you’ve got on under there. Is it for me?”
Heat licked between your thighs at his deceptively light tone. At the way he was looking at you. “No,” you sniffed. Not wanting to give in just yet. “Just something I wear around the house.”
“Well, it’s nice,” came another voice, and you were instantly reminded of your other guests. Namjoon was leaning against an adjacent counter, eyes dark. “You never wear stuff like this for me—Taehyung must be your favorite.”
Startled despite his teasing tone, your hands flew up in protest. “N-No, it’s not that—”
“Of course I’m the favorite,” Tae sassed, throwing you a wink. “It’s okay to admit it, _____. We all know!”
There was an almost immediate snort from behind you. Technically quiet enough to go unnoticed, but full of just enough derision that Taehyung’s proverbial hackles raised at the very sound of it. His head whipped to the source.
Jin looked deceptively bored, meeting his youngest brother’s glower with a flat stare. A single lifted eyebrow said everything his mouth deigned not worth the effort. What?
Tae scowled at his brother’s obvious disdain, but then, after a few moments, he simply shot an exhale from his nose and shook his head. “You’re clearly goading me,” he chuckled. “But you know what? It’s not gonna work this time. If you’re gonna be a jackass, you can just go.”
“I think you’re vastly overestimating your importance in this situation,” Seokjin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But what else is new.”
“Guys,” Namjoon sighed, holding up pacifying hands in an attempt to ward off the rising tension.
You observed the whole exchange silently, still too off-kilter from the situation you’d suddenly found yourself in to do much more than look from brother to brother as if you were watching a tennis match.
This was only the second time the four of you had all been in the same room—with the first being your original meeting discussing the contract. Well, technically third, if you counted that party Taehyung took you to so many months ago—the one that rerouted your life onto this much more interesting path. But the three of them hadn’t really mingled then, so you had been left to speculate their group dynamic.
Now, though, you were starting to suspect your inklings were true.
Seokjin, the oldest, with lots of responsibility and expectations always set on him. Taehyung, the spoiled youngest who grew up without any of the same restraints, but also without any of the same parental attention. And Namjoon, the calm, stereotypical middle child, the glue who held it all together. The forced peacemaker who made sure that any of his brothers’ unspoken resentment for each other never got too far out of line.
“The only person who can tell me to leave is _____,” Seokjin continued, the sound of your name immediately throwing you out of your thoughts. You straightened, unprepared to suddenly find yourself locking eyes with him and surprised at the intensity you found there. “And is that what you want, _____? Do you want me to leave?”
“No, of course not,” you blurted. You didn’t miss the smug look Jin threw his brother, nor the way Tae’s lips pursed in irritation, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care about any of that right now. With a steadying breath, you focused instead on shuffling over to another cabinet and pulling out a glass.
It was starting to hit you. You weren’t sure what in the hell was going on, what exactly it was you agreed to, but whatever it was, you now had all three of your lovers in your apartment at the same time. Respectful of you and your space, but still obviously ogling you—ravenous predators slowly and eagerly circling their next meal.
It all made your skin prickle in anticipation, the thrill of the unknown buzzing in your veins.
“Choo choo,” you muttered to yourself sarcastically, pouring a healthy amount of tequila into your cup.
Namjoon raised a brow. “What?”
“What?” you parroted immediately, startled that he had heard you.
“I just…nevermind, I thought you said something.”
“Oh. Uh, I was just wondering if any of you wanted any.”
“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”
“I’ll take some,” Tae piped up brightly, moving into your space before you could blink. Body a breath away as he reached over to you to pull his own cup from the cabinet. You froze at his proximity, unable to look away as he smirked down at you. “Choo choo,” he murmured with a wink.
Before you could react with anything more than a sharp gasp, he was pulling away again, reaching for the tequila bottle.
Jesus.
With a slightly unsteady hand, heart pumping furiously in your chest, you welcomed the burning liquid down your throat, sticking your cup out for Tae to pour you more once it was empty.
“So how have you all been?” you babbled, tone a little too high and strained to be casual. “It’s been so long, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. Or that you’d made other arrangements or something. I don’t think I’ve ever been paid to be stood up before, that’s kind of embarrassing—” A hand, warm and gentle, rested on your arm, and immediately, all coherent thought escaped your electrified body.
It was Seokjin, slowly rubbing what he likely thought were calming assurances, but only amping you up more. “She rambles when she’s nervous,” he informed his brothers, the small smile on his lips betraying his endearment.
“Aw, don’t be nervous, babe. I’ll take good care of you,” Taehyung cooed, effortlessly draining his glass and motioning towards yours. “Want another one?”
No, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. The last thing you needed was something that could lower your gag reflex even more. Vomming all over them would certainly make for an interesting going away gift, but then they would most certainly ghost you for real.
You shook your head of the negative thoughts, timidly swiping a tongue over your suddenly very dry lips. “So how exactly is this going to work?”
“The way it’s always worked,” Tae reassured you with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just you and me. The only difference is that they’re here too—but you don’t have to worry about that. I told them they could only watch.”
It took you a few moments to process that, your eyes silently roving over each of them and finding them all watching you right back. Ready, but waiting.
Look, don’t touch. Another interesting twist to a night that was already looking to be interesting.
“Is that okay?” Seokjin asked, clearly intending to follow your lead. Leaving the ball in your court. And another glance at the other two showed they obviously shared their older brother’s sentiments.
A memory flickered teasingly in the corner of your mind—the trepidation of being fucked in front of a window where anyone could see. The undeniable thrill that followed the thought of being watched.
You swallowed. “Yeah,” you finally replied. “If…you want to.”
“Do you want us to?” Namjoon pressed sternly, refusing to let go of your gaze. Communication, he always insisted. Solid consent, or no consent at all. Yes or no.
All three stared at you. You shifted under their attention, a bit out of your element, but ultimately sure. “Yes,” you breathed.
“Okay,” Namjoon simply replied with an approving nod. With a pleased smile that brought forth dimpled cheeks. But then he shifted towards you more, and the slight change in his stance seemed to completely change his demeanor. His intention. “What’s your safeword?”
You knew he knew it; knew he knew you did as well. The two of you had been together enough times for a rhythm to between you to form, so this repeating of superfluous information was likely solely for his brothers’ benefits.
“Cinnamon.”
“And if you can’t say it?”
“Tap you 3 times.”
“Good.”
“Safeword?” Taehyung chuckled incredulously, eyes a little wide in surprise. “Well shit.”
“Yeah, and I know how to use it too, if you get out of line,” you teased, but your mind was already elsewhere. It didn’t matter that Tae was the one who would be actively playing with you today—you had spent enough time with Namjoon that you had apparently been conditioned. The blond had asked you your safeword, you repeated it to him, and so the scene had officially started. All of your previous unease ebbed away as you couldn’t help but focus instead on what you were all here for.
Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter and moved to exit the kitchen, brushing against Taehyung on your way out and shooting a pointed look at him over your shoulder. “You ready?”
“Baby, you know I’m always ready,” he purred, jolted into action and eagerly trailing down the hallway after you. “I’ve just been waiting on you.”
You didn’t bother to turn to see if the others were following you. You knew they were, their very presence somehow making the hallway feel like it was shrinking, overstuffed. Still, you tried not to let that unnerve you, continuing on with purpose until you made it to your destination and were hovering awkwardly next to your bed.
They all filed into the room, one by one, and you bit your lip, fully out of your element. Three handsome men had allowed you to lure them here, but now that they were? You had no idea what your next move was supposed to be.
Luckily for you, Tae was more than happy to take initiative, immediately slinking up to your side and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. The gesture was so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but snort, and he simply grinned, pleased with himself for lessening your nerves, even if only a little. He reached for you without a second thought and you let him, eager to fall into more familiar territory.
Taehyung’s large hands smoothed over your hips, your ass with clear familiarity. A finger curled under the top of your thigh highs, lightly snapping the elastic against your skin. “You really did this is for me, huh?”
The dark look in his eye had the breath catching in your throat. “Shut up,” you scoffed unconvincingly.
He tsked, the wicked curl of his lips ruining any illusion of disappointment. “You know I like it when you’re mean to me.”
You could only blink in response. You hadn’t known that. Was he serious? Was this another level to his subjugation, or was he just pulling your leg?
Before your brain had the opportunity to come up with a proper retort, Tae was reaching out a finger to tap the zipper of your sweatshirt, gaze focused on its slow, teasing sway. “So.”
Your brow lifted, an unspoken prompting.
The swinging zipper almost slowed to a stop, and when he reached out this time, it was to lightly run his thumb over the metal, to slowly roll it between his fingers. You swallowed, the anticipation of what you knew to be coming only adding to the charged silence between you. Distractedly, the tip of his tongue swiped across his lips, drawing your gaze. “You invited me to play,” he finally continued, voice honeyed amber. Crushed velvet.
As if he hadn’t been playing with you from the moment he entered your apartment. You tilted your head anyway—an invitation and a challenge. “Then let’s play.”
A small smile touched his lips, clearly pleased that his teasing invoked yours. But he didn’t say anything else, his response simply to finally guide the zipper down its track. Leisurely, unwrapping you like a present and delighting in the underneath.
And you had technically dressed yourself to be one, so you let him. Let him take his time so he could fully appreciate the swell of your breasts, the purposeful, flirty peek of your nipples through the scarlet lace. You wished you had had the time to properly do your hair and makeup and slip on the heels you had set aside just for the occasion so he could get your full intended effect, but your less than perfect appearance didn’t seem to dissuade Taehyung at all. No, he simply slid his hands under the fabric when he finally got impatient enough—fingers light and palms warm—and pushed the sweatshirt off your shoulders with eyes that were all pupil. His hungry gaze carefully roved your form, a lingering path from head to toe that made your skin tingle in its wake.
His lips parted, tongue giving them another distracted swipe, and then he finally moved again, making his way to your dresser. Now that his broad form wasn’t blocking your view of the rest of the room, you were quickly reminded of the room’s other occupants. Seokjin and Namjoon still hovered near the doorway, quiet, but obviously also drinking in the sight of you now that they could see you properly. Your breath caught, not used to having so much obvious desire directed at you, the air so thick with it you could practically taste it, heady and syrupy.
A light scraping sound regained your attention, and when you turned your head, you realized Taehyung had pulled open a particular drawer—one that he had quickly became familiar with since the start of your arrangement. He pulled out the lube he was looking for, but was much more interested in something else in there, if the mischievous look on his face was any indicator. “What’s this?” he asked, mouth a delighted box, and before you could chastise him about going through your things without permission, he was already pulling out your wand vibrator. “You got a new toy?”
“It’s not new,” you huffed, slightly embarrassed despite everything. “I just usually keep it in the shower.”
You saw his Adam’s apple dip at that information. Saw the wheels turning behind his eyes before he was quickly shutting the drawer and headed towards the bed with his loot in hand. He sat on the edge and eagerly motioned for you to follow.
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at the vibrator he had neglected to put away, but Taehyung just reached for your hand and gently pulled you towards him until you were close enough for him to properly guide onto his lap. “Don’t be like that,” he murmured against your neck, his hot breath against the skin inciting a shiver to run through you. “Gotta prep you for the show.”
Ah yes, the show. He had faced you away from him, so now it was impossible for you to forget your captive audience. At some point, Seokjin had pulled your office chair away from your desk, and now he was lounging across the room, in direct view of the bed. His legs were comfortably spread, almost as if it was an open invitation for you to crawl onto his lap instead. Namjoon, on the other hand, was casually leaning against the desk, arms crossed. Eyes dark.
Lips trailed up your neck, quickly regaining your attention. Taehyung pressed slow kisses into the sensitive skin, humming contentedly when you tilted your head to give him better access. His hands dragged up and down your stockinged legs, his exploration only pausing to playfully snap the garter at your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat, heat thrumming through your veins at the action. You felt him smirk, and then he was tactfully lifting your legs by the knees and hooking them around his own one by one. Easily spreading your thighs by widening his own.
Easily revealing to your unsuspecting employers that your lingerie was crotchless.
The sudden display of your pussy had an immediate effect on the room, though no one said a word. The air was so charged with crackling energy that you shivered, almost breaking out in goosebumps at the onslaught of blatant desire. This close, it was quite easy for you to hear how Tae’s breath hitched, quite easy to interpret the excitement of his fingers, still compulsively tracing over the pattern of your stockings like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Inexplicably, you still found yourself feeling a bit shy at the salacious attention you intentionally brought upon yourself, gaze darting to the floor for a few seconds before you finally chanced a look at the other two from beneath your lashes. Seokjin was busy unabashedly staring at your spread pussy, Adam’s apple bobbing, but Namjoon was unabashedly staring at you, your heart pounding when you locked eyes.
The spell was only broken when an impatient hand guided your head to the side, Taehyung demanding your full attention. After lapping against your pulse one last time, his mouth promptly switched course to your own, the kiss sweet, but decidedly sloppy due to the angle. In any case, it was easy to quickly lose yourself in the warmth of his lips—at this point, it was all practically reflex—and you were so engrossed in the ebb of his tongue that you completely missed the rather foreboding buzzing in the room until something was being purposefully pressed against the most sensitive part of you.
“Shit,” you gasped, jerking in his hold. But it didn’t matter, because Tae’s other hand was gripping tight at your thigh, ensuring you could do nothing but squirm in his lap, breath quickening in anticipation.
“Hm?” came his casual response. You knew from experience that he only had your vibrator on the first or second level, but the way his restless fingers still plucked at your stockings told you he was nowhere near done with you. Let’s play you had teased, and he clearly intended to do just that.
Before your thoughts could linger too long on how intense this night was likely going to be, the vibrator was shifted slightly to the side, resting momentarily on your thigh so Taehyung could reach for the bottle of lube and give it a generous squeeze.
“What’s your plan?” you breathed, the question inane even to your own ears. But the words escaped you before you could even properly process them, needing to say something in an effort to distract yourself from the muted vibrations that were still trickling up your leg to your core.
Tae let out an amused exhale, clearly not fooled by your feigned nonchalance. He humored you anyway, despite your very obvious failings to suppress a shiver. “Gotta prep you,” he answered huskily, busy warming the lube with his fingers and making them visibly slick in the process.
You only had one moment—two—before you felt him sliding a finger across the seam of you. Slowly dragging the digit up from your entrance to your clit, ghosting over the bundle of nerves just enough to make your breath catch, then drifting his way back down again.
“Don’t tease,” you murmured.
That earned you a chuckle in response. “Don’t you think you’re the one being the tease here? Texting out of the blue and wearing this—”another snap of your garter against your thigh, to punctuate his point—“when you knew damn well it would drive me crazy?”
“I don’t know. Sounds like I was being pretty direct to me.”
Another chuckle. “Fair.” And without further preamble, he slipped a finger in you, your relief leaving you in a shuddery exhale. “That better?”
“M-Much.”
“How about this?”
Another finger, plunging into your willing heat and making another relieved sigh escape you at the stretch. “We’re getting there.”
You didn���t have to be able to see him to know he was grinning, always one to be entertained by the easy banter between you. Tae didn't say anything, his response better communicated by a scrape of his teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck, settling to suck on your pulse point.
You didn’t bother hiding your shiver this time, unconsciously slumping further against him, hips reflexively jerking forward to pull him in deeper.
Taehyung added a third finger, snapping and scissoring and pressing and curling. Seducing your body’s natural resistance until you really started to betray your need, hips canting greedily towards his thrusts, whines erupting from your throat.
“You’re enjoying this already, baby?” Tae cooed, delighted by how responsive you were being. “I’ve barely done anything.”
You just nodded distractedly, the familiar warmth that was building in your core and creeping down your legs making it hard to think about anything else. Still, you couldn’t help your gaze being drawn to the other occupants of the room, who seemed to be frozen in time, dutifully having not moved from their posts. Completely enraptured by the way their brother meticulously worked you open.
Tae breathed hot into the shell of your ear. “You like it when they watch you?” came his knowing whisper, a nip against the cartilage punctuating his point. “Like for them to see how good I make you feel? Hmmm? What if we show them how good you take this dick?”
Your pussy fluttered. Tae cussed under his breath, teased with the wet, pulsing grip of you and falling deeper into his own fantasy. “Fuckkk, you’re dripping all over my hand, baby. I would probably just slide right in, wouldn’t I?”
“Yesss,” you moaned. “I can take it, baby.”
“I know you can. With this perfect fucking pussy. But what if we played some more? Got you nice and juicy for me?”
“I’m always juicy,” you sassed back, but any more retorts died on your tongue when you saw him reach again for the momentarily forgotten vibrator.
Tae’s arms circled around you, his chin slotting into the crook of your neck so he could get a better look of what he intended to do. The vibrator was turned up from its low rumble and pressed unceremoniously against you, and you yelped, jolting in his hold. It was too much, and you couldn’t help but writhe against him. Still, you welcomed the sudden intensity, desperate whines freely escaping you as you hurtled toward your peak. Tae only fingered you faster in response, the undoubtedly sloppy sounds drowned out by the vibrator. “I could slide right in, but I won’t cause it’s much more fun this way. Especially since we haven’t seen each other in a while. More fun for everybody if take our time, right, baby? So how about you cum on my fingers first, and then you can pick everywhere else on me you’d like to cum?”
You could only moan freely, just like how Tae liked. If you weren’t so distracted by the way he was fucking stars behind your eyelids, you would have noticed just how affected your spectators were becoming at your display. The shifting, the subtle rubbing over pants.
But as it were, you were completely preoccupied by your swift descent into madness, your hand desperately scrabbling for purchase before ultimately rooting itself in the hair at Taehyung’s nape to await your rapidly approaching release. Because at this point, your orgasm was inevitable, your thighs quivering with the sheer force of it, every atom of you hyper-focused on achieving that satisfying end goal.
Until the sudden sound of a certain voice knocked you out of your trance.
“Stop.”
You jolted as if touching a live wire, hand immediately wrapping around Taehyung’s wrist like a vice and yanking the vibrator away from you.
For a few moments, the room was silent, save the rumble of the toy and your heavy breathing. But Taehyung was too baffled to let what just happened slide. “What’s the matter?”
You nervously licked your lips, too frozen in Namjoon’s dark stare to answer his younger brother.
“You know better,” came the blond’s low admonishment, Seokjin turning to look at him in bewilderment.
And you did know better—when you were with Namjoon, you were not allowed to cum without his express permission. It was a game the two of you played that you often lost, despite your valiant efforts. It just never occurred to you that you would still be expected to play in Namjoon’s general presence, whether he was the one touching you or not.
Jittery with your aborted orgasm and nervous excitement, you looked away, your eyes automatically averted submissively to the floor in a last effort to assuage him. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you replied softly.
“Daddy?” Taehyung repeated incredulously. “What the fuck?” In his confusion, his hold on you slackened, and, nervous he wouldn’t take the hint otherwise, you used the opportunity to shift his fingers out of you and stumble forward on wobbly legs.
“Take your clothes off,” was your reply, breath labored and skin already veiled in a light sheen of sweat. You needed to distract him from asking too many questions right now. Needed to distract yourself from just how strongly your body was begging to fall apart.
Tae was still confused, but he didn’t need to be told twice. Off came his button-down shirt, each button popped open just roughly enough that you were surprised none of them ended up scattered across the floor in his haste. Off came his slacks, unzipped and then easily slipped down his slim hips. He paused when reaching for his underwear though, eyes narrowing at something behind you.
You didn’t even get the chance to turn around to investigate what had caught his attention before you felt it—the distinct feeling of someone hovering in your space, close enough you could feel his body heat radiating against you.
“Hey sweetheart,” came a familiar husky voice, goosebumps rippling across your body at the feel of Seokjin’s hot breath ghosting up your neck. “Can I touch you?”
“Hey,” Tae scowled.
“_____?” Jin interrupted, still only millimeters away. A whisper away, but never touching, waiting for the only permission he truly needed—yours. Not Taehyung’s.
Without a second thought, you leaned back against him, delighting in the feel of his body slotting so naturally into yours. “Yes,” you breathed, pressing your ass further into what could only be the hard jut of his cock.
Soft, plush lips trailed up your neck instantly, large hands sliding over your hips and around your waist. You immediately melted into him, your body well-trained and eager for the pleasure it knew those lips and hands would deliver.
“This wasn’t the deal,” Tae huffed, eyebrows scrunched in irritation as he finally slid off his boxer briefs. Drawn like a magnet, your eyes fell to the bounce of his freed cock, tip already shiny with precum.
Seokjin tutted distractedly, too busy nibbling along your jaw to give his youngest brother much attention. “You need to learn to share, Taehyung. The rest of society learned that concept when we were toddlers.”
“Whatever,” Tae grumbled, clearly not happy with the way the night was turning out. He only allowed his brother a few more seconds to have his way with you before he was reaching for your hands and walking you back towards the bed.
You gasped in surprise when the world was suddenly off-kilter, your hands reflexively scrambling to hold onto Tae for balance, but it was only when the two of you landed on the mattress that you realized he had purposely tipped you into him, your chests flush.
“Really, Taehyung?” you laughed, now conveniently in his embrace instead of Seokjin’s.
Tae just grinned in response, so close that his nose brushed yours. Cheekily, his hands worked the flesh of your behind.
“I’ve been wondering where those have been coming from,” you heard Seokjin say behind you, and your face heated up in realization of what he was talking about, once again shy to be so on display and open for scrutiny. You had forgotten how mottled the skin of your ass still looked, and it was a little embarrassing to be called out on it. Time apart meant the bruises were near the end of their healing stage, but though you no longer sported marks of potentially alarming colors, their faded remnants still branded you in the distinct shape of a hand.
“If you were wondering, why didn’t you ask,” you countered, tucking your face in Tae’s neck to help hide your flustered state.
“Because that’s rude,” Jin answered easily, his own hand reaching over to gently smooth over the discolored skin. “And it’s really none of my business.”
“I think they’re pretty,” Taehyung cut in from below you. This close, you could feel the rumble of his declaration, could feel the heat of his stare. Of his want.
“So do I.”
A different voice, one that made an undeniably eager shiver run through you. Slowly, you lifted your head and turned, and there was Namjoon, still standing across from the bed, eyes all pupil.
The way he was looking at you…desire rippled through your whole body in response, your next words leaving your lips before you could even process them.
“Are you going to touch me too, Daddy?”
The room was quiet, the question marinating long enough that the air became thick and heavy with the resulting tension. Just when you thought you might suffocate, Namjoon finally tilted his head. Slowly—a predator locked in on prey, playing with his meal simply for his own amusement—he stalked closer to the bed. He walked past Seokjin and made it all the way to the foot of the mattress, close enough to touch you if he so pleased.
The burn of his gaze was somehow stronger now that he was closer, a palpable energy that drew you like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help but scramble upright when he was finally right in front of you, clambering to your knees despite Tae’s clear reluctance to let you go.
“Do you want me to?” Namjoon asked passively. He looked down at you, seemingly unimpressed by how eagerly you knelt on the mattress, just waiting for him to join you on it. “You already have enough people taking care of you. Are you really that greedy?”
“Yes,” you shivered, the action involuntary but wanting. “Want you too, Daddy.”
“Hm.” The single syllable was dismissive, but your previous time spent with Namjoon had taught you not to take that at face value. That you had to have patience, that if you simply waited him out, you would always eventually get what you wanted.
As if proving your point, Namjoon silently considered you for a few more seconds before his eyebrow finally raised in challenge. “Open,” he demanded.
Your jaw dropped instantly, tongue out, and he smiled, pleased at your obedient response.
You weren’t sure you had the energy to be bratty to him today when his brothers were still in the mix too.
“Good,” Namjoon cooed, all dimples and boy next door. The boy next door who firmly grasped your chin, lifting your head a little and leaning down. But though your eyelashes fluttered in preparation for the slot of his mouth against yours, it never came. Namjoon paused, slanted eyes quietly observing you, then spit in your open mouth instead.
“Jesus,” came Taehyung’s awed reply from behind you, but you were too busy trying not to whimper, thighs squeezing together with sudden want. Namjoon hadn’t told you you could swallow, so you didn’t, drool starting to collect until it overflowed and dribbled down your jaw.
“Very good,” Namjoon murmured, and this time, he did lean down to kiss you, all wet and sloppy. You eagerly pushed further into his space, blood thrumming with your need for more, but he pulled away before you could get too carried away. He cleared his throat, lips pink and spit-slicked. “Gonna keep being a good girl for us today?”
You immediately nodded, a thrill going through you at the way the action rapidly made his expression steel over. He tsked condescendingly. “Now, now, you know better than to not speak when spoken to.”
“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”
“Well, that definitely answers the mystery bruises.” It was Seokjin, now behind you. Somehow you hadn’t noticed him discard his shirt and climb onto the bed, too caught in Namjoon’s spell. You felt his hands drifting across your waist again, roaming up to cup your breasts and lightly pinch at your nipples through the lace. You whimpered, arching eagerly into his touch.
“Oh come on,” Taehyung whined. A turn of your head produced him, naked and sulking in the middle of the bed. “It was supposed to be my turn.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his cute pout, dutifully extracting yourself from Jin’s hold to crawl your way towards the youngest brother. “Don’t worry, baby. I know how to multitask.”
He greedily grabbed you as soon as you were in reach, holding you tight to his chest and plopping back onto the bed so you were once again on top of him, knees straddling his hips. You giggled again at his antics, flattered by his sudden possessiveness, and Tae playfully nipped at your collarbone in retaliation.
The bed dipped behind you, and then there was Seokjin again, undeterred by Tae’s petulant behavior. “Not only are you bad at sharing, but you’re only thinking about yourself,” he scoffed, grabbing your hips without preamble. “What about _____?”
Taehyung immediately bristled beneath you.
“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure, but before you could properly defend him, you suddenly found yourself face down and ass up, the sudden appearance of a tongue swiping through your slit rendering you shuddery and brain dead. “Fuck. Jin—”
You felt Seokjin’s smirk against you. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said huskily, hot breath ghosting over your most private of parts. “Couldn’t help myself. You dressed my meal up so pretty.”
That was fair, you supposed. That he made proper use of the easy access your lingerie provided, that he gave himself the opportunity to admire the tiny lacy hearts on your garter belt up close. But Seokjin didn’t allow himself to preen for very long, his focus immediately turning back to the task at hand. Laving hot and slow, your whole body tingling down to your toes.
Unconsciously, you pushed back further into his face, and Jin hummed approvingly, massaging your asscheeks, large hands spreading them apart so he could get as close to you as humanly possible. His enthusiasm has always been so fucking sexy, and you knew he wasn’t playing it up for theatrics when the slurping sounds started. You were that turned on, still frustrated from being led to the edge of the proverbial cliff and not allowed to jump, and Seokjin was more than happy to help himself to the honey he was coaxing from between your thighs.
A haze was starting to take over you, completely focused on how good he was eating you out, on how hot you were, sweat and desire prickling your skin. Your hips mindlessly circling while you vaguely tried not to drool on Taehyung’s chest.
Not that Tae seemed to mind much, hands idly roaming whatever stretch of skin he could touch, content to watch how your expression twisted and eyes glazed over as lust easily towed you under.
Seokjin pulled back a bit, chuckling at your whines of protest when he did so. But the familiar click of a top being popped open shut you up, lifting your head and looking over your shoulder to confirm your suspicions. The lube was a bit cold when it hit your asshole, and Jin wasn’t shy with the amount he squeezed out. His eyes were completely blown, enraptured by its slow decent, watching the lube trail through your pubic hair and down your slit. A distracted tongue swept across his lips, completely focused on sliding his fingers through the slick and making everything somehow even more wet.
You shivered at his touch, thighs twitching as his long fingers smoothed the lube over your bundle of nerves in sure, purposeful circles. He leaned in again, tongue blazing a hot, meandering trail up the inside of your thigh and giving the sensitive skin there a playful nip before his fervent licks returned. Tongue slipping down to caress your clit, wandering back up to dip into your throbbing cunt, and dragging back down again.
It was on one of these passes that Seokjin accidentally drifted a bit too high, your undulating hips causing him to lap over your asshole instead. You moaned, loud, and he immediately froze.
It was clear neither of you had been expecting that reaction. But while you could only describe the look on his face as light surprise, you couldn’t help but duck your head in embarrassment.
“What’s the matter?” Taehyung breathed into your hair, wondering what halted the activities.
You weren’t really sure what to say, now embarrassed by your embarrassment. But it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, Seokjin curiously testing the waters by leaning in and placing a chaste kiss against your rim. When you didn’t do anything but suck in a breath, his tongue dipped out again for a tentative lick. You shuddered, ass reflexively bucking towards him instead of pulling away, and that was all the confirmation he needed. His hands palmed your asscheeks again, spreading them open to give himself more room to press his tongue against you more confidently, and you trembled in response.
It was a foreign sensation, but not bad. You technically hadn’t marked this as a no when signing your contract, but it never even crossed your mind that getting your booty ate would be a very real possibility. You weren’t against assplay per se—you simply had never experienced it before. And never in a million years would you have expected it to feel like this.
“Mmmm, that’s good,” you couldn’t help but whimper. Electricity licked up your spine when his sloppy tongue slowly circled around the tight ring of muscle. Unbidden, your hand reached back, gliding through his hair before rooting itself and pulling in an attempt to get him impossibly closer to you.
Seokjin hummed approvingly at the your enthusiasm, the sound almost sounding like he was blowing bubbles with the way you were now shoving his face between your asscheeks. Leaning somehow further into it, he ate you out with a vigor that told you he was clearly pleased you were using him to get yourself off. You melted into his ministrations, a whine falling from your lips when he gently slipped his sinful tongue inside you, the foreign feeling making your toes curl in unexpected pleasure.
You were getting worked up. With nothing more than his mouth, Seokjin was easily restoking the blazing fire within you that only minutes before had been forced to embers. You were getting worked up, and the more you moaned and gyrated against him, the more Taehyung’s fingers twitched restlessly against your skin. If you had been in your right mind, you would have noticed his rising agitation and wouldn’t have been surprised when he suddenly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and pulled you away from his brother. Instead, you blinked at him dazedly, pelvises flush after momentum had you inadvertently scooting further up his body.
“I’ve shared enough,” he growled, irritated. “It’s my turn now.” Another pull, and you were back on his lap, his leaking erection grinding pointedly against your slick folds. “C’mere, baby—fucking sit it on it.”
You were dazed, already pretty fucked out even though things were just getting started. The constant influx of pleasure was striking all your coherent thought, unable to understand anything other than finally being able to cross the finish line. And you knew from experience that Taehyung’s massive dick was a great way to get there, so you didn’t mind at all when he continued to maneuver you as he pleased, large hands canting your hips at a proper angle to receive him.
Your breath hitched when he finally sunk into your fervid body. You were so turned on and wet at that point that it didn’t hurt the slightest, but he was so big that the very pressure of him forcing your walls apart caused your eyes to roll back in your head, your nails pressing crescent moons into the caramel of his skin. “Ungh—”
“Shit,” Tae groaned, fingers tightening on your thighs at the wet grip of you. “Feel so fucking good, baby. Always so fucking good.”
He was buried balls deep, too on edge to give you any more than a few seconds to adjust before he was bucking wildly into you, easily scraping against your spongy nerves with every unforgiving stroke. You couldn’t do much more than take it, unfiltered moans readily escaping you. Hot and low, like they were generated deep in your pussy and Taehyung was hard at work fucking them up and out of your mouth.
You were so worked up at this point that you knew you weren’t going to last much longer, your walls tightening more and more by the second, your whole body trembling in preparation of the inevitable.
“_____,” Namjoon snapped.
It took some effort to lift your head from where you had buried it in Tae’s neck, startled into blearily looking up to meet the middle brother’s steely gaze. Your mind raced, flustered and trying to understand how you had somehow forgotten about him. When his lips curled with a whisper of a smirk, it instantly dawned on you that him fading into the background had been entirely by design.
Namjoon had allowed you to be distracted by his brothers. Had allowed them to have all the fun while he quietly watched your slow, uncontrollable descent into carnality. Because he knew that all he had to do was wait, and you would inevitably disobey him.
And then his fun would start.
You had played your part in his little game, cockily swaggered your way right into his trap with thigh highs and a smile. Too naive to notice that the situation had been rigged from the start, and now that everything was in motion, it was far too late to save yourself from your oncoming reckoning.
You were gasping, the pistoning of Taehyung’s cock setting all of your nerves alight and making it hard not to meet him thrust for thrust, trapped in meeting Namjoon’s stare through your wet lashes. He had moved to stand at the foot of the bed, close enough to touch, and he was the only person in the room who was still, bafflingly, fully-dressed.
“Please,” you babbled, too far gone to even know who your begging was directed towards. “Please, I—” Your body spazzed violently, only contained by Tae’s bruising grip as he relentlessly continued to plow into you. “Ohhh godddd! Fuckkk—ah, ahhhh—”
Against your best efforts, your cunt locked down, hard. So hard you forgot to breathe, pleasure and relief finally flooding your veins as you stuffed your face into Tae’s neck to ride it out, bucking and whining and incoherent.
Taehyung made a loud, choked noise, the feeling of you pulsing around him throwing him further into his trance. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, fingers digging into your thighs punishingly. Drilling into you harder, your release heightening his desperation for his own. Biology making him single-minded, manic, even when you started to mewl in oversensitivity. “Squeezing me so tight. Cream me good, baby. Fuck.”
You continued to tremble, nothing more at this point than sparking nerve endings. Tae lifted his head a little to lick into your awaiting mouth, kissing you wet and wild and desperate while still plunging deep inside you.
But even though you did nothing to attempt to control the torrent of whines freely spilling from your tongue, in the back of your mind, you still had the good sense to be nervous. Because even without seeing his face, you already knew Namjoon was pissed.
You had failed.
As if confirming your thoughts, fingers wrapped around your hair and pulled, naturally ripping your lips from Taehyung’s and forcing your head to lift. With nowhere to hide, you were forced to meet the full intensity of Namjoon’s glare.
“What did I say,” he demanded darkly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Your blood pounded excitedly.
“Cut her some slack, Namjoon,” came Jin’s mild reply from behind you. Your eyes widened, not expecting his dismissive tone to go over very well.
Namjoon didn’t acknowledge his older brother, instead focusing his attention on his younger. A carefully controlled tempest that was moments away from unleashing its wrath. “Taehyung. Move.”
The swivel of Tae’s hips slowed, but didn’t stop. He was too on edge, too close to joining you in bliss. “I—g-give me a minute, hyung—”
“Move.”
You could feel just how reluctant Tae was to comply—his rutting finally stopped, but his hips still instinctually twitching in a primal need to keep fucking you. Still, something in his brother’s tone made his protest cut off in his throat, and after a few labored, frustrated breaths, he obediently slipped out of you.
You whimpered at the loss, your toes curling at the resulting friction. Between the cum that had long been leaking from you and dribbling down your thighs and the mess Tae’s cock was making in his excitement, it was hot and sticky where your bodies slotted together, and you couldn’t help the way you senselessly started to grind against him, lashes fluttering at the feeling.
Namjoon scoffed at your clear desperation. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” he snapped, grip still firm in your hair. “For him to cum inside you.”
You shivered at the thought, a little embarrassed that you were so obvious. “Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, releasing a shuttering breath when you felt Tae’s slick cock jump against your stomach at your admission.
“Well you’ve been bad,” Namjoon replied slowly, as you weren’t very bright, “so you don’t get to have what you want.” He took a step forward, legs knocking into the edge of the bed, now only a breath away, and you licked your lips, mentally preparing for what you knew would come.
But before he could get any closer to you—before Taehyung could even slide from beneath you—there were once again hands on your hips.
“Hey!” Tae snapped irritably, but whatever he had to say was drowned out by your surprised, rather pathetic choking when, with a delicious roll of his hips, Seokjin unexpectedly sank inside your pliant body, thoroughly making himself at home exactly where Tae had been forced to vacate. You had been so focused on Namjoon that you somehow missed the weight shifting behind you, the telltale rustling of clothing as he pushed is sweatpants down his hips enough to free his cock so he could stuff you the hilt.
You had been saved by the eldest Kim, at least for now. But for how long would he really be able to delay your punishment?
Since he was still holding you by the hair, you could easily see the emotions flicker across Namjoon’s face at his older brother butting in, but his expression quickly settled into something mirroring cool indifference.
You knew better. Namjoon was a patient man, but you doubted he would let your disobedience slide so easily.
Seemingly uncaring of either of his brothers’ vexation, Seokjin rode your ass, hips rolling forward in constant waves, strokes long and deep and pointed. Clearly wanting to keep you mewling for him.
And as you did just that, you rapidly realized that saving you from Namjoon’s wrath had never been his intention. No, he simply liked you just like this, whiny and shivery and too fucked out to care that you were drooling and desperate.
“You feel it, sweetheart?” he asked, voice melodic and sweet. Leaning over to press plump lips up your spine and sucking on a rather sensitive spot at the back of your neck.
“Yesss,” you whined. You could feel everything, could feel the ripple of your ass every time his hips slammed against it, could feel every ridge of his cock that scraped against your insides. Sparks shot through you after every stroke, your clit forced to drag across Tae’s stomach with the force. “Fuck, you’re so big and deep, fuck, fuck.”
Seokjin just hummed, playing your body like a fiddle and pleased by how it was responding to him. Breath stuttering, toes curling, fingers gripping the sheets.
But despite how good he was making you feel, you weren’t too fucked out to overlook Namjoon this time. No, this time forgetting him was impossible, the middle brother doing nothing to hide his massive presence. He towered over you, intently watching you get railed by his older brother, and the barely suppressed fury you could sense radiating off him was making your cunt throb and head spin.
“I’m sorry, D-Daddy,” you stuttered, everything tingling at the look he fixed you with in response. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Are you?” he asked lowly, a tic in his jaw. He let the question marinate for a few moments, let you simmer beneath his intense stare. Just when you felt the overwhelming compulsion to apologize again, he finally reached for you, a single finger lifting your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze directly. With a patronizing tilt of his head, he popped open the button on his pants. “Then make it up to me.”
You were already pushing yourself to your hands and knees, desperate to please. Taehyung’s hands drifted up your sides to steady you, your body trembling from the way Seokjin still reamed into you, undeterred. You reached out for the band of Namjoon’s pants, trying to get to the important bits, but he simply tutted and smacked your hand away.
“Mouth,” he said simply, the single word full of derision.
So you leaned forward again, this time using the tip of your nose to part his fly and give you proper access to his clothed cock. He was thick and swollen already, straining against the material, and you felt him stir with interest when you mouthed at him through the fabric. Coquettish licks lapping hot against the length of him and making his hips reflexively shift forward, unconsciously chasing the stimulation. You licked and sucked until there was a noticeable wet patch, doing your best to show that your apology was sincere and give him your full attention.
But that was hard to do when his brothers were busy giving you their full attention.
Seokjin was in a trance, fingers sinking into your thighs so he could properly hammer into you. Thrusts steady and coaxing your pussy to leak its praises, your thighs sticky with your essence.
Taehyung, on the other hand, was getting noticeably antsy beneath you, fingers increasingly twitching against your damp skin the longer his brothers got more of your attention. You looked down, and the furrow of his brow and downturn of his lips were your last clues to his growing jealousy before he took action, hand reaching up to drag through the mess you were making before his thumb sought your clit, rolling and pinching. You bucked and squealed, the extra stimulation rocking you to your core and making your walls pulse dangerously enough that you found yourself squirming to escape him, grabbing Tae’s wrist for the second time that night in an act of self-preservation.
He was undeterred, rerouting his focus to your chest instead. With impatient hands, he yanked on the cups of your bodysuit, a concerning ripping noise immediately filling the room at the action. Before you could even say anything, he was already lifting his head to eagerly bite and suckle on your newly freed tits, tongue curling around a pebbled nipple and mumbling “I’ll buy you another one.”
Switching from one erogenous zone to another did nothing to quell your desire, but at least the stimulation wasn’t as intense. This you could safely enjoy, lashes fluttering, chest inadvertently pushing further into his face in silent encouragement.
And encourage you did, Taehyung creating enough suction with his mouth to properly burst capillaries. Contentedly littering your skin with marks you allowed, comfortable in knowing this was a region easily covered by your clothes.
Determined not to lose focus, you leaned forward again to continue giving Namjoon your full attention, trying to strategize the best way to get at him without using your hands. But either Namjoon finally decided to take pity on you or he was getting impatient too, because it was his own hands that reached down, only bothering to disturb his waistband enough to free his already leaking cock.
You didn’t know if it was a conditioned response from your past escapades or simply the extremely sexy sight of him giving himself a few firm, confident pumps. Either way, you felt it when you started to salivate, aching to properly taste him.
Your enthusiasm must have shown on your face, because the blond man simply smirked down at you knowingly, thumb slowly running over a prominent vein and further smearing his own mess around. “Well?” he prompted, almost sounding bored. You knew he wasn’t. That he was rock hard and dribbling precum, that his eyes were hooded yet laser-focused on the way his brothers devoured you—those were clues enough. Still, you couldn’t help the fire his feigned disinterest lit low in your belly, desperate to please him.
You started low, turning your head so you could playfully tongue first at his balls before making the long trek up the massive length of him, taking care not to accidentally involve your teeth from the way Seokjin’s thrusts were rocking you forward. Finally, you took him in your mouth, suckling on the weeping head. Humming contentedly at the salty taste and meeting his blown eyes from beneath your lashes.
Namjoon’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything, hips twitching forward when you pressed your tongue into his slit.
You didn’t notice at first. To be fair, you were plenty preoccupied with everything else going on, with all other sensations. So you didn’t notice Taehyung’s hand drifting over your hip until he was cupping one of your asscheeks, fingers teasing further inward.
Before you could say anything, a finger sunk itself into your cunt, right next to where Jin was still plowing into you. You groaned, eyes rolling back at the added stretch, but the oldest brother wasn’t as pleased by the intrusion.
“Taehyung,” he said gruffly, voice deep with irritation and thinly-veiled hunger. But Tae just pumped the long digit into you a few times and then slowly backtracked, lightly trailing the slick back up the cleft of your ass.
“Relax,” came Tae’s mellow reply, and when he started circling a questioning finger around your rim, you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or Seokjin.
Still, you shivered, breath stuttering when you realized where this was going. When the finger did nothing more than circle and lightly press against you, you released Namjoon’s cockhead from between your lips, eyes fluttering. “Yes,” you breathed hot against Namjoon’s crotch, understanding what Tae was wordlessly asking you.
A glance down produced Taehyung, eyes all pupil, tongue lolling thoughtfully in his mouth as he watched you tremble above him, tits rippling and swaying from Seokjin’s force. Finger mindlessly continuing the massaging of your hole. He locked eyes with you, making sure he understood, and then slowly started pressing the slick digit into your asshole.
You whimpered, fighting against your instinct to clamp down on him. Relax. Relax. It didn’t hurt exactly—was just pressure where you weren’t used to having any. And Tae made sure to go at a glacial pace, made sure to keep massaging your insides, to help you acclimate to the intrusion.
Distantly, you felt Jin’s thrusts slow to something much more languid, and you had a feeling the way your body was opening up for his youngest brother was more than a little distracting.
“Good?” Tae asked shakily, sinking into you bit by bit.
“Yes,” you slurred, completely fucked out. Tae’s always had large hands with long, elegant fingers, and right now, when he kept going further and further in, you were becoming privy to just how long they actually were. Your eyes threatened to roll back when his last knuckle finally breached you, and when he gave you a cursory tap after a few seconds, you had to swallow a moan.
Rather affectionately, Namjoon started caressing your face, bringing your attention back to him. Dazed, you put him back in your mouth, continuing to suck him and trying not to think about how Seokjin was revving his pace back up and Taehyung was tapping your insides in tandem. Namjoon just smiled softly down at you, and it was so sweet that you almost don’t see what happened next coming, too preoccupied with everything else that was going on. Gently, his hand drifted up—and gripped you securely by the hair, cock suddenly surging down your throat. You immediately gagged, throat repeatedly convulsing around him, and he grunted appreciatively at the feeling before pulling all the way out. Cheeks still sweetly dimpling at how wrecked you were.
And wrecked was the only way to describe you. You were gasping, jaw glistening with spit. Eyes watering and whole body twitching from all the relentless stimulation.
Namjoon only gave you a few seconds to gain your bearings before a pull of your hair had your head snapping back. Before his cock was pushing back into your panting mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat this time, taking stuttered breaths from your nose when his fucking began in earnest. Tried your best to ignore the way your jaw threatened to lock from trying to accommodate the sheer girth of him.
It was a lot. You were feeling sensations from so many areas at once—ass, tits, mouth, cunt—that your brain was absolutely swirling trying to figure out which brother’s ministrations it should be focusing on. And though the pleasure pumping through you was borderline unbearable, you couldn’t even let that overflow of emotion out, your wails stuck bubbling in your chest because you were too busy lewdly gargling on Namjoon’s cock.
You remembered, all those months ago when you’d first been considering whether you should take this job, how you'd poured yourself another glass of wine and reread the contact for the nth time thinking well, I guess I do have three holes. That’s certainly convenient.
Now that it was happening, however—now that all three of your holes were stuffed and both your mouth and your pussy were dribbling and messy and straining with effort—now, it was nothing short of intense. Nothing hurt, but you were so completely and entirely overwhelmed by all of the feeling that you thought you might just simply burst, your nerve endings crackling free and raining over the room like fireworks.
It’s too much. It was too much, but right when you were starting to consider giving Namjoon two taps on the wrist—a metaphorical yellow—he backed off on his own, easing some of the pressure. And suddenly your mouth was free, a string of saliva still connecting you to his glistening cock before the tension of him stepping back eventually made it snap.
Namjoon had eased some of the pressure, but he couldn’t stop more from surging forward in its place. Your body could only take so much of their tortuous teasing before it succumbed to its baser instincts, and it seemed you had finally reached your boiling point. In a trance, you pressed your hips backwards to meet Seokjin’s next stroke, forcing him deeper inside you and making you both shudder. And that small action was all the encouragement he needed, his primal instincts screaming at him to ruin you.
Drilling into you with new purpose, Jin fucked the remaining breath out of your lungs, staccatoed bursts of ah ah ah pouring from your drooling mouth. Panting like an animal in heat, moaning so wantonly that you would be embarrassed if you weren’t already so completely braindead with pleasure.
“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathed, watching your rapid unraveling in amazement. “You’re so fucking hot. Fuck.”
Before even realizing what was happening, you finally shattered around him, your bones liquifying at the intensity and causing you to collapse on Tae, writhing and choking into his neck.
“There you go,” Jin encouraged, words wobbling as he tried to weather the force of how tightly your walls were squeezing him.
Taehyung was curling his finger within you to lengthen your orgasm, was absently rubbing your back to guide you through it. “So perfect,” he whispered, lips fondly brushing against your temple while you shook.
When it finally ended you were left twitching and sensitive, too dizzy from the sheer force of your climax to register the thunder rolling across Namjoon’s face.
His brothers did, though.
An audible squelch filled the room when, without warning, Seokjin pulled completely out of you. Confused, you looked over your shoulder at him, only to suddenly find yourself lifted and tilted, Taehyung surging upright and taking you with him. Unprepared to catch yourself, your back easily hit the mattress, now finding yourself looking up at the three brothers who hovered over you.
“Hmmm.” Namjoon pretended to think, tone calm but eyes steely. “I could have sworn I specifically told you not to do that.”
“You did,” Jin cut in mildly, looking between the two of you curiously.
Your eyes widened, unprepared for this turn of events. You never would have pegged Jin as such an instigator, but apparently he was very interested in seeing the consequences of your continued disobedience.
Your betrayal must have shown on your face, because Seokjin’s lips pursed in amusement. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. “You’ve been so good for me, but we have to be fair. And unlike Taehyung, I know how to share.”
“Am I or am I not sharing right now?” Tae griped, unamused by the dig. But you were no longer paying those two any attention, your focus now fully on Namjoon and the leisurely way he was now stripping out of his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hedged, knowing before you even said the words that they would do jack shit to appease him. “It just felt too good…”
Namjoon raised an unimpressed eyebrow, throwing his t-shirt on the floor as if it offended him. “All you keep saying is sorry,” he mused. Down went his pants and underwear, kicked out of his way. His knee hit the mattress, Taehyung shifting to the side so Namjoon could finally stalk over to where you lay, fucked open and wet. Cautiously, you met his stare, the breath halting in your lungs when you recognized the retribution that was undoubtedly about to come.
“But sorry means nothing if you don’t modify your behavior,” he tsked, eyes darkening. “So. I don’t believe you.”
That was all the warning you got before he was crowding into your space, grabbing you by the ankles and hooking them over his shoulders. Caging you in with his body, pressing close enough that his cock easily slid over the mess of your cunt, making you mewl at the sensation.
And that involuntary reaction didn’t seem to help your case with Namjoon. “More?” he scoffed, seemingly displeased, though the way he rocked his length through the seam of you told a different story. “After all that, you still want more?”
You were exhausted, thighs still quivering from your last orgasm. But you couldn’t help the way the weight of his body and the slide of his cock were causing your pussy to pulse. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, angling your hips down so you could deliciously meet him on his upstroke.
“And it’s all about what you want, isn’t it?” he mocked, spearing you to the hilt in one go. You choked at the intrusion, not expecting him to enter you so suddenly. At this point, you were fully prepped enough to take him, but, like his brothers, Namjoon was still a lot to take all at once.
Particularly when he had already made up his mind that the best way to punish you was with his cock.
You quickly gathered his gameplay from the immediate way he started rutting into you, not giving you any time to adjust or catch your breath. Simply railing you into the mattress, your legs over his shoulders ensuring he hit deep enough for you to feel it in your throat.
“Fuckkk,” you groaned, fingers curling in the sheets, biting down on your lip enough to taste metal. “Fuck fuck—”
“What?” he taunted, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Making sure he scraped your g-spot on every thrust. “This is what you wanted, remember? And it’s all about what you want.”
“Yes, Daddy.” You could already feel yourself ready to clamp down again, your extremely sensitive pussy overreactive to any and all stimulation. “I want it, I want it, yesss—”
He pressed impossibly closer, bending you enough that you felt the burning strain in your legs, and that did the trick. Before you could nervously start to ponder whether you were flexible enough for what he wanted to do, you were cumming, hard, back attempting to bow with the force of it but only succeeding in making your whole body lock up and your vision blur.
Namjoon didn’t slow down during your climax, and he certainly didn’t slow down after. He fucked you like a machine, undeterred by how your pulsing walls tried to suck him in and keep him there. Undeterred by how you hopelessly whined and squirmed in overstimulation. And when you suddenly heard a familiar buzzing noise, there was nothing you could do but meet his intense gaze with wide, alarmed eyes.
“What?” he demanded, pressing your long-forgotten wand vibrator right on your clit and making you immediately jerk. The caramel of his skin was already glistening and beading with sweat, but he seemed long from tired. “You think you can cum on everbody’s dick but mine?”
It was too much, the near animalistic pace of his fucking paired with how high he had turned the vibrator making your hands shoot up, scrabbling along his biceps in a panicked response, your body now entirely on autopilot, desperately trying to save itself from its fate.
“Please,” you heard yourself beg, choking at the intensity. Legs jerking uselessly on his shoulders, nails scratching marks down his skin.
But the word that would make him stop never passed your lips. And so he continued to ignore your unsuccessful struggling, fucking you right back to orgasm, this time somehow even stronger than the last and stealing all air from your lungs.
He felt it, of course. Felt exactly how hard you were squeezing him, the tight grip of your pussy evoking the grit of his teeth.
“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to milk me,” he growled, moving the vibrator away from you just enough for you to suck in a breath. “Come on, take this dick since you want it so bad. Take it!”
And you had no choice but to take it, trying your best not to black out as he forced the coil within you to snap, again and again. You were shrieking, but you couldn’t even perceive your own actions anymore, swept completely by his unforgiving undertow of pain-lined pleasure. Namjoon was fucking you stupid, scrambling your brain as easily as if it were an egg, forcing you to your most primal of reactions, your most basest of self. Thrashing beneath him, desperate tears trickling down your cheeks, spit freely trickling from your wailing mouth.
It felt neverending, this exquisite torture, and just when you were starting to get distressed about how much longer you would be able to take it, Namjoon’s thrusts started to turn sloppy.
“This is all you wanted, right?” he panted, hips stuttering. A welcome warning for what was soon to come. His focus rapidly shifted from your orgasm to his own, and the way he tossed the still buzzing vibrator to the side was nothing short of impatient.
You blinked up blearily at him, the reduction in stimulation helping you slowly return to your body after being stuck the stratosphere.
“Wanted my nut? Agreed to fuck all of us at once just so you could get more of it, isn’t that right, babygirl?”
His intense stare told you he expected an answer, but all you could do was whine in response, hesitant to admit it. Pussy pulsing at the very visual he had conjured up. Warily, you glanced at the other two brothers, nervous at what you might find there, but one look quickly evaporated all uncertainty.
Though they had moved out of the way for Namjoon, they hadn’t moved far—still close enough for you to reach out and touch, still close enough for them to hover over you and get a close view of the action. Still close enough for you to see understanding dawn across Seokjin’s face, to see pure astonishment take over Taehyung’s.
Namjoon spotted your division in attention and was having none of it, a hand guiding your jaw until you were focusing on him again. “You like being a dirty cumslut,” he prompted mildly, your heart racing in response. Slipping a thumb between your plush lips and humming approvingly when you sucked on it, tongue twirling. “Don’t you, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned hoarsely, the very admission making your whole body vibrate. The continued hammering of your sensitive core making you want to reflexively squirm away, though Namjoon’s heavy body ensured you had nowhere to go.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I like being a dirty cumslut.”
Taehyung whimpered, and it was easy for you to deduce from the rapid movement you could see from the corner of your eye that he was jacking himself off while watching you. Well and truly done with delaying his own pleasure.
And from the rather manic way Namjoon was looking at you, he was obviously on the same wavelength. “And do you know how much cumsluts love it?” A quick swipe of his tongue over his panting lips. “They want it in them. On them.”
“Please, Daddy,” you begged, nearly sobbing at the strength your want. Your head whipping around, desperately pleading with all three of them. “Please let me have it! I’ve been so good, please—”
“Holy shit,” Tae groaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “Okay baby, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you it all. You want it all?”
“Yes. Yes, yes yes yes yesyesyes—”
Abruptly, Taehyung was pushing forward into your space, hovering more directly over you and treating you to the sight of how those long fingers were furiously pumping his cock. He was panting, a prominent vein in his neck visible because of his efforts, little whines escaping him as he viciously worked his slick length.
There was shifting on your other side, and your focus immediately turned to Seokjin. He looked back at you dazedly, lips parted, chest flushed at your attention.
“Please?” you whimpered, fully aware how pathetic you must have looked but not giving a single shit. So long as you got what you wanted. You needed them to give you what you wanted.
The oldest immediately softened at your pleading, always so willing and eager to please you. “Of course,” he breathed, hand already moving over himself with long, tight strokes. He shivered, hips reflexively jumping forward at the stimulation. “W-Where?”
A shift, and Namjoon was pulling back from you, maneuvering your legs back to the bed and sitting back on his haunches. Despite this new position, he never let his cock leave the comfort of your walls, continuing to hammer into you, jaw locked in concentration, balls smacking into your ass with a lewd slapping sound. Focused only on racing to the finish line.
“Anywhere,” you shuddered. “Everywhere, just…” Your entire body was on fire and you could barely take it, the anticipation of what was about to happen making you writhe over the sheets, whimpering pathetically. Your tongue lolling out your gasping mouth, an eager target.
And then finally—finally—you were given what you asked for. Loud, uncontrolled moans spilled from Taehyung’s lips, swiftly becoming desperate before one last squeeze of his cock had him cumming, his release spraying hot all over your breasts and slowly trailing through your cleavage.
You moaned with him, delight buzzing through your veins at being marked so intimately, and the sound seemed to trigger Namjoon, who immediately pulled out of you, expertly pumped himself a few times, and then ejaculated with a long, drawn-out grunt. After essentially edging himself for most of the night, the amount of cum he gifted you was more than generous, most of it painting your pussy in long ropes, but some of it inevitably ending up on your belly with how aggressively he was jerking himself off.
The sight of it all, the feeling, was so unbearably hot that you almost came untouched, eyes rolling back, pussy pulsing with interest despite how exhausted you were. And your obvious pleasure was what finally set off Jin, teeth digging into his lower lip while his seed spurted white across the lower half of your face and slid down your jaw, some of it delightedly landing on your awaiting tongue.
You hummed contentedly, immediately licking the thick, heady remnants from your lips so you wouldn’t waste a drop. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands slowly and sensually trailing over your own body. Basking in it all. Purposely smearing their mess over wider stretches of skin—pinching gently at your nipples, dragging your fingers between your tits, gliding over your hips, drawing light, sticky figure eights around your clit before dipping a bit lower and slipping two cum-coated digits inside your hot walls. Your hips twitched, lazily chasing the intrusion on reflex. Simply enjoying being so completely and utterly satisfied.
You were so transfixed and in your own world that you completely forgot about the three other people still in the room, greedily feasting on the undeniably filthy way you savored what they gave you. You weren’t sure how long they let you be, but it was a voice finally breaking the silence that slowly lured back to reality.
“_____?”
The voice was gentle, yet deep, the spell cast over you immediately broken at the sound of it. It was Namjoon, hovering over you again, lips quirking into a small smile as he watched the fog disperse from your eyes. “How do you feel?”
You let out a satisfied sigh, pulling your fingers out of your pussy with hum. “Tired,” you admitted, voice raspy from the activities. “But amazing.”
His smile widened, cheeks dimpling. “I’m glad.”
Suddenly, Taehyung was laying on the bed with you, arms wrapped around your sticky form. Just like always, his sweaty body slotted easily against yours, happily nuzzling his face into your neck and apparently wholly unfazed about the fact that you were completely covered in spunk. “You’re amazing,” he chirped, pressing a flurry of kisses into your skin and making you giggle. “You know, when you told me you liked cum forever ago, I didn’t realize this was what you meant.”
“You never asked,” you shrugged, somehow still timid despite everything that had just happened. “What did you want me to say, exactly? Hey Tae, do you mind doing me a solid and shooting the club up? Or maybe can you give me a nice, relaxing facial?”
The pure bafflement of his expression had you laughing again. “In what world would I ever say no to that?” he demanded incredulously.
Amused by the turn in conversation, Seokjin bent down to press his lips against your forehead in gratitude before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”
“Of course,” you replied, moving to direct him to your bathroom before Namjoon stopped you with a pat on the thigh.
“I’ll show him.”
You couldn’t help but watch their strong, naked forms leave the room, eyes drawn to the musculature of their backs and buttocks.
“Hey.” Tae poked you in the cheek, mirth dancing in his eyes from catching your ogling. “Focus. I’m talking to you.”
“What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view?”
He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, though he was undeterred from getting the answers he sought.
“I told you what I wanted,” he reminded you gently, pressing another kiss against your jaw. “You know you could have done the same.”
You shifted in his hold, sheepish. “Tae, all of this isn’t really about me…”
“What, so just because we’re paying you, you’re not supposed to enjoy it too?” he scoffed. “Baby, as we’ve just proven tonight, it’s more fun when we all have fun.”
“I always have fun!” you protested, but you were prevented from elaborating by Namjoon returning with a washcloth. He climbed back on the bed, reaching for your ankles and guiding them apart.
“Open,” he directed, his tone containing none of the dominance it often had when he usually uttered the word. You obediently followed his instruction, a soft sigh escaping your lips when he pressed the warm cloth against your thoroughly battered netherparts and started cleaning you up.
For a little bit, Taehyung watched your makeshift bath in silence, not even saying anything when Namjoon left to rinse off the towel and came back with a freshly damp one, gliding over the stained skin of your face and chest before they started to crust over. In fact, Tae didn’t speak again until your spot bath was finished and Namjoon was clambering back in the bed with the two of you, an arm slinging low over your waist as to not disturb where Tae’s rested. Pulling you against him until your chests were flush.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us on our trip?” You could feel Taehyung’s pout against your skin, displeased at the idea of being away from you for three weeks.
You huffed out a laugh, slinging a leg over Namjoon’s hip to settle more comfortably into your new position as the filling of a TaeJoon sandwich. “I’m positive. I have a lot studying to do and frankly, I’m not completely sure I can walk anymore.”
“Who said you need to walk?” Namjoon cut in sleepily.
“We can pay someone to walk for you,” came Tae’s enthusiastic, yet ridiculous offer. “We’ll be going to meetings, but you can just roam the city if you want. Or relax at the hotel. You can lounge by the pool all day and put all your food and drinks on our tab.”
Though it certainly sounded tempting, you were fully aware what the tradeoff of that makeshift vacation would be, and the absolute last thing you wanted to think about after the crazy intense session you just experienced was sex. So, despite Taehyung’s wheedling, you managed to stand firm in your decision, completely fine with waiting until they were back in the country to even consider spreading your legs for any of them again.
And you were justified when Seokjin finally reappeared, fully clothed, rubbing a towel through his hair, and informing you that his assistant Wendy would be in touch to schedule his next session for sometime after he returned.
chapters⇢ previous | next | series masterlist
#taehyung smut#namjoon smut#seokjin smut#bts smut#bts fic#bts fanfic#taehyung x reader#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#taehyung fanfic#seokjin fanfic#namjoon fanfic#mine#husband#bae#mr. worldwide#✨kim tag✨#fic: satisfy
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WITH YOU.
– Crhis Sturniolo angst (happy ending).
chris x f!reader.
Author's note: It's been so long since I've written something and I am s o r r y but I will never stop loving 'angst'. So you have to suffer with me too. It's l o n g and I haven't checked for any typos, so if I do have any, excusez-moi.
Warnings: Depression, mood swings, Chris is smoking, could be triggering to some, please do not read if it could affect you. ♡
Summary: Chris is so obsessed with you that he suggests you should break up for a bit now that he's leaving to study abroad (just the thought of other people being around you while he can't, seemed impossible to him). When he does, he realises what a mistake that was.
—
I stare down at my phone for a little bit and the screen goes off a few seconds later. I do not know how to feel or what to do, but I do know a small tear just runs down my cheek. Matt just called me – he said that Chris hasn't left his room in days; they're worried.
"Chris, are you serious?" I can feel my chest getting heavier with every second that passes.
"What the hell do you want me to think? What else is there to do?!" he explodes – his hands are buried in his hair and he gets up from the bed, "it's not easy for me either, but seriously! I can't fucking stand the thought of you being away from me.. I just can't do it. I will go crazy." he doesn't stay in place, he keeps moving anxiously, "what if.. someone flirts with you, what if you forget me while I'm away, so many what ifs – I just can't do this, I'm already fucking obsessed with you."
"Well, same goes for me, Chris! What are you saying then? We should just break up because you decided you wanted to study abroad?" I get up from the bed as well and I see him turning his back to me, his hands pressed against the wall in front of him.
"I didn't just 'decide' to fucking leave you! You know it's always been my dream to leave this goddamn place and study abroad!" he's almost screaming now and I want to hit the walls, I want to kick the doors, I want to grab him and never let him leave.
Instead, I grab his stuff and put them in his backpack, not being able to see clearly from all the tears that threaten to leave my eyes.
"What are you doing?" he sounds a little calmer now but I can feel my skin burning from all the anger, the sadness, everything all at once.
"Leave." is all I say before I throw his backpack outside my room and I turn around, not wanting to see him actually leave.
"Babe–" he starts but I quickly turn around, "leave!" I am shouting now.
Before he can say anything, I push him outside of my room and close the door behind him. And then, I break down. The heaviest weight is on my chest and it makes it so, so hard to breathe. The tears fully blurry my vision now and I almost pass out from how hard I am crying.
Two weeks have passed after that incident and yet, I can still feel that weight on my chest, let alone now.. after Matt's call. We did break up but that doesn't mean I automatically stop caring about him. I will always love him, whether he is in my life or not.
I start getting worried so I don't waste any time – I grab my phone and my bag, and with that, I quickly leave to go to Chris' house. While I'm in the car, I can't stop crying, Matt's words are on repeat in my head.
"I.. I don't know what to do.. we don't know what to say to him, he won't say anything to us.." Matt's voice is almost trembling and it's the only time I've ever heard him this worried.
"Matt, I just.. I am not sure if I can help after–" he cuts me off, pleading, "I know you guys broke up but please. We're begging you."
And here I am. Already outside their house, tears streaming down my face. I grab my stuff and before I can wipe away all the tears, the door opens and I'm met with two arms around me.
"We apologise for bringing you all the way here, we're just.. worried.." Nick says and I hug him back. I tell him it's fine and rub his back.
"Guys.. could I ask you a favor?" they both nod at the same time, "could you.. just leave for a bit? Once I make sure he is okay, I will call you straight away."
"Of course. Yes. We'll go grab a coffee. Tell us if you need anything." I nod and they both come closer to me, placing a kiss on both of my cheeks and I can't help but smile.
I leave my stuff on their couch and without a second thought, I immediately walk up the stairs, where Chris' room is. I knock on his door, even though I know he won't answer but I do anyway. I call his name – this is the only time I can actually hear something behind this big, wooden door. I say his name again. The door opens slowly and my heart breaks into pieces.
My beautiful Chris – he looks exhausted. He stands there with his usual gray hoodie, his pyjamas, his hair is a literal mess and there are eye bags under his beautiful eyes. I can see smoke coming out of the room, he smells like it as well – he's been smoking.
"What.. are you doing here?" his voice is hoarse, his eyes are so red, it makes want to cry even more.
"Why are you scaring me like that?" my voice is calm but my bottom lip is quivering.
"I'm sorry.." he says, although I'm not sure if he knows what he's apologizing for, "where's Matt and Nick?"
"They let me in and then I asked them to leave." I say but all I wanna do is hug him.
"Thank you.. uhm, come inside.. if you want." he mutters and attempts to fix his hair as he lets me into his room. I only see bottles of water here and there, I can also see burnt cigarettes all over his desk, there are clothes on the floor, journals scattered all around. His room is a mess, "sorry." he whispers.
"It's fine.." I say under my breath, and honestly, I don't know what to say to him. All I want to do is hug him and kiss him, and I would, but I am still hurt, too.
"You didn't have to come here." he murmurs and takes another cigarette in his mouth, lighter in his other hand. It's like he read my mind because he immediately opens his mouth to speak again, "you don't need to feel sorry for me. I'll be fine."
There's not much I can say to him, but I do move closer to him. He is seated at the edge of his bed and I am now in front of him, looking down at him. I slowly grab the cigarette, pulling it away from him and after I throw it in the ashtray, I pull him in for a big hug. He stays still for a few seconds but I can feel his arms wrapping around my waist just a few seconds later. His head is pressed against my tummy and I have my fingers buried into his hair.
"Do you know how scared I was to hear that you haven't left your room in days?" I whisper and I try hard not to let the tears run down my cheeks once again. I can hear him sniffling and my heart breaks all over again.
He doesn't say anything and I lean down to leave a kiss on the top of his head, "I am sorry I hurt you. I am just.. I thought that was the solution, but it obviously wasn't." he whispers and I can feel my shirt getting wet.
"I hurt you too, and I am sorry. I know how much you want to leave, I shouldn't be selfish. I just can't be away from you." a big tear leaves my eye and I squeeze him in my arms a little bit, "neither can I." he says as he looks up at me.
"Chris.. this is very hard for me, but if it means you'll get to chase your dreams.. then fuck it. I need to see you chasing your goals, I need to know you're happy." I get down on my knees in between his legs and I cup his cheeks, "and if we're meant to be, then we sure will in the future." with every word, it's like I'm stabbing myself over and over again. My hearts cries but my mind knows exactly what it has to do.
He looks at me with those blue eyes, uncontrollable tears falling from them and I just want to kiss them away, "I cannot believe you just said that.." he says, but he doesn't look hurt, if anything, he looks more.. in love?
He grabs my cheeks and pulls me closer, pressing his forehead against mine – his tears fall onto my skin as he wipes away mine, "come with me."
My heart stops. My eyes widen and in pretty sure I look a little crazy, "what?"
"Come with me. Let's move in together. Like we always said we would do when we grow up – now's the time. Come with me." he says and I can finally see a little smile behind that constant frown, "you can decorate our apartment. You can have as many plants as you want inside, you can watch all these fucking horror movies that you like to watch and I won't complain, ever! Please."
Our apartment. I feel like passing out, right here.
"Promise me you'll make up for all the damage you've done to yourself these past few weeks and I swear, I'll go pack my things right now." I whisper against his lips, I cannot stop crying.
He cries too, but his smile is so big, I feel like the whole room is shining. He caresses my cheeks and leans in, placing his soft lips against mine – my heart beats faster than it ever did before, "I love you so much." he says.
Before I can even say anything, he pulls me into his lap so that I'm straddling his thighs and hugs me tightly, looking up at me, "I love you too, babe." I say and lean in for another kiss.
"Sorry I kicked your brothers out earlier."
He laughs and I can't help but laugh with him, "it's okay, they'll be fine. Now come here, I've missed you."
#sturniolo fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#one-shot#angst#fluff#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fluff#fanfic#matthew sturniolo
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Sounds of sleep
[gif creds @steverobin]
Steve Harrington x female!Henderson!Reader
Summary: Reader and Steve spend a Friday night “babysitting” and they all end up falling asleep in the living room, only, nobody can get any sleep because Steve is snoring incredibly loud... Except for reader, who's completely used to it
Warnings: swearing, implied smut (but not really)
“For fucks sake Dustin, you’re supposed to share the chips!”
“Can you not curse in front of my brother?”
“You’re aware your brother curses more than I do, right?”
(y/n) rolled her eyes even knowing Steve was right.
“Just don’t tell my mom that, she thinks he’s a saint.”
“Copy that.”
It was Friday night, and after a lot of begging from Dustin, who insisted on having the party’s casual sleepover at his house that week, (y/n) was a spilled soda away from regretting not saying no to their mom. Ms. Henderson went to spend the night at a friend’s house and although she was okay with having her son’s friends over, she was paranoid about them being left alone, and the poor sweet woman didn’t have the heart to say no to Dustin’s innocent toothless smile so the only way to put her mind at ease was to ask her oldest child to stay home and take care of them. It wasn’t worth it trying to fight the woman on that, (y/n) was mad about having to cancel her plans with Robin and Nancy, a girls night they had been planning for so long because the three girls were always busy and their schedules very rarely conjugated with each other, but she had the next best thing to make her night less sufferable: Steve Harrington, her best friend and now apparently also Dustin’s best friend, a fact she was still trying to accept.
Not that (y/n) despised how her little brother could so easily steal Steve’s attention from her, she honestly thought it was adorable to see the lady’s man show his soft spot for the kids, she was just still getting used to the fact she no longer could have him all to herself when he was over. But what enraged her the most, in a nice but painful way, was how all of that just added to (y/n)’s growing romantic feelings for Steve.
So, aside the chaos Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will installed in the house while Max and El looked at them probably wondering how and why they were friends with them, (y/n) was happy to have Steve there with her and for getting to spend time with him, dismissing the fact she would end up sharing him after all.
“Alright, guys, the snacks have to last all night, okay?” (y/n) tried her best to put authority in her voice but the only people who seemed to listen to her were Will, El and Max, “Dustin, you heard me?”
“Yeah, I did, but you could’ve bought more chips, you know?”
“Yeah, well, eight bags was the best I could do.”
“Steve bought ten last time.” Lucas pointed out, earning a non threatening death glare from (y/n).
“(y/n)’s in charge this time so if you shitheads could please do as she says that would be great.” Steve intervened, even though he knew the boys appreciated the effort the older Henderson was putting into their movie night, he knew there was so much his best friend could take from their jokes and teasing before she snapped. He felt bad already for her for canceling her girls night, so he would do his best to make sure she had the best time possible.
(y/n) thanked Steve, a ping of annoyance in her tone, and turned around to go get another bag of chips and prepare the popcorn bowls. The boy followed her to the kitchen to help her.
“You okay?” he asked, studying her unreadable features.
Without looking at Steve, (y/n) answered, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you had to play babysitter on your only day off this week when you already had plans?”
“You make it sound like it’s torture to look after my little brother.” she chuckled.
“I’m not saying that,” he squeezed her shoulders in comfort and he had to hold back a curse when he felt the built up tension in her muscles, “you were so excited to finally have some free time to be with your friends and fuck, you deserve to have fun and rest once in a while too, you know?”
“And I get to rest tonight, we’re watching a movie.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.” defeated, Steve’s hands kept moving over (y/n)’s shoulders and when he heard her groan, he moved his movements to the back of her neck, “I’m just saying, you don’t have to pretend you’re not tired as hell. I’m here, I can look after the kids for you, I do that pretty much everyday already, it’s no big deal.” he kissed the top of her head, “You can go rest.”
(y/n) sighed. She knew he was right. She had been anticipating that night for so long and now she couldn’t have it. But what Steve didn’t know, and (y/n) wasn’t exactly planning on telling him that, was that his company, just him being there and, oh God, him touching her like that was almost as good, if not better, than her canceled plans.
“You just want the popcorn all to yourself, admit it.” she joked, turning around and pinching his belly. Steve smiled and pinched her back.
“Yup, you got me.”
“Come on,” (y/n) grabbed the bag of chips with one hand and two cans of Coke with the other and waited for Steve to get the bowls of popcorn, “let’s crash their party.”
..
“Okay so,” Max started, removing the pillow from her head that she was using to cover her ears, “any volunteer to suffocate Steve with this pillow or can I go?”
“He’s annoying even when he’s sleeping.” Mike added, rubbing his sleepy eyes.
“How is (y/n) sleeping so peacefully?” Lucas pointed at the girl serving as a pillow to the owner of the loud snoring that, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t seem to be bothering (y/n) one bit.
They had gotten their sleeping bags, pillows and a ridiculous amount of blankets (y/n) insisted were not necessary ready before starting the movies, agreeing that someone would probably end up falling asleep earlier and it was easier if they all just crashed together in the living room. (y/n) and Steve weren’t planning on going all the way to the end of the movie marathon so they took the couch, but apparently it ended up being way too comfortable, especially with how tired (y/n) was, because the pair were the first ones to get knocked out. And if there was any doubt if they were actually sleeping or not, Steve’s loud snores gave away the answer.
“They sleep together all the time, she’s probably used to it.” Dustin explained with his eyes closed, almost as if he was forcing himself to fall asleep. Silence followed after what he said which led him to open one eye to see why everybody went quiet.
“I don’t remember Steve mentioning he and (y/n) were dating.” Max spoke, “I mean, I always expected to go deaf from hearing him talk about his girlfriend whenever he finally got one.”
“He already talks about her all the time though.” Will added and the others nodded in agreement.
“Oh they’re not dating.” Dustin clarified, but he was well aware both his sister and his friend were dying to get together. Their pining over each other was noticeable to everyone, even the kids, except for the both of them, “Steve just sleeps over all the time and he sleeps in (y/n)’s room.”
“And your mom lets him?” Mike asked, impressed that Ms. Henderson would allow a boy to stay over, and in the same room as her daughter, when he had witnessed his mom flip so many times when she suspected a male presence in Nancy’s room. And he couldn’t forget all the threats he received from Hopper everytime he went to see El.
“(y/n) can be very persuasive, and my mom,” he kissed his fingers and pointed them to the roof, “bless her innocent soul, falls for it every time. And come on, we all know the effect this bastard”, he pointed at Steve, “somehow has on women and I guess my mom is no exception. Like I said, bless her innocent soul.”
“I think they’re cute.” El commented, smiling in admiration as she looked at the way Steve had his head on (y/n)’s shoulder and cradled her arm like a plushie, and her head rested on top of his and her hand was resting on his tight.
“It would be even cuter if Steve wasn’t shaking the roof with those pig noises.” Max complained and layed back down, this time using two pillows to cover her ears.
“Just wake him up.” Lucas told Dustin, who immediately refused.
“No way I’m risking my life waking him up.”
“Then wake up your sister and she’ll do it.” Mike suggested before letting out a long yawn.
Dustin sighed and crawled to his sister. He shook her knee in an urgent way, as if desperate to end the torture that was Steve’s sleeping sounds. (y/n) stirred a bit and snuggled more against her best friend while letting out a lazy What?.
“Steve’s snoring.”
“I know.” she replied, not bothering to open her eyes.
“Wake him up!”
“Why?”
“Because we want to sleep and we can’t!”
(y/n) groaned in annoyance and finally opened her eyes in a roll at her brother.
She carefully lifted Steve’s head from her shoulder and pinched his cheek.
“Hey, idiot.” she called, “Wake up.”
The boy groaned and, like (y/n) did earlier, the only movement he did was snuggle more into her.
“Come on, let’s go to my room.” she patted his tight the best she could considering Steve was still holding onto her arm.
He replied something along the lines of Fine, at least it was what (y/n) could make out from his muffled voice against her shoulder.
The two got up, one a bit less tired than the other, and made their way to (y/n)’s room.
“Goodnight children.” she said with her back turned to them, a tired Steve following her as he waved to the kids, more asleep than awake.
As (y/n) closed the door to her room, she almost jumped at the sound of Steve plopping down on her bed, who groaned with the impact.
“Hey, don’t be taking up the whole bed.” she complained with a smile on her face.
“As if you wouldn’t totally sleep on top of me.”
(y/n) wasn’t sure in what way he meant that, but she wouldn’t deny either option. Not out loud, of course, if there was something she refused to do around her best friend was build up his ego even more. And, of course, let him know that he did have an effect on her. The Steve Harrington effect. But what was so special about her situation was that she knew she got to see a side of him no other girl in Hawkins had, and there was a very specific type of charm Steve had reserved just for (y/n), because no other girl in that cursed town had the same effect on him that she had. They shared a mutual fixation for each other, and whether they acknowledged it or not, it was undeniable.
“I think it’s the other way around, Harrington.”
“I won’t deny that.” Steve turned on his back and finally made some space over the sheets for (y/n) to lay down. But not that much, because he was serious about wanting her on top of him, and he made it known by opening and stretching his arms so she could crawl between them.
(y/n) did so with no hesitation or remark, it wasn’t known if it was her sleepy brain or her tingling heart that made her lay down on his chest with such ease, like it was routine. Which it was. The sensation of Steve’s arms holding her tight, their chests pressed against one another with their breathing in sync, their legs getting more tangled the more time passed, the more they couldn’t get enough of the proximity that always felt too much even when not even a breeze could pass between their bodies.
“Thank you for coming tonight.” (y/n) spoke after a few long minutes in silence.
“You don’t ever have to thank me for coming to the rescue.” Steve readjusted himself a bit so he could turn on his side and face her, “And you sure don’t have to thank me for coming to hang out with you, that’s like, the best part of my days.” he smiled.
“You’re so corny when you’re sleepy.”
“Actually I’m corny all the time,” he kissed her forehead, “and it’s all your fault just so you know.”
“Oh really now?” (y/n) chuckled, hiding her face in the confined space between his neck and shoulder.
“Yeah, really.” Steve smiled widely at the way her breath tickled his skin and he couldn’t help but squeeze her body impossibly closer to his and he felt this urge to kiss her all over. So he started with moving his head down to kiss her on the cheek, then her jaw, neck, until he reached the collar of her sweater and moved back up to her temple, allowing his lips to linger there. For a second he second guessed if that was okay, if maybe he was crossing a line, but then (y/n)’s hand crawled up from between their bodies and held his jaw, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. Steve pressed his face closer to her touch, which led to his other cheek to press against hers and he felt a fiery chill in his chest when he realized how close their mouths were.
They stayed like that for a minute, both waiting to see who would make the move first. (y/n) did, the only thing going through her mind being fuck it, I need him. But before she closed the only inch separating their lips, she met his gaze, confident but nervous enough to not want to ruin anything, so she asked the silent question and a tug at her waist and the way Steve’s dilated pupils stared back at her was the answer she needed.
The kiss started slowly, a testing of the waters, a reality check. Then Steve gently pushed (y/n) on her back and his hands started to explore her hips and waist under her sweater at the same time his tongue passed through their lips. At a bite of his bottom lip, (y/n) caressed his back as she lifted Steve’s shirt and a groan left his lips. Taking a much needed break from the kiss to remove the piece of clothing, the boy looked down at his best friend and did the same to her sweater.
“Is this… okay? Like, should we be doing this?” he asked, his uncertain question not being a match to his actions. His lips attached to her collarbone and his hands crawling under her to reach her back making it hard for (y/n) to concentrate on what he was saying.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No, no, I want to. Fuck, I want to, just…” Steve looked at her.
“We can talk about it later.” (y/n) suggested, not too worried about the aftermath of what was about to happen. It was something both knew was going to happen sooner or later.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
“Just…” she pushed him a bit, indicating for him to lay down, “stay quiet, you don’t wanna wake up the kids again.”
(y/n) positioned herself on top of him, leaning down to go back to kissing him while her fingers followed the trail of hair from his chest to his stomach.
“I’ll do my best.”
................................................................................
author’s note: So, this is my debut writing for Stranger Thing, so please go easy on me. I hope I did Steve Harrington justice, I haven’t written in a long time, this is my comeback (and with a new fandom) so this isn’t my best work but I had so much fun writing this and I hope you had fun reading it! Any feedback and (nice) constructive criticism is welcome 🥰
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#friends to lovers
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